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Rebel Child
Rebel Child, won't you heed my warnin
One of these days the rain'll come pourin'
Some of thouse sunshine blue sky mornin's
Might just turn to grey
I understand why you do the thing you do
There was a time when I was just like you
I know right now you think you know it all
There's no way that you can break
No way you can fall
[Chorus 2]
Rebel Child, won't you heed my warnin'
One of these days the rain'll come pourin'
Some of thouse sunshine blue sky mornin's
Might just turn to grey
I've been there and I know what you're thinking
You're flying highbut one day you'll blink and
THat cloud your're on will just startsinkin'
Don't wait till it's too late
Whoa oh rebel child
I know you can't learn from my mistakes
You've got your own road you've gotta take
And it might look like it's paved in gold
Just remember that you'll have to reap
All the seeds you sew
[repeat chorus 2]
Keep your feet on the ground
And one eye one heaven do
Do a lot of forgivin'
But not much forgettin'
And remember life is one big lesson
[Repeat Chorus 2]
Whoa oh Rebel Child
Whoa oh Rebel Child
Rebel Child by Gretchen Wilson
Hi! So I've seen many doing this tag game, so I will make one, I I will use questions you have and see if I will come up with other questions! =)
1. Your name : Henrik (Alexanteri Laalo) Norrgård *() my middle name and my mum's surname. My dad's surname is Norrgård.
2. Are you named after someone or something? : Not that I remember, but I know that my dad choosed my name!
3. The last time you cried? : Yesterday.
4. Age? : 17, turning 18 17th of June!
5. Sexuality? :
6. Do you use sarcasm alot? : Actually yes really often, It's fun with sarcasm! xP
7. Eye colour? : Brown around the pupil and then it becomes greenish.
8. Height? : Last week I was around 1.93 meters.. I don't like to be tall.. ._.
9. Favourite smells? : Haha have some weird like petrol, new shoes, and some otherls like expensive perfumes (I've smelled some cheap and yuk!) And omg I love the smell of the beach! <3
10. Scary movie or Comedy? : Scary movies, more like disaster movies like 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, well I also love scary movies (mostly asian!)
11. Summer or Winter? : None, I love the autum the most! Next comes the spring then summer and last winter, I like all the 4 times of the year so! ^^
12. Tv or Comuter? : Computer, 24/7, swedish television sucks.. Not to sound mean or negative but they only show american comedyshows or reality shows.. Not my type, actually I don't like to watch tv at all only movies or korean dramas.
13. Piercings or tattoos? : No, but I want a snakebite!
14. Born? To be exactly! Västerås BB in Sweden! =P
15. The longest you've been from your home? : Haha I've never travelled outside scandinavia, but the longest I've been is to Helsinki in Finland, but who knows how the future will be!
16. Describe yourself : Shy, but really fun to be with when you get to know me, If you have same intrests like me, I'm sure we will become good friends, since I don't have a single friend that likes the stuff I like, and I'm also a very caring person, and I've noticed that when I talk to people I always end up talking about myself.. Gotta stop doin' that! D=
17. Special talents? : Does sound like a little girl count as a special talent then yes.. xP
18. Hobbies? : Kpop, kdramas, movies,shopping, dolls, photo.
19. Own any pets? : Yes 2 cats for now!
20. Fave movie : I've seen so much I don't really know, but I guess I would choose Spirited Away (god can't stop the tears from falling when I watch that movie.. T___T)
21. Style? : I would see myself as a mixture of cozy/street/kpop. xP
22. Siblings : Yes.. Tons of them 7 with me included.. Fun fact : I am the middle child so.. Yeah awesome I know.. :3
23. Fave colur : Purple, Pink, or Blue!
24. Lucky number : 8, because it's not an uneven number and if you turn the 8 it looks like the infinity symbol (witch i usually see as unlimited happines and love) <3
25. If you could meet anyone from the earth? : My god! All the members of SNSD and EXO and 9 Muses! <3 My life would be completed then!! </3
26. Allergies? : Nope!
27. Addiction? :.. Kpop/Korean dramas and dolls! Lol!
28. Fave social media? : Facebook, Flickr and Instagram! Can't live without these 3!
29. Ever stole anything? : Yes.. Not proud of it..
30. What do you like about yourself? : Oh.. Hard.. Nothing actually, hate my face, hate my voice, hate my body.. The ONLY thing I like (sometimes) is my hair, when it wants to cooperate with me.. D:
31. Smoke or drinking? : No but I have tried both a few times.. Under age but it's normal in this age.. Sad but true..
32. Videogames? : My god yes! Like GTA, COD, sometimes Minecraft and zombie games, but most The Sims! <3
33. Broken any bones? : Yes, my toe got broken when I played "floorball"? without my shoes.. Ah.. the pain!..
34. Fave toy as a kid? : I was going to say Barbie, but we didn't have so much barbies since I started to grow up when I got my first real sister, but my fave toy was my HUUGE teddy bear which was blue and cute! <3
35. Like cheese? : My god yes! Love it, on everything.. Lol jk.. =P
36. Favourite tv show? : Since I am that person that don't like and have the time to watch tv shows, and I actually started to watch tv shows last year, so the only show that i actually really love is "The Heirs" kdrama and ofc Simpsons! ;3
37. Fave song? : Right now, the 24th of February 2014, my fave song is Mr. Mr. by Girls' Generation! <3
38. Dream vacation : I would love to travel around China, Korea and Japan with car, especially Korean and Japan together with ma best friends!
39. Favourite sentence? : I love to say the sentence : Sorry not sorry! Sound so good! And ofc everytime i cross the road I always shout out YOLO! So yeah!
40. Jealous of something? Many stuff, I am a geography nerd and about countries, I am super jealous of Norweigans, Germans, Swiss, Korean and Japanese people, most because their countries are among the best in the world, even is Sweden is in the same "leauge" as them, I don't know, I have always been jealous of them! xD
And ofc of all the ones here that have many dolls or accessories that I want!
Finally done! Hope you enjoyed this looong list! I enjoyed the ones I have read so! =) I love this kind of tag games, It is making us flickr friend come closer to each other! ^^
And see yourself as tagged when you see this! =)
Everything stings...I hate glass. Just trying to get up is a problem because I'll just end up stepping on more glass.I gotta keep fighting though, I can't---
Lose. She's gonna lose here. It's over. I just wish I had the blade right now to finish things off. The broken bottle will do just fine I guess. Probably gonna be more fun! Aw, look! She's still struggling!
"Yknow sweetheart, let's be real here. You've had a rough couple of weeks here. I've had all the fun in the world, but you? Honestly it's just boring now. And the funny thing is, you can't point fingers at anyone, honey. You chose all of this. You pretty much begged him for your own set of armor and lookit where it got you! Your mom's dead, you lost the man you loved, and now your little world is all but destroyed. Me, though? Well, I just can't stop laughing...."
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/182444-f...
Race for the Holocrons! Following the lead given to them by Luke on Yavin IV, Nathan and Ozz travel to the barren world of OSSUS. There, they find the SEARCHERS, scholars and adventurers who seek the mysteries of the unseen. One Searcher in particular stands to give them what they came for. But what obstacles lie ahead in the long-dead ruins of the Jedi temple? And how much time do they have before they cross paths with the Empire?
“We’re coming out of lightspeed, nerd. Get your nose out of that book and come get strapped in.”
“Oop! I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Nathan flipped the weathered notebook closed and climbed out of the bunk, scrambling towards the harness of the co-pilot’s seat. In a bigger ship, it wouldn’t be necessary, but the Lucky Star was so small (and poorly made) that being untethered while entering or exiting hyperspace was suicide. And Nathan, naturally, cared very much about safety.
The ship came hurtling to a stop, and the marble-sized planet before them looked like it suddenly grew a thousand-fold, to a massive, intimidating sphere that dominated their vision.
Ossus was a deep orange color, and flashes of blue trailed across the dark forms of cloud systems within its atmosphere.
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“Looks like some serious storm activity,” Nathan guessed, pulling up what little geological and environmental data he could. “I’m not seeing much, it could be the storm, or maybe your sensors are just too old to be useful.”
“Oy, watch what you say, the Star can be sensitive.”
A blip appeared on one of Nathan’s screens. “Hold up, I’m getting something. Some kind of technology, I think it’s a sensor beacon. Weird. Whoever’s down there isn’t afraid to be found.”
“Humph. Maybe they just figure no one would bother comin’ to a place like this. Those lightning storms don’t inspire much confidence. Where the heff have you dragged me now, nerd?”
“Hey, Luke said there was someone who could help us, here. We got to at least give it a shot. It’s our one lead on the holocrons, Pyerce, and Mayla.”
“Y’know, I been thinkin’ about that. What’s wrong with you, huh?”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Ozz chewed on the words. “You had a stable job, place to live…family?”
Nathan shook his head.
“Ah, well, you mighta been better off for it. My point is, you had everything, but you dropped it to come find some chick ya barely knew! And she’s an Imp spy? What’s wrong with you?”
This spoke aloud a thought that had bothered Nathan for the last week. This life on the move was way more exciting than his old job as a reactor Safety Inspector, but he also had to wonder if he was insane to have left in the first place. What was he really doing out here? Trying to stop the Empire? He barely knew anything about that. Trying to find Mayla? What if she didn’t want to see him, what if—worse—she was lying, and he was playing into the Empire’s hand?
While all this filled his thoughts, he shook his head and closed down.
“Dunno. Let me know if you figure it out.” Ready to change the subject, he directed Ozz’s attention to the scanner. “Whoever’s broadcasting from that beacon, they’re in the northern hemisphere, see this?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going the long way around, no chance I’m getting us anywhere near those storms. Krif, this place looks like a wasteland.”
It took them the better part of an hour to circumnavigate the storm systems, which were fast-moving and hundreds of miles across. They alone would be enough reason for Ossus to stay uninhabited. Which just made the presence of people an even bigger mystery.
The moment they entered the atmosphere, Nathan felt it: a pull within the planet, something like gravity, but altogether different. There was something strange about Ossus. Something powerful, he thought, watching the far-off storms burn away at the land below.
They saw the outpost from above, a small collection of tents, sensor arrays, and a shield generator, all concealed around a rocky outcropping. Ozz reached out on the comm to see if anyone would pick up.
“Uh, hello! Anybody down there? We…come in peace.”
Someone did.
“Who is this?” a woman’s voice replied.
“Uh, Captain Ozzamandes Sabaran, of the Lucky Star. Requestin’ permission to land, ma’am.”
“You’re not who we were expecting. Stupid beacon…What the hakat are you doing on Ossus, Lucky Star?”
Nathan leaned in toward the microphone. “We’re looking for a Duros named Abay. A friend of his sent us, a man named Luke.”
Ozz looked at him sharply, and whispered, “What’d I tell you about trusting everybody!”
Nathan motioned for him to shush, and they waited in tense silence for a reply.
“…Abay says to let you land. If you try anything, you’re dead.”
That was as good a welcome as any.
The shield allowed them through, and Ozz brought the ship to a rough landing on a pad made of loose durasteel plates laid over the orange sand. Even for the Star, it was uncomfortable bumpy.
They left the ship to surprisingly cold air for a desert planet, which explained the snow that capped the higher rock formations. A woman—the woman from the comms—approached them. She was dressed in full armor, carried a blaster pistol, and had a loose cloak hanging over her shoulder. She looked dangerous, and Nathan and Ozz kept up their guard.
“I’m Van Konn, this is an outpost of the Searchers.”
“Thanks for letting us in,” Nathan said politely.
“The Scriptist—Abay—says I should be nice to you, but you make one wrong move...”
Ozz grimaced. “We’ll be sure not to do that, then! Appreciate the warnin’, very kind.”
Another woman walked up—a Rodian in green robes who had the air of a scientist.
Van greeted her. “Eefo! This is Eefo, she’s the Scriptist’s Assistant.”
“Say that three times fast,” Ozz whispered to Nathan, who chuckled.
Van looked at them suspiciously. “I’ve got better things to do, so she’ll lead you the rest of the way. Touch anything, and I’m coming back for you.”
“Thank you, Van. Welcome, both of you,” Eefo said, her voice calm and controlled, a pleasant contrast to the brusque Van Konn.
“Thanks for having us,” Nathan said, again, politely.
“Come with me, please,” she said, and turned to lead them through the camp.
The outpost was large, the product of years spent establishing a base camp for research and exploration. Nathan guessed there were about 50 Searchers in all. Two freighters sat side-by-side, covered by heavy tarps to protect against the storms. The camp was crowned by a pole, some sort of tall device with controls at ground level.
Curious, Nathan took the risk of asking about it.
“It’s a Conductor, something I designed soon after we arrived on Ossus. It protects us from the storms, drains them of their power. Occasionally we need more energy for our experiments than our generators are able to muster. On those days, we can draw the storms towards us to harvest for their potential.”
“Sounds…dangerous,” Ozz grunted.
Nathan grinned. “Genius.”
Searchers milled around, doing maintenance or talking to one another, or gawking at the two strange arrivals. Nathan saw a few scholarly-looking individuals inside of tents, hard at work writing in large tomes.
Eefo led them to an opening in the rocks that had been adapted to house a work tent. It was obviously the domain of an archeologist: fragments of colorful stone, artifacts, and old books were stacked, sorted, and hanging from a net overhead. A tower shelf housed numerous glowing blue records, with a single record glowing red.
A Duros stood at the center, wearing a flowing blue robe over a green boiler suit. He seemed old, bent, and slightly crazed. An eccentric, Nathan guessed. Who else would come to Ossus?
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He reacted to their approach with alarm, turning suddenly and crying, “Another spirit? Begone!”
Eefo bowed slightly to the researcher. Nathan sensed that she was carefully hiding embarrassment at his behavior.
“The guests, Scriptist.”
“Ah, yes! Ah, yes…silly of me. Tell me, Eefo, do you sense anything? Does anything pull at your feelings?”
She hesitated, then said, “Nothing that gives me pause.”
“So it is also for me,” he agreed, with a great deal of nodding. He gestured for Nathan and Ozz to draw closer. “Come in, come in, tell me your names!”
Ozz gave Nathan a wary look. Nathan gave him a reassuring wave, and pushed ahead.
“I’m Nathan, and this is Ozz. I’m sorry, I’m a little confused…what is this place?”
“You do not know! Eh! Young…unknowledgeable…” the Scriptist muttered. “We are Searchers, those who, eh, seek to pierce the veil of untruth that blinds so many. We’ve come to Ossus to study what remains of the Sith-Dead world. Ancient truths and insights, unseen.”
Nathan had never heard of Searchers before, but then, he had never hunted holocrons before. “So, you know Luke?”
“The Skywalker boy!” he squawked. “Yes, yes. The last of them, yes. He studied with us briefly, as our goals, for a time, slid into alignment. But he doubted the spirits, and how they spoke to me. Very rude of him. What do you want from me?”
Nathan was taken aback by the Scriptist’s abrupt demeanor, but he was starting to catch on.
“Luke sent us. An Imperial Remnant is searching for holocrons, and we’re trying to get to them first.”
“Ah! Hmm. Hmm…no Holocrons on Ossus! Not as of yet, I should say. Still many depths to plumb, many truths to uncover…The unmapped crypts sound their siren song, their lyrics full of the secrets concealed…” muttered the Scriptist.
Nathan and Ozz looked at each other. Eefo looked on, worried, from the edge.
The Scriptist returned to the present. “I can do you no good. The spirits…they toy with my research, obstruct learning! I need…need…help.”
“You have lots of help, Abay,” Eefo interjected. “Er, Scriptist.”
“Ah, but I am concerned for your welfare, Eefo. I do not know these two, and as such, so far, for theirs I am not!”
“Oh, gee, great…” Ozz grunted, raising a wispy eyebrow.
“See, I am hounded by a saboteur of mischievous intent. Not sinister, as no act of violence has been performed. But my machines cease to work, my materials go missing. In such small quantities and degrees that they think I will not notice, but these are not coincidences. Whether physical or spiritual, this saboteur must be caught!”
Eefo crossed her arms. “I still think it might be the Sorcerer, returned.”
“I do not agree, Eefo! I do not agree in the slightest. We vanquished that threat long ago, this is something entirely less impressive, but no less confounding. I would like you two,” he said to Nathan and Ozz. “To go and find the source of this mystery. This mystery, yes.”
Nathan frowned. “And uh, why is it again that you can’t send one of your…knights?”
“They are trained and skilled, and this task requires neither of those things! I would rather risk your lives than theirs. This is the simple truth. If you go, if you succeed, I will tell you whatever might aid your efforts.”
Nathan thought about the ridiculous request. At least the Scriptist was being honest with them, if not a little too honest. Was he willing to risk his life for this cause?
Finally, he nodded. “I’ll do it. Ozz, you don’t have to come.”
“Nah, nah,” Ozz sighed. “I’ll help ya out.”
“This is satisfactory,” said the Scriptist. “Be on your way! I have much to attend to.”
Eefo led them away from the tent, and stopped them once they were out of earshot. She rounded on them both, her face a complicated mix of emotions.
“Listen to me. If you want to risk getting yourselves killed for whatever it is you’re after, be my guest. But you should know…” her expression changed to concern, and her tone softened. “Abay is a master, and the wisest of us all, but…he isn’t what he used to be. He has spent many cycles on Ossus, communing with its ghosts and hidden knowledge. It has changed him. If you want to leave, you’re free to go. You’re not beholden to anything he says.”
Nathan considered this, as did Ozz, but what other choice did they have? They glanced at each other to make sure they were on the same page. Nathan turned back to Eefo.
“Thank you for telling us, but…it doesn’t change our minds. Your…Scriptist, is that what you call him? Your Scriptist is our last lead.”
“And the kid doesn’t give up easy.” Ozz threw up his hands. “Great, we’re workin’ for a crazy guy.”
“Watch your tone, Iakaru,” Eefo said sharply.
She stalked off, giving them a strange look before she disappeared amongst the tents.
“Wonderful,” Ozz grunted. “Wanna wander out into the cold desert and get fried by a storm with me?”
Nathan stood looking towards the camp, his face contorted with thought as he considered what he knew. A possibility was brightening in the corner of his mind.
“We may not have to leave the camp at all.”
“What? Didn’t you hear—“
“Come on, follow me!”
Nathan Booke was not new to sniffing out tomfoolery and sabotage. He had been a Safety Inspector, after all. In fact, as Ozz knew very well, the young man had proven extremely talented at the part of his job that involved tracking down wrong-doing and exposing those responsible. He had become something of a Detective in his time at the reactor on Targonn, and an investigative mind had been a strength he displayed since he was a child in the orphanage.
It did not take him long to put together a plan. He roamed the outpost, interviewing several Searchers about any suspicious activity. The Searchers he questioned were adamant no one else had entered the camp. That pointed to one of their own, but they were quick to defend their brothers and sisters against any accusation. Nonetheless, he followed snippets of conversation, pieces of truth behind offended words, and small comments let slip here and there.
Something tugged at the back of his mind, an instinctive thought that seemed pulled forward by every conversation he had. Ozz could only listen, dumbfounded, as Nathan told him about his theory, explained his evidence.
“Well then,” the Iakaru said. “Let’s go get her.”
They entered the tent of Nathan’s primary suspect to find its occupant busily fumbling with her databanks. She came to an abrupt halt, slammed a cabinet closed, and stared at them.
“Can I help you?” Eefo asked, her voice struggling to maintain its calm, steady tempo.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Nathan wondered. “You’re tampering with Abay’s work.”
Eefo looked stunned, speechless, and didn’t reply for a long moment. Finally, she sniffed in derision. “Insane.”
“And not only that, you’re a spy, aren’t you?”
“Yeah!” Ozz added. “Workin’ for old Pyerce.”
She glared at them, rising from her chair. “You’re both insane. How dare you accuse me—“
“Aww, give it a rest,” Ozz scoffed. “We know about your buddies on Garel, Targonn, Yavin VI…We know you got a disintegration thingy shoved up in your teeth, we knows Pyerce wants information. Information you’re in a pretty nice spot to find out.”
Looking around quickly, she dropped her voice to a frantic whisper. “Lower your voices! I do not work for Pyerce, understand?”
Ozz and Nathan looked at one another in triumph.
“I have not transmitted in months,” Eefo went on. “I am done with him and his remnant.”
“Oh yeah? Came to your senses about the Empire, then?” Nathan asked.
“Ha! Though their methods need dire reform, the Empire is still the galaxy’s best hope. But the work here…” she became jittery, nervous. “No one should know about these things. Not Pyerce, not the Scriptist…not myself, not you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I will say no more. Leave me be.”
Ozz crossed his arms. “No can do, lady. We came to this rock to learn what Pyerce is after and get it before he can do any damage. You’re gonna tell us what you know. I got credits riding on this.”
“I will tell you nothing.”
“You sure about that?” Ozz grinned toothily.
“If you’re thinking of blackmail, none of the Searchers will believe you. We are kin, I have their trust.”
Nathan frowned at her. “You spy—sorry, spied—on them for the Empire. You think they’d feel the same way about you if they knew that?”
Eefo was, by now, stewing with rage. “You do not know what you speak of.”
“Ha, even if they do trust you, they’re not the only thing you gotta worry about. Maybe you guys don’t get news out here, but Pyerce tried a big attack and failed. The bounty for any of his spies is enough to get some attention. Now, we had a lead, but if we let out word, we could make it a race to see who gets you first. And I bet old man Pyerce's boys would be curious too."
Nathan was uncomfortable with this tactic. He frowned at his companion, but said nothing.
The spy's face paled in the diffused tent light. She hung her head. "I see. It appears you have leverage. But I warn you, this knowledge you seek ought to be forbidden.”
Her conviction troubled Nathan. He scratched his chin. “I don’t get it. What can possibly have you so spooked?”
"You've met the Scriptist? Once, he was as sharp as you or I. Now he is addled and distant. Do you have any idea what it is they study here? Have you felt this planet's power?"
Nathan had, distinctly. The very ground was seeped in it. Centuries of raw strength imbuing the soil and the stone. He did his best to keep a stoic expression, to not look perturbed.
Eefo went on. “Do you know what sorts of things are buried in those crypts? Horrible things! Books about artifacts that release darkness and plagues, that make people lose their minds. Do you know what these "jedi" and "sith" were? Armies of magic sorcerers, thousands strong, trading off rule of the galaxy every few centuries, oppressing people like you and me!"
"This isn’t really relevant,” Nathan interjected. “…But just for the sake of argument...how is that any different than your Empire?"
She turned bitterly away. "I'm done with all that. I have a new mission, to keep any of these horrors from being found and disrupting the galaxy."
"Very noble. I wish you’d get that we’re trying to help, too. What is Pyerce looking for?" he asked again.
"Holocrons, you said it yourself. I know nothing more."
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "...you're lying."
Ozz grimaced. "I'd watch out for him...kid can spot a coverup a mile away."
Eefo glared at them both, but her resolve finally failed.
"So be it. You seek calamity, but if what you say is true, what choice do I have?" She leaned forward and steepled her long fingers, waiting a moment to make sure no one would overhear. "I have not transmitted, but I still receive my orders. Pyerce seeks an object called Balaam's Heart. It is said to be a source of immortality, and fear of death seems to have invaded the Moff's mind as of late."
Nathan raised an eyebrow, recalling Pyerce's recent defeats. "I can't imagine why."
"Yes, unfortunately for you, I've not seen a scrap of information about it."
"Why not?” Ozz said skeptically. “Sounds like it would be pretty famous."
"Ossus was a stronghold of those who follow the light—the Jedi. The heart is not an object of the Jedi, but of the dark side of the force. Seeking it is foolishness."
Nathan shook his head. Trying to get anywhere with this was like teaching a Bantha to read. "If all this is true, we can’t let an Imperial get their hands on something that might make them undying. There’s got to be some texts or records about dark side subjects. Know your enemy, right? In fact, I think there probably are. I think you probably know where, and you've kept it a secret from the other Searchers. How am I doing?"
Eefo ground his teeth. "...Perturbingly well. I will not tell you where they are. This is for your own good."
A sly grin broke across Ozz's face. "No, that's okay. You're gonna show us."
"Excuse me? I'll do no such thing!"
"Oh yeah? Then we let your comrades in on the secret. Think your little warnings would stop them?"
Nathan looked aside to Ozz. An unpleasant feeling was sitting in his chest. This blackmail made him feel strange.
Eefo blanched. "...The Searchers know no limits in their quest for knowledge."
"Yeah,” Nathan said firmly. “Neither does the Empire. Which one is worse?"
Someone entered the tent without warning, causing Eefo to leap out of her green skin. It was Van Konn, the outpost's chief defender. She glanced at Nathan and Ozz, frowning.
"Eefo, apologies for the interruption-- we've got an Imperial cruiser picked up in orbit."
Eefo turned to face her. "Another one? Is the beacon turned off? Our camouflage powered-up?"
Ozz looked between Eefo and the new arrival, shooting Eefo a significant look and mouthing, 'friends of yours?'
If he wanted to, he could spill the beans right now.
"Already taken care of, they should move on soon," Van assured her. "Just wanted to make sure you knew."
"Thank you," Eefo said, and Van bowed out.
Ozz continued to look smug in the silence that followed. Eefo understood his meaning. She composed herself, glaring at him while Nathan stood by.
"Say nothing," she finally growled. "I will take you to the ruins."
The speeder flew along the bright dunes of Ossus, dipping between dark rock formations and dodging occasional lightning.
"Can’t believe I'm saying this, but...it's beautiful, isn't it?" Nathan shouted over the whoosh of air and engine.
"Settle down, nerd boy!" Ozz hollered back. Because it was a two-seat speeder, he was strapped to Nathan and sitting on his lap, his short legs dangling off the back of the vehicle. "Yeesh, this is humiliating."
They reached their destination and hopped off the speeder to stretch their legs. Nathan rubbed his own, which had gone squarely numb from Ozz's weight.
"Few less Nerf Burgers in the future, huh?" he snarked.
Ozz shot him a look. "Ohhh, you really going there? Beanpole?"
Nathan waved him away and wandered to an overlook. Dark clouds shadowed the vibrant orange flatlands.
"It's very...dramatic," Nathan observed.
"Yes, it would be," Eefo nodded. "The planet did not always look like this. According to records and scrolls from other worlds, Ossus used to be fertile and green."
Nathan frowned. "What changed, the storms?"
"No, no, the storms are a side effect of whatever destroyed the planet. The short answer, I believe, is war.”
She was setting up a pole, about 2 meters long, outside the entrance.
“One of your conductors…miniaturized?” Nathan noted.
“Woah, woah!” Ozz cried. “You trying to bring down a storm on us?”
Eefo turned to Ozz calmly. “The charge is negative, it will only serve to redirect the lightning should a storm arrive. The charge would have to be positive to draw one to us. Come along, I'd like to be away from this place soon."
They strode past enormous statues of hooded figures to delve into the dark entrances of the temple. The light from outside only reached so far. Each of them activated a hololamp, and they continued on. Eefo and Nathan talked quietly as they walked.
“Archeology is my passion,” Eefo sighed. “It pains me to disgrace the profession by covering up knowledge. Despite this, I feel that protecting the galaxy is more important.”
“I thought you’d put a higher premium on knowledge.”
“Knowing for the sake of knowing is not always wise, or good. Knowledge is powerful, human. As with all things, consumption should be moderated.”
Ozz was feeling a little less enthusiastic about things now that they were walking into the dark. Old stone wrapped around them, stairs that hadn’t been walked in centuries, a temple of life, now dead. The old chassis of an analysis droid lay slumped against the wall, its circular eyes staring as they passed by.
“…Creepy place, huh?” Ozz said idly, trying to sound casual.
“You wanted to come here, did you not?” Eefo said bitterly. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Disclaimer, this story takes place after the events of Hansel and Gretel, and therefore mentions events from said story. That being said, if you don't want to spoil Hansel and Gretel, do not read this until after you've read it. Spoiler warning/disclaimer is now over, so if you get spoiled, it's your own fault!
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After the boom, my senses would go numb, not being able to see, or hear anything. It would take weeks, before I finally woke up. At least, that's what Jess tells me. While I was out, I apparently missed the city giving Big Time credit for my heroics. Architect's behind bars now, and his loyal soldier Chariot is in the wind. Then I missed Big Times death, and funeral. One of the biggest heroes of the city, gone.. Just like that. Hansel and Gretel being the ones responsible, according to the police. I'm honestly not sure what to think, but one thing's for sure. I have a lot of homework to catch up on.
"Andy, you awake in there?" Turning my head, Nathan's there, right by my locker. Huh, didn't even hear him coming.
"Everything's A-Okay! Just got lost in thought for a second there."
"Well, there's a lot to think about, with the city losing one of the biggest heroes its ever had. Is anyone truly safe? Anyways, it's a huge bummer that you couldn't make the Derrick Digital concert."
"As I said before Nate, I was grounded. No hang outs, or technology. Was a rough couple of weeks. Especially when I got sick."
"Yeah, yeah I remember. Wasn't even allowed to come visit you, it was that bad. Just saying though, the concert was so lit dude. Even got a picture with him after!" Nathan brags, as he opens up his phone, and shows me the picture.
"Lucky you. Whatcha got next?"
"Oh, umm, Biology." He looks down at his watch, checking the time. His face goes from calm, to complete panic.
"Ah crap, better get going. Class starts pretty soon."
"Alrighty man, c ya later!" I say with a wave, as he runs off through the hallways. Seconds later, I feel a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, is a girl, who I'm pretty sure is in my Choir class, standing in front of me. Kayla? Kylie? It was something like that. She seems to be nervous, as I can see her left arm shaking, as her right hand plays with her hair.
"Andrew, hi!! It's me, Cailey.. You may not know who I am, but we have choir together. Her voice shakes, and she stutters as she's talking to me. Oh, okay, so I was a little off with her name, but close enough, right?
"Oh hey Cailey. Class is about to start, so what's up?" I say, noticing the clock reads 7:58 AM.
"Would-Would y-ou want to hang out with me after school? If you're not busy that is. But not like as friends, more like an-umm-date?" Wait, what? I'm usually the awkward idiot. This role reversal of being asked out is honestly somewhat freaking me out. I mean, I never really thought about Cailey in a romantic way.. Jess w-is the one I think about most.. But it probably took a lot of courage for her to ask, so it's probably best for me to say yes, right? Gah, I didn't think I'd ever have this problem!
"Uhh, okay. Sure." I barely manage to get out before a big smile forms on her face, grinning from ear to ear.
"Cool, cool! I'll c ya after school then! By the front gate!" A newfound energy surrounds her, as she's skips away from me, down the hallway, giggling as she meets up with her friends.
"Well, that happened." I mutter to myself, as I grab my Chemistry textbook, and dash through the hallways, to the chemistry lab. I barely make it into the classroom, before the bell rings.
--------------------
Later that day, at lunch time
"Andrew Livingston, has a date?! I'd never thought I'd see the day!" Nathan is about to say more, when I interrupt him.
"Not so loud Nate.. It's not like it's something I want the world to know about. Especially you know who." I say, giving him the ssh sign.
"Ah yes, Jessica. If you've got the hots for her, why go on the date with Cailey? Doesn't make much sense ma dude." He says, after drinking some of his grape soda.
"Because I'm a nice guy, that has a hard time saying no... I would've felt bad flat-out rejecting her.. Not much more to it than that."
"Better to do it right away, than to lead her on by saying yes.. But what do I know, right?" Nathan says, shrugging it off like it's nothing.
"Hey guys, whatcha talking about?" The voice comes from behind us. I turn around to see Jessica, coming over to join us with a bagged lunch in one hand, and an orange coloured drink in the other, sitting down across from us.
"Oh ya know, how nice the weather is, and all that.." I lie, trying to make sure she doesn't know.
"But it's raining.." Jess says, looking out of the cafeteria window quickly, before sitting down.
"Without rain, plants would die, and we need plants to live." I say in a panic, trying to think of something smart to say, but that's all that comes out.
"Andy's got a date tonight." Nathan blurts out, spilling the beans. He backs away on the bench.
"Nate!" I say in a loud whisper, giving him the evil eyed glare.
"Oops, I've said too much." He says, placing his hand in front of his mouth.
"Whose the lucky girl?" Jess inquires, wanting to know more.
"Cailey Martin. She's in his choir class apparently."
"Oh.. Well, she seems -- nice." Jess responds, avoiding eye contact with me.
"Honestly not sure what she sees in me, which is why I probably won't get a second one. She'll realize how boring I am, and move on. Either that, or I'll just somehow screw it up."
"Stop being so negative about yourself. Honestly, any girl would be lucky to have a guy like you. If, somehow this Cailey, changes her mind after this date, it's her loss, not yours.
"Unless a miracle happens, this date is pretty much doomed before it begins."
"Guess it's a good thing you have two friends that can help you out in your hour of need." Nate replies, a sly smile forming on his face.
-----------------------------------------
Later, Cardinal City Bowling Alley
I'm trying to use the advice Nathan and Jessica gave me, but sorry, I just don't find astrological signs to be all that interesting. Apparently, she's a Gemini, whatever that means. Though we did find common ground in liking the synthpop artist, Rave. So we talk about Rave for a bit, while she's completely annihilating me in bowling. Forgot how bad I am at bowling. So many gutter balls. It's then, that I start to feel my hands shimmer, almost like they are going to glow.
"Gotta go to the washroom." I say to Cailey, before walking away, moving into the washroom. I look under the stalls to make sure no ones in here.
"No one's here." I mutter to myself, and sure enough, my hand starts glowing white. My head starts to throb with pain, as I try to make the glow go away. After minutes of struggling, I fly through the window, deciding it's probably for the best. Flying always makes me feel better. Sure enough, the pain subsides, at least for now. It's then, that I notice a silhouette flying towards a building. I think it's a factory, that develops phone parts? Either that, or it's for something else I can't remember. Anyways, I should probably check it out.
Linda told me Bane has records of my military career. How the fuck did he even figure out that was me? I didn't even use my real name when I signed up and 16-year old me looks nothing like I do now. Nonetheless we gotta bury this fucker soon. Him and anyone following him. We're gonna need some firepower and our guns are with Arnie for upkeep so it was off to Patton Arms for our next stop. I was flying the Sky Slayer (by flying I mean enjoying the fantastic invention that is autopilot) while Linda kept looking through that national criminal database info on Bane. She was looking through the raids Bane performed all across central America, and apparently one stuck out.
"Hey, just found this. One of their raids was a convoy in Belize. It was for Lexcorp and it was apparently carrying prototype equipment for testing or something."
"Lexcorp testing shit in Belize?"
"Right? I said the same thing. I'm looking deeper into it. Some of these files are classified stuff so we should get something good."
"Well, keep searching when we get inside. We're landing."
The rooftop to Patton Arms was barren, thank god. Sometimes some jackoff with a private chopper takes up the one landing pad Arnie's got up here. Arnie was at the roof's door waiting for us.
"Good evening, lovebirds."
"Hi, Arnold."
"Your Minigun and M60 are doing just fine, and from what I've heard you'll need them. Didn't you already kill Bane? And what's this about an Exoskeleton?"
"How the fuck did you find out?"
"Some police reports leaked out and it's all over the news. Anything I have that could match isn't even in the prototype stages yet."
"What's that?"
"...ah, I'll just show you. C'mon."
We head down the freight elevator into the sub-levels where Patton Arms Skunkworks stuff is. Arnie leads us into a room where our guns our, and that's what we find. Alongside something totally unexpected. Something that I'm sure gave Linda a few flashbacks.
"The Uber Soldat!? You made the fucking Uber Soldat?"
"Just a recreation of the armor from the blueprint. With it we might make a powered armor suit but right now we're stuck here."
"Even like this you think it might be good enough to kick Bane's ass?"
"....no."
"No? You have any idea how hard this thing was to kill?"
"But you killed it all on your own. Just one woman in body armor with a few low-tier explosives. And that was with a creature in the armor. If you could handle in that easily, Bane and his guys won't have that much trouble."
"So the Uber-Soldat wasn't all that uber at all."
"Nah. It's just primitive like that Xeno Cannon we had to upgrade."
"....we don't need this anyway. I'm sure there's something else...."
Linda opens up the laptop she took with her and goes back to searching through the files. I go back to admiring the Uber-Soldat armor. Still disappointed I never got to kill one back at the arctic....
"So really, didn't you kill Bane?"
"Yeah. This one's just one of his old asskissers. Some guy calling himself Bird."
"Huh. Well, what's his problem? Why come back to Gotham?"
"Revenge. Bane's guys were stupid loyal to him. Like Steve Jobs and Apple fans or something."
".....interestingly put. The other Bane used that one street drug, though. Venom, right? And this one's using an Exoskeleton?"
"Yep, and it's way better than venom ever could be. Linda and I took him on together and he kicked both our asses without breaking a sweat."
"Oh....oh no, that's...yikes...."
"Yep...."
"Hey! Hey I found it!"
"What's up, Linda?"
"Here it is! Bane's exoskeleton! The Lexcorp ACS4X. An advanced lightweight exoskeleton built for military combat. It can increase a users strength and speed to 4x their natural limits."
"Well that explains how he was able to throw you two around no trouble."
"But wait! It says that the Belize convoy was full of prototypes meant to be scrapped, and Bane definitely got it from that convoy."
"They wanted to trash it? Why? Performs pretty well from what we saw."
"Well, according to this, the exoskeleton would severely strain the user after extended use. Specifically the heart would be dangerously overworked after a while, which would potentially cripple or kill the user. Lexcorp dropped $45 million on the project just to try and fix this before giving up."
"So basically to beat Bane, we just gotta last longer than him."
"Seems like it. There's nothing about Lexcorp getting anywhere close to solving the straining problem, just all the money they wasted and then it's scheduled scrapping."
"I think it's pretty funny. The biggest design flaw is the guy using the damn thing."
"And it's just what we need. We just gotta make him work hard for a bit and he'll pretty much kill himself without even realizing it."
"Well, let's find the son of a bitch and end him already. Access police reports on that thing, see if he poked his head out any time recently."
"On it.......huh......"
"What?"
"Look at what's on the news...."
TW: Not gory or anything, but some heavy subject matter; murder, slavery, and mentions of what happened in the issue before this. Read with caution.
“Who would do such a thing?” The Rip wonders, standing on the rooftop of a Delevingne Corporation building.
Malcolm stands at The Rip's side as his lone companion, while the rest of the Otherkind tend to other matters at the headquarters. “Uh, what are you talking about?”
“The anonymous invitation - to ‘meet up’ and ‘discuss business’, atop some industrial tower I’ve never heard the likes of. Who would send a letter like that, to us?”
“No idea,” Malcolm replies, swinging his wooden bat from one hand to his other. “Guess we’re gonna find out pretty soon, though.”
“Yes - that is, unless it was some humoristic hooligan.”
“Like, a teenager? Ding dong ditch?”
“Something of that nature.”
“How would some kid know about The Otherkind?”
“The letter was sent via magic, thus it was likely a client.”
“The witch boy?” asks Malcolm.
“Mr. Klarion? It’s not impossible, although I’m sceptical, given the high standards he’s formerly set for himself; he may be scoundrel-esque with his methods of personal operation from time to time, but I don’t see him as being one to play foolish with his suppliers. Hm… What about Druid? No, this isn’t like him…”
“Definitely not your buddy Mammon, either… Alright, I’m out of ideas.”
“Hm. As am I.”
The duo is silent for a minute, waiting for the potential arrival of the literary summoner. The Rip stands completely still, facing the opposite end of the concrete rooftop, while Malcolm is more fluid; turning to see the buildings beside himself, the traffic far below, what have you.
“I noticed you and Cindy are becoming rather close,” The Rip mentions, breaking the silence.
If Malcolm were anybody else, he’d likely respond to a behavioural acknowledgment from The Rip with a severe anxiety attack. But, of course, Malcolm is Malcolm. “Yeah?” he says, with a toothy smile. “She’s a real keeper, ain’t she?”
The Rip pauses. “I was… Uncertain, at first, how to respond to romantic connections between two of my fellow associates; I may not be human, but I’ve been conditioned into the understanding that family members ‘dating’ is seen as strange. After giving thought, though, I’ve come to re-familiarize myself with the fact that The Otherkind is not a family in a literal sense, thus I will not stand in your way, so long as you’re not letting this ‘love’ prohibit work efficiency.”
“Yeah, of course, but hold up- did you say you’re not human?”
The Rip pauses again, before gesturing with his sable talons in a way that emphasizes his physical appearance. “Why is that surprising to you?”
Abruptly, from the shadows at the roof’s opposite end: KNOCK!
“What was that?” Malcolm whispers, breathily.
KNOCK! It now sounds closer.
“Hm… I’m not quite sure.” The Rip replies.
KNOCK! Closer. This time, followed by a faint yet raspy voice, a voice that could send shivers down one’s spine. It’s singing. “Heee leeeft nooo tiiiime tooo reegreeeeet… Keeept hiiis diiick weeeeet… Wiith hiiis saame, ooold saafe beeeet…”
“Wait.”
KNOCK! Closer. “Meeeee… And my heeeead hiiiiigh... And my teeeeears drryyyyy… Get on without my guyyyyyyyy…”
“That voice…” The Rip continues.
KNOCK! Closer. “Youuuu went back to what youuu kneeeewww, soo faaaaar removeed, from all that we went throooouuughh…”
“Well, what is it?” asks Malcolm.
KNOCK! Closer. “And IIIIIIIIIIIIIII tread a troubleed traaaack… My oooodds aaaaree staaaackeeeed… I go baaaaaack to blaaaaaaaaaack…”
“The most vile creature I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting,” says The Rip.
KNOCK! Closer. “We only said goodbyeeee with words… I died a hundred times….”
“One could even call him The Otherkind’s arch nemesis - I know he certainly would.”
KNOCK! Even closer. “You goooo back to heeerrr…”
“And I thought he’d have died by now, but I suppose we’re not so lucky, not this time. Malcolm?”
KNOCK! Close enough to see, now - those ‘knock’s were from a cane, held in the hand of a cerulean-skinned man, with greasy, shoulder-length, charcoal shaded hair, an ear-to-ear smile of rotting fangs, glowing flaxen eyes, and clad in a sparkly white tuxedo. “And IIIIIII gooo baack toooo… Black.”
“Meet Peck.”
“‘Peck’?” quotes the man. “What happened to our first-name-basis, Rippy Rip Rip? And, hello, where’s the applause? Did you NOT just see that entrance? You know how much time I spent prepping that shit - learning to pace my walk and cane like a metronome, memorizing that song, hell, even landing on a song alone took weeks… Went with Amy Winehouse, though, cause you can’t go wrong with Amy Winehouse.”
“AMY WINEHOUSE!” Malcolm snaps his fingers. “I knew those lyrics sounded familiar!”
“What do you want, Peck?” The Rip growls, disregarding the statements said by both Peck and Malcolm.
“Hey, hold your horses, let’s chat first - haven’t seen you in forever, sweetheart! How’s it hanging?”
“What do you want?”
“Doing good? That’s good. Me? Not so great, to be quite honest with ya. Grieving. One of my best guys died earlier,” Peck rolls up his sleeve and examines a wristwatch. “Bout 20 minutes ago. I mean, I killed him, obviously, he was about to rat me out, you know how it is. Decided to go with a bodily butterfly infestation, this time ‘round.”
“Oh, jesus…” Malcolm murmurs to himself.
Peck turns to Malcolm. “Hey, man! You gotta give it some creativity points. I, for one, can’t think of anyone who’s done it before me; all that’s coming to my mind is that Silence of the Lambs poster-”
A tentacle shoots from The Rip’s chest, grabs Peck’s throat in a tight clutch.
“What. Do. You. Want?”
“Grrm… I c… an’t answer th… at… if I can… ’t… talk…”
The Rip lets him go, and thus he thuds on the concrete.
“*UFF*! You really haven’t changed over the years, eh?”
The Rip doesn’t reply verbally, but his tentacles continue to loom, ominously.
“Yikes, that silence sure does speak louder than words.” Peck stands, slaps the dust from his trousers. “Fine! I’ll answer your question, happy? I invited you here to let you guys know I have something you might be interested in: a Demon, locked in a cage, at a secret location - specifically, the Demon that bested your lil friend, whatsisname… Karen the Bitch-Boy, or whatever.”
“What do you mean, ‘bested’?” Malcolm asks.
“Uhh. I get keeping a low profile, but guys, you seriously don’t watch the news? Or like, listen to any gossip?” Peck pauses for a response, but there is none. “The demon who beat his ass, and then literally shoved him through a portal to Hell - anywho, my guys found that Demon going on some big rampage in Gotham. I’m told he put up quite the fight, but he’s mine now, for sale.”
“And you think we care, why?” asks The Rip, with a snarl.
“Uh, doy, a plethora of reasons? Like, including but not limited to: you could try trading or buying him off me, and have a great asset in your shitty little warehouse, or whatever you’ve got going for an HQ - you could steal him, sell him, make bank - you could free him into the wild, let that monster free, cause I know how much of a pussy you fucks are when it comes to my ‘trafficking’-“
The Rip interrupts Peck, with a stern “that’s enough.”
“Wait,” Malcolm interjects. “What about that last one? Freeing ‘em? I don’t see much wrong with that. Could be a worthwhile side project?”
“But why?” asks The Rip. “Peck established that this Demon, apparently, sent one of our very own clients to the Underworld; are they really someone worth being empathetic toward?”
“We know what’d happen to this Demon guy if we stood idle. Does he really deserve that, even if he sent Mr. Klarion to damnation?”
“You saw what happened to Walter last year, Malcolm-“
“Oh, right, his name’s Malcolm!” Peck acknowledges, interrupting The Rip. “That’s funny, I’ve got a Malcolm at my work, too-“
“Quiet.” The Rip demands, before turning back to his companion. “You saw first-hand a perfect exemplification of my highly accessible ideology: if one crosses me, or an ally, then I believe they should face consequences.”
Malcolm takes a breath, as his eyebrows furrow. “These ain’t exactly the circumstances I’d pictured, but… I’ve actually been meaning to talk with you about Walter - and how, because of what YOU did to him, Cindy’s still having nightmares. Earlier, you brought up ‘prohibiting work efficiency’, or whatever? That, THAT, is what’s been prohibiting work efficiency. And, also, y’know what else would? If the other two knew, in addition to killing one of our friends, you let this Demon guy be tortured, caged, and sold - imagine that, but if you were in our shoes. Knowing in the back of your mind that your boss let that shit happen, while you’re forced to work your ass off, and not able to do anything about it.”
“Hey, Frankie Muniz, I’d cool it with the criticism - I know your boss, and he doesn’t take kindly to that sorta thing,” Peck mentions.
“If I die tonight,” Malcolm turns to Peck. “Then it will have been for a reason. I can’t go on without having tried.” He turns back to The Rip. “You shouldn’t be able, either - whether or not you’re human.”
Two of the three conversationists go quiet as they await a response from the third. After a few seconds, though, The Rip delivers: “Hm. In all of my years being part of this legion...” He begins sauntering towards Malcolm. “Never has a coworker been so passionately assertive. It’s… Fascinating.” The Rip places his claw upon Malcolm’s scarfed shoulder - after whispering a spell to temporarily make said claw more solidified. “Although, I'd be a fool if I didn't attest to the fact your argument is rather compelling - well-delivered, too. Consider the ‘side project’, as you put it, begun.”
Peck guffaws. “Excuse-moi? ‘Well-delivered’? That was just a long winded ‘boo-hoo, you scared my girlfriend’ - I’ve harvested souls of children who whined less than that! I guess you have changed after all, cause The Rip I knew would’ve given a firm, octopic slap across the face for that-”
“You never knew me,” states The Rip. “Cease your claiming that you ever did, you pathetic, insolent soul-trafficker. And be grateful - it’s what you wanted, was it not?”
“I am grateful! Don’t you see me smiling?” Peck points to his horrifying rictus.
“I wish I didn’t,” The Rip replies.
“Ha ha. Anyways,” Peck begins to wander away. “I best be off, for prep, as should you guys - gang war is imminent.”
“‘Gang war’?” asks Malcolm. “I can’t say I recall you mentioning that part.”
Peck spins back around. “Jeez, kid, you have got a lotta learning to do; there’s a thin line between optimism and stupidity. You seriously thought I’d just hand the sucker over? Where’s the fun in that?” Peck spins yet again, laughing to himself as he disappears back into the night.
(Alzoc III, Year 21 BBY, Outpost Command, Hours after encounter with Separatist PD MK.I prototype)
Calena- "He's gone. He was literally gone. Dead to every one of us here. Kydan Witress, the Dark Mercenary of the Republic, the rogue padawan of the Order...my closest friend...was dead.'
'I...I don't even know what to say...or even how to feel right now. I feel angry, worried, sad, depressed, every single negative emotion running through me all at once. My mind and self-conscious can't fully take in what just all happened. Once moment he was here, joking and laughing like always...then the next...he was gone. Falling right into the eternal darkness below him. He was really just...gone.'
'I can't stop crying...my heart can't stop hurting...and my mind won't stop thinking about it all. Why? Why did this happened? How could the Force take him away like that? What did he do to deserve all this?...What did I do to deserve this punishment?'
'Now...I didn't get to tell him...I didn't get to say it, and now...I will never be able to tell him..."
_________________________
Hours had passed since Calena, Egile and the rest of the surviving soldiers got back to base. They nearly escaped with their lives when the prototype tried to take a shot at them all, just barely getting away in their speeders. It had been nearly hours since returning, and ever since then, Calena had put herself in a dark corner, her head staring at nothing but the wet floor in front of her.
Her eyes were red and glassy, tears still formed in her eyes and rolling down her red puffy cheeks. She didn't say a word since, and the entire 117th, including Egile and Tanga Squad, were getting seriously worried about her. A few of the clones went to make sure she was alright, but were all answered with nothing but silence and quiet sobs and sniffles from the general.
Standing beside the control room, Egile, Breona, Burner, Patterns and Degree were all gazing at the sobbing Siruhnian Jedi in the corner, unable to think of anything to comfort her when she needed it at the moment.
Patterns- *Sighs* Poor general...
Breona- *Shakes his head* I still...can't believe he's gone. Of all the other times we were in trouble and danger, this had to be the one to do it it...
Patterns- And with him gone, she ain't any better. We literally had to pull her out of there before we were all dead by that machine.
Degree- *Growls in frustration* Damn that machine! When I see it again, I'll...I'll...
Not able to stand the sight of the depressed girl any longer, Egile begins to take a step towards Calena.
Breona- Where're you going?
Egile- Someone's gotta' talk to her. She's in pain, and she needs any comfort she can get right now.
Understanding the issue, the others encouraged him with a nod as Egile immediately to the Jedi. He knew how she felt right now. He knew her too well. She was like a little sister to him, which made her feel like family. In fact, not a whole people know, but he had met her when she was younger during the time of becoming a mercenary. Though, she wouldn't be able to remember because of how long it has been.
He knew from the start that she had gained a crush on Kydan, mostly after the Battle of Jabiim ended. He would always listen to her, and some times she would ask him for advise, which he happily obliged of giving. Nonetheless, he knew that her heart was shattered into a billion pieces right now. And he definitely knew that she would never be able to tell him at all. And he didn't blame her because of it.
Hearing footsteps coming towards her, Calena didn't even pick her head up or perhaps gaze at who had approached beside her. She just thought that it was the clones checking up on her, which she appreciated greatly. But right now, she didn't want a single soul to talk to her. She just wanted to go back and cloak herself from the world and galaxy. She felt lonely once again, and heart broken. She even wished she was dead as well. That way, she wouldn't have to feel the constant pain and sadness in her heart again.
However, when she felt a hand on top of hers, she looked up ever so slightly to see Egile trying to comfort her somehow. His face was full of sincere concern, but at the same time, comfort too.
Egile- I know it's hard Calena...I really do.
And immediately, as his words hit her, she began to sob again, only harder and louder. She hugged Egile as she cried into his blue, winter outfit, burying her entire face into the wet and soft clothing. He hugged her back, comforting her in any way he could think of. She was definitely hurt, both emotionally and physically. And that pained him so dearly, even to the point of having his own tears begin to fill within his eyes.
Calena- *Sobbing and muffling* I miss him Egile! I miss him so much!
Egile- *Teary* I know, Calena. I miss him too...
The more she cried, the more it brought tears to Egile's eyes. He missed Kydan a lot too. He had always thought of him as one of his little brothers, even treating him as one of sorts. The pain in his heart was all the facts that he needed to know that he was missing the young mercenary. Even the clones, especially the two loyal droids, were all feeling the same. Everyone around them missed their friend and master. And there was nothing they could do, except mourn him. This was the hardest thing that any of them could possibly go through.
_________________________
(Alzoc III, Underground, Many hours after the ambush)
Breona- I...can't believe he's really gone...
Egile- We all miss him...
Calena- *Sobbing* Why?! Why did he have to go?!
Dark- Kydan? Kydan! Kydan, wake up! WAKE UP!
Opening his eyes immediately, Kydan began to breathe in the air heavily, as if he hadn't had a breath of air in years. The expression on his face was almost traumatizing it was like he was hyperventilating. Dark, who had sat beside him, did his utmost to calm the young man down. Being attacked from an unknown enemy and then falling to what it could have been death can take a toll on anyone. Even Kydan as well.
Dark- Kydan! Calm down, it's alright! Just take it easy!
Taking in more deeper breaths to finally calm his nerves, he slowly took in of his new surroundings.
The last thing he remembered was falling down a large, dark pit after just barely escaping the Separatist's new prototype's barrage of blaster fire that he somehow dodged. The last bit of memory he can hazily remember was when Calena had her hand stretched out to him, as he tried to grab it in time. But then he fell into the pitch black...and then woke up here. Well...whatever here was.
The place he was in was mostly covered in frozen rock and ice, with sharp stone spikes pointing down straightly above his head. The last thing he needed was a large stick rock plunging through his head. The rest of the area around him was no more than frozen ground, as well as some unusual crystals all around.
However, the more he looked around, the more he could actually find some detailing around the place. Some of the walls looked more like ancient writing that seemed to be hard to encrypt into words alone. Even old, symbol-like slabs that had unusual markings were formed into the frozen walls around him.
He started to think that this wasn't no ordinary cave system. It was more like an ancient ruins of some sort. Picking himself up and back on his feet, he looks towards to Dark, no doubt confused and curious as well.
Kydan- Where...where are we?
Dark- Not sure. Though it appears that we stumbled upon some kind of ancient ruins...
Kydan- More like a frozen chamber, if you ask me...
???- *Gruffly* Actually, both of your theories are correct, gentlemen.
Quickly grabbing his pistol from its holster, he turns around and aims his gun at whomever had spoken to him and Dark from behind.
The figure was an old man, wearing a brown cloak and robes. His age was probably around in the middle sixties, as well as was his clothing. His robes seemed to be old fashion of the sorts, with little tears here and there. In the palm of his hand was what appeared to be a custom walking stick.
The presence of this stranger was rather strange. For Dark, it felt very familiar in some way, as if they should know who this older man was. However, that was not the case.who are you?
Dark- Kydan, I can sense something strange within him. It's as if...
???- So you have a Forgula with you, hmm? Quite the sight indeed.
Kydan- Wait...you can see him?
Chuckling slightly, he started to walk towards the two, with Kydan keeping his guard up as he straightened himself more. He didn't know this old man, nor was he very fond of him knowing that he could see Dark.
???- *Smirk* Of course I can! You aren't the only Witronian in the galaxy that can see him.
Kydan- *Raises his eyebrow*Huh? What do you mean?
The older man ushers his cane towards Dark, who stood behind Kydan.
???- Your Black Forge there...that one brings back many memories.
Not taken back at the slightest, he looks at the older man suspiciously, and somewhat with curiosity.
Dark- Who are you, exactly? And how do you know about the Forge?
Not immediately answering Dark's questions, he walks towards to one of the old door and slides his wrinkled hand over the markings carved into it. Immediately, the door's markings started to glow a light shade of blue, though much darker than the color of the crystals themselves.
Suddenly, as the chamber began to shaken underneath their feet, though not deterring the old man at the slightest, the large, stone door that was frozen in ice began to separate slowly, revealing another chamber on the other side.
???- Come with me, and I shall answer both your minds of curiosities.
_________________________
(Separatist Base, Comm Room, Moments after Kydan awakens)
???- You are sure?
???- I am positive, Lord Quiese. The prototype had come back with it's records. While fighting against the Republic forces in Sector 9, it had captured the moment of the Dark Mercenary falling to his doom. There is no way that that child could possibly survive the fall.
Lord Quiese- Do not be so overconfident, Dr. Vinscti. You're prototype may have succeeded on holding back against the Jedi, but do not underestimate the Witronian.
Dr. Vinscti- You have nothing worry about, my lord. With my machine, the Predator Droid MK.I, at it's fullest capacity, we shall have no trouble dealing with the Republic and their Jedi. 'And', even 'if' he survived from the fall, then my machine shall finish what it had started.
Lord Quiese- You seem to believe that your little machine is unstoppable. As if the Jedi nor their clone soldiers can defeat it in combat?
Dr. Vinscti- That is merely impossible. A machine is just a machine, and like all machines, they can be broken. No...what I am merely stating is that this machine is possibly even greater. And with it being much larger and more feared, I could bet that it could kill more Jedi than Grievous himself could possibly handle.
Lord Quiese- As I said, do not be over confident with that machine, doctor. After the Republic in the Alzoc system are dealt with, you are to rendezvous to Corellia and begin manufacturing more of the prototypes for our armies.
Dr. Vinscti- But of course, my lord! It shouldn't be too long before our forces join the rest of the fleet. When our fleets join forces, the Republic won't stand a chance. They will be forced to retreat from the system.
Lord Quiese- I hope so, doctor. Lord Nedoura is eager for the results to happen. Remember, he is not as patient as his Acolytes are.
Dr. Vinscti- I understand, Lord Quiese. You will not be disappointed.
Lord Quiese- I hope not...for your sake, doctor.
Bowing before his lordship, the hologram of Lord Quiese evaporates from the panel, leaving the Neimoidian doctor himself to his thoughts.Hearing the sounds of clattering metal, Dr. Vinscti turned his head to the Droid Captain who was approaching.
Dr. Vinscti- Yes, what is it?
Droid Captain- We have detected enemy signatures in Sector 5. They are advancing their positions to the base. Scans indicate that they will arrive in a matter of one hour.
Dr. Vinscti- So the Republic was able to find us, eh? Then this will be where my machine will be put to the test...Captain! Prepare our troops for battle!
Droid Captain- Yes, doctor.
Dr. Vinscti- Guards, come with me!
Giving off a strange electric sound, the two mechanical guards started to follow right behind the doctor towards the doors.
Dr. Vinscti- *Smirks* I think it's about time my prototype gets it's first hands-on experience with the Jedi. Lord Quiese will no doubt be impressed with the results. And, perhaps, gain Nedoura's favor. Heh heh heh...
_________________________
(Underground, Ancient Tombs)
???- Welcome to my home, gentlemen.
Kydan- This is your home?
Dark- Too cold and beaten up, if you ask me...
???- Perhaps to you. But this place...has much meaning to me than you could possibly imagine.
Kydan- Why's that?
Placing his cane beside some strange type of box-like thing, the old man ushered the two to take a seat beside it. Shrugging at one another, the two pair silently took a seat on both an old chair and the stone, cold floor.
???- This place dates back years before the Great Hyperspace War, and when the Republic was at war, yet again, with their rivals; the Sith. It was a place for meditation, for training...and much more.
Kydan- I'm surprised such a place as this is even standing underneath this barren ice.
???- It wasn't always like this. This temple was the solitude of those who studied in the arts of both the Force...and the Forge. It was to help bind and connect those who weren't able to use their abilities wisely. Even those who weren't able to join the Order back then came here instead, and where we trained them all one by one.
Dark- Why would anyone want to have others train here of all places? Likely, there was more suitable planets than this place.
The old man just chuckled at Dark's curiosity and statement.
???- Ah! But this place was suitable for generations! In fact, this place was possibly, what scientists and archaeologists figure, built during the time after the galaxy's longest war in history. I bet you two know which one I'm speaking of, don't you?
Kydan looked at the old man curious for a moment, his mind beginning to ponder further back in his later studies. That was when his eyes widened a little as a thought passed through his memories.
Kydan- You're talking about the Forcro War?
???- *Smirks* So you do know it? Yes, possibly then.
Dark- If that was the case, then these ruins are older than the Republic itself. Even the ancient Jedaii themselves.
???- *Laughs* Well, well! It's a good thing you two know your histories of our ancestors. I would have thought you were fakes. Or perhaps worse.
Kydan- Fakes? Why do you say that?
With a grin on his face still, he walked towards an old, deactivated panel. However, it wasn't just some old ordinary computer panel. It was rather different.
Only moving his hand over the panel, the computer came to life as weird sounds started to be heard from it. Mere moments after, the box-like thing next to the two came to life as well, revealing a hologram of what appeared to be an old temple that look quite large, even if it was just smaller in their point of view.
Kydan- Is that...a temple?
???- Not just any temple. It was one of the main Witronian Temples.
Dark- Witronian? But that can't be. The last temple of the Witronians was destroyed thousands of years ago. The Sith had bombed it from orbit during the chaos between the Old Republic and Jedi.
???- Yes, but not all of them. This is just one of the few that have been kept in secret for as long as I can remember myself. Very few Witronians know of their locations, and only few of these temples still stand today. Hiding themselves from the rest of the galaxy for thousands of years.
Kydan- So...how do you know of this? You said only Witronians would know of them. How could you possibly know?
Answering the mercenary's question, the older man removed his hood from his head and revealed his face to the two.
???- That's because I am a Witronian. My name is Zechora, Zechora Vioxiz Witress.
Kydan- Zechora?...Why does that name sound familiar?
Pondering and pondering for a few more seconds, his mind suddenly clicks as he stares at Zechora wide-eyed. His mind raced immediately with questions and words.
Kydan- *Studders* Y-Y-You mean your--
Zechora- One and the same, young Witress. And before you or your Forge there ask, yes, I know who you two are. I've been watching you two for some time now.
Dark- But your dead! You had perished during the devastating Battle of Malachor, did you not?
Zechora- Correct. I had past away afterwards. Though my mind and Force essence is still intact, even being beyond centuries ago. Besides, how else do you think I am able to talk to you now?
Kydan couldn't believe what he was witnessing; here was a man, who had past away thousands of years ago, was here and now speaking to him and Dark. Was it that they were going crazy, or was it something more? It just didn't seem possible. Maybe he hit his head far too hard? Sounds possible enough.
Kydan- I-I don't......then why? Why are you here? Why reveal yourself to us now?
Zechora looked over his shoulder to Kydan and smirked.
Zechora- Because the Force and the Forge have commanded it.
Kydan- *Taken back slightly* What?
Zechora- It wasn't just a mere coincidence that you two have come to this place. The Force and the Forge have both wanted it to happen. Because of that, is the only reason you are both here speaking to me now.
Dark- But why us?
Zechora- Because...I have for-seen your destinies.
Kydan- *Raises his eyebrow* Destinies? I don't follow.
Zechora- *Chuckles* Well, if you remember your history correctly, I had possessed the ability to forsee the future. Not in the far, distant future, only some years of now. The Force and the Forge have both come to me and asked to show you two what is to come.
Dark- And what would that be?
Zechora steps to the two and stretches his hand out to them as he closes his eyes in what appeared to be in deep meditation.
Zechora- What you are about to see...is entirely up to you to believe it or not...and for you to either take action...
Immediately, both Kydan and Dark started to for-see whatever it was they were seeing;
First, the two saw a major battle taking place above the skies, as well as on-board a giant battle station. Between the two were the Separatist against the Clones, with Kydan leading, followed by Calena and Tanga Squad following closely behind. The battle seemed to be a glorious one for the Republic's side.
But in the second, they were immediately seeing a lightsaber duel with one of the Dark Acolytes against Kydan and Calena. In the vision, it looked like the Acolyte was winning by far, as Kydan was seen being sent flying across the ground, wounded tremendously. As for Calena, however, it was even worse.
Injured and weak, the Acolyte disarmed her saber and knocked her back to the ground. Then quickly, to Kydan's utter horror, the Acolyte raised his blade at her and swung it at her, ending her. Kydan watched in horror as he screamed her name out to her, only to be met with reality once more, the vision quickly ending.
Kydan quickly feel to the ground and onto his knees, shaken to the state of shock and fear. Dark, who was also shaken, at his best stayed calm as he tried to comfort his mercenary friend. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he spoke out to Zechora, not even moving an inch of his gaze to him.
Kydan- *Panting* W-What was......s-she...she was...
Zechora- *Closes eyes* Mmm...what you have seen...was no doubt the near future.
Dark- *Shakes his head slightly* It felt so...so dark...so much chaos all around...
Zechora- *Opens eyes* It was the evil and darkness you felt. For some reason, it is growing ever so slightly. And it will only get worse as time passes.
Kydan- C...Cale'...sh-she was about to...
Zechora- Ah, the Sirunian. Yes...I have seen and heard much about her. Her future...well, it is not good.
Kydan- You mean she could...
He didn't want to start thinking about it. He didn't even want to even have a stray thought of those facts. Losing her...was inconceivable.
Zechora- Yes. However...there is a way to change it.
Kydan- *Eyes widen* How? Is there really a way save her? Please, tell us!
Zechora smiles slightly at the young mercenary, a look of knowing.
Zechora- You seem to be close to her, am I correct?
Kydan- Of course! I've known her for over a year, ever since the Clone Wars began!
Zechora- Ah, but something else tells me that you have some form of an attachment to her......a form of a relationship, hm?
Kydan's face turns to a slightly pinkish color. True, he had some form of relationship with her, but nothing farther than the fact that they were friends and partners. Just thinking about that kind of thing made his stomach turn, almost to the feeling of mynocks in his stomach.
Kydan- *Slightly blushing* W-We're...we're just friends...nothing more.
Zechora- *Grins* That expression itself tells me otherwise.
Hearing that from the older man made Kydan's cheeks even darker, now visible to them all.
Kydan- *Stutters* W-well...It's not like...
The older Witress laughs ever so softly, not at the mercenary, but of the situation. Reaching down and helping Kydan up to his feet, he places his hand on the young man's shoulder as comfort.
Zechora- Young Witress, there is nothing to be ashamed about. All Witronians are meant to have attachments. It is our way of culture, our life span. The older we get, the more we want to share our lives with the ones we love. And for a Witronian and a Sirunian to have these forms of attachments...well, let's just say that it is even greater than anyone could imagine. There is no shame or embarrassment to show about that. In fact, it is an honor and a great thing to have. Without it, the Witronians couldn't exist.
Feeling Kydan's emotions settling down somewhat from Zechora's words, Dark took the chance to speak up before Kydan could feel anymore embarrassment.
Dark- You said there is a way to save Calena?
Zechora- Yes. But that I cannot say, sadly.
Kydan- *Eyes widen a bit* Why not?
Zechora- Because it is up to you two to change that. I am simply a helper, not a man of miracles. It is your choices that will have an impact in the future. And if you choose to follow these visions, then you will be prepared for what is to come.
Dark curiously stared at the older man for a few moments before speaking up.
Dark- ...There's something you're not telling us. I can tell from your emotions.
Zechora- *Chuckles* Well, I guess my reputation proceeds me, then. Yes, there is one last thing as to why I have come before you both.
Walking up to the hologram table, once again he waves his hand in front of it as a sound of stone what heard scrapping against stone. Realizing what was going on, the two saw that the hologram has quickly disappeared, and the table was opening up slowly to them all.
Inside the table was a black object that resembled that of a lightsaber hilt. Though in a different style, it was far from any other ordinary sabers they have come across or seen before. The hilt had a sharp piece at the end of it, with details that have very few words that was hard to encrypt. From the looks of it, the object was indeed very old.
Kydan- What is that?
Zechora- That, young Witress, is a Forge Blade.
Dark- A Forge Blade? I have never heard of it.
Picking up the black hilt, Zechora studied it for a mere moment before explaining to them.
Zechora- After the first Forcro War, and after the Witronians and Forgula's first major victory, tons of our brothers and sisters were killed in combat, making our numbers thin. The Forgulas were the same, dying off ever so slowly. However, our great grandfather, Xxelvio Witress, discovered that the crystals the Forgulas used, even to this day, had some meaning to them. So after studying them for many years, he found that they had the same energy that came from the original Kyber Crystals that the Jedi and Sith used. By using the knowledge he had, and by combining techniques of the Force and the Forge together, he was able to break through the laws of power and pursued something that the galaxy only knew to be legends and myths to this today.
Kydan- What did he do?
Zechora- ...He was able to preserve the minds and essence of the Forgulas, creating an infinite life span to those who were dying. In basic terms, the Forgulas were able to use their powers to connect with the living Force, making their bodies turn into different kinds of elements when they past away.
Dark- So you mean that us Forgulas have been able to stay alive...for generations?
Zechora- Precisely. Though, at the cost of this, many Forgulas that went through this lost many of their memories, almost forgetting their past lives. Sad to say, even 'you' have lost your old memories of old.
Kydan- Is that even possible, Dark?
Dark- Honestly...I never thought about it before. Though have I never had the knowledge of it as well. It would make a whole lot of sense.
Zechora- But because Xxelvio felt sadden and guilt of that utter cost, he created the Forge Blades to preserve the Forgula's memories whenever it was used, storing any knowledge they would have of the past. And for generations, each memory of a Forgula was stored into these blades. It's as if you could say, they were like holocrons, storing hundreds and hundreds of knowledge.
Dark- So my people's memories...are stored into these?
Zechora- Yes. And even though there are many others in the galaxy that are unknown, this specific blade is...special.
Kydan- Why is that one special?
Zechora looked at the blade for merely a moment before stretching his arm to Kydan and Dark, aiming the blade's hilt directly at them. His expression was now seriousness, as if whatever he was about to say was no doubt important. And that was...
Zechora- Because this blade...is yours, Forgula Dark.
_________________________
Hmm...quite the background story of the Forge, huh? Don't worry, there's a lot more to explain later on. This just scratching the surface of the shell. Also, somewhere within explaining the Forge and whatnot, there is a small hint of what is to come in our Season 2 series that will be coming out either Mid-Winter or Late Winter. If any of you can find it, then let us know...or just keep it hush-hush for the time being and see if you got it right lol.
We really enjoyed writing this one, to be honest. Even though this wasn't an action chapter at all, I think it turned out pretty good. We wanted to introduce a bit of background of what the Forge and Forgula's were, as well as a few things here and there you all don't know about yet. Nonetheless, this was a fun chapter for us to write about.
Speaking of Season 2, we have a little bit of news. Now this is just in the talks at the moment, but myself and the crew of CGN have recently been discussing about having the next new characters in the next season start to pop out and get a bit of story from them before Season 2 comes. Now, like I said, this is just in the talks, but we are thinking about it. We will let you know later on on what happens :)
Well, I think it's about time we head out and work on the next pair of chapters. So thank you all for your wonderful and countless supports on our comic series, and please, continue to give us feedback on how the story is going and what we could do to improve on. So again, thank you guys for your faithful supports and, as always, have a fan-tucking-tastic day/night. See ya' in the next one.
- Director K.W., CGN Crew
Nathan and Ozz track down one of the spies mentioned in Mayla's destroyed Manifest, but they run into obstacles. Enter an unexpected ally, a mysterious young man who might be able to help them in their mission, but Ozz resents the intrusion of another goody-two-shoes human into his and Nathan's still-new partnership.
Suffering a bit of turbulence on re-entry, Nathan stumbled against one of the Lucky Star’s bulkheads. As soon as he made impact, an overhead storage bin flapped open, spilling junk onto the floor.
“Hey, watch that spot, would you?” Ozz complained. “It’s loose!”
“No kidding? That nearly hit me in the head!”
“Well then, watch that spot!”
“I’m going to make some…adjustments to your ship when we land, I swear. This thing is a death trap.”
“Stow it and grab a seat, we’re comin’ in on Yavin IV.”
The Lucky Star hurried down out of orbit, over the vast green jungles covering the fourth moon of Yavin. Nathan reached across the dashboard to point at a temple that breached the trees.
"Massassi 12, that's got to be it. See the landing beacons?"
"Yeah, yeah. I can land the ship myself! You must think I need help, but I don’t. Perfectly capable on my own…"
“Someone seems hangry.”
“Shut it.”
Their craft sunk below the dense, green foliage to join a few other starships at a makeshift landing platform. The buzz of activity reached them from the temple grounds.
Nathan and Ozz made for the market to get the lay of the land. Massassi 12 was originally just a private dig site, but then merchants arrived to service the guards and archeologists. Colonists and refugees followed the merchants, and they were followed by more merchants, and before long Massassi 12 had become a colony all of its own.
The dig site itself had only become more exclusive and well-guarded in response to the surge in population. Armed guards stood watch at the crumbling old entrances, keeping things quiet for the researchers inside. There was a thin film between the bustling markets in the stone courtyards and the secretive work happening meters away.
The ruins were pretty impressive. The ground was mostly broken cobblestones, and tarps and trees overhead created shade. Merchants had built their stalls on the bedrock of the ruined temple grounds, a strange kind of contrast to Nathan’s fresh perspective.
Ozz gave one of the guards a wary eye. "There's no way we're getting in there. Oh well! Guess we’ll give up. I wasn’t too excited about all this anyway."
Nathan looked at him incredulously. “I thought you wanted a payday?”
“Yeah, well, I also want to live. That guard looks like he wants his payday too.”
Nathan shook his head. “I'm not giving up just like that. There's an Imperial spy on this planet, Mayla’s Manifest listed this settlement as one of the hotspots. I bet you they're not far."
Ozz smelled the money in that. "I'm still not convinced you can bring home the bacon. Flying isn't free! You go do what you're gonna do, I can make busy for a few hours..."
"Yeah, you can. I’ll need your help, Ozz."
Ozz was pleased to hear it, but hid any sign of being so behind a veneer of suspicion. He raised a wispy white eyebrow. "You want help, you gotta have a plan. Let me hear your plan."
Nathan laid out what he had so far. The Iakaru wasn't impressed.
"Nope, no sir! I'm not playing your muscle. Nobody would believe it anyway, I'm obviously the brains of the operation."
Nathan frowned. "It's the best I've got. Do you want to get this bounty? You know it means money, right? You like money, don't you?"
"You do what you want to do, nerd," Ozz said, shrugging. "I'm gonna sample the local wares, breath some fresh air, and come up with a better plan."
He turned to leave, nearly walking into someone in the process. A man in a black tunic, wearing a brown cloak, had approached them from a nearby alley.
"Excuse me, sorry to eavesdrop,” the man said calmly. “But...I'm on your side. The Archeologists have things pretty tight, don't they?"
Nathan and Oz exchanged looks. The 'are we in trouble' kind. They turned towards the man, prepared to disavow anything they'd said.
Nathan peered at the man's face. He didn't look dangerous. He had wide blue eyes, sandy hair...he looked trustworthy. Of course, that really meant nothing. Danger came in all forms. Mayla came to Nathan's mind (not an uncommon occurance): she was cute, and he’d trusted her, but she was also an Imperial spy. He probably needed to be a little more on guard.
"You've got a good plan, and I can help," the stranger continued. "You should see some of the places I've just...walked inside."
Ozz crossed his arms. "Oh yeah? Like what?" He challenged.
The stranger shrugged. "A dangerous tribal village...a Hutt's palace...an Imperial base..."
"Pretty good resume...if it's TRUE. What do you want out of it?"
"Same thing as you: a look at what they've dug up, and to expose any spies. And like you, I'd rather get it over with quickly. Let's just say I'd like to avoid any entanglements."
Ozz stared up into the hood suspiciously, jabbing a finger at the man's chest. "You some kind of bounty hunter? We've got claim, pal."
"No, no! I'm just a do-gooder,” said the man, smiling and holding his hands up peacefully. “I promise, I don't mean you any harm."
Nathan was feeling a bit more cheered about his plan, and the idea of having another co-conspirator that wasn’t Ozz didn’t hurt. "It's not our place to judge," Nathan said. "And I guess we could use some actual muscle."
Ozz looked alarmed, and pulled Nathan by the lapels of his jacket into a private conversation.
"Are you kidding me? You let the first guy we see join our secret mission?"
"I trust him. I mean, come on, it's not crazy that someone might want to help uncover an Imperial spy."
“I thought this was just you and me, kid!”
“I thought you didn’t want to do my plan? This guy does,” Nathan said smugly.
Ozz, who felt somewhat betrayed and cast aside (though it was up for discussion whether he had any right to complain), tried to manage his grumbling expression. He threw up his hands.
"...Geez, fine, he seems alright. But you gotta get out more." The Iakaru sighed. "I guess we can make him the fall guy, instead of you."
Nathan gave him an admonishing look. Ozz brushed it off.
“I’m jokin’, obviously.”
They turned back to the hooded stranger, who had been waiting patiently while they talked. Nathan extended his hand, which the stranger shook.
"You're in. What should we call you?"
"I'm Luke," said the stranger. "Ozz, Nathan, right?"
Ozz glowered. He still didn’t trust this newcomer. He seemed a little too knowledgeable. "You catch on fast, clean-cut."
"Yeah, nice to meet you, Luke." Nathan glanced at his short, grumpy companion with a wry smile. "Hey Ozz, you don’t have to play muscle anymore, you’re off the hook.”
Ozz crossed his arms and grumbled, “Oh boy. You got anything for me to do? You gonna include me in this little plan? Or is this guy your new partner?” he jabbed a thumb at Luke.
"He’ll warm up to you,” Nathan said, grinning. He tried to come up with someone useful for the Iakaru to do. “You can be on lookout, Ozz. Let me go change clothes, and then we'll do this thing."
"That's right, Inspector Strader, from the CFS Research Grant Foundation,” Nathan said in his firmest, most confident voice. “As I told you before, the CFS is interested in contributing funding to your research, but they'll require an audit of your operation's safety standards before they even consider sending a credit."
"All our credentials check out," Luke added gently.
The guard left to bring someone in charge. A researcher, fresh from the dig site, approached with a suspicious look already on her face. But as Nathan explained his purpose, her manner became much more open and welcoming. Something about "tens of thousands of credits in grant funding" seemed to help her relax. Luke wasn't a problem: he apparently came off as trustworthy to everyone else, too.
"I see! Well, we'll need to have you carefully watched, but allow me to show you around the site."
"I'll need full access. And I'll need my assistant, of course."
The researcher frowned and met eyes with the guard. Nathan looked aside to Luke, who smiled reassuringly.
"I'm not going to be a problem," he told the suspicious scientist. She stared, her face contorting as though she was struggling to make a decision, but finally she turned to the guard. "He's not going to be a problem. Let them in."
Once inside, they had to move quickly. Nathan played the role of overbearing, severe safety inspector, checking over everything and making all the researchers very nervous. It was the sort of long plan that would fall apart in the hands of a conman, but Nathan came with the experience, appearance, and know-how needed. He just walked around and inspected their safety standards for real, occasionally mentioning some jargon to communicate his authenticity.
Seemingly unnoticed, Luke ducked away to peek into the project records and the personnel communications.
Meanwhile, Ozz had nothing to do. He stood on an outer corner of the dig site and watched pedestrians amble by.
“Keep walkin’,” he barked at a leering thug, a gran who kept watching him even as he walked on. Guys with that look were trouble.
“Blondie sure takes over everything, doesn’t he? Hah, ‘partners’ my arp. Doesn’t need Ozzie anymore, does he? Not now that he’s got the majestic hooded child-man. Pah! Nerd’s gonna get killed one day, trusting every loser he sees.”
The thought surfaced that Nathan had also, in fact, trusted Ozz himself on many occasions when others had not, and had stood up for him the first several times he was in-line to be fired from the plant on Targonn. He pushed this thought down somewhere deep and dark and summarily ignored it. After all, he’d let him get fired in the end anyway, so what difference did it make? And he knew he hadn’t done anything to deserve that.
“Pah! ‘Lookout duty’. What a load of plog. Might as well have gone back to the ship,” he mumbled bitterly to himself.
The more he thought about it, the more that sounded like a great idea. He was doing absolutely nothing here, except wearing out his legs and offering all the local pickpockets an enticing challenge. Cursing humans (Nathan in particular), Ozz stomped off through the crowds, heading back for the landing pad.
Ozz was napping soundly in the Lucky Star’s cockpit when he was suddenly awoken by the beeping of his comlink.
“Ozz, are you there? OZZ!”
Ozz lurched up in his chair and smacked the transmit button. “What?” he said groggily.
“Are we clear? Is the coast clear?”
“Oh yeah, yeah. Super clear,” the Iakaru replied, still half-asleep. The comlink went silent, and Ozz once again began to snore.
Ozz’s dreams were tumultuous.
“Get out of here! I don’t want to see your face again!”
“But, pop! I swear I got it this next time, no more problems!”
“Get out!” the father screamed. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since the day we first had the misfortune to call you our son! You will always be a problem, and we cannot have more problems! Leave my house, or I’ll call security!”
“You know what, that’s fine!” the son shouted back. “You stupid old fool! You think you’re always right? I don’t gotta be what you think is right. I’ll be what I think is right, and do what I wanna do, and I’ll be just dandy, watch!”
“You idiot, you’re making your mother weep!”
“Oh sure, I’m—that was YOU!” the son yelled. He was shaking with rage. His father looked ready to kill. “Whatever, I’m outta here…See ya never, pops!”
He heard his father launch into another tirade over the sound of his mother crying, but he didn’t look back. He never did.
Ozz was rudely awoken again, this time by Nathan and Luke as they came hurtling into the parked ship.
“Ozz! Get out the medkit!” Nathan shouted.
Ozz flew out of his seat, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Wha-what?”
“A medkit, Ozz! Luke’s hit!”
Ozz flailed into action, popping the latch on a storage container and rummaging inside for the medkit. “Medkit! Right! It’s here somewhere, I know it…”
Nathan was supporting Luke up the ramp, and helped heave him into a chair. Smoke rose from a blaster burn on Luke’s leg.
Ozz’s eyes widened. “Geez, kid! What in the world happened?”
“Bounty hunters,” Luke groaned. “Looking for me. Sorry to make things more complicated.”
Nathan turned to Ozz, glaring. “Wouldn’t have been a problem if someone was where they were supposed to be! ‘Super clear’? You’ve got to be kidding me…where’s that Medkit?”
Ozz blinked again, staring dumbly at the two humans. “…Bounty hunters? But…”
When it was clear the medkit was somewhere deep in the recesses of the ship, Nathan threw up his hands.
“I’ve got to go find a doctor. Wrap something around that wound!” he called back, and he ran down the ramp and back towards the ruins.
Ozz finally came to his senses, and found some loose old clothes to use as wrappings. He knelt by Luke, wincing. “Geez, doesn’t look too good, pal…”
Luke, to his credit, smiled. “I’ve had worse,” he said through his teeth.
“Hey, look, I’m—I feel terrible—“ Ozz managed.
“I appreciate it, but…things happen as they’re meant to. No hard feelings.”
“Well, that’s bunk. But…Aw, geez. Let me keep lookin’ for that medkit. You keep that pressure on good and tight, you got it?”
“Sure, sure,” Luke replied, grimacing.
Soon, Nathan had returned with someone in tow. He came up the ramp followed by two males: a polished man in a coat, along with his Gran assistant…
The Gran from before, the one that was trouble.
“How did this happen?” asked the doctor, hurrying over to the wounded young man.
“Uh, a…weapons malfunction,” Nathan lied, badly.
Ozz immediately knew, with the kind of instinct honed over many years, that these guys were here for Luke. And not here for Luke in a nice, supportive way. Here for Luke in a bounty hunting way.
He kept himself from shouting. They weren’t tipping their hand. He couldn’t either.
The doctor took something out of his coat. “Just a bacta stim, do not worry.”
That was no bacta stim. Wrong fluid color, wrong consistency. Ozz didn’t know what he was about to inject into Luke, but it wasn’t gonna heal him.
The Gran shot him a look. Its hand inched towards its jacket, where a concealed blaster sat holstered. The look said, “Don’t interfere.”
To hell with that, Ozz thought. He made a fist, and bashed the wall with his hand. In a very specific spot.
The overhead storage unit flopped open, spilling debris and a large white case—the Medkit. The deluge of junk hit the Gran in the head, and he fell to the floor with a ‘thwump!’
The doctor spun to look, then, realizing he’d lost his backup, tried to jab the dubious stim into Luke’s leg. Before he could, a “SCHWISH” sound filled the ship, and he found himself stopped by the glow of a blade of green light. Ozz and Nathan leapt back with shouts of alarm. The doctor, only inches from the humming weapon, blinked and gasped in terror, his hand frozen in the air.
Luke, sweaty and injured, stared the man in the eye.
“I’ll let you choose what you do next.”
Nathan and Ozz dropped both of the Bounty Hunters off with a local constable, but the dangerous looks they got made them beat a path back to the Lucky Star as quickly as they could.
“Where did you go, Ozz?” Nathan said angrily.
“What?” Ozz grunted.
“You were supposed to be on lookout, where did you go?” Nathan demanded.
“Back to my ship, of course. Where else would I go?”
“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere in the first place. If you hadn’t, he might not have gotten shot!”
Ozz spun toward him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Whatcha gonna do about it, you gonna fire me? Huh? Well you can’t, because without my ship, you’re nowhere. And what about you, huh? Your bright-eyed view of the galaxy just almost got us all killed! You wanna check somebody out with me next time you bring ‘em on board my ship? Oh, and that’s right, you’d be on Targonn in cuffs if not for me, and MY SHIP!”
Nathan backed down, speechless. Breathing hard, Ozz slowly cooled off too. They both stood awkwardly outside the Lucky Star, avoiding having to look at each other.
“You’re right,” Nathan admitted.
Ozz let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, yeah…well, maybe you are too, about part of this,” he mumbled.
Nathan looked sheepishly at his companion. “Ozz, I’m sorry.”
The Iakaru turned and glowered at him. “Look here, you don’t you cut me out of plans, and you don’t bring just anyone you see onto our operation! We’re partners, ain’t that what you said back on Garel? We’re doing this bounty hunting gig together, until you pay me what you owe me! You don’t just charge ahead without the both of us bein’ okay with it. That goes for everything we do, you got it?”
Nathan nodded seriously. “…That’s…yeah. Agreed.”
“…Well…good. Glad that’s settled, then,” Ozz muttered. He hadn’t expected so little resistance, but Nathan was obviously sincere. “Let’s…get back onboard, huh?”
They turned to ascend the ramp.
“Hey nerd,” Oz said. “Still worried about the overhead bins?”
“Are you kidding me? Way more than before. Now the Star is a proven deathtrap.”
“But a useful deathtrap!”
Onboard, Nathan and Luke briefed Ozz on what they’d gotten from the dig site, before the Bounty Hunters had jumped them. Luke managed to extract not only the identity of the Imperial Spy, based on info Nathan gave him, but he had found communication records locked up with old Imperial codes; nearly verifiable proof of Imperial activity.
“But that’s not all,” Nathan said with a sigh. “It also looks like the dig site is partly funded by some sketchy, Imperial-linked sources. That means they probably won’t turn over one of their own researchers just because we say he’s an Imperial.”
“Hmm, makes things tough,” Ozz agreed. “Maybe we can make this guy disappear some other way. Grab him when he makes a borka run, or somethin’?”
“Maybe.”
Ozz stood up and rummaged in the storage unit. “Well, you think about it, I’m gonna rustle us up some grub. Who likes Tortaul?”
“Only in stew,” Luke said. “My aunt used to make great Tortaul stew.”
“Well, I ain’t your aunt. No promises.”
Smiling, Nathan went to step outside. “I’m gonna get some air. Be back in a few.”
They had what they needed: the identity of the spy, and proof of his wrongdoing. But learning about the Imperial funding complicated things; there was no guarantee that trying to turn the spy over wouldn’t land them in even deeper trouble. Nathan stood outside the Lucky Star, looking into the night-dark tree line and listening to the sounds of the forest, conflict roiling in his head. He must’ve been too deep in thought to notice Luke approach him.
“Nice work today,” he said.
“Thanks, you too.”
Luke looked at him closely. “Everything alright?”
“Sure, sure…” Nathan replied, but it was hollow and untrue. Luke knew it. His incredulous look made Nathan scoff at himself, and he relaxed his defenses.
“Well, no.”
“I thought so,” Luke said kindly. “What’s on your mind?”
Nathan took a deep breath. “Right now, the Empire isn’t causing any trouble,” he said. “This place is…peaceful. I’m not sure how we’re going to stop the spy. If we can’t trust the law here, then we might have to take things into our own hands. It feels…I don’t know. It almost feels wrong to bring violence somewhere where things are peaceful.”
Luke thought for a moment before responding. “Things aren’t peaceful, just quiet. I know what you mean, Nathan, but you have to look past the way that things appear and see what they really are.”
“…What do you mean?”
“The Empire isn’t oppressing this place, you’re right. But their research here could lead to the deaths of people elsewhere. It wouldn’t be the first time.” He turned to the younger man, his expression serious. “Just because evil is speaking in a whisper doesn’t mean we should stop up our ears and ignore it.”
That made sense to Nathan, and he saw a clear path through part of his confusion. “Okay, you’re right. Being afraid to start trouble now could mean much worse for someone later. So, what do we do?” he asked helplessly. “Murder the spy? How can that be right?”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Is that your only possible option?”
Nathan thought for a moment. He was being dumb. “No,” he admitted.
“What else is there?”
Nathan hesitated before answering. He wanted to be confident of his reply. “…We confront him. We let him make the choice. If we have to, we use our weapons in defense. Otherwise, we take him to somewhere he’ll never hurt someone again.”
Luke nodded. “I think that’s wise. See? There’s always a right way. Sometimes you have to look hard to see it, but it’s always there.”
“Thanks for helping me look.”
Luke smiled and clapped him on the back. “Anytime! I think Ozz has something resembling food ready.”
Dinner was surprisingly edible. Ozz had spiced the stew with a variety of flavoring cocktails he’d picked up on his travels. It turns out he perceived himself as something of a gourmet.
“My specialty is taking trash, and turning it into a bee-ute-a-ful artful masterpiece,” he had said, grinning toothily in a way that did not inspire confidence.
“We need a plan. What have we got to work with? Tell me about everything you have on the ship, Ozz. Anything that could be useful.”
“Useful for…”
“Specifically, for hunting bounties. But I don’t want you to leave anything out, so think useful for anything at all.”
They talked over their bowls about how to trap the Imperial spy and eventually decided on a final plan, one that mitigated the risk of their untimely deaths. It was nevertheless a bold plan, once that was to be executed that very night. They busied themselves with finding the various pieces of equipment they would need, and stumbled on a few along the way that Ozz had either neglected to mention, or had never seen in his life, so deep had they delved into the Lucky Star’s storage bins.
“Luke, you should stay here.” Nathan said.
“No, no, I’m coming along, you guys will want the help—“
Nathan shook his head sternly, glancing at Ozz. They had obviously talked it over in private. “I appreciate that, but this is something we’ve got to do on our own.”
“Not like we’ll have ya next time, clean-cut,” Ozz added.
“Besides, you should rest that leg.”
Luke was surprised, but he complied with their wishes. He borrowed a bunk on the Lucky Star for the night, and saw them off with a wish of good luck.
Ked Ereda said goodnight to his fellow researchers and stole away to the communications relay. Tense, he watched the stone entrance for any interruptions while he uploaded the most recent batch of encoded data, but once again, he was undiscovered and successful.
He slept in a habitat just outside the ruin complex, a Spartan, bare space that befitted a servant. This suited him. His life for the cause. His comfort, as well. His comfort was the dream of a new Sith Empire, the kind of the former order could only have dreamed of. But he had done the research, seen things in his studies. These temples were their monuments. He would bleed for the honor to scrape the stones they’d walked on.
His nature had him keep away from the main paths, preferring to go unnoticed by the rabble who leeched off the dig site. He crossed into the shadows of a narrow passage, stone on both sides and tangled vines overhead.
Someone stepped into his path ahead. Instinctively, he turned to go back, but another had blocked him there. One tall, one stocky, both wearing helmets that hid their faces. He ground his teeth. Muggers, no doubt. He carried nothing valuable, the fools could do what they liked.
“You’re Dr. Ereda, aren’t you?” said the taller one.
Ereda raised his hands. “I have nothing of value, please, leave me be,” he said carefully.
“Ha! Nothing of value?” scoffed the shorter. “Why? Didja already send it off to your Imperial pals?”
The researcher paled in the darkness. They knew. How could they know? His mind flew to the capsule embedded his wisdom teeth. He knew what he was supposed to do, but Dr. Ereda did not welcome death.
“Hit it, Nate.”
A flash of blue came from the taller thug, and Dr. Ereda felt a strange, painless shock course through his body. An ion blast. Startled, he realized this would disable the disintegration capsule. How could they have known? These were no simple thugs, these creatures were a threat to the dream.
He grabbed for the knife at his belt.
“Feisty, eh? Wait…Nate! Stop him before he--!”
Nathan rushed forward and grabbed the man’s wrist, just as he had been pushing the knife towards his own throat.
“Woah, not today, pal!” he said as they struggled, and the knife was knocked safely away. “You’re coming with us, doctor!”
Dr. Ereda felt something hot press into his back. His body jolted, and he slumped to the ground, stunned and unconscious.
Ozz pocketed the stunner and depolarized the visor of the old EVA harness he was wearing, revealing the wide grin on his face. Nathan followed suit with his old mining helmet.
“Not bad, nerd! Not bad at all!” Ozz said. “You’re scrappier than I thought. Gotta admit, Ozzie’s a little bit—a tiny bit—impressed. Where the hell’d you learn to hit like that?”
“Grew up in an orphanage,” Nathan said, his breath short. “Comes with the territory, I guess.”
“Huh! We might just be able to do this bounty hunting thing!”
Nathan gave him a wry smile. “What, you had doubts?”
“Only ‘bout you,” Ozz grunted, as he tried to lift the limp, flailing form of the unconscious spy. “But hey, gotta admit, that helmet helps you look the part. Covers up the serious, snot-nosed brat face of yours. Help me out here, would ya?”
Nathan positioned himself at the man’s torso while Ozz had the legs. “I can’t believe that didn’t go wrong. I was sure it was going to wrong.”
“Hey, bring back the optimism, would ya? You know, you’re not bad for muscle. Wanna be my official employee?”
“Shut up.”
They were lucky the streets were quiet, they only had to spin a “he had a little too much to drink” explanation a few times, and nobody seemed interested in questioning them any further. Apparently, Massassi 12 was a terrible place to get kidnapped if you’re relying on community spirit to come to your aid.
When they reached the ship, they found Luke sitting just outside. He smiled and clapped as they set the man down.
“Hey! You guys did it, you apprehended an Imperial spy.”
“Well, kid, we are professionals,” Ozz boasted.
Luke’s smile took on a wry quality. “Sure, sure, and these spies aren’t what they were a few years ago, but…”
Nathan gave Luke a pained look. He grinned.
“…But still, you should be proud,” he said earnestly, and then he stood in preparation to leave. “Thank you both, you helped me find what I was looking for.”
“Hey, likewise, clean-cut!”
Nathan stepped forward, worry creasing his face. “Luke, did you find anything about Mayla?”
“No, I didn’t,” replied the young man, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Nathan.”
Nathan’s face fell, and the hope left him in a sigh. Before he could get too despondent, Luke continued.
“But I have something else. A lead on what Moff Pyerce is looking for. If you’re able to find it first, maybe you’ll find her too.”
“Yes! I’ll take anything you’ve got.”
“Pyerce is searching for old artifacts, holocrons, objects used to store knowledge by both the Jedi and the Sith in ages past.”
“He must be getting desperate, I thought all that stuff was just fairy tales.”
“Maybe less than you think,” Luke said with a coy smile. “Nathan, can I trust you to help me with something?”
Nathan nodded seriously. Ozz rolled his eyes at the two humans, who were painfully sincere from his point of view.
Luke produced a small, weathered book, which he held out to Nathan. “These are just a few notes I’ve written down while searching for similar objects. You can take them, they might help on your search.”
“Wow, thanks—“
“If you could, I’d like you to add to them as you go. One day, when we meet again, I want to hear about what you learned.”
Nathan looked at the book, skimmed its contents, and looked up at Luke with wide eyes. “You want…my help? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have your book?”
“I trust you, Nathan. I sense a good heart in you. Besides, I remember everything in the book.”
Ozz looked on, speechless, as Nathan eagerly stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “I’d be glad to.”
“Great,” Luke smiled. “As for your next steps, I recommend the planet Ossus. There’s a Duros there, studying the ancient Jedi ruins. His name is Abay. He should be able to help you out.” Luke lifted his hood over his head, and turned back before leaving. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Nathan. Take care of each other! May the Force be with both of you.”
Nathan looked at him quizzically. “Uh, sure. You too, with the force thing.”
“Huh,” Ozz grunted. “It’s been real, clean-cut. Take care of yourself, alright?"
Luke grinned and nodded. “I will.”
Then he turned, and disappeared into the darkness of Yavin’s jungle.
Ozz and Nathan stood there for a moment, watching where he had been, before they finally returned to the present.
“Weird guy,” said Nathan, staring at the book he’d been given.
“Sure is,” Ozz agreed. “No wonder you two get along.” He turned and gave the unconscious spy a gentle kick.
“Alright, Payday. Let’s get you to a guild broker, eh? I got fuel to put in my tank.” He leaned down to drag the man up the ramp. “You get to share a closet with the droid.”
Once everything was settled, they raised the ramp and took their spots in the cockpit.
“We’ve got a heading. We’re looking for these ‘holocron’ things. If we can beat Pyerce’s agents to them, that’s our best bet of stopping whatever he’s got planned.”
“And findin’ yer girl.”
“And finding Mayla.”
“This better not be a wild bantha chase,” Ozz said, shaking his head. “We’re still gonna make money, right?”
Nathan nodded. “If we don’t, we won’t be at this long…imagine if we brought in Pyerce himself. You can’t even imagine the credits that’d get us.”
“Oh yeah? Betcha I can.” He eased up the throttle, lifting the Lucky Star slowly into the air. “I’m going to fly to one of the bigger settlements, bet we’ll find a broker in one of those. Strap yourself in, nerd. I don’t need anyone else getting a head injury on my ship. It’s bad luck.”
Nathan tapped the navicomputer’s controls, zeroing in a course for Ossus. “Once we’ve offloaded the guy, and we’re out of orbit, we’re jumping to Maridun, then Phindar. From there, we’ll take the Salin Corridor. I’ve never heard of Ossus,” he mused. “What do you think it’s like?”
“I bet it’s terrible,” Ozz said grimly. “This whole ‘holocron hunt’ thing is going to bankrupt me, just you watch.”
Nathan watched the tops of the trees fly by underneath them. He looked down, to the weathered book sitting in his lap. It was nice to be entrusted with something again. He had always taken to tasks quickly, he liked to do things well. This would be no different.
One step closer to Mayla, he thought to himself. That also meant another step closer to danger, danger that, at the moment, he couldn't even imagine.
Leavenworth has been pretty calm ever since we sent Pirate to prison. There are minor muggings here and there, but it feels like a safer place. Saying that now, I realize, that I probably just jinxed it.. It's almost fall now, as everything starts to become a routine. Me and my sister won't be able to do as much for the city now, since we'll be going back to school tomorrow.. You may be wondering how or why even, due to me being expelled from Leavenworth High.. Well, my father has some pull in Leavenworth, so he was able to pull a few strings... I mean a lot of strings, to have us attend Immaculata High School. It's some private Catholic school I hear. I don't personally have the same belief system, but it's a second chance. Even if I hate the boring aspect of school, I know we need it. We should do something with our lives besides the whole saving the world thing.. I mean that's awesome, but if that's all I do, then I'm missing out on what life on Earth has to offer. I can't seem to close my eyes, so I just lie there, thinking and hoping that it won't end up like last time.. Finally after a few hours, my eyes finally close and I fall asleep.
---------------------------------------------------
6:30 am
I leap out of my bed, as I feel my head get drenched in water. I see my father at the side of my bed, with a bucket in his right hand.
Father: "Time to wake up Chris! Gotta get ready for your first day!" I look over at the clock that's sitting on my bedside table..
Chris: "But it's only 6:30?!! School doesn't start until 8:00. I don't need an hour and a half to get ready.. Did she put you up to this?"
Father: "I will not confirm, or deny if she did. Anyway chop chop! I'll be dropping you two off half an hour before school starts everyday, so I'm not late to work.
Chris: "But we could just fly to school... What about after school?
Father: "Nope, flying is too risky. As for after school, I'm not sure to be honest. Either the bus, or walk, it's up to you really. Oh that reminds me.. You need the time to change your "look".. Can't have people recognize you as the superboy, now can we? Anyways, I'll leave you to it." He walks out the door and shuts it behind him.
Great, just what I needed.. Start the day drenched. Thanks a lot dad.. May need to sleep on the floor for a few nights now.. I open my dresser door, and grab some pants, along with shirt. I put them on, and head downstairs. I don't really smell much of anything, as I go into the kitchen. Man, it doesn't feel right.. Being here without my mom.. Every day I could always count on fresh pancakes, but not anymore.. I see a tear drop drip down my cheek, as I grab a bowl from the cupboard. I wipe the drop away with my hand, and start to eat some cereal. I finish up the rest of my routine, and notice it's 7:00. So I just slump on the couch and watch an episode of New Girl to kill some time. I hear my sister blow drying her hair, and she's still there by the time I finish my episode.. I turn off the T.V.
Father: "Time to go! I'll start-up the truck!" He says, loud enough so we can hear him. I get my converse on, and run out the door.. My sister appears moments later, and off we go to school. Tamara cranks up the radio, and starts singing along to the songs that come on. I join in, imitating my sister. This is too easy, I mutter, and moments later I'm bursting out in laughter. Before we know it, we're pulled up in the parking lot of Immaculata.
Father: "Have fun ok? Make some friends, and behave.. Don't start any fights. Can't have you getting expelled on the first day.." He says as he looks directly at me..
Chris: "Why are you looking at me? You know Tamara could make a mistake too.. I know how important this is Dad.. I'll behave, don't you worry."
Tamara: "Let's be real here, if anyone's going to mess it up, it'll be you!" She replies, getting out of the truck.
Chris: "Yeah yea whatever.. Have a good day at work dad!" I give him a quick hug, before hopping out. I make my way up the stairs, when I hear a voice.
Voice: "Chris? Chris Danvers?" The voice sounds somewhat familiar, and I as I turn around I see who it is. I see her face, and realize immediately who it is. It's Alicia! Behind her, is three guys. The one on the left seems to be eying me up and down, with a skeptical look on his face. He has brown hair that is all spiked up. Beside him in the middle, is someone who looks like he's of Romani descent. The dude on the right has blonde hair that reaches to about his shoulders.
Left Guy: "Something about him seems shady. I don't like it.."
Alicia: "Watch yourself Simon.. He saved my life a few months ago. I never did receive that phone call by the way."
Chris: "Yeah sorry about that, I've been busy."
Alicia: "So whatcha doing here anyway? I don't recall you going to school here."
Chris: "I didn't until now. This is our first day here." Alicia looks over and notices my sister.
Alicia: "Ohh.. Sorry.. Where are my manners? I'm Alicia! The skeptic is Simon.. As for the other two. This is Shane Veritas, and finally we have Tycho." She says pointing from left to right.
Tamara: "Nice to meet you all! I'm Tamara Danvers, Chris' sister if you couldn't tell. Let's do our best to have a great year together!"
Simon: "Things are already looking better." I see him with a smug grin across his face.
Shane: "Already Simon? Oh jeez."
Alicia: "What do you have for your first class Chris? If you want, I can show you where all your different classes are.
Chris: "Oh.. That would be great! Uh tth-thanks! I think I have history with one Edmund Montcroix" I notice myself stumbling over my own words.
Alicia: "Really? Me too! Montcroix might be new, as I haven't heard of him before. I'll go show you where his classroom is. Oh, could one of you help Tamara?
Simon: "Gladly!"
Tycho: "Why am I not surprised? Guess I'll be nice to the poor sucker. Meet up after school?
Alicia: "Sure! You know the place!" With that, I follow her throughout the hallway to the history classroom. This second chance is already turning out better than last time! I'll actually have friends this time. Wasn't expecting things to go like this, but I welcome it with open arms.
"They're coming, puddin'!"
"Really? Took them long enough. I sent out that broadcast to the cops like an hour ago!"
"Yeah, puddin'. The cops are outside the building right now!"
"Not Batsy and his crew? They're not here? Rude! I mean I've been away for soooo long, this is basically my debut! Well, it really is, but you get it. Hopefully I live up to the expectations..."
"What expectations, puddin'?"
"Oh, never mind, Harl. Just sit back, have a laugh, and stop being so serious! None of this really matters anyway. This is all just entertainment."
"Ah, well...I'm having fun!"
"Good! Good. Maybe you've learned to just let got and do what you're told. Not like we're the one's in control of our lives anyway...say Harl, lemme ask you something..."
"Sure thing, Puddin'! Whadaya want?"
"What's with the fancy machine gun? Whatever happened to that revolver with the giant barrel and all? You're out of character! Don't you worry about the reception? People don't like change."
"I--I'm sorry, puddin'...that gun was just wasn't that good, really! This is better!"
"Eh, whatever. Not like it ain't the first time you've used a fancy gun like that. Guess they won't be too mad....what makes me mad is this building, though! This ugly old factory is falling apart! Why's it always gotta be a broken factory of something like that? Can't we have a luxury condo for once or something?"
"I'm with ya, puddin'. This place is gross..."
"Ah well. I guess a condo wouldn't make for as much of a good story. What do I know? I'm just one of the cast. I don't write any of this... say Harl, can you order someone to get the lights working? We've had this dark and moody lighting for how many episodes now? It's just an annoying cliche! And that's coming from me!"
"You got it, puddin'! EY! Turn on the lights in here, would ya!?"
"Yes Ma'am! Hey, uh...thought you'd like to know, but we found some of our boy's out cold! We think they're here!"
"SPLENDID! Now the story really picks up! I just can't wait to see where this goes!...well, it's probably a predictable ending, but nevertheless! Besides, I have a surprise or two...'
"Do you mind if I take your photo?"
"My name is Frankie and I tell you right now as I live and breathe I have 38$ to my name. The rest of it is frozen in my bank account from the government. If I had any two brain cells left I’d have invested long ago and been a billionaire by now…. But who knows, they probably would’ve taken that too.
I’ve made mistakes, broken the law a few times, but who fucking cares. You gotta do, what you gotta do.
I’ve learned every god damn trick in the book and I’ve seen every god damn thing you can see. I lived on pizza, subs, club sandwiches. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Put your mind to work and it’ll work harder than you’ve ever believed. At the end of the day, I’m still putting more money in my pocket than I started out with.
Let me tell you one thing. I take care of my own god damn self. You people, if it wasn’t for your mom wiping your ass from the day you’re born to the day you die, you’d smell like shit your whole life.”
"Your opinion of yourself, and to a slightly lesser extent, the opinions of those that Love you are the only opinions you should ever concern yourself with."
"Finding happiness and fulfillment within is priceless and every other opinion is effectively pointless in the long run."
Period.
Folks have been asking how Em did down at Nationals and I've been trying to think of how to relate it, because it's more than just she won or she lost...
Lets start with the facts:
1. Em didn't win the National Title.
2. She didn't make the Top 15.
3. She didn't win either of the two optionals she entered.
4. I couldn't be happier about any of that.
I watched Em "compete" against 67 other girls under the age of 7 for a "National Title" this last Thanksgiving week. There were precious few of that Top 15 that had a whole lot of the little girl that should be there left in them. I am not talking about there being a bunch of girls that acted like they were older. Even Em does that from time to time, I think every kid does. I am talking about little girls, many of which were shells of the children they should be, even when there was no competition to be had.
And after watching them interact, I blame no one else but their parents.
Don't get me wrong, she made friends. We met some really nice, well adjusted people. They were the exception to the rule, and that just doesn't compute for me.
When it was all over, we were going to go out for a celebratory supper with the family of the Sweetheart Division winner for Alaska, the next age group up from Em's.
While Mom was getting ready, Em and I had a moment:
Em: *out of the blue* "I'm sad, Papa. I really wanted to win."
Me: "I know, Honey. I'm sorry. Did you do the best you could? Did you play fair and were you polite to the other girls?"
Em: "Yeah. I think I did." *pauses* "I dunno..."
Me: "Well, the thing to remember from this whole thing is that if you do the best you can, no matter what it is that you are doing, even if you don't win or place or whatever, is that there is nothing else you could do. Everything else is out of your control, and that's something you can hold on to. Your best. It doesn't matter if you are doing pageants, or playing baseball or doing a spelling bee or whatever. "
**Pause while she tries her best to digest what I just said. : )**
Me: "I know that's hard for you to understand right now. Try it this way... What I'm trying to say is that your opinion of yourself, what *you* think, well, it's the only thing, and I really mean the only thing that will ever matter, Em. Ever. Today? Well, today you found out the opinion of 5 grown ups who don't even know you. That's all."
**She fights with her brother for a minute, because he's a boy and annoying and then she stops and looks at the bed in the hotel for a bit...**
Em: "Do you mean that if I think I should have won, I really did?"
Me: *chuckling* "Sorta. Another way to say it is that if you're happy with yourself, if you tried your best, and you really know it in your heart? Then, yeah. :-) You really did win something, Em. Much more than Jenna (Overall Winner from NJ) did today. Much, much more. You won something that you never, ever have to give up. Next year? Next year she has to give up her crown and title. Not you. What you won, you never have to let go of. Ever."
**She looks right at me, and says...**
Em: "Papa? I gotta go potty."
Me: *laughing* "Off you go."
**She comes back in a little and says...**
Em: "I think I did the best I could, Papa. I guess I could have smiled more or something, but I just wasn't happy."
Me: "Were you sad? Nervous?"
Em: "I wasn't sad. I just wasn't happy!" *puts hands on hips.* "Papa?!? It's really hard to smile when you're not happy. It's hard to fake it!"
Me: "I'm glad you said that. I wouldn't want you to be any other way."
Em: "But I'm happy now!"
**She smiles. A pause. Then Jacob stretches a little while watching some TV and gently touches her with his foot.**
Em: "STOP IT, JACOB! LEAVE ME ALONE, DANGIT!"
And just like that, everything is back to the norm and the talk changes to Disney World and Blizzard Beach for the next three days. Just a little girl and her family on a great vacation.
Just as it should be. :-)
"....Why? Every time..."
"What's wrong, J'onn?"
"Why is it that our adversaries must pick the most vile, revolting holes to crawl into? This place looks like it was a cesspit before it was abandoned to the elements."
"Yeah, you're right."
"The building itself is quite disgusting. I've so far enjoyed some of Gotham's architecture, too."
'That's hardly the worst thing about this place..."
"I assume you hear them, too."
"I heard them way down the road from here. These people are in so much pain..."
"It amazes me that one man can cause such suffering. Can Dr. Crane even be called a man? As far as I know, humans shouldn't do this to one another.../"
"We're all people, J'onn. Even if we're evil..."
"Your mind is wounded, Jackie. But I will always be impressed with how unclouded it is for someone your age."
"Thanks.....alright, lets go, I gotta find them now, or--"
"Jackie, wait....When Timothy and Stephanie wandered in here, is was nowhere near as loud, as pained as it will be to you. I'm confident it was still nightmarish, but you will see thing, hear things no child like yourself should witness. Please, think about what you're doing."
"....I've seen alot of nasty stuff for someone my age, J'onn. I've gone through some pretty rough stuff. I don't care what I'll have to go through in there, there are people I love who need me right now."
"Very well. I'll be right behind you."
"...n-no."
"Excuse me?"
"J'onn, listen. You can hear them. There are tons of people in there being ripped to shreds by their own personal demons. They need you. You can help them, can't you?"
"...I'll do what I can. I'll try my absolute best, but the pain in here is like nothing else I've ever seen."
"Alright. Let's go."
Hello everyone and welcome back to another 'This Week in the News'! HOLY CRAP there were a ton of stories this week. Now I know for a fact that I didn't cover them all like some other D23 stuff and the Star Wars Entertainment Weekly article so if you want to talk about it, please leave it in the comments below, now I'm just going to go rapid fire on all these stories and just give my thoughts in a short sentence or two, so here we go!
Mario Maker Amiibo: You can use every amiibo you own except for the Mii fighters in Mario Maker as costumes for Mario. This is crazy so now I can Sonic in a Mario game!!! Whoo!!
Constantine on Arrow: John Constantine from the canceled NBC show is joining Arrow. This is really interesting because all that magic stuff in Constantine means that it's also in the Arrow universe, cool!
Flash First Look: Here we get a first look at Jay Garrick as the Flash. I gotta say, it looks nice because it keeps the original look but with some updated things here and there.
Black Panther: Here we see pictures of Black Panther on the set of Captain America Civil War, now it does look a bit weird right now because they'll probably touch it up a bit with CGI but it looks really nice and it looks just like the concept art!
Luke Skywalker: Here we get a first look of what Luke is going to look like in Star Wars Episode VII and honestly, it's exactly what I expected, why are people calling this a spoiler? You already knew he was going to be in the movie!!
Lego Star Wars: Now I bet all of you have already seen the sets because they have been cluttering up your Flickr feed, but if you haven't, here are some official images for the Star Wars the Force Awakens sets: www.comicbookmovie.com/fansites/JoshWildingNewsAndReviews... Now I'm going to have to see the movie before I get any of these sets because I don't really know any of the characters, but one thing I know for sure is I really want the Kylo Ren figure!
Doctor Strange: So at D23, Marvel showed off some concept art for Doctor Strange THAT THEY HAVEN'T EVEN RELEASED TO US that shows the feel of the movie. here is a description of the images:
"Images in the concept art reel reveal the classic origin story: a wounded surgeon seeking alternate ways to heal his destroyed hands finds his way to a mystical Eastern sanctuary that leads him to an order that holds the keys to another dimension. [We see] cars levitated into the air; buildings turning over Inception-style, Benedict Cumberbatch in the red cape. Tilda and Chiewetel in costume, bizarre otherworldly dimensions. Insane colors. No creatures, alas. But there will be. Final shot of [concept art shows]: Strange [with gray temples] doing energy blasts from his hands. grey temples. Also of note, the art for The Ancient One was an old asian dude. Pre-Swinton casting or are we getting something weird?"
All of this sounds really cool and really upped my excitement for this film, now if only they showed to us online...
Captain America Civil War: Like the Doctor strange concept art, Marvel showed off a FULL TRAILER to Captain America Civil War! Here, if you want to read a description of the trailer, read it here: www.comicbookmovie.com/fansites/JoshWildingNewsAndReviews... Oh man, this trailer sounds really cool JUST RELEASE IT ALREADY MARVEL!!!
The Jungle Book: Like the Civil War trailer, Disney released a trailer for their live action Jungle Book movie and from what I've heard, it sounds incredible!! I'm really hyped for this movie and it might be one of my most anticipated movies of 2016!
Rogue One: At the end of the D23 Live-action panel, Disney went full Star Wars. They first started off by showing a full cast pic of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. I gotta say, I'm liking it, it's very dark which is very appropriate because the time that this movie takes place (between episodes III and IV) is a very dark time! I can't wait to see more from this movie!
The Force Awakens: The next thing they showed off is the first official poster for Episode VII! Fun fact, it's drawn by the sam guy who drew has drawn all of the past Star Wars posters! It looks really nice and... oh my god, Finn has a lightsaber!! I was really wondering who was going to be a Jedi between him, Rey, and Po Dameron, but I guess it's him so that's amazing!
Star Wars Land: Finally, Disney came out and announced that there will be a 14 acre Star Wars Land in both Disney Land California and Disney World Orlando!!! Oh man, this is crazy! I'm a huge Disney Land and World guy so this is great news and I can't wait to go there!
Well that’s all for this week, tune in next time for more interesting stories in ‘This Week in the News’! If I missed any stories, please leave them in the comments below and we can talk about them!
After a foiled Imperial raid, Targonn is locked down tight to prevent any more nefarious activity. This poses an obstacle to Nathan Bookard, a young Safety Inspector eager to leave in search of the Imperial spies across the galaxy, particularly Mayla, a young undercover spy with whom he fell in love. To that end, he's utilized some less-than-savory lifelines...
Targonn, a bustling Outer Rim metropolis. More “bustling” than “metropolis”; this was the Outer Rim, after all.
In the weeks since the Imperial raid, the planet had been under lockdown. The Empire had been defeated just a little over a year ago; stormtroopers still freak people out, especially vulnerable planetary governments. Murdered Reactor Plant workers don’t help their nerves. You couldn’t come or go without the proper clearance, clearance Nathan was never going to have.
Nonetheless, the young former Safety Inspector had to leave the planet before he was arrested as a suspect in Jep’s murder. He had better things to do than languish in a cell block for a crime he didn’t commit. Naturally, this put him on a trajectory to commit a few crimes for real.
With help from some former co-workers at the Reactor Plant, Nathan chased a rumor about one of the few ships still running people off-world, despite the restrictions. A few shady conversations later and he had an appointment: he would meet the contact at a booth downtown, at the “Core Worlds Diner”. According to the sign outside, their new nerf-burger was made from local livestock. It was kind of kitschy, but Nathan wasn’t one to judge.
Until he saw his contact, that is.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
His contact sat at the designated booth, a grumpy Iakaru in a patched, rumpled violet jacket. The simian being barked out a laugh. “I’ll say. What’s up, Safety Nerd? Still gainfully employed? What’s that like, huh?”
“Ozz. If I had known it’d be you, I wouldn’t have come. Come on, give me the names of your competitors, I’ll try one of them.”
The Iakaru’s lips stretched into a wily grin. “Competitors? Ha! I’m an early adopter. It’s just me, Nerd. Ain’t no one else dodging the…” He went quiet as a Twi’Lek passed their table, then continued in a hushed voice, “Dodging the blockades right now.”
Nathan stared for a moment while he considered it. If there was no other choice, then that’s how it was. He sat down, his mind made up. “Fine, then I guess you’re it. What are the terms?”
The Iakaru waved his hands. “Now hold on, hold on: who said I’d take you? I don’t owe you nothin’.”
“And you think I’m happy flying with the guy who got fired for smoking death sticks near flammable fluids? I’m surprised you’re even alive.”
“Oh, that’s real nice,” Ozz scowled. “Say, I heard they found a body at the reactor. One of the Ugnaughts. Guy was murdered. Jerp, was it?”
“Jep,” Nathan said. “Come on, you knew him. Remember, you endangered his life a few times?”
“Oh gre-aaat, you know the murdered guy’s name. That’s not suspicious at all.”
“So did you.”
Ozz leaned forward in his seat, one wispy eyebrow raised. “Well, I’ve heard some things. Like that Security is on the prowl for a suspect. Young, dark-skinned, stick-up-his-rear…Now, I don’t make a habit of making accusations—unlike some people--but it’s an awfully convenient time for you to be leaving Targonn, ain’t it?”
“…I had nothing to do with it,” Nathan replied, raising his chin.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I didn’t kill Jep. Are you crazy? An Imperial spy did. A forward scout for another raid.”
“Hm,” Ozz rumbled, stroking his beard. “Sounds like you had something to do with it.”
“Yeah,” Nathan sighed. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I also learned something important: the Empire is clearly planning something big for Targonn, they’re getting stronger. That’s why I need help getting off-world, I’m picking up a bounty—“
“A bounty? You! HA! This is rich. What happened, you get fired, too?” He turned, chuckling, to the server droid that had just rolled up. “I’ll have a Guantelli Ale. Bubbliest you got.”
“Water, thank you,” Nathan ordered. The droid rolled away, and he continued, “No, I quit. I didn’t get fired, I was trying to protect my coworkers, not burn them all up, or help them lose one of their three good arms.”
“What, the Ardennian? I hear that guy got an implant. No harm done, right?”
“Yeah, why don’t you go ask him about that? I’m sure that’s how he feels. Look, this isn’t the point. I quit at the plant, I’m searching for Imperials now.”
Ozz squinted across the table at the young human. “That doesn’t sound like you, Nerd Boy. You ever even shot a blaster?”
“I’ll get to that part when I need to,” Nathan said. “It’s not just the bounty, okay? I’m…also looking for a girl.”
The Iakaru burst out laughing. “A girl! That’s more like it! This just gets better and better. Can’t say I took you for the type. You don’t seem, eh…”
“‘Capable of love’?” Nathan pre-empted.
“Hmmm…cuddly, I was gonna say. Hah! A girl. Well, that sure changes things. Fine, fine…”
“…What?” Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ozz leaned back and gave him a wink. “I think you’re tellin’ the truth. This ‘romantic heroism’ thing is all the rage with kids like you. And we all know safety was your first *passionate love*, before this lady you’re looking for. You didn’t kill Jerb.”
“Jep, Ozz. C’mon, respect the dead. And…thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah. What, is his ghost in the next booth?” Ozz waved it away. “My point is this: I don’t think you’re hiding anything, so I’ll have you on my ship.”
Nathan let out an inward sigh of relief. “Great.”
“Bu-uut it’s gonna cost you. Extra. Finding a stable gig was hard after what you did to me.”
“What I *did to you*?” Nathan narrowed his eyes.
“Hey, I thought we were pals back when I worked at the reactor. You did me real dirty, kid.”
“And you’re going to blame that on me? We warned you, Ozz! I gave you chances, even when Barthur was fed up! If you had pulled your act together, you wouldn’t have been fired. Seriously, you’re lucky you weren’t arrested.”
“Hrngh…whatever,” Ozz stewed, grinding his teeth. “Watch it, kid. You trying to raise the prices even more?”
“Look,” Nathan said, trying to get things back on track. “I’ll pay what you want, within reason. I’ve got to get off Targonn. The girl I’m looking for may be in danger. Do we have a deal, or what?”
“Geez, I gotta teach you how to be a better buyer, kid: I can practically smell the desperation.”
“Noted. How about you go easy on me, until then?”
“Hah, no way. Say, how do you define ‘within reason’?”
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/182448-f...
Searching for the other half of the coordinates left by the ancient BALAAM on DAGOBAH, Nathan and Ozz search fiery worlds for the final piece of the puzzle of BALAAM'S HEART. Their path takes them to MUSTAFAR, but who lies in wait for them there?
“Augh!” Ozz cried.
Nathan rolled with laughter. “Again! I can’t believe it!”
“Kid, of all the cheaters I’ve played Sabaac with, you’re the worst of the bunch!”
Nathan sat there laughing with evil glee, while Ozz shook his head in disbelief.
The two sat in the cockpit of the Lucky Star, the dashboard of which they’d converted into a flat space for playing cards.
Balaam’s writings mentioned a world of flame, a world Nathan figured would have the other half of the coordinates they’d got from Dagobah. They had just hit a brick wall with Sullust, where they’d spent two days with no luck, leads, or hopes. It was time to cut their losses and try the next place on the list: they were heading for the Atravis Sector.
“Seriously, I’d be impressed if I weren’t so ticked off. Those are some prime bluffing skills, kid! Where’d you pick that up?”
Nathan, still grinning, scooped up his relatively meager winnings. “Part of my job on Targonn was narcing on liars—“
“—Yeah, somehow I remember that,” grumbled Ozz, recalling how his now-friend had been a part of getting him fired a few months back. Water under the bridge.
Nathan gave him a wry look. “So I learned what not to do to avoid getting caught. And before that, we gambled at the orphanage when the caretakers weren’t looking. Got me in trouble.”
“With the caretakers?”
“Nah, they liked me. The older kids, however, not so much.”
Ozz leaned back in his seat, giving the controls a once-over to make sure they were still on course. “So. The, uh, orphanage, huh? Mentioned that a few times now. Where was that, Targonn?”
“Yup.”
“What happened to your folks?”
“No idea,” Nathan shrugged, unemotionally. “Never knew them. I came up in the orphanage until I was 16. That’s when Senator Makeer decided sponsoring an orphan would help him win an election, and suddenly they dropped a scholarship in my lap.”
“Big break.”
“Right? I jumped on it, went to Targonn’s university, got the Reactor plant job out of school…” he recounted this all and then said craftily, “…and now I’m beating you at Sabaac like you ain’t never played.”
“Ha!” laughed the Iakaru. “No wonder you’re a double-threat! Nothing like a hard childhood to give you what ya need to survive, but you got that and big college learning to boot! I wondered how you did it. Maybe when all this Imperial, Heart, Girl nonsense is over I should bring you by some Sabaac rings. Then we could finally make some money.”
Nathan’s frowned down at his earnings. “More worried about the Imperials and the heart than the girl, right now,” he said, without looking up.
Ozz stared at him for a moment in silence, before saying, “Wowzee, that’s a pretty different tune than you were singin’ when we met at the diner.”
“Yeah, well, maybe everything that’s happened has me wising up. She’s an Imperial, it was stupid in the first place.”
Ozz watched his co-pilot attentively. “Hmm, this don’t sound like you, kid. What happened to the optimism, I ask for the hundredth-time? You said you two…y’know, talked! I thought you said you were sure she was havin’ a change of heart! And remember, she left us the manifest thing. That’s been a real big help. Godsend, really.”
“Ozz, all of that could be lies, or misdirection, or even a plant to get us to do what the Empire wants. What if us getting the Heart was the plan the whole time?”
“Oy, kid,” Ozz said, his tone frank. “We’ve been through a lot, so let me be honest with ya here.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
“Yer bein’ an idiot,” Ozz said bluntly. “I know what I said earlier about the girl, but it’s not like she’d be the first spy to skip out on the Empire. Besides, where are you gettin’ yer information from? That crazy Syfot guy? Some magic tree?”
Nathan blinked stupidly, realizing how that sounded out-loud. He frowned thoughtfully.
Ozz threw up his hands. “Don’t listen to me if you don’t want. Just thought you knew better than to take the word of a…how would you put it, with yer college and yer books: ‘untrustworthy source’.” He leaned back, and his gaze fell idly over the navigation readouts. “Ho—lee boggot!” He flailed for the lightspeed throttle and yanked it back, and they strained against their seat restraints as the Lucky Star rocketed out of hyperspace into a stable orbit around the fiery, dark world of Mustafar.
“Sorry, kid! That one snuck up on me. I gotta fix the automatic on that one. Whoo!” He wiped his forehead, and they both leaned forward to get a look at the planet.
Nathan took in the dark swaths of rock and the lava flows. “Looks nice.”
“Ha! Y’know, I know Sullust wasn’t too different, but this place just seems…aw, I don’t wanna jinx it. Let’s just get down there.”
"A home amongst ash and flame."
You know what they say: location, location, location.
Nathan and Ozz found the record of the sith servant Balaam on Ossus, with help from the now-captive junior scriptist, Eefo. It led them to two locations: a home in a bog (Dagobah) and now a home in a place that was somehow even worse than Dagobah: Mustafar.
It was an old mining planet, not much use to anyone but the guilds and Techno Union. But even from orbit, it looked every bit like somewhere a Sith would call home.
When they entered the atmosphere, Nathan felt the planet in his spirit: a push-and-pull between life and death. A bright star, a molten ball. A dead world. A resurrected world?
Nathan had spent long hours deciphering and code-reading, cross referencing what he'd found on Dagobah with the Ossus record and using the closet droid's memory banks to run simulations. The result of this 'nerdery' (as Ozz called it) was a set of possible coordinates for Balaam's 'home amidst flame'.
Following these coordinates, Ozz brought the Lucky Star gliding down through clouds of ash, past the volcanos and lava fields and towards the planet's milder climates.
"This part doesn't look so bad," he mused. "Less lava and fire, more trees. Trees are nice, yeah?"
Nathan looked up from the notebook. If he'd had glasses, he would have adjusted them. "Woah, woah, I thought optimism was my thing,” he said wryly. “Don't steal my thing. I only have, like, two."
Ozz grinned, continuing to stare ahead. "Place could use a good safety check, though."
"Great, now I have none."
They landed and did the regular passive sensor checks. Only a few life forms, nothing they could track. The woods, ash-choked as they were, seemed clear.
Nathan strapped on his blaster and grabbed his old mining helmet from a rack. "I'll head out and see if I can't find the last piece of this puzzle. You're staying here."
Ozz was already halfway cloaked-up. He stopped and gave Nathan a look of alarm.
"What? No, kid, I'm good to go. The leg’s practically perfect. Good as it was, anyway. Besides, you need a guy at your back."
Nathan shook his head. "What those guys did to you on Dagobah...you're not in fighting shape, pal. Besides," he said, frowning out into the ruddy forest. "I don't trust this place. This has to be the worst planet we've visited so far, and we've had some doozies.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Nathan’s mind was made up. “I think I should go alone, and make it quick. You keep the ship warm."
Ozz frowned, but hung his cloak back up and set aside his blaster.
"Warm won't be a problem..." he raised a worried eyebrow. "You sure you'll be alright?"
"Oh, stop it with the motherly instincts. Yeah, I'll be fine! Wish me luck."
Nathan ducked past the bulwark and out of sight, leaving his partner slouched in his chair. Uneasy and off balance, Ozz watched him go through the viewscreen.
"...Good luck, pal."
The Ash Forest was long, gray, and monotonous. It had the look of a forest after a fire, but nothing here was really burned, just hardened. The bark was like charcoal, and the leaves snapped instead of crunched. Nathan fumbled his way through the woods towards one of the likely locations, looking around for any other signs of life. Eventually he found a singular rocky outcropping surrounded by steam vents, with a homestead carved into the stone.
Jackpot.
Cautiously, he crept closer to its front door, keeping a careful eye out for anything suspicious.
The house looked used, but no one was home. Maybe travelers made use of the place for shelter during ash storms.
Inside, he found tablets with markings like those on the trees on Dagobah. Balaam's personal writings.
This was it, the last piece of the puzzle. The other half of the coordinates. He started to jot everything down in his journal, just in case, committing it both to paper and to memory. He repeated it under his breath as he went. He couldn't help but grin while he did.
Until he heard something, that is.
He grabbed for his blaster, rushed outside, and stopped dead in his tracks.
A figure stood before the house, a tall being clad in a mask and dark robes.
The creature that had been traveling with Syfot. The thing that had captured him in the tunnels on Ossus. It stood stark and thin, as black as the ground it walked on.
“This one’s world, once again suffering the pains of birth. Have you seen such a thing before, a twice-born world?” it said slowly. “Mustafar is a wonder.”
"What do you want?" Nathan asked, his voice cracking. He cursed that timing.
The thing looked at him, its movements jerking and odd. "No. What do you want, Nathanyal Bookard?” Immortality, as well?"
"Are you a vision? Like Mayla from before?"
"Is this one a vision?" The thing thought about it, apparently genuinely curious. “The question bears asking, but no. Not as you intend. This one serves Bogan, as did they who once lived here. That this one might attain such heights of darkness, such purity. Such oneness. Do you know Bogan, Nathanyal?”
Nathan shook his head. “I’ve got no idea what you’re saying.”
“You see, Nathanyal, all wish to be someone of note, wish to feel the aches of pleasure, wish to gain and win precious treasures for themselves. All wish to gather power to themselves, power that grants choices and control. Bogan offers this. Bogan serves those who serve Bogan. And this one has come for such a treasure.”
Nathan subtly took a step to the left, shifting to block the door and the writings inside. “What treasure?”
“No time for games or tricks,” hissed the Vu’othh. “This one’s servants draw near. As this one serves Bogan, these serve with no thought of themselves. Do as you will, Nathanyal. Onward comes your torment. Onward comes your death.”
The creature seemed to fade from view, its tall, thin form replaced by a tree as though it had never been there at all.
The eerie silence of the forest was punctuated by a sound, a bellowing of voices, a discordant word chanted in unison. Another followed, and then still more, until, from every direction, many voices shouted together. The voices were angry.
Nathan’s heart raced. There was nothing but trees in every direction, no visible source for the noise. Turning, he took stock of his defenses, but all he had was the homestead and his blaster. How long could he hold out? He couldn’t run towards the voices and get caught in the woods. It would be better to wait in the safety of the house and see what he was dealing with, before he made a decision.
He leapt inside and began to stack old rubble and debris, stealing moments to look into the woods.
The chanting was coming closer. Finally, he saw it: yellow eyes, wide-brimmed hats, dozens of them, rising from the ashy ground. Cloaked figures, the same pallid color as the forest, each of them wielding a long skewering pike. They marched towards him to the rhythm of their shouts. They saw him and their pace quickened. He could hear their heavy footfalls, the snapping leaves and branches, like hammers falling on anvils.
With a shock of mortality, he was stunned with the truth of what was happening:
they were going to kill him.
He was going to die.
Despair swooped in like a bird of prey, its talons grabbing at his heart. His mind reeled as he tried to find options, desperately tried to think of a way out.
“Hey! Let’s talk about this!” he cried. “I can give you what you want!”
His heart stopped in his chest: The mask of the Vu’othh appeared beside him in the dark of the house.
“Yes, Nathanyal. You can.”
Nathan felt long fingers wrap around his throat, and fought uselessly as his feet left the ground and he was hurled from the door of the house.
His vision flipped and tumbled and went blank as he crashed into the ground. Groaning, he registered a new pain his arm, one he tried to ignore as he scrambled to his feet. His eyes fellon his blaster a few feet away, which he dashed for and reclaimed, stumbling in the ash as he turned to defend himself.
He fired at one of the cultists and watched the shot go wide, striking the black bark of an ironwood tree. Cursing himself, he tried to steady his shaking arm before firing again.
The cultists were drawing close, and formed a circle around the homestead. Their chants were deafening; Nathan wished he had a free hand to cover his ears, but raising his arm sent a splitting pain through his shoulder, and the blaster was in his other hand, so he had no choice but to listen. Glowing eyes joined tgoether until the points of yellow light seemed to be a floating ring, and their cloaks disappeared into the ashen backdrop.
He backed away from the sharp points of their barbed pikes, glinting in the light of the lamp hanging by the door. They held in a circle around him, a guarantee of death for the one in the middle.
Nathan felt utterly helpless, but he still had one way to fight back. He raised his blaster and fired.
The shot caught one of the cultists, but only served to stagger it, making its pike waver. Nathan jumped forward, kicking the shaft away and trying to rush past, like he did facing the third-years at the orphanage. But these weren’t orphans, and his attempt to escape spurred them to fly into action. Pikes whirled and thrusted, and Nathan dived and spun to avoid them. He failed.
He fell to the ground with new wounds. Something had happened to his leg, and it wouldn’t move the way it should. He slumped, felt the ash against his face. The sky was sullen and red above the trees. He tried to focus on it, to ignore the cultists surrounding him and their stupid chants.
This was it.
He thought of the ghost on Ossus. Would he become a ghost, too? Would his spirit “return to the force”? Would it hurt? What would happen to Ozz? Thoughts of Mayla flashed in his head, not the sour thoughts of the last few days, but the bright, driving thoughts that had made him quit his job on Targonn and go searching for her with nothing but a fool’s hope and a grumpy Iakaru.
It had been a good ride. He hoped it would be over quickly.
The dark creatures formed their circle, The Vu’othh stood over him at the head.
“Now,” it hissed. “You have the gift. This one will have the book.”
Nathan couldn’t move. He felt the strap of his bag go loose as a cultist cut it free. They rummaged in it, throwing it aside and presenting the valued object to their master.
Long-fingered hands touched the cover of Luke’s journal.
“Is the Jedi your god, Nathanyal?” asked the Vu’othh reflectively. “One day he will be god of many. False, human. But all seek one to worship. Most find unworthy idols. Waste not your time, Nathanyal.”
Nathan spat into the ash. Luke told him he wanted that back. Nathan said he could trust him. Another disappointment.
“Yes,” slithered the Vu’othh, its dark, priestly visage complete now that it held scripture in its hands. “Go. You will yet serve Bogan.”
Nathan, not understanding, waited for death, but it didn’t come. Hands grabbed him, pain arced through his body.
“Chase him to his starship,” the Vu’othh commanded.
Three of the cultists stepped forward, and Nathan regarded them with the bored, detached look of someone who’d expected death. Only now was he realizing what was happening, that he had a road to follow, a way out.
He didn’t waste a second. Limping and stumbling, he hurried back towards the ship. The cultists followed him, walking just a little faster than Nathan could manage, prodding him with their pikes like some kind of cruel dewback driver. He wondered what they wanted, what this gained them.
They drove him all the way to the Lucky Star.
“Nate!” he heard Ozz shout. “Nate! Get away from him, you--!” Ozz came stumping down the ramp, blaster raised.
“Ozz…” Nathan said weakly.
Livid,, Ozz herded Nathan past him to safety. “What did you crazies do to him? What happened! No, get back! Eat this, creepies!”
The cultists raised their pikes, and Ozz unloaded with his blaster. All three collapsed into ashes as they were pierced by the bolts. Their bodies, their clothing, their pikes, all gone.
Ozz glanced at his blaster as though it had been the cause of their disintegration. It had not. What had wasn’t important. He smashed the button to close the ramp and hurried up to Nathan, who had collapsed into a chair, weak and defeated. Ozz grabbed for the medkit, throwing it open and unspooling bandages and uncapping syringes.
“Kid, what happened!”
“I’m okay,” Nathan groaned. “Can we…get out of here?”
“Next time, I’m coming too. N-no more solo missions, you got it?”
“I…got it. Are…are you crying?”
Ozz wiped his eyes with a sleeve. His usual posture began to return. “What? No! Maybe. You gave me a hell of a scare, kid! Geez, you’re a risky investment…”
Making sure that Nathan was stable, Ozz bustled to the ship’s controls, fast-tracking their liftoff. “We’ll be okay, kid. Got that? You’re a tough son-of-a-gun,” he said, forcing himself to sound casual. “Now, let’s get off this rock!”
“Ozz.”
“What? What is it, kid?” He turned back toward his co-pilot, who was entering coordinates into the Navicomputer.
“I’ve got the coordinates.”
“What! Are you kidding me? You’ve barely got a leg to stand on and you bring those back too? You’re something else, kid, really. Where are we headed?”
“Bad to worse,” Nathan laughed, though it turned into a cough. “The planet Korriban.”
“Ooof. Not you. You’re heading for a nap, first. Nice long nap. Maybe some green milk. How’s that sound?”
Nathan chuckled, and nodded. His body was wracked with pain, and he felt dry and strung-out and traumatized.
“That…that sound’s great, actually.”
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Well back to another simple portrait of one of my coworkers for today, its something quick and simple I can shoot. It's not the most creative thing I do, not that I've done anything creative recently but hey its better than a self portrait in my books. Besides being the assistant manager Jeff here is also another video guy, so he's kind of the head of the video department as well. Alright so now that I've photographed Jeff that means that I've photographed all the managers here where I work now. Now I just gotta shoot the remaining 1/3 or however many, of the staff that work here and I should be good. Then who knows maybe I'll get around to shooting them outside of the store but who knows about that part, cause that'll be awhile from now. You know considering I tend get maybe one or two of them a week. Regardless think of it as an ongoing series if anything of my coworkers.
Strobist Info
Nikon SB-800 camera right with a 21" Lastolite Ezbox and a full CTO gel firing at 1/16 power
Nikon SB-800 camera left with a 12x48" Lastolite Hotrod Strip Soft box at 1/32 power.
Made for SWFactions on Eurobricks.
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180827-j...
Captured by pirates! While searching for the natives of Imynusoph, our trio are beset upon by the cavalier Colonel Corbett's callous rogues! The murderous pirates and their flamboyant leader drag our heroes to their camp, where intrigue abounds!
Clod blinked against the harsh light streaming in from above. His hands were shackled. It wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in, he thought. Then, to his surprise, his next thoughts were about his two companions. He hoped they were alright. It would be a million years before he’d admit it.
The sergeant called “Slyfoot” stood in the darkness a few feet away. He could feel the man watching him, disturbingly calm. Precise.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “A treasure hunter. Ha! I believed Klatoonians to be nothing but pirates and scum.”
It was a struggle to form words, but Clod couldn’t give up the opportunity for a zinger. “Look how the…tables have turned.”
He almost immediately regretted it. The droid administered a searing shock to his ribs that sent his limbs convulsing. His skin burned. He shouted, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Such wit. No more of that, I think,” he heard Slyfoot say. “You should put your words to better use, like securing a release for you and your companions. All you must do is tell me what it was you were searching for.”
“Fat chance—Augh!” Another shock. More horrible pain.
Slyfoot stepped into the light. He slowly shook his head.
“’Fat chance’, you say? On the contrary, Mr. Clod,” he said, and a smile crept onto his face. “I quite like my odds.”
“Tea or Caf, Professor?” offered Colonel Corbett, busying himself with a gleaming pot and an ion heater.
“O-Oh, tea, I suppose.”
The Colonel looked up at him, a pleasant expression on his face. “I see you appreciate my décor!”
Floon had been staring at some of the trophies scattered about; horns, hides, huge eggs, droid parts, scraps of clothing. Some from beasts, others from treasure hunters who’d come before.
“Why…yes! It’s very…eclectic. Er, thank you again for having me, Colonel.”
“Of course, of course! I must say, I’ve positively chuffed about you being here. An academy man! On Imynusoph! Chandrila, you say?”
“Er, yes. I had, er, tenure at the Chandrila Academy.”
“Ha! Chandrila! A professor from Chandrila makes my acquaintance here, of all places. Who would have thought it would happen? Certainly not me! I admit it! Please, make yourself comfortable, my questions are bound to be numerous.”
The Neimodian professor looked nervously around the tent. One of the pirates loitered at the door. Floon felt that he should do some great act of bravery, try to free Mr. Clod and Ms. Rigo, but he didn’t know where he would even start.
“Professor?”
The question shook Floon from his thoughts. “Oh, y-yes?”
Colonel Corbett smiled. “You don’t look very comfortable. Come, you’re in good company. I am a man of learning and intelligence myself.”
“Why, o-of course!” said Floon. Unable to muster a relaxed smile, he summoned a polite grimace.
The Colonel frowned. “Professor, I brought you here that we might engage in riveting conversation! Without conversation, I have no reason to bring you here rather than lock you up in our brig. Do you understand?”
Floon did, but he was not very good at staying calm when faced with threats. He knew all too well what the murderous pirates might do if the Colonel permitted. With a great amount of sweating and stuttering, he apologized. “I’m…m-most…s-sorry, Colonel. Most s-sorry. Let us…er…converse, s-shall we?”
“Very good, very good!” said the Colonel, settling in and looking at the professor expectantly. “Well then, let us get down to, as they say, brass tacks. I want to hear everything you know about the giant birds of Imynusoph! I expect I’ll be quite fascinated!”
“Er, yes…” mumbled Floon. “Quite.”
“Let go of me, you idiots!” Kitsa did her best to break her restraints through sheer will, but no dice. She settled for whacking one of her captors instead, sending him reeling with a broken nose. She couldn’t believe how lucky her aim was. And finally, something for her story!
“Let the Stud take care of her! I don’t want to get kicked again,” whined one of the pirates. The others parted, allowing the largest one, the one with the bandolier and the AT-AT driver helmet, to step towards her. He was enormous, at least 6’8”, and not what you’d call ‘lanky’. There was no chance she’d make a dent against this guy. He settled one giant hand on her shoulder, and he steered her away.
She muttered threats as they walked through the Imperial camp, shooting glances around to take in everything she was seeing. They had left the treeline onto an open savannah. The camp had clearly been an Imperial outpost, but now was all ramshackle and bolted together to keep out the wildlife. There was a junkyard of impounded vehicles that caught her attention. Most of them were scrap, but one airspeeder, red-and-white, looked intact. She took note of this for later.
She eyed the pirate. He was a muscular guy, that was for sure. Where was he taking her? A pit of gundarks, or an interrogation chamber?
Neither, it turned out. She was escorted to a quiet corner of the pirate camp, a breeze-blown tent with foliage breaking in overhead and enshrouding the space.
“You can stay here,” said the big pirate.
She scoffed. “What are you, good cop? And what’s this place, the torture waiting room?”
“It’s, well,” the pirate hesitated. “No, it’s just a tent. I had a wife when we came here. This used to be hers. Thought you’d like it more than a cage, but if I’m wrong…”
That was unexpected. She turned and sized him up suspiciously, but there wasn’t much to observe in the blank stare of the helmet’s facemask. “A wife, huh? What happened to her? Your pirate buddies shoot her?”
“You think they’d get past me? Nah, not in a million years,” he chuckled, but his tone turned somber. “No, one day she went out to get clean water, our purifier was broken, and one of the jungle beasts came out of the trees. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Her blaster misfired. That’s all it took.”
In a rare moment, Kitsa didn’t know what to say.
The pirate took a deep breath, then said, “So if you were thinking of running, I wouldn’t.”
“Sure,” she nodded, collecting herself. “Sorry about your wife. Thanks for the tent.”
“No problem,” said the pirate. He then stood there awkwardly for a moment, before asking, “So, uh, you, uh, some kind of reporter?”
Kitsa lit up. “I sure am, Galactic Gazette.”
The man swayed on his feet, coughing uncomfortably. “What’s, uh, what’s going on out there? In the galaxy? Rebels gone, yet? We heard we had another Death Star.”
Kitsa stared at the emotionless facemask for a moment. Of course, it made sense. When was the last time they would’ve heard any news?
Her story was really heating up.
She smiled and deflected the question. “What’s your name?”
“Deksen. They call me ‘the Stud’. What’s your name, uh, miss?”
“Kitsa Rigo,” she answered smartly. “What do you say about sitting for an interview with me, Deksen? In return, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
The pirate said nothing for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. “I guess that’d be alright. We don’t exactly get much press on Imynusoph. I suppose you can tell the galaxy about our bravery.”
Kitsa sat on the medical bed, her pen poised. “So, Deksen, what’s it been like for you, out here?”
The pirate set his gun to the side and took a deep breath.
“Well…” he began.
Another shock, another burn, another stab. Harnaby Clod struggled in the interrogation gurney, his mouth full of spit. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like his mind was slipping through his fingers, jolted free by every prod from the droid. Karfing droid. He’d smash that droid to bits if he ever got out of this.
Another stab of a needle. His vision swam. He’d get out of this, right? Could he?
“Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you know,” Slyfoot said, walking around him. “I’d love to see you dead, believe me. Who will remember you if you’re gone? Some dog-faced lunatic on the edge of the galaxy, no one important. No accomplishments, no fealty, nothing of note. Another dead alien.”
“You…don’t…know…mersh.”
“Hm, perhaps. But tell me…am I wrong, Mr. Clod?”
The dark room blinked in and out of existence before Clod’s eyes. He felt his tongue go limp. His heart felt like it was drying up.
The sergeant watched him, smiling cruelly. “Alright, I’ll get it out of the Neimodian, then. Good bye, Mr.-“
“Waitsh, waitsh!” Clod gasped. “Ah’ll tell yoush…”
Slyfoot brightened. “Indeed, Mr. Clod? If you tell me, as I’ve said, this can all end.”
He couldn’t do this anymore. What was he thinking?
He wasn’t. Anything to stop this. Karf this place.
“Ah’ll…ah’ll…tell yoush anything…” he wheezed.
Slyfoot straightened his cap. “Very good, Mr. Clod. Go on then.” He leaned in, until his face dominated Clod’s view. Slyfoot tried to manage his own expectations, but he couldn’t suppress his excitement. He looked down at the drooling Klatoonian.
“Mr. Clod,” he said. “Is the treasure…real?”
“Wow!” muttered Kitsa, scribbling in her notebook.
“That’s just how it is out here. It’s made the other pirates what they are. It’s made me…” he shrugged. “Changed.”
“That’s really…tough! I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer through this place.”
“Hm, I’ve been lucky…I think. But what about you, Ms. Rigo?” asked the pirate called Deksen.
“M-Me?”
He leaned in attentively. “How does a woman such as you find yourself in a place like this?”
Even with the facemask in the way, Rigo felt his gaze on her face. She frowned.
“Well, I work for the Gazette.”
He tilted his head. “Because you wish to tell stories?”
“Because I want to…” she paused before answering. “I want to make others see the truth.”
Deksen nodded slowly. He was impressed by the honesty of her answer. “Will you tell me more?”
In a strange moment, the both of them felt the softening in their spirits take its full course, and they entirely let down their guards. Kitsa avoided his gaze, but launched into a treatise on how it was she ended up here, the absurdity of the situation, and how she hoped she might get something out of it anyway because while she was here there was no one investigating the Ubrikkian corporation and something had to be done soon because those poor Duros in the factories had no one standing up for them, and if no one else was going to take Ubrikkian to task, she sure as shaft would.
Deksen listened quietly, occasionally asking questions or affirming how Kitsa felt. Eventually she had completed her story. She took a deep breath, which she had expended whilst going on about her passions.
Deksen folded his hands. “Your spirit…moves me.”
“Oh!” said Kitsa, not sure how to respond. She felt her cheeks burn, and said quietly, “Thanks for listening.”
“And thank you for talking.”
She laughed. “You’d be a much better editor than the one I’ve got. Getting him to listen is a full time job.”
A breeze blew through the tent, carrying the sounds of harsh laughter from where the other pirates were getting into the brew. Far off, Kitsa heard a howl of pain that made her skin crawl and her mind turn towards her lost companions.
After a moment of silence, she looked into Deksen’s facemask. It was a risk, could she trust an ex-stormtrooper-turned-pirate? Strangely, she felt that she could trust him more than almost anyone she’d met. This disturbed her in a profound way, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her emotions. She had to take action.
“Deksen, I need to get out of here.”
“Yes, you do.” His shoulders slumped as he prepared himself for the choice he was making. His life would never be the same after this. “And yes, before you ask; I will help you.”
Kitsa sighed with relief, but there was no time to waste. They had to get down to business. “Alright, here’s what I was thinking. Tell me if it makes sense…”
“Spiritual creatures, you say?”
Colonel Corbett stroked his moustache, listening to what Professor Floon had to say with a most attentive mind.
“Well, y-yes. Regarded as spiritual creatures by…” Floon kept himself from revealing the natives at only the last moment. “…by all who visit this planet, I’ve heard.”
It was all Floon could do to keep the existence of the native tribes a secret. Apparently these pirates had no clue they might still be around.
“Fascinating! And you say the wingspan…”
The words tumbled out of Floon like a brook. His trepidation could not dampen his excitement. “No one has seen it in millennia, but I do not lie when I say,” he leaned in, saying conspiratorially, “it is said to be three men across!”
Corbett rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Incredible! Simply incredible. Say, Professor, I know you count yourself among the squeamish, but do you suppose that shooting down a bird of spiritual importance grants a hunter more, how do you say, ‘bragging rights’?”
Floon raised an eyeridge and stared. “Are…are you…joking, sir?”
“I assure you, I am not!” said Corbett, jabbing the desk with his finger. “A hunter such as myself has precious little time for jokes, what with so much glory left unobtained. You’re the closest thing in the galaxy to an expert, Professor. Do you believe killing such a creature would grant me more glory?”
Floon watched the officer nervously. His eyes were eager, his face covered in sweat. The heat was dull and damp in the shade of the tent, the kind of environment Floon had been born into. Very much a comfort zone.
The professor summoned up all his courage, swelling up his chest in rather an alarming way. Corbett’s eyes widened.
“No!” squeaked Floon.
Corbett was puzzled. “…’No’?”
“No!” Floon stood his ground. “How can you talk of killing a creature such as this? For all your talk about appreciating great beasts, you end their magnificent lives with such…relish!” He licked his lipless mouth, his words sputtering and cracking as adrenaline shot through him. He’d never confronted anyone in his life. Certainly not anyone who was willing to kill him. “I don’t mind saying that it is…despicable! Yes, despicable!”
Colonel Corbett, who had initially been very surprised, now furrowed his brow. When he spoke, his tone was dark. “Professor…I’m not used to being talked to in such a-”
“Indeed, indeed!” squawked Floon, suddenly desperate to turn his situation around. “But nor are you used to talking to your intellectual equal, as you have said! This is true, yes?”
Corbett considered it. “Yes, it is true,” he admitted.
“Then please, hear my words, as another man of learning! These creatures are not for killing, they are for studying! For conserving! For…loving! Please, take my offer of friendship and understand I mean you no ill will. I only wish to see a force such as yourself used for…better things!”
Colonel Corbett looked bothered. He had never thought of it in such terms before. Professor Floon breathed heavily, waiting in silence, heart hammering, hoping for a reaction that spared his life.
Finally, the Colonel’s expression softened, and he began to speak. “Professor, I—“
“Colonel Corbett!” came a voice from the tent’s opening. Floon, uncharacteristically, cursed in his head. His heart sank.
“How dare you interrupt me? I said, very clearly I thought, that no one was to interrupt!”
The pirate at the opening was the huge, shirtless one, with the AT-AT driver’s helmet. “But it’s the others, sir, they’ve broken out!”
The moment had passed, Corbett’s mind was on other things. He grabbed his cap and marched towards the entrance. “Well then! Wait here with the Professor, we must hunt them down!”
Corbett marched toward the tent flap, where he was promptly whacked in the head with a blaster handle, and fell flat on his back. He lay there, hair mussed, tongue out, and unconscious.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Floon.
“Quiet, Professor! It’s just me, Kitsa. Ms. Rigo.”
Indeed it was. The reporter came ducking in, blaster in hand. The large pirate stood guard while she knelt down to rummage in Corbett’s holster.
“What-what is going on? Who is this abnormally large man at the door?” asked Floon, who’s voice dropped to an anxious whisper as he added, “Is he not one of the pirates?”
Kitsa pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Huh? Oh, that’s Deksen,” she explained simply. “He’s gonna help us escape.”
The pirate named Deksen raised a hand in casual greeting.
“O-Oh, how do you do?” Floon replied weakly, and he tipped his hat on instinct. “You are…very big!”
“I get that a lot,” came Deksen’s reply, filtered through his helmet.
“He is, isn’t he?” Kitsa grinned.
“Y-Yes—hold on; escape, you said?” squeaked Floon, who’s brain was beginning to catch up at last.
“Yes, escape,” she repeated firmly, looking him in the eye. “But we have to go now, understand? Otherwise we’ll die?”
Floon withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “O-Oh, my. This is all rather a lot. And so sudden…”
“Yes, it is. We still have to save Clod, against my better judgement.”
“S-Save…Clod, you say?” said Floon, wilting with every word, and very close to fainting.
Kitsa smiled wryly and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, Professor,” she said, and she handed him the Colonel’s blaster before turning to leave. Deksen made to follow her.
Floon went after them, but before reaching the tent’s exit he spun around awkwardly to address his host.
“I’m…very sorry for all this,” he said to Corbett’s unconscious body. “It really w-was lovely meeting you.”
Floon felt it was polite for one to wait to be excused, but Corbett did not reply.
Thus, with a great deal of stumbling and nervous mumbling, the professor hurried to catch up with the others.
“And the natives,” said Slyfoot with relish. “You said you’ve met them before, is that true?”
“Yesh,” spat Clod. He eyed the interrogation droid floating a foot away, its red receptor blinking, prod extended towards him.
“Then you could lead us to them. You will lead me to them.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? They found me the first time. I don’t know how to find them now!”
Slyfoot waved a hand dismissively. “Well, no matter. They asked you to return, I’m sure they’ll show up to you soon.”
Clod wished he could wipe his mouth where he’d drooled after one of the many electroshocks. It was starting to chape. “…Thought you…were gonna let us go?” he groaned.
Slyfoot laughed. “Really? You did? I didn’t take you for a fool. No, Mr. Clod. You’ll stay in this luxury for many days to com--I said I wanted no interruptions!”
Light had flooded the room from the now-open door. He heard a blaster go off, and a red bolt smashed into the interrogation droid, knocking it to the ground.
“Pardon me!” said Professor Floon, turning the gun on Slyfoot. The pirate sergeant raised his hands in surrender. “I nearly forgot something on my way out!”
“P-professor?” slurred Clod, craning his neck to see. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s right, it’s me! I’ve come to rescue you, Mr. Clod.”
Clod groaned with relief. He hadn’t expected this in a million years. “You gotta get me out of here, doc.”
“Indeed!” said the Professor, who prodded Slyfoot with his pistol until he gave up the key to the bindings.
“Nice entry."
Floon seemed pleased. “Thank you! I am honored by the compliment, especially from someone as…daring-do as yourself! I practiced on the way here.”
“It paid off. Now…” he stretched and groaned his weary, burnt muscles. Then he turned towards Slyfoot, who held to his dignity even while fear seeped in the cracks. Weakened though he was, the Klatoonian was dangerous. He proved this to Slyfoot by knocking him to the floor with a right hook.
“Jerk. Wish I had more time.”
“We really must go, Rigo is waiting! She found a way out!”
Clod looked at the Professor and raised an eyebrow. “You already saved her?”
“Saved her?” replied the professor, leading him into the daylight. “Why, it was her who saved me!”
“You’re kidding!”
“I am not kidding, Mr. Clod! I assure you, I am entirely serious!”
They caught up with Kitsa and Deksen at the camp’s boneyard, where ship and vehicle carcasses formed a monument to the pirates’ past conquests.
“He’s fine,” said Kitsa, in response to the alarmed look on Clod’s face. “His name is Deksen, he’s helping us.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Deksen, voice filtered through his helmet.
“Sure, sure. A pleasure,” muttered Clod. “Listen, I told that creepy imp about the natives.”
Kitsa and Floon looked at him with dismay.
“It wasn’t exactly by choice,” grumbled Clod, but he avoided their gaze. “I’m betting they didn’t torture either of you.”
They answered by way of silence.
“Of course not,” he grunted. “Who else here has a face like a Corellian hound?”
“Ahem...I cannot imagine what you went through in that little room, so I cannot blame you for anything you’ve done,” said Floon seriously. “Besides…I let slip quite a lot about the wildlife to the Colonel, and I was under no compulsion besides a foolish enthusiasm for my subject! Oh, how moronic of me. I’m far worse than you, Mr. Clod. Fear no condemnation from us.”
Clod looked at him with something approaching humility and gratitude.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything,” said Kitsa. “Except about myself.”
“Their knowledge simply means we must make greater haste to find the natives first. And with the skills and talents of us three, I find our chances encouraging!”
Kitsa gestured to their soon-to-be-stolen ride. “Especially with this thing.”
Clod hurried forward to look at what she’d found. Underneath a tarp sat a small, aged red-and-white craft. Barely enough space for two people. “What is this, an Incom? Tiny, isn’t it?”
“Who cares who built it?” she replied shortly. “It’s an Airspeeder. Deksen says it’ll still fly.”
Deksen shrugged. “We use it for scout missions.
“Wait," Clod frowned. "We can’t leave yet.”
Kitsa threw up her hands. “Why not?”
“Hat."
“Oh, for karf’s sake--I got your hat, here. Can’t believe you’d get us killed over your hat.”
“My hat! You’re alright, Rigo.”
Deksen cleared his throat. “You three should climb in, you don’t have a lot of time.”
They threw their things in the speeder. Clod clambered into the pilot’s seat and brushed some crumbs off the controls. He checked various switches and toggles with an air of familiarity. Floon crammed himself into the back.
Kitsa was last to get in. She turned and threw herself at Deksen, hugging him awkwardly. She didn’t hug many people. Were you supposed to do it so forcefully? Fortunately, Deksen didn't seem to mind. He folded her gently in his massive arms.
“Thank you. I wish you could come with us.”
His tone carried a smile she couldn’t see through his facemask.
“It was good to meet you. I’ll see you again.”
“And you’ll be okay? The other pirates won’t…”
He put a calming hand on her shoulder. “You think they could?”
“Miss Rigo!” called the professor from the speeder. “I’m quite nervous waiting in here! I wouldn’t say anything, except that my muttering has made Mr. Clod angry.”
The two shared a chuckle. Kitsa smiled sadly and let go of him. She clambered into the airspeeder with the others, where she discovered it was a much tighter fit than she’d expected. Once she’d negotiated space with Floon, she leaned against the window and gave Deksen a final wave.
The pirate waved back.
“Whoof. He’s ripped, huh?” she said wistfully.
“Ripped?” Floon squeaked. “I’d say his shirt is beyond ripped, madam! There’s hardly a shirt there at all!”
The speeder was humming to life, the way any vehicle does that’s taken some battering. A warm, clanky kind of hum.
“Alright,” said Clod from the front. “Off to find the natives?”
“Before the pirates do!” said Kitsa.
“Oh my! A race against pirates, for the good of knowledge and sentient life!” flushed Floon. “It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it?”
========Arkham Asylum : Southern Wing “Hallway D”========
[Robin lifts his head up in rage]
Robin: He doesn’t think we can handle it.
Batgirl: Did you miss the entirety of what he just said? He just ope-
Robin: He still thinks I’m the little kid. Well I’m not! I’m not the fucking little 16 year old boy he brought home with him one afternoon, because he was lonely. And if he thinks that I’m going to stand by idly and just...let this place go to shit...he’s got another thing coming.
Batgirl: Dick! Would you listen to yourself!
Robin: What makes this different than anything else we’ve done before? You know why? It’s because he’s not in control. He always needs to be in control.
Batgirl: Dick…
Robin: I’m gonna go stop an inmate...from doing something.
[Robin walks off, but is stopped by Batgirl]
Batgirl: No. You’re gonna stand right here and calm your ass down edgelord.
Robin: I’m not an edgelord… I’m just tired of him controlling me.
Batgirl: … I do … understand what you mean. He can be a little controlling.
Robin: A little? I haven’t been out on my own in like two years...and he didn’t even allow it.
[The duo walk in the opposite way that Batman went and approach some double doors, but stop in their tracks when they swing open and an inmate runs out]
Inmate: Fuck, fuck, fuck! You guys gotta run! We pissed em’ off one to many times!
Robin: Calm down, and stop playing the pronoun game! Who are you talking about?
[Another inmate runs out of the door, but gets frozen in place]
Inmate: Lenny!
Batgirl: Wait, I’ve heard that girly scream before...Kite Man?
Kite Man: Oh no! You’re the two that arrested me!
Batgirl: Technically speaking-
[Another blast of the Freeze Ray shoots past them]
Mr. Freeze: (from the other room getting closer) You’ll regret those words Brown!
Kite Man: We gotta run guys!
Batgirl: Guys?
Robin: No. We’re stopping him now!
Batgirl: Excuse me?
[Robin runs through the doors at top speed, kicks the side of a lunch table causing it to flip on its side, and takes cover behind it narrowly dodging another freeze blast which hits the table]
Mr. Freeze: I don’t know who you are kid. But this is none of your-
[Robin throws a batarang to one side of the table which Freese shoots at instinctively, providing an opening for Robin, who runs up and punches Freeze.]
Mr. Freeze: Gah!
[Mr. Freeze stumbles back, but soon recovers and shoots Robin in the chest knocking him over]
Batgirl: Robin!
[Mr. Freeze looks at the door and shoots at it]
Mr. Freeze: Brown! Stop hiding behind these children and face your punishment!
[Mr. Freeze begins to approach the door]
Robin: I’m- not- a CHILD!
[Robin leaps back onto his feet and throws a batarang square into Freeze’s lower arm and kicks him in his side]
Mr. Freeze: I thought I warned you!
[Mr. Freeze presses a button on his gauntlet and it begins to emit some form of mist which gradually covers up everything in the cafeteria finishing with the blood red goggles of Freeze]
Mr. Freeze: (walking around Dick) You’re that little prick who stopped me from killing Batman? Are you the Batman’s little pet?
Robin: I’m not-
[Mr. Freeze punches Dick on the side of his head.]
Mr. Freeze: Pardon? I didn’t hear you.
Robin: I’m not Batman’s pet. I’m his partner.
Mr. Freeze: What could a child like you possibly provide him?
Robin: ...More than you know.
Mr. Freeze: Really now? I’ll give you credit for how well you fought, but
[Freeze punches Robin again]
Mr. Freeze: Now you’re just so disappointing.
Robin: Disappointing? I kicked your ass.
Mr. Freeze: Intriguing. It seems like I’m kicking yours now. I guess that wasn’t a part of the Batman sidekick package.
Robin: Enough about Batman!
[Using the sound of Freeze’s voice Robin throws his cape around his head and jumps on him, knocking him down]
Robin: I’m tired of everything being about Batman!
[Robin continually punches Freeze, but Freeze eventually shoots Robin off of his chest.]
Mr. Freeze: You fool!
[Mr. Freeze rips Robin’s cape off of his bloody face]
Mr. Freeze: I don’t care what you are! You’re just in my way!
[Mr. Freeze shoots at Robin who slides under it, runs underneath his arm and breaks it]
Mr. Freeze: Agh!
[Robin uppercuts Freeze in the chin who lands on the ground, out cold]
Robin: (panting) I did it…
[Robin stands up and looks down at Freeze]
Batgirl: You, idiot!
Robin: Babs are you-
[Batgirl slaps Robin]
Batgirl: You could have died you fucking idiot! You could have-
[Batgirl pulls Robin in and kisses him. (And Kite Man covers his eyes)]
Robin: Woah.
Batgirl: Never. And I mean never, scare me like that ever again!
Robin: Of course.
Batgirl: Lyings bad you know.
Kite Man: I’m just gonna…
Robin: No, no, no. You’re staying with us.
Kite Man: I...I am?
Robin: Yeah. You know Arkham better than both of us.
Kite Man: Ummm okay.
Batgirl: You realize he could betray us...right?
Robin: I don’t think that’ll be an issue
[Robin pulls out a batarang]
Robin: Will it?
Kite Man: N-no sir!
Robin: Don’t have to call me sir.
[Robin looks down at his ripped cape]
Batgirl: Darn...we’ll have to get you another one I guess.
Robin: I think I fight better without it actually.
Batgirl: Whatever you say boy wonder.
Kite Man: Hey guys...Can I make a request?
The ride on the “car” or that’s what I call it, was certainly bumpy. It’s an Aston Martin, designed time be four seated. Similar to a certain one in those fantasy books...but nothing I know of. With the current technology she has (and stole), it does allow lots of people in.
However everyone’s looks are just a bit unsettled, considering it was a lot to take in. I see Edris’ face showing uncertainty. Even Terry doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore. Makes me being in the habit terrible mood as of right now, but nevertheless I nudge Prez, who was almost falling asleep, to give her pep talk.
Prez: “Kid, you doing good? It’s a lot to take in right now. Adults are talking.”
Edris: “I’m 23, but probably god knows how fucking long is that in fairy years…and I wanna go home…or at least, fly back if I could
Prez: “First off, that’s still pretty young by magic standards . Tough luck seems it might not give you that at the moment, but sure. We’ll get there…”
Edris: “Ok…but what about Magnus?”
Prez: “Hm. I dunno. That’s what we’re doing, no? What’s the last trick he showed ya?”
Edris: “How to manipulate glass shards. This one requires concentration, years of practice...”
Prez: “Nah I’ve seen you done better. You don’t need years or months, a week or a couple days and you’re doing a great job. At least your magic is much stronger...just don’t let the feelings consume you too much. Been an insomniac myself, but with the meds I’m much better. If I can control my emotions, why can’t you? You got this.”
Edris: “Thanks, Prez.”
Prez: “Anytime.”
Terry: “That was great..right, we almost there, no?”
Florence: “Not yet, though we’re close. Gaskin’s really fucking big after the teleporting. We’re almost in Prague. Just give it a while when I’m carrying a bunch of supposed criminals on board…”
Sean: “I’m pretty sure you’d be apprehending us if you were with Vertex right now; you wouldn’t even be present driving this thing.”
Florence: “I would. There’s punishments for breaking the magical laws. Just because I’m laying off the grid doesn’t mean I’ll change my ways.”
Sean: “I bet you’d do that in a heartbeat. But I’d be a defendant for everyone. You’re as guilty as the rest...just like Rowie and Mags. We’re all the same.”
Florence: “Touché. We’re minutes away so strap on when the conversation continues.”
***
We land in Prague—with a even misty, clouded layer of fogs. It’s basically half of what Japan could look like now. The same could be argued for how onis could mask their presence like that when I fought em multiple times.
The Aston Martin is led through the tightly guarded Dancing House as the followers of Eltrocus order us off. Most of the weapons are confined except the ones we carry on. We go through the first floor and the old man greets us, his bald head radiating in slight brightness with a gaunt smile. The room feels like a boaton, where it rots and smells upon entering.
Koles: “Here to negotiate? Just in time.”
Sean: “Pretty much, considering we all went through hell because Mags betrayed us.”
Koles: “Right.”
Sean: “Did you know?!”
Koles: “…”
Terry: “C’mon, just answer it. Forge gave the order right?”
Koles: “Precisely. I wish I could explain on how much, but we’re here for the sole purpose of my lost apprentice. And you need help, don’t you?”
Sean: “We could extradite you right now based off on the recent things, we trashed the Louvre when the Serpent came. Did you even know he was a foil?”
Koles: “Of course. The magic rules…I’ve been a layover for it.”
(He snaps his fingers, and Forge arrives with another book)
Koles: “This is the second book. Given the occultist I am, I would have naturally alerted to one of my gifted pupils; for he was fluent in Nordic and me in Russian, so we converged. The queen is hungry and I can sense it; the mentors and Brim as vessels…”
Forge: “Daintly fucking twat. I should have been there. But the history is that, fucking demons were crawling up. They’re mutated, because god knows if Satan exists. The King’s a literal antichrist.”
Luc: “Then it’s basically an offshoot cult. Whatever happened to you, I don’t care much. You tell me where they are in Prague.”
Forge: “In her native home. But we had to cut a deal with Vertex so we could interfere on a limited basis; they offered a great sum of money.”
Florence: “You corrupted them with dark magic didn’t you? Blinding and misdirection?”
Koles: “That’s why you’re the switch, just like how they called you. Just like your sister. Sometimes the game rules have to be leveraged. Give me a good reason why we should offer the book, because this is definitely a negotiation.”
My fists grip harder as the conversation continues. Now I know why Callan was acting very off in the first place, he was pretending to be sober, drugged under the influence while me and Terry were gone. And they took my love.
I can’t believe this to be another encounter of betrayal for a second book of curses, but unless someone’s taken over their mind, it’s probably likely. I step forward, spraying powder in the faces of everyone. It’s the influence.
Sean: “You had our friends under control too. You’re playing the big game, aren’t you?”
Koles: “I will do whatever it is best to make it sufficient for our species; so long that we will continue the traditions of Vlad the Impaler. Your United Kingdom will fall further under the hands of us, Irishman.”
Terry: “You could have taken the book straight away, but you haven’t, why?”
Luc: “Everything’s under the illusion it’s hard to tell what’s true anymore, and I’m dubious you could look through the lenses, you bitch. The book you have is a fake. We smuggled the one when you forget the Irishman is a lawyer.”
Sean: “Give me back my friends or we’ll deal with you.”
Koles: “Too late, my plot will continue to further and haste, the seeds will spread and sow. Take them and the book!”
In another terrible effort of unnecessary fights, some of Forge and Koles’ men start warping into a swarm of bats, attempting to charge at us. Terry sets and invisible field, but the followers start clawing and attempt to penetrate it. Prez tries shielding Edris while Callan tries finding cover. We are left helpless with our powers, not even Florence could hold them off.
Luc, under the amplified stress, starts cursing in Latin and elven tongue again, his eyes flaring in yellow as he teleports in front of the possessed Koles, but Forge blocks him off with a dynamite—and it gets redirected into his face, causing him to fall on the sides. He plunges his fingers onto the old man’s head, chanting loudly as he tries to purge the evil influences that infiltrated Koles mind.
A blinding flash engulfs the two in which I can hear the last words translated to “banishing your mind”, but I’m not entirely sure if that was right. Luc emerges unscathed, and takes out a potion containing mabaerf. He forces it down Koles’ throat as he tries reaching for his whip, but we restrain him with the rest of the team stopping the fight as the bats revert back to humans.
Luc: “This will cleanse him and drain him of his powers…his manipulates chakra. I guess we’ll see what needs to be done next.”
Florence: “Where is the actual book then?”
Luc: “I may have foreseen it, it’s somewhere in the top floors, but, you need the stronger amulets—niikaams to sense it.”
Callan: “Wait, the book he’s got is a fake?”
Luc: “Yes. It was half a ploy and distraction because I did precognition; but we gotta look for it when everyone’s out cold.”
***
Vampire: “Wake up.”
Rowena: “Where am I this time?”
Vampire: “Processing. For the sake of our races.
Rowena: “No, no...”
Vampire: “Please comply, human. Or I will not tolerate further action.”
Rowena: “I fucking swear—no, we’re not going there again, no....no!”
Glossary:
Niikam: An alternate term for amulet
Mabaerf: Purging chemical, can be for soul cleansing
Boaton: Something poorly made.
Remodel, Week 30
Back to the actual subject of these photos now: in this and the previous shot you're looking at the fresh island once again, except as seen in full this time thanks to the front portion of the remodel wall having finally been removed. Still was a bit on the lookout while taking these photos (I've gotta admit, I'm a passive-aggressive person: I've only been angry at that customer ever since the incident passed. Mainly as the thing was occurring I was just nervous as heck!), but couldn't resist getting these views regardless. This right-angled view shows what appears to be a bit more painting waiting to be done over at the site of that ladder, but I think the left-angled view in the previous shot does a better job of showing how the fresh island fits into the new layout of the grocery department. In particular, you can see that as of now, the bulkhead above the bakery, rotisserie, and meat service departments stops short at the fresh island, with the dark, empty gap between the ceiling of the store and the tops of the fresh island and dairy cooler plainly visible. That's pretty unsightly to me... I hope it's covered up soon!
(c) 2018 Retail Retell
These places are public so these photos are too, but just as I tell where they came from, I'd appreciate if you'd say who :)
50 / 50 : Achievement Unlocked : Freedom.
So, first things first : I can't believe I make it to the end of this project.
I know, I know, I said the same exact thing at the end of my 365 project last year but, believe me or not, I found this 50 days to be a hell more daunting than all last year's 365 together.
Being it a 50of50 project, I was bound to shoot solely with my 50mm lens. And that wasn't even too difficult.
But I stupidly tied my hands with that stupid rule "I'll have to light every single photo with speed lights"
And damn, that turned out to be freaking HARD.
But I'm not gonna go down with the usual "why I hated this project bla bla bla" kinda rant, this time I want to tell you, despite the difficulties, what positives this project brought into my life.
For starters, it pushed me. A LOT.
It pushed me to ask anyone in my reach to help me, to pose for me, to hold my lights, to stop whatever they were doing 'cause I HAD TO TAKE THE PICTURE.
It pushed me to the point where I realized that most of the times, people are actually glad to have their photo taken, to help you out, to give you ideas whenever your batteries are low. You just gotta ask.
It pushed me to leave behind a lot of that laziness that I was trying to escape from : every single day I had to bring with me tripods, light stands, flashes, batteries and trasnceivers wherever I was going : but that didn't stop me.
It pushed me to go out at 1 in the morning 'cause my plan for the photo of the day had just been busted for some reason and I needed to scout a location, set up, and take yet another self portrait.
It pushed me to CREATE the opportunity to take a picture, whenever one was not being "served" to me.
That's a lot of pushing.
A LOT.
And now here I am, typing on my keyboard trying to sum up some of the thoughts I have screaming around in my head, with a huge smile printed on my face. Is it 'cause I know that I won't HAVE to think of a photo for tomorrow? Probably. Is it 'cause I know I won't HAVE to take another self portrait in case my plans go flat? Probably. Is it because I feel damn proud of myself for going through this and making to the end, making it clear especially to myself, yet another time, that photography is something that I want to pursue with all my heart? Most certainly.
Today I finish this project with more pride, more technical knowledge, more confidence and a handful of good photos (not to mention the bucket of CRAPPY ones but, what can we do about it?).
I have this overwhelming feeling of freedom and satisfaction that is simply priceless.
Tomorrow's another day, and I'm a bit more ready to take on it that I was before starting this project.
Onward, my friends!
ABOUT THIS PHOTO: Ok I wanted to challenge myself a bit harder for this last picture so I went for something that would have needed a LOT more post production than usual.
The image is a final edit from 3 different images.
I first placed the lights and had my roommate Lucio take a picture of me in mid air on the roof. After a few tries, we got the right one. Then I took, with the same aperture but different shutter speed, a photo of the background light and the floor / roof structure. Lastly, since it took too much time and the sun had almost set already, I cranked down the shutter speed and took a third photo of the sky/background area.
3 hours of photoshop later, this is the result. It's the most complex image i've ever worked on but I'm kinda digging how it turned out.
The concept comes from RICK NUNN , the guy I need to thank for inventing the 50of50 project and for going through not just one, but TWO of them!
On his last photo of his second 50of50 (THIS ONE) he's hanging from the ceiling, visually telling you all that the project almost killed him.
I liked the idea but I was not too fond of the whole "i'm dead, this project killed me" thingy, so I started to think backwards : what if someone had to show the freedom that comes with finishing such a daunting project?
Fifty done. OVER.
Camera Info: Nikon D700 | 50mm (ƒ/1.4G) @ 50mm | ƒ/2.8 | ISO 800 | 1/180th s — Camera on Tripod
Strobist Info:
-Nikon SB900 | 1/16th Power | Full Cut CTO gel | Bare | Lighting the background hidden behind the corner
-Yongnuo YN560 | 1/64th Power | Bare | In a 20"x20" Walimex foldable softbox lighting me from above and haldheld by my roomate | Then removed in Ps
I'm not the most organized guy in the world.
I kinda fly by the seat of my pants in most of the stuff I do.
I grew up that way.
And I'm still like that as an adult.
I do everything at the last minute... and I generally try to pay all of my bills right before they become thirty days past due.
If the people really want their money they'll call right?
And they get so happy when I give it to them and I get to hear that in their voices on the phone.
I get a lot of bills in the mail.
There's like this 'secret code' or something...
the really important ones are red in some way.
I know how far I can push it.
It's fun living dangerously sometimes... watching how low you can get the needle down on the gas tank before you gotta get gas.
That's how I learned about something really smart people call 'parallax.'
Paralax is 'the effect whereby the position or direction of an object appears to differ when viewed from different positions.'
Like if you look at the needle on the fuel guage from the passenger side it looks like you got less gas than you really do.
That's where your girl sits and looks at the gas guage from.
The designers of automobiles took this into consideration when they dealt with fuel guages.
They know your woman's gonna look over and see that needle on 'E' and say something.
It's like a built in safety device.
And she's always like 'we better get some gas.'
And you're always like 'we can go another 70.4 miles after the needle hits 'E' babycakes.
Then you tell her about 'parallax.'
Dumbass.
There you go with your physics shit again.
Note to your idiot self: chicks don't care about physics.
Name one legendary female physicist.
There are none.
I just did a search for 'legendary female physicist' on Google and got the old "Your search - legendary female physicist - did not match any documents."
Not one.
I also did another Google search in my intensive research for this book... research which consists almost entirely of my life experience, lies, bullshit, bullshit lies, made up statistics, things drunk people told me in bars and Google searches.
I Googled 'chicks who like walking after their dumbass guy runs out of gas.'
And guess what came up?
"Your search - chicks who like walking after their dumbass guy runs out of gas - did not match any documents."
Then in that little box it taunts you with every time you misspell something it said 'did you mean to search for 'dumb ass' instead?
Did you ever get the feeling that Google was talking directly to you?
I will admit that I had to do the search twice because the first time I used 'there' inappropriately when I should have used 'their' and I needed to straighten that up to insure the integrity of my research...
because that's the kind of guy I am... and I'm also not afraid to admit that I'm wrong either...
as long as no one's around to hear it.
Not even any naked pictures came up or anything.
That seemed odd.
So just to be sure that Google wasn't broken I did a search for 'hot freaky sex' which produced twenty one million one hundred thousand results.
And lots of fascinating pictures.
That's the Google I've come to know and depend on.
You know I really didn't get much out of the rest of that day.
Or half of the next.
I did have to think fast when my girl got home and said 'Honey... did you use all of my lotion?'
'Yeah Love Gravy Buckets... I was doing research for my new book.'
And then she did the predictable thing... the very thing I did not predict...
she asked me 'why would you need an entire bottle of my lotion to research your book?'
'And what happened to the full roll of paper towels I put out just before I went to work?'
I had to come clean with her so I showed her.
You know what?
I've never been so happy to let the woman peer into my browser's history.
I felt like that moment helped her to 'get me' more just then.
I think she liked some of that stuff and I 'bookmarked' the stuff that she seemed fascinated by.
Or at least just not 'overtly repulsed by' anyway.
Then we had a really good talk... you know... the kind that bring you closer together after helping you to understand each other in a deeper and more intimately meaningful way?
'It's all about the research Sweet Love Kitten' I promised.
'But I hafta admit that some of that stuff looks like it could really spice up our love life you know' I added.
Then just to reassure myself that this kind of research was valid for something other than an excuse to look at all of those pictures that are now seared into my mind right next to all of the other pictures just like that that have been seared into my mind for a very long time...
I did another Google search after typing 'women are impossible to understand.'
It came back with one hundred and seventy one million results.
These statistics which I did not make up for once... not only support everything that I've been telling you... they're alarming.
There's eight times as much 'women are impossible to understand' out there on the internet as there is 'hot freaky sex.'
Try it yourself.
If your woman catches you you can just tell her that you were checking the academic soundness of my work.
And if you're a woman it's a good opportunity to take a look inside of your mans medulla-hot-freaky-oblongata and see what he's really thinkin' about 96% of the time.
And wait until you see how much more 'exciting' it gets to check your 'spambox.'
That's where all the good stuff goes anyway.
Except those messages that are always giving me a complex...
the ones that say 'would you like a bigger penis?'
I'm going to find out which of my vindictive and bitter ex's signed me up for that one and have a little 'talk' with her.
Anyway I think it all goes to show that I'm right... there'd be a whole lot more hot freaky goin' on if men could understand women.
I'd like to see those numbers reversed in my lifetime.
Shit... I'd like to see those numbers reversed in my personal life.
But I don't need to do a Google search to tell you this brainiac:
no chick wants to walk because your dumbass parallax understandin' self made a miscalculation over fuel endurance.
Dude.
THAT is a walk you never wanna take...
walking to the gas station with your woman after you showed her how close you like to get to the edge.
Just like saying stupid shit... burning the gas in the tank down to vapors before you get more gas is a deep intrinsic need of yours.
What is the frickin' use of the 'bottom' of the gas tank anyway if you don't use it right?
Yeah I run out of gas every once in a while...
I have never done it with a woman in the car though.
Run out of gas I mean.
Ever.
Except my daughter.
And that only cost me a little glittery plastic pony to get my ass out of that one.
Women feel that having more than fumes in your gas tank when you take them somewhere is what they call 'considerate.'
The danger you think you are facing in driving that car until the last molecule of the petrochemical dinosaur juice miracle that propels it is combusted just as you pull up to the gas pump is nothing compared to the danger you'll be in if your calculations are flawed when your woman's in the car.
And lets face it.
That's when it's gonna happen too.
Because you won't handicap your mental fuel endurance calculations for her nonstop adjustments of the climate control because you'll be thinkin' about hot freaky.
And since women ALWAYS lie about their weight you've probably underestimated the total load you were carrying.
Plus that duffel bag she calls a purse that she carries gahdknows what in and that keychain she has... the one that's composed of lots of key chains all fastened together until it becomes one megalithic ass keychain... the one that weighs like nine pounds that every once in a while you fear she's gonna beat you with.
Am I right or am I right?
I've tried to explain my propensity to do this to my girl this way...
'baby... I look at it in a lot of ways like I look at our relationship... It's like I just wanna 'know' my car you know... I wanna know it so deeply and intimately... like I wanna know you... all of its needs and stuff... I wanna know when it's 'really' gonna stop... I have a need to know this kind of thing... you know... how far I can push shit... aren't you always saying that I do the same thing with you?'
You know I had to fuck that one all up at the end right?
So I run outta the go juice every once in a while...
and here and there whatever utility I may have pushed it too far with stopped by the ranch and disconnected me.
Living the Amish life for a few days isn't the end of the world.
It gives you the time to sit around and make high quality solid oak furniture with your bare hands because you won't be fucking around on the Internet all day.
In college I'd just hook it back up after they left.
Scored free cable for a lotta years too.
I didn't even hafta climb the pole to do it because my roommate caught my neighbor doing it in the middle of the night one time.
My roommate was not a 'legitimate businessman' and freaked out when he saw a guy climbing the telephone pole in the middle of the night because he thought it was the authorities fixin' to tap the phone lines.
The guy might not have been a 'legitimate businessman' but he was 'legitimately paranoid.'
He ran out there to ask the guy what the hell he was doing... in his bathrobe... with a gun... and I just kinda sat there on the couch so I could get a head start on makin' up my story or something.
Guy walks back in in five minutes all smilin'... puts the gun down and says... 'we got cable now... turn the tv on... the neighbor was jackin' it and I told him to 'turn us on' too... premium channels and everything!'
I live and breath chaos.
I seem to be pretty good at it.
A lot of people just can't live life in such a dynamic and unstructured way.
They're probably better off for it...
because it drives a lot of people crazy.
Especially every one of my ex's apparently.
I just couldn't live any other way.
Unless a preponderance of hot freaky tips the scales towards a more regimented and domesticated lifestyle.
Ultimately everything is negotiable I suppose.
I work hard and I play hard and I do dig myself some nice vacation here and there.
It's something I really look forward to as a self-employed 'legitimate businessman.'
Men and women and vacation are a strange and extremely volatile mix if you ask me.
They're always volatile really.
Vacation is just the 'spark' that can really set them off.
I can remember my parents getting into fights all the time right before getting into the car and heading on the door out for a roadtrip.
That really sucked and it kinda made me think that I just had hot head freaks for parents.
Besides fights about dad coming home shitfaced every once in a while fighting was pretty rare in my childhood home.
What I didn't know then was that ALL couples pretty much get into it either just before vacation of just as they're walking out the door.
Mom wants to make triple sure that everythings cool with the house.
Dad figures 'fuck it... lets go... I got insurance.'
Mom wants the house to be really clean as soon as she steps in the door when we get home from vacation.
Dad says 'fuck it lets go.'
Mom's worried about what she forgot to pack.
Dad says 'fuck it... I got a wallet full of money.'
Mom says 'you never take anything seriously.'
Dad says 'why do you always have to start shit right before we roll off to vacation?'
You can see that I am the descendent of a man with a propensity to say stupid shit too.
In fact I come from a long line of men who were really good at saying stupid shit.
It is my experience that leaving the pad and going mobile does different things to the sexes.
Men just wanna get the hell out of Dodge.
Women wanna make sure that Dodge is in good shape before they come back.
Secretly I think men are thinkin' that they're gonna have such a good time on vacation it might just be the end of them.
That's always my goal on any given vacation... to have so much fun I could die.
So what do men care?
Maybe women can see that 'glint in their eye.'
When I speak this way I can't indict all women for this behavior.
Just the one's I've been with.
And we've already come to understand that I'm not the kinda guy who makes the best choices.
I'm pretty sure that all men share the same guilt though.
Every woman I've ever been in a longterm commited, or unilaterally semi committed relationship long enough to go on a shared vacation with has had that lobe pop just prior to or right at departure time.
I've often wondered why this is.
I have a theory.
Going mobile makes women feel vulnerable I think.
And when your woman feels 'vulnerable' she knows full well that you're to blame.
She 'needs' you to protect her... or at least make her feel 'protected.'
And since she feels vulnerable buddy... You have failed.
I see it start up about a week out as a mild anxiety.
And it builds up with each day closer to 'go time' that we get.
Generally the lobe pops right when you're packin' the car.
I think it's just that guys get all excited about going on vacation.
And we can't pack for shit because we don't know where anything is anyway.
And women, they just get a little nervous about leavin' the nest.
And all their throw pillows.
They've worked so hard to decorate the place and now they're being torn from it like it's a cesarean section going down.
You gotta be sympathetic to them just then.
All they really need is reassurance.
Lots and lots of reassurance.
And not the regular kind of reassurance...
like how she's more beautiful than the day that you met her...
or her ass isn't 'really' getting fat...
and that you want to grow old with her...
she needs 'vacation specific' reassurances.
And you don't get too many oportunities to work on your vacation specific reassurances.
Because for once in your life you're not just thinkin' about hot freaky.
You're thinkin' about 'vacation hot freaky.'
You know all about the pseudo-scientific studies that show that a woman's more likely to get down with some hot freaky in a hotel bed.
Because it's not hers.
That way she doesn't have to think about it again in the perfectly accessorized and color coordinated 'love sanctuary' that she created for the two of you called a bedroom.
The place she likes to think of as a 'budoir' but would never tell you that.
You know why?
Because a 'budoir' is a room that a woman lays around in and thinks about her perfect fantasy guy.
It becomes a 'bedroom' the second you walk in.
Because you spoil the whole effect by leaving your dirty socks on the floor right next to the freaking hamper.
But dad's not thinkin' about any of that.
He wants to get the fuck out of there.
He's excited to go.
Mom's nervous about leaving.
Maybe he's already 'getting to work' on his skills of tuning the kids out.
Maybe he's thinking about the car and any problems it might have.
He's got the route in his head and he's got a timetable that he wants to stick to.
Dad's got plans to be wherever it is that he's going at a certain time.
He has done pages of mental mathematics... running all sorts of navigational calculations against his personal biorhythms, applied 'rush hour' handicapping to whatever city you'll be driving through then, figured out the liklihood of having the kids sleep at the most critical point...
Dad's mind is on the journey.
It's like a 'bombing mission' over hostile territory the way that he looks at it.
Moms worried about whether or not she left the iron on.
Dad doesn't know what that is and why she'd be worried about that anyway.
Vacation creates a great disconnect between men and women.
At least the preparing and the motivating part.
If your relationship were the Titanic... vacation would be the iceberg.
I really don't think that there's anything more perilous a guy can do with his girl than to go on vacation.
This guy I used to work with... we'll call him 'Eddy' because I'm not sure the solution that he came up with for this very situation was either legal or ethical... but damn... it was nothing short of brilliant.
Especially if you knew 'Eddy.'
Me and the guys were sittin' around the warehouse one day talking about this very phenomenon when Eddy jumps off the forklift and chimes in...
'Bitches are always cranky right before they go on vacation... everybody knows that... you know what I do... I see it comin' and I say 'hey baby... you look a little stressed... let me get you a glass of wine.'
Then 'Eddy' said he goes to the kitchen... pours a nice glass of red outta the box in the fridge... and then he crushes up two xanax tablets and stirs 'em in there real good.
He insists you gotta use red because he tried it with a zinfandel once and he said you could see like some 'residue' in the bottom of the glass.
'She feels all happy that I noticed her anxiety and she cools off when I hand her the glass of wine you know' he said.
All of us just stood there in stunned silence with wide eyes and mouths agape.
'When those xanax kick in and the alcohol from the wine I ain't got a problem in the world... I been doin' it for years and it always works'... and he looked at us when he said it like he'd just divulged the very secret of life to us.
Fuckin' 'Eddy'... the smartest gahdamn forklift driver in the world.
None of us could believe his genius at that very moment.
And we all agreed later after he got fired for getting caught on video coming into the warehouse at five am one morning after a three day cocaine bender just to get a box of razor blades and then go home to call in sick that his idea was the most intelligent thing any of us had ever heard him say.
I'm not advocating 'slipping your woman a mickey' but I've sure thought about it since 'Eddy' told us about his secret method.
In my studies on the male mind I've found that most men can't think past the next weekend.
That's because statistically that's when we'll be most likely to successfully impregnate a woman and pass on the propensity to say stupid shit to yet another generation.
It's a part of our biology.
Plus we have to work all week.
While a woman is entirely capable of making restaraunt reservations for dinner four months in advance.
About the same time she begins thinking about what she'll wear to that dinner.
That comes from her biology.
She's got that monthy cycle to break down time for her into manageable chunks.
It's a lot easier to do when you can only get pregnant on one of those weekends anyway.
And if she's on the other end of your weekend 'reproductive success' or failure depending on how you look at it she's got a nine month gestation period to give her enough time to figure out the perfect color scheme for the nursery and whatever the most fashionable baby name might be that year.
That's just the way it is.
It's always been that way.
It will always be.
And those differences should be celebrated you know?
They are what makes a couple who's found and nourished and built a functional relationship capable of so much more than any one person could be on their own.
Neanderthal mom would look back to last fall and remember where she filled her basket up with those delicious nuts... or the succulent berries in the spring.
Neanderthal dad and the guys would be playing around bullshitting with each other when one of them said 'yo... check it out... a wooly mammoth... we should kill it.
And Neanderthal mom would always be accusin' Neanderthal dad of behaving like a 'Cro-magnon.'
The differences in the male and female mind and thought process' are there for a reason.
Not just to cause you to get in all manner of fights with your girl and to get in the way of hot freaky.
The secret I think is to show your girl that even though you are for the most part a beast so different than what she really wants you to be that it is in many ways those very facets of your manliness that she secretly craves and needs in her life as much as baskets, throw pillows and paint sample chips.
And the way to show her that is to become her hero and save her ass.
One of these days I'm gonna rig up a secret 'baby be cool' button in my automobile.
Here's what it will do...
whenever Sweet Honey Cake Biscuits isn't showin' me the love... if she's all bitchin' at me about some crazy shit I did for the fiftieth gahdamn time...
I can press the secret 'baby be cool' button.
It will make the vehicle break down.
Hopefully I will push it in the worst neighborhood I can.
At night.
Then as I glide to a stop on the side of the street she will get all freaked out...
feel really vulnerable and scared...
she'll forget whatever the hell we were just fighting about... as soon as she confirms the car didn't stop because I ran it out of gas...
and I will open that hood like a MAN.
Because I know where the secret lever that opens it is.
The thing on the side by where your legs go with the dumbass lookin' stick figure standing in front of an open hood staring at an engine that he has no idea how the hell it works and scratching his head as he does.
And Honey Pie has no idea where the secret lever is.
We just happen to be in my 'realm' now.
I will demonstrate reassuring confidence that I can fix this problem and save our asses.
Maybe I'll say something like 'I know you're scared baby... but don't you worry Sweet Peaches... just give me a minute and I'll have this fixed.'
Of course I will need some tools that I have in the back near the spare tire next to that comprehensive first aid kit that I've built over the years.
And I will make it a point to ask her where those tools are because I put them there for just this situation.
When she tells me that she 'put them in the garage' I'll be cool with that... I won't blow my stack... I'll say 'don't worry baby... I can fix this... even with my bare hands if I have to.
I'll mess under the hood for a couple minutes like I know what I'm doing as she bites her nails and sinks in her seat to keep from being seen...
I'll touch something dirty and wipe that on my face so she can see it and be reminded of what a freakin hero I am when she tells me to wipe it off and lovingly hands me a baby wipe she keeps in that duffel bag sized purse of hers...
then I'll get back in the car and press the secret 'baby be cool' button again...
Whammo!
I have saved us!
I am the man.
End of argument.
I think that button would end just about any argument.
Because she will instantly have it reinforced that even though I am a creature filled with flaws and who may have only evolved half as much as her... that she needs me.
Sometimes.
When I make the car break down in bad neighborhoods at night.
And even if you're not arguing you could just use the 'baby be cool' button to be her hero every once in a while.
Because nothing gets you hot freaky like being a hero.
Her hero.
If you apply science, logic, psychology, thought and your half mastery of automotive mechanics to your goal... if you recognize all of the traps, dangers, perils and pitfalls of going on vacation with your woman...
and you have that 'baby be cool' button installed on your car like I'm telling you to do... and you use it at precisely the right moment...
you will be telling me how it is that you have personally come to discover that 'vacation hot freaky' is more than just the stuff of myth or legend.
You will be the man.
It's either that or you're gonna be telling me about the train wreck that was your vacation when your miserable ass makes it back to the refuge of the office where you'll be just as unappreciated but you'll be safe among men who've all ridden on the crazy train too.
This isn't a story about me, my life or the crazy shit I've done.
It's a story about our society.
And the lengths and depths of the bullshit and the depravity that people have sunk to so that they could maintain power or fortunes.
Sure I've been guilty of conspiracy here and there in various nefarious enterprises.
I've been on the winning side and the losing side of a whole bunch of deals.
But you don't hurt people blatantly and indiscriminately.
You just don't do that.
I got no problem takin' a guy out who's got it coming believe me.
But even then you do it in the most decent and humane way that you can.
You just don't hurt people.
Especially innocent people.
I remember the time that Francis and I infiltrated that drug network in the Netherlands.
It wasn't even on orders or anything.
We were there on vacation and we just thought we'd do it for fun.
Mostly because we'd been drinking a lot.
Like all sordid tales it started at a bar.
In Amsterdam.
Called the Bulldog.
It was one of those places where you could buy marijuana and a beer and we'd been sampling both.
I don't know which of us came up with the idea but we decided to let it out on 'the street' that we were lookin' to score ten thousand tablets of MDMA or ecstasy for export back to the United States.
In reality we were just fuckin' around.
We had no intention of smuggling ten thousand hits of XTC back with us.
Bein' the kinda guys that we are though we thought it would just be fun and entertaining to try and line up the deal.
Like some kind of a sport or something.
We knew we could bail before it got to serious if it even materialized.
What we didn't count on was the fact that the first guy we mentioned our plan to just picked up the phone and made a call.
The bartender just got right on the phone and said 'Michelle... can you get me ten thousand hits of ecstacy?'
Then he put his hand over the phone... looked at us and asked 'when do you want them?'
Francis and I just about shit but we knew how to play these games so we looked at each other and I looked back at the bartender and replied 'tonight.'
After a little small talk the bartender hung up the phone and told us that it'd be twenty five hundred bucks for the ten thousand hits.
It didn't take me more than a few milliseconds to realize that that was twenty five cents per tablet.
That shit was selling for like thirty bucks a pop back home on college campuses.
And Francis was an expert at testing it.
He knew the chemical that you mixed it with that'd turn the shavings black or blacker depending on the purity of the product.
The darker the black the more pure it was.
Basic math having been applied... even in our semi intoxicated and euphoric state told us that the whole bag of goods had a street value of three hundred thousand dollars on the street back home.
I might've got a 'D' in college algebra but I've always been able to do street value calculations with impeccable speed and accuracy even when I was under the influence.
The reality we both knew was that we could probably sell the load for about half of that and make a tidy profit of $148,000 for a weekend's worth of work in Amsterdam.
Split in half that was seventy four thousand bucks apiece.
Cash.
By this time about all of eight minutes had passed since we came up with the dumb idea and now we had the connections and the numbers to make it happen.
Hell... I had more than two and a half grand in traveler's checks right there in my pocket.
The thing was that I had these ethics.
I'd made a lot of money smuggling weed and it was a job that I truly enjoyed.
That's how I became a pilot.
But I always said that other drugs were off the table.
I didn't wanna be a part of something that hurt people or messed with their lives just so I could make a buck and Francis knew that.
He didn't even have to hear me say anything.
'It's not really dangerous stuff and it's not addictive man' he said.
Dude really wanted to go ahead with the deal.
'We didn't come to Amsterdam for business' I told him 'we came here to have a good time.'
'Besides' I told him... 'It's a dumb plan and it's not really well thought out and we'll get our asses thrown into federal prison for it because we don't have shit for a plan or any other connections around here.'
'I say we go for twenty thousand hits' was the only thing he came back with 'we got enough dough to cover that right now.'
Before I could say anything he leaned over to the bartender and said 'tell Michelle we want twenty thousand hits.'
I started to get a little pissed off... I mean... I was on vacation... and messin' around was one thing but loadin' up with twenty thousand hits of XTC and tryin' to get 'em past customs in Chicago with an Amsterdam stamp in our passports was not something I'd signed up for.
I'd had enough of this and that hashish I'd just imbibed had already gotten me paranoid enough that I pulled out a fistful of Euros and paid our bar tab.
Francis told the bartender we'd be back at Seven.
I didn't say anything.
We walked through the canal district and took in the beautiful sights of old Amsterdam while I tried to show Francis the error of his thinking.
'It's a stupid idea... as impulsive as shit can be and that's exactly why we'll get caught' I told him.
But Francis had 'Gold Rush Fever'... I could see it in his eyes.
The thought of more than a half a million dollar score with just about no work had already made him delirious.
I figured he'd straighten up when the effects of the hashish wore off.
But he didn't.
He kept on and on about it.
Finally I said 'We don't even have any idea of how big a mass twenty thousand hits of XTC is.'
'It's about the size of a football' he came back with.
My buddy was already in this thing way too deep.
We were good partners like that though.
One of us always embraced the upside and the other the downside.
I gotta admit... a half a million dollar score sounded tempting to me too.
I just hated to do something like this without a killer plan and a whole lot of forethought.
We'd never been busted and that hadda lot to do with why.
Coming back to the US with those stamps in our passports from Amsterdam bothered me the most.
I knew that they'd single us out for a little extra scrutiny at Customs with Amsterdam being like the 'Drug Nirvana' of the world and everything.
It didn't take long for Francis to convince me otherwise though as passionate as he was about this score.
'I'll do all the carrying and you be the decoy guy' he said.
That meant I'd be behind him in the line at Customs and not be carrying anything but dressed and acting like I really was... all nervous and stuff so he'd just get waved through so the agent could do a 'complete teardown' on me and all my luggage.
By the time they realized I had nothing Francis would probably already have distributed half of the stash.
I was fallin' for this dumb idea now too.
As our positions seemed to shift and now I became euphoric about the whole deal and the way it was gonna go Francis started sweating over the details a little more and I could see that so I ramped up my enthusiasm accordingly.
When we made our way back to the Bulldog that evening Francis was a little skeptical about a few things.
'These guys could just rob our ass' he said on the way to the bar.
We'd converted the traveler's checks to cash and now we were carrying five grand in our pockets as night started to fall over Amsterdam.
He was gettin' the jitters.
I could see it.
And I was cool with that because I really didn't wanna go ahead with this thing.
Still, we walked into the bar and sat down at a couple of empty stools and ordered a beer.
There'd be no smokin' of the hashish because we had work to do.
The bartender introduced us to Michelle who'd been sitting at the stool right next to us.
He didn't look like he had a football sized quantity of MDMA tablets on him and with that I was kinda relieved.
He didn't even ask to see our cash.
Michelle just sized us up over a few beers and we all threw around a lotta small talk.
Somehow we got to storytellin' and we went around and told a couple of tales each but when it got back to Michelle he always seemed to top our tales.
What he told us next topped anything I'd ever heard before.
We pretty much knew by this time that Michelle worked for 'The Big Boss' and he knew that we knew it and he was kinda tellin' us how the 'Big Boss's' operation was run.
'Ze Big Boss had zis bodyguard you know' Michelle said 'he was a big muzzerfucker... a world champion kick boxer... a tough muzzerfucker.'
But apparently he wasn't too smart because he was fuckin' the Big Boss and skimmin' the profits somehow and he got caught.
So the Big Boss told Michelle and the guys that they were gonna meet at a warehouse he owned in Amsterdam that night and take care of it.
'Ze Big Boss he don't like getting fucked' Michelle said.
And he was gonna make an example of his bodyguard that night.
An example so crazy fucked up that no one would ever think to fuck the Big Boss again.
It was too late for the bodyguard to do anything about it by the time he was surrounded by the Big Boss' minions and confronted with the accusation that he'd been fuckin' the Big Boss out of a lot of cashish.
Before he could even answer he had a nine millimeter slug in one of his knees and he was on the ground crying.
The Big Boss wanted to use the moment as a motivator for the rest of his crew... it wasn't just about killin' the thieving bodyguard.
'Nobody fucks ze Big Boss' MIchelle said he said.
Then he put another round in the bodyguard's other knee.
I forget all the details since so much time has passed but I was astounded at the way that Michelle told the story.
Much better than I ever could.
The next few shots were to equally painful but not likely fatal parts of the bodyguard's anatomy.
'He was begging ze Big Boss to kill him' Michelle said 'but he wouldn't.'
'Over and over again ze big boss would say zat nobody fucks ze Big Boss' he told us.
And each time he'd wound the poor guy someplace else.
When the Big Boss had had enough and figured that the entire crew had learned a valuable lesson he told one of the guys 'cut his dick off and stick it his mouth and put him in one of zose blue barrels and throw him in ze canal... and write on ze barrel zat 'nobody fucks ze Big Boss.'
Michelle thought it was a little barbaric but a whole lot genius because he said that after that nobody ever fucked the Big Boss.
Francis and I looked at each other and tried to figure out if this was the biggest load of bullshit we'd ever heard or what.
Michelle must've picked up on it right away because he looked at us and then the bartender and told the bartender 'get ze video.'
I think that story kinda took the spark for the deal out of both of us and we let Michelle know that we were a little concerned about gettin' the stuff through Customs.
Michelle assured us that he'd help with that when we actually made the deal at our hotel.
'How you gonna do that' I asked him.
Michelle pointed to his ass and said 'zere is only one certain way.'
That was it for me.
And that's where I think Francis lost his heart for the deal too.
We skipped town that night without tellin' anyone.
Which was too bad because in one of the craziest things I've ever seen we got back to Chicago on that jet... walked through Immigration and right past all the empty Customs desks right to where we grabbed our bags and walked through an open door to the streets of Chicago without ever being searched.
Our bags couldda had a million hits in them and we'd have made the street.
I'm glad it didn't happen though.
And I still get the chills every time I think about the Big Boss.
In a way I could understand what the Big Boss did and why he did it even though it turned my stomach.
Some of the things I've seen corrupt officials do in Chicago though for far lesser reasons seemed just as evil.
If not more.
In two weeks time, a supposedly happy day was still something of a gloomy time—despite the biggest highlight being the celebration of Tyrone and Erin’s wedding. People kept up happy faces, but I knew somberness was prevalent.
So much going on, so little time. It was decided the wedding be made private, much to the couple's wishes rather than a big one to be held at Paladin, but thank god they scrapped that. We flew to the Canary Islands, to Japan and Michigan for a party. Basically, anywhere the two had wanted, as long as Edens promised us we would be enjoying much time off. But he wasn't present, because of whatever he was entangled in, and Navin was...also doing the same shit.
**Canary Islands, 11:40 A.M:**
Priest: “Will you proclaim each other as wife and husband?”
Ty/Erin: “Yes we do.”
Priest: "No matter health, life and death, shall you cherish each other and love each other?"
Ty/Erin: "Yes, we do."
Priest:" You may now exchange the rings, and kiss.
Though the happiness and excitement returned when the ceremony took place. Music, laughs and some cries. It felt warm to me, and a lot of people. I get it's a whole lotta wedding stuff, it’s fun but…something feels missing. If there was a billionaire right here, he’d be throwing things, maybe an actual big party. At least I saw the tension was non-existent between both parents of the bride or groom—from Tyrone’s mother and grandmother, along with Erin’s dad. Guess they’re on good terms, these elders. Anything for their children. The beauty of family dynamics.
Kurt: “Well, congrats on the uh, rings! I knew it was going to happen to you both.”
Erin: “Thanks Kurt.”
Kurt: “So the day were there…you saved our asses partially, probably missed out some stuff…you got Riley but not Harry?”
Ty: “We got filled in by others. Harry…he’s...was a coma. When we found his room, he was gone. Nobody knew where he was.”
Kurt: “I assume Jericho saved him. He's a friend. But Harry has a lot of issues...and I don't know, we might be seeing him again someday."
Leaving the couple to celebrate, I hope it wouldn’t make matters worse when everyone had something to announce. Jesse seemed bitter and unlike himself...he wasn’t cracking jokes anymore. Something was definitely up on his mind. Indeed, his temper was changing, his behaviour led to a lot of his arguments with his...ex lover. Not the most proper breakup, but this is what young people do, I guess?
Gary: “You’re not leaving, are you?”
Jesse: “I will. I can’t stand hypocrites around. Remus...used to be a teacher, until he wasn’t anymore. This is the part where I leave everybody—and this place. Congrats on the wedding, voila. I need to go away somewhere.”
Kieran: “You’re really considering it? Why not anyone?”
Jesse: “Who have I left to trust? Nobody. The agency used me, you, everyone as a tool! Us! As much as I like a lot of people in this room, it’s the end of the line for me. I'm gonna off the grid—no one’s gonna find me. Darling, I’m sorry."
Gary: "Is this breakup? Come on, we can decide--"
Jesse: "I've thought through tooth and nail, and the last couple of years are just...bad. I need to keep a low profile."
Gary: "J, please..."
Jesse: "Pray faith will allow us to meet again someday, love...”
***
Jesse: "Con, I'm gonna go. Please, we've been through this a whole lot."
Connor: "I'm not gonna stop you, and you're a functioning adult. You can make your own choices and I won't govern it, so you don't need permission."
Jesse: "The toughest calls always get the worst timings."
Connor: "I know, we haven't gotten much time, but at least we went home a few times. That's good enough in my book."
Jesse: "I'm just happy our best friends got married. And I just broke up."
Connor: "Yeah...about that, I'm sorry. It must have been awkward,. I can't do much but I'll always love you, Jes. I'm your big brother. Try giving me a call, will ya?"
Jesse: "Adios, bro."
***
Connor: “Sorry to inform everyone, but my brother's gone. I'm sorry, Gary and everyone else. But I hate bringing up agency matters at the moment, so we need to talk now."
Ty: "Well, it's not our worst day. We gotta accept our best friend's going, but I'm just glad our wedding was great, right babe?"
Erin: "You know I love you enough to not say no."
Ty: "Gotta make through the talk so we can go on honeymoon. Family's waiting over there."
Connor: "Okay. In that decision, we should all be making a vote. Who leaves or stays. My call is personal, I’m on and off. The Guild and Oddcrow need me. I'm flying for Kyoto tomorrow.”
Erin: “I hope you don’t leave for long.”
Connor: " I'll remain whenever you need me, E."
Sam: “I’m voting to stay. Healing takes a bit of time. We got nowhere to go honestly. So why not finish the party?”
Lyra: "Agreed."
Riley: "Stay, I can't fucking wait for girl party for us. You lads better stay off."
Erin: "That too, Riley. Me and Lyra need some good girl times."
Ty: "Yeah, we got one more night left, why not spend it well?"
Kieran: “Ok, let’s call it off for now. I gotta relax my bones.”
Kurt: "Drinks, monsieur and madams?"
Connor: "Here, let's toast to us."
***
At night through next morning, Jesse was never seen again, despite the celebration. God knows where he’s heading off but he's not entirely wrong. I swear, if he had stayed longer, I could have gotten a better understanding of what his electricity powers meant.
I too myself got tired during the hours of drinking, opting to go home or some bar. Doing research myself before snoozing off—least I can drink lots, but I’m not that kind of drunkard. I know I got work.
The focus of things look good once in a while. Research allows me to get back on the market, sort of. At least I can fluctuate in devising and making good use of atoms, some from my powers that I could experiment with, feels less work like the agency but more relaxed.
So where does this leave us? Agents, homeless, no jobs? Yeah, I guess pension means I should retire, but thanks to science, I'm a scientist. Avalon and Gamma teams are gonna have to regulate to civilian identities, have a normal job. It would be a challenge for newlyweds, or those who gotta adapt.
But I didn't find it hard, given I'm the oldest, having a career and all that, it's like being a hero is a part time job. There's so many ways you can save the world. Once at a time. If I do it step by step, I can acknowledge the procedures make it right.
***
On a rainy morning a week later, I received a call from Kieran, who asked me to go to the Paladin base to scavenge some things—while it’s on lockdown. Wonder what could that be? Prison? A reintroduction to my former life? No...couldn’t be.
The place is as dark as it gets as I wander around the open corner. This is the damn basement. The US is always under heavy security and guns and whatnot, but yeah, it's easy to slip through. I remember we were formally discharged after Gardner's incident, but we took some equipment, our suits and personal items before we left. The board made sure we would not step foot into Paladin again.
Kurt: “Where am I at again?”
Riley: “In secret.”
Lyra: “Welcome home again.”
Kurt: “Y’know the other day I thought about retirement...maybe I should have stayed there. You act like Washington isn't full of dirty secrets already.”
Sam: "So much for independency. I know, but this is different."
Kurt: "Again, hard to forgive for my pessimism. Yes I'm sober, but I'm still drowning in my own works."
Gary: “We still have unfinished business, Kurt. We need you. Jesse might be gone for now but this team has to get stronger."
Kurt: "Tell that to ones who just got married. But hey, they deserved it."
Glad to hear that then? I scuffle my hair and wait impatiently digging through my pockets, doing a mental headcount until something happens.
With the flicker of lights, my eyes are exposed to a garage like base of sorts. What it implies is that we may have relocated, but I could be wrong.
Sam: “Paladin may still be active, but...with the losses, we don’t have much time to cope on the inside, so we do it on the outside.”
Navin: “So what you say, old eagle?”
Kurt: “Khattar. You’re still alive.”
Navin: “I made it though, I know a few might not be present but...we should skip to explaining instead of jumping straight to conclusions.”
Khattar: “Well, for starters, Edens is regretting what he's done, keeping secrets. But the irony is—this is secretive. We've put him on Interpol list. He's negotiating to be under house arrest.”
Kurt: "Well, that's...something."
They all nod in agreement, like I’m late to the party or something. Emerging from the shadows in front of me is none other than Yvette Gardner, Mason’s sister. I've barely seen her before, but her presence is calming, yet mysterious. But it does remind me of her dead brother.
Yvette: “Looks like everyone’s here. Now where do I begin with...I thank you for the condolences for my brother’s death, which I’m in mourning too but since we’re facing dire times...I am going to take up his remaining funds. What he started—is in my hands. The Gardner company cannot work on its own but rather I’d have to focus on Cavebridge Solutions to maintain a public persona.”
Kurt: “That means giving up your career, would you want that? Worth the risks?”
Yvette: “I don’t have any choice left—my brother had to show the world...and in fact, I’m a superhuman too. Which is why we’re all gathered in secret.”
Navin: “Avalon and Gamma are now gone, with the exception of Sam and Connor, Tyrone and Erin have gone on their honeymoon and to focus on a new life, so I don’t blame them."
Kurt: "After what they've been through, they need the break."
Navin: "Yes, Doctor Rackham. I can ensure that. But your decision to stay or leave is crucial. I need to lead a team that is capable of surviving hardships in the aftermath of these events; you can still choose to leave if you want to, no one will force you to make a choice.”
Kurt: "I know, this is hard. Give me a minute."
Navin: "Best to make a steadfast decision, doctor."
***
No one spoke up. They were just exchanging glances, or it was just Riley trying to tease Kieran. Yvette sat on a chair, looking into her own digital businesses.
Kurt: "Okay, I'm in."
Navin: “Glad to hear that, doctor. Ms Gardner?"
Yvette: "The façade and reputation of Paladin has been tarnished—but it maybe beyond repair; the board saw it as a very dangerous stunt and now I have to prove myself as being trustworthy to be amongst everyone. It will double our work in the meantime, and our secrets will be held like this for another planning.”
Kurt: “So basically we’re building ourselves another agency? Well sounds sketchy to me even if you need men and women like us...and I wish Harry was here.”
Kieran: “Desperate times, desperate measures.”
Yvette: “If everyone proceeds to stay, then let’s get to work: the manhunt for North is still on, lots of enemies outside including the former guild members. Last couple of days, Connor has been assisting us with intel regarding ES activity in Berlin. If I’m not wrong about analytics, which presumably Sabine Rackham is still alive and active, she has ordered her cells on the move. I’m gonna hand the rest to Sam.”
Sam: ”Last but not least, we have a source of power...somewhere in the files that Jericho left us, a location...which could benefit us. But it’ll be a long trip searching...we’ll need someone up for that job as well.
Riley: "Woosh woosh. Lyra, babe. This is where we have fun. But we're definitely gonna crash Erin's place this coming weekend."
Lyra: "Deal."
Kieran: "Let's get to work, everyone."
Sounds like it. Hope comes in the form of a small...team. Since that day, we were a merged team, with a brand new leader, a financial benefactor and a new director. From people of different cultures and countries as team members, same faces but with a breathe of fresh air. And now with a mystery that should be a recurring thing to be decoded, analyzed and solved slowly...
The Knights of the Round Table are indeed alive after all. Do we have a name? Who cares right now? Who knows what will bring us to come? I wish I had the ability to predict the future, but the present is important to guide us there in time.
And the world will know Mason Gardner died a man who tried to save the world as a regular person, not as hero.
And we have to make sure his sacrifice will be remembered.
Gotham Meat Lockers. Kinda sad that out of all the businesses in Gotham, it's name is one of the most honest. Well, was one of the most honest. About 20 years ago it was the site of a violent triple homicide. This not only took the lives the three people, but the life of the business as well. No one's willing to go near the place anymore, so it just sits there on the street rotting away like an open wound. You can smell the old meat in the street. The place really is a pit. And Jackie's here...whoever took him and brought him here of all places, I swear I'll do them what I did them Black Mask times 10. Steph and I enter through the garage doors with the help of some C4. Sure, we could've snuck in all incognito, but we want them to know we're here. I mean, if they're giving us hints with maps and stuff, they obviously want us, right? Well, they got us. We walked into the slaughterhouse, and the smell was even worse. Flies and bones everywhere, giant steaks still on hooks. Nothing but a giant health hazard at this rate. I need to tell Bruce to pull some string to get this place demolished when this is all over. We continue deeper into the slaughterhouse and it just gets messier. Nothing but rotting death around us. The only signs of life are our footsteps and--
"Well, you figured out my little puzzle, huh Tim? You're as smart as they say you are."
That voice...oh god, no...of all the people to do this, of all the people we've gotta deal with...
"Slade?!"
"The one and only. I gotta congratulate you on figuring out that puzzle. Was a bit worried it was a bit too convoluted."
"First off, I solved your stupid puzzle. Second, Why did you take Jackie? What do want with us?"
"You solved it? Nice job Tim. Got yourself a sidekick that's actually useful."
"Sidekick!?"
"Slade, if you hurt Jackie I swear I'll--"
"Hurt a child? Please, Tim. I actually have some decency. He's just bait to reel in the big fish. You two."
"And just what good are we to you?"
"What good? Millions, that good."
"We're your contract? But who hired you?"
"C'mon, you solved the map puzzle so you should know! I gave you their homes and everything!"
"Widow and The Broker..."
"Two of the biggest idiots I've ever met. But their money's green, so why not? If they give you two trouble though, This won't be too fun."
"...Slade, you took Jackie from us. Made us think we lost him. I don't care what happens, I will make you eat those words one way or another. Every hour we were without him will be worth how many bones I'm gonna break!"
"Really? Get real Tim. I'm a metahuman! My skeleton's as strong as steel. But hey, if you wanna try then go ahead! Let's make this fun. Impress me the best y--"
He stops to catch a Batarang thrown by Steph, the only one here getting more sick of his voice than me. Before he could counter, the Batarang explodes with a loud bang and so bright light. A flash bang. Annoying from where I was standing, but Slade pretty much had that thing next to his head. Smart move, Steph. What wasn't was when she rushed him. Her swing was easily blocked by his sword. While he had Steph held off, he got his pistol up and started shooting at me. The Kevlar in my suit would do a good job deflecting small arms, but knowing Slade, those bullets aren't normal pistol rounds. Before he was able to get a those shots off my staff goes into shield mode and blocks the shots. The kick from the impact was pretty big. My arms are already kinda sore. Worse part of this has to be how close he is to Steph. She makes one wrong move in the 3 seconds I'm not fighting with are and Slade will murder her. I've got two loved ones to worry about now...
Now I'm no stranger to takin' a punch or two for doin' the business that I do tryin' to capture some of the soul of the people I see on the street...
But this dude done caught me off guard.
I've gotten pretty good at readin' people and seein' real quick whether or not I'm gonna be able to 'close' on 'em through the viewfinder.
I got the 35mm back up front on the camera and in order to fill the frame I gotta be a real 'uncomfortable' 7 or 8 inches away from my subject's face in order to do it.
'Uncomfortable' for the subjects that is... I'm used to it.
That takes a really 'special' approach that lens.
This dude was a freakin' ninja I swear to gahd.
I saw him leanin' over a trash can lookin' all fascinating and shit and I made the approach.
This was my first shot.
And my last shot.
As you can see by his left thumb and a part of his left hand loomin' large in this shot he didn't really like that action.
He took an open handed swipe... more at the camera than me really...
but it was ungahdly freakin' fast.
Usually a guy throws a punch at you and you can sort of see it 'develop' throughout his body... if he's good it starts in his feet where he makes sure he's got a solid connection with the ground and it moves up his entire body to his fist... which when it cracks like a whip I hopefully am putting my excellent and well honed ducking skills to use.
I don't get punched too often anymore because I'm so much more experienced and I can see it comin' from so far off I usually just abort the approach before I'm even within' punching range.
But this cat was just relaxed and chilled out as he could be.
Until lightnin' struck with his left hook of a swat right there.
He meant business too.
There wouldda been some hurt if he connected.
It wasn't like the punches I'm used to at home.
Those are usually closed fisted and comin' right for my head.
This guy was different.
Look at his face... his posture and his lean... it all looked cool to me through that viewfinder.
I really wanted the closeup.
It really all happened lightning fast...
and I think it was the shadow that I saw that told me to duck... his damn hand moved so quick in the periphery.
I did my duck and both me and the camera evaded contact.
This dude had some balls.
I'm a peaceful guy...
but I'm not small...
and he looked like he didn't have a care in the world that I was gonna hit him back if he connected.
Which usually means either he's a badass... carrying... or messed up.
I don't run from people who do this kind of thing.
I back out of striking range and then try to make cool the situation.
'You better watch that camera boy' the man said.
I looked him in the eye tryin' to figure out the angle from which to make cool.
'You want me to delete the picture old guy' I asked.
'You ain't listenin' to me boy' he said.
Then he asked 'now what did I say?'
'You told me I'd better watch it with my camera' I replied... still making that critical eye contact.
'Do you want me to delete the picture or what... I don't want you to be angry about it' I said to the guy ... showing him the shot on the screen with my finger over the 'delete' button.
Sometimes they'll see the shot and everything gets cool right there.
Other times they'll ask me to delete it and I will.
But I won't do it just because they take a swing.
'Get outta here boy... I know your name' he said and I backed away before turning down the street.
That sounded sorta like some 'voodoo threat' and don't need none of that action... I'd just gotten the old 'Evil Eye' last week in Chicago so I figured it was time to leave.
The dude never even stopped leaning on the garbage can.
I thought about his reaction for a while after that.
Nothing he did offended me really.
I have nothing bad to say about the man and no ill will towards him whatsoever.
If he'd have connected with me I might have taken things differently but I ducked it and he missed me and the camera too.
I think the swipe was warranted in his mind and I can see why some people would feel that way.
It is an intrusive thing that I do.
Not everyone is cool with it.
I do it out of love and a lot of people can feel that.
Some people are just shocked or surprised and I get that too.
The 'swipe' was an 'old guy' chastising a 'young guy' for what he perceived as my lack of manners.
That's what it felt like.
It's cool.
I realized two things then...
that I needed to 'get into the groove' of this city before I got my ass kicked for my penchant for closeup photography...
and I ain't shootin' any old dudes with canes until I do.
I feel the love behind it all old guy.
I'm sorry we both didn't see it the same way.
Hermione: *head snaps around quickly, the movement causing her to swallow a mouthful of smoothie unexpectedly* “What’s she doin’…*koff-koff, beats her chest with her fist*…here?”
Lizzy: “Um, shopping. For food. To eat.”
Hermione: *brow furrows* “Teachers have lives outside of ruining ours? You’re weirding me out, Lizard. Next you’re gonna tell me they have feelings. Or watch TV. Or have friends… *shudders* Gives me the willies just thinkin’ about it.”
Lizzy: “Miz Sweeney’s cool. Remember when she brought all those smokin’ hot guys to class? She was in a band with them and everything!”
Hermione (eagerly): “Yeah-yeah-yeah! You think they’re with her now? Naughty hotties gotta eat, too, right? Does a body goooooood.”
Lizzy: “Dunno. Let’s go say hi and find out.”
Hermione: *nods* “Maybe I can talk her outta that paper she assigned us, too.”
Lizzy: *snickers* “What makes you think you gotta shot at that?”
Hermione: *swaggers, while affecting a very Yuri-like cadence* “I’ve been told I’m quite charming, Elizabeth. Quite charming, indeeeeeed.”
Lizzy: “I believe the word was ‘manipulative,’ Mione, not charming.”
Hermione: “Different descriptive, same thing.”
Charley: *senses a presence behind her, body tensing before she makes an effort to relax, turns around, jars of peanut butter cradled lovingly in her arms*
Lizzy & Hermione: *in unison* “Hi, Miz Sweeney!”
Charley: *arches an eyebrow, drawls* “Frick ‘n’ Frack.”
Hermione: *slurps on her drink, mouth full* “Wotcha doin’?”
Charley: *looks down at the jars in her arms, wryly* “Nuclear fission.”
Lizzy: *looks around Charley, in case she’s missed any hot guys lurking* “So, um, are you alone?”
Charley: “Do you see anyone else?”
Lizzy: “No, but we’re here with Miz Yuri, though she’s not with us right now. So I thought maybe you were here with someone, too…but they just weren’t…you know…with you right now…or sumthin’.” *gazes up at Charley, face hopeful*
Fashion Credits
***Any doll enhancements (i.e. freckles, piercings, eye color changes, haircuts) were done by me unless otherwise stated.***
Charley
Jeans: Clear lan
Top: Sekiguchi Momko – Lazy Seventeen
Belt: Cangaway (etsy.com)
Sneakers: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Glasses: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Morning Dew Giselle transplanted to a Poppy body, re-rooted by the superlative valmaxi(!!!)
Lizzy
Dress: Sugar Mag
Sweater: Michelle Tucker
Belt: Cangaway (etsy.com)
Socks: Unknown
Boots: Snow’s Shopping Paradise (eBay)
Hat: Jennifer Sue
Bag: Sekiguchi Momoko – Sweetheart of the Cosmos
Hello Kitty Bag Charm & Pins: Nikki in Wales
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Lacy Modernist Momoko.
Hermione
Pants: A gift. (Thank you FMIL!)
Shirt: Jakks Pacific – Hannah Montana Doll
Belt: Volks – WTG – Selfish
Sneakers: Sekiguchi Momoko – Preppy Girl
Hat: IT – 2012 – Color Infusion Style Lab: Experiment 2
Doll is a Preppy Girl Momoko.
Moon Nazis, bitchy old war vets, now totally bodacious billionaires? Seriously, what is my life? Wayne and Secret Agent Dickhead guided us further into the facility. Until the Agent got a call and had to leave us for a moment, thank god. Wayne became our sole guide and showed us up some stairs. Fucking stairs. At the top was a fire exit-type door. Beyond it was a catwalk, looking down into a hanger. On the hanger floor was an aircraft like I've never seen before. It was kinda...bulgy looking, but couldn't have been any bigger than a Learjet. Is this our ride to the moon?...
WK: "Check it out, dudes! The Starlight One!"
JD: "...we're going to the moon on that?"
WK: "Totally, dude! I like, designed it myself. It uses this like totally wicked new microwave engine, they call it the...uhhh, Canoe Drive, we'll get to the moon like yesterday!"
"Neat. So you're the pilot?"
WK: "Uhhh, yeah babe....I'm like, banned from flying actually, but that lame agent dude said one of you was like, a licensed pilot?"
JD: "That's this beautiful little lady right here!"
"...well yeah, I have a pilot's license, but it's for actual aircraft, not a real damn spaceship! And even then I mainly fly a helicopter..."
WK: "Don't sweat it, babe! This thing was like, designed with user friendliness in mind! You fly choppers, you can totally fly this!"
"What about when we're out of the atmosphere, though?"
WK: "Still easy! You just like, cut the boosters, then point it where you wanna go, then let the main engine do everything! It's sick!"
"Really, that easy?"
WK: "Totally, babe! You like, shouldn't need help, but if you do, I'll be on board with you! I like, know how everything on this ship works and stuff!"
"....whoa. I get to pilot a spaceship!...."
JD: "Does this mean we gotta call you captain?"
"....yes. Yes it does."
WK: "Sorry babe, but I'm the captain."
"Aw, dammit!"
WK: "We got like, a flight simulator you should try, though. Like seriously, you should take a test run. We're flying out tomorrow!"
JD: "What?!"
"Tomorrow?!"
WK: "I know, dudes! I like, can't wait either!"
"No no no no, that's WAY too soon, we don't even have our armor, or any training for outer space! We're not ready!"
JD: "Do you shitheads even make a spacesuit in my size?...'cause you ain't getting it back if you do."
WK: "I'm like, sorry dudes, but I didn't make the dates. That lame agent dude's calling the shots. He's like, soooo uncool!"
" *sigh* Yeah. Totally uncool...."
(A year devoted to self discovery, self worth, and guide to ongoing happiness)
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. When you can no longer think of a reason to continue, you must think of a reason to start over. And there are three little words that can release and guide forward. These words are “From now on…”
So, "from now on" I will...
1. Let the things I can’t control go, most things are only a part of ones life because you keep thinking about them. Positive things happen in your life when you emotionally distance yourself from the negative things. Stop holding on to what hurts, and make room for what feels right. Do not let what is out of my control interfere with all the things I can control.
2. Accept and embrace reality. – Life is simple. Everything happens for you, not to you. Everything happens at exactly the right moment, neither too soon nor too late. For everything you lose, you gain something else and for everything you gain, you lose something else. You don’t have to like it, but it’s just easier if you do.
3.Change my mind. – Change is like breath, it isn’t part of the process, it is the process. In reality the only thing we can count on is change. Prepare for positive. Prepare for new. Growth is impossible without change. If you cannot change your mind, you cannot change anything in your life. Look at things from a different perspective.
4. Hold tight to the good things.
5. Rest and regroup. – Strength is about choosing your path, living with the consequences, and learning from them. Sometimes you do your best and end up with a mess. You tried. That’s really all you can ever do. You have not failed, you just learned what not to do. So rest, regroup, and begin again.
6. Take chances. – Making a big life change or trying something new can be scary. But what’s even scarier? Regret. realizing that most fears are much bigger in my mind than they are in reality. I won't let them stop me. I'm not going to live a life to regret the chances never took, the love never let in, and the gifts never gave out.
7. Keep climbing. – Every person who is at the top of the mountain did not fall there from the sky. Good things come to those who work for them. Gain confidence, grow stronger, experience, experiment and push to do the things I didn’t think I could and If it should take long to climb.... I gotta remember to accept that moment and breath... its okay to stop for a while and enjoy the view.
8.Appreciate what I've have learned.– Nothing is more beautiful and powerful than a smile that has struggled through the tears. No regrets, even when moments that were filled with hurt. Smile because I learned from it and gained the strength to rise above it. In the end, it’s not what you have been through that defines who you are, it’s how you got through it that has made you the person you are today, and the person you are capable of being tomorrow.
9. Realize every step is necessary. – Nothing is ever wrong. We learn from every step we take. Whatever you did today was a necessary step to get to tomorrow. Be proud. Maybe Im not as good as I want to be, or as great as one day will be but thanks to all the lessons learned I'm on my way.
So... Kiki tagged me, therefore I'm obligated to share a bunch of random facts with you :D
Favorite color? Yellow
Biggest dream? To write a book.
Lucky number? 7
Celebrity crush? Brendon Urie *~*
Sexuality? Straight.
If you could meet anyone on earth, who would it be? Neil Degrasse Tyson... Probably
Middle name? Theresa
Believe in love at first sight? Kinda? Can't say it's happened to me though :P
Allergies? Not really. at least not too badly. Mostly just hits me in the spring randomly.
Addiction? Beef Jerky.
Typical weekend? It used to be RPing and farting around, but now I work pretty much all weekend.
Favorite serial killer? None? I don't really know many by name.
Birthday? November 21st.
Best friends? Yes, I have them. They exist. They are not figments of my imagination.
Favorite food? The three Ch's; Chocolate, Cheese, and Chicken ;D
Milkshakes or yogurt? Milkshake... yogurt makes me gag @_@
Cheetos or Fritos? Cheetos.
Would you rather eat tentacles or *Bleep* a donut? ...how would that even work? *holds donut to female genitals* Uh... can I fuck the tentacle and eat the donut?
Favorite social media? Facebook, I guess. It's the only one I really use.
Current mood? Drained.
Have you ever stolen anything? A few colored pencils from the art room... heh...
Weirdest food you like? Weirdest? Uh... my friends think it's weird that I make myself onigiri, but that's not really weird?
Would you rather kiss Satan or a monkey? Satan...heh...
How long have you waited before you took a shower? I think my longest was a week...
Ever been in love with "just a friend"? I wouldn't call it love, but I've been friend-zoned, yeah.
How many girls have you dated? Nadda.
How many boys have you dated? Just one... and I'm still with him :3
What is your favorite movie? I'm not sure I have one... I really like Finding Nemo XD;;
Do you remember a lot of your dreams? Considering we have dozens every night and I can barely remember one in the morning on a rare occasion I would say no.
What do you like about yourself? Uh, everything? Gotta love yourself before you can truly love anyone else. Even 'dem flaws.
Favorite sport? Uh... can I say N/A? I don't care for sports ^^;;
Smoke? Nossir.
Drink? Nope. Tasted some stuff though, but it's (almost) all been pretty nasty. Plus I don't like the idea of losing myself mentally.
Video games? Mmmmm yep. Not too good at them, but I love Alice Madness Returns and them old school Spyro games for the PS1 :3
What do you think about Valentine's Day? Had a crap one this year, but it isn't half bad anymore. Now that I'm no longer single, at least.
What do you think about tattoos? Some are fucking sick, others... well, it's art none the less. I would like to get one someday, but I'm a wimp...
Do you like anyone? Like, like like? I like like my boyfriend. Like, like more than a friend. ;)
Perfect first date? My (technical) first date was to a movie, and it was pretty rad so I can't complain. A concert would be cool too though.
Ever broken a bone? No, and I don't plan on changing that.
What deodorant? Whatever my mum happens to pick up, I'm not picky.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? Hm... probably Montreal in the summer and California in the Winter. Who said I can't have two homes? :P
Biggest regret? Hm... I can't really think of anything... I guess I don't really have any big regrets o_o
Age? 18... please don't attract creepers.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Can I say bigger boobs?... maybe just evenly sized boobs. Yeah, that sounds better. I also wish I wasn't so... weak.
Fears? Losing those I care about, being unhappy, you know, the typical stuffs.
Favorite toy as a kid? My stuffed bunny Milkshake... and my extensive Bratz collection XD
Favorite sugary cereal? Cooooooookie Crisp~! XD
Do you like cheese? Mmmm yeah, especially the tangy kind P:
Who are you talking to right now? No one, though its because I just took my boyfriend home.
When did you go to sleep last night? Around 11:00 pm, I think?
Favorite TV show? Say Yes to the Dress... yes, I'm that shallow. In my defense, I don't watch much television.
If you could travel anywhere in the world where would it be? Japan, Italy, England, oh gosh the list could go on forever. Anywhere that isn't here.
Favorite song? Hm... right now I'm obsessed with I Got a Boy by Girls' Generation, but I also love 20 Dollar Nosebleed by Fall Out Boy.
What do you want to be when you grow up? I dunno, I would like to animate some shit. I just want to be happy.
What’s your favorite animal? Dolphins, for some odd reason.
Would you rather have love or a million dollars? If I had to sacrifice the love I have now for the million than hell no I wouldn't do it, but if I got to keep what I have and get the million the fuuuuck yeah! XD
How many kids do you want? None, preferably. But I may change my mind someday.
Ten years from now what do you want to be doing? Working on my novel.
Do you like massages? Only when they aren't too harsh ^^;;
Dear Elisa,
Thank you today for sharing your vision for the new Yahoo! over at the Yahoo! blog today. Your new tagline "under new management…yours," is refreshing indeed. Sometimes it takes new management to shake things up. I applaud your spirit in suggesting that "I" Thomas Hawk ought to have a say in how Yahoo's management is run going forward.
In your letter to all of us you write:
"The core of our message will focus on YOU. It will celebrate all of your individual wants, needs, interests, and passions. That’s because Yahoo! really is all about you — we’re constantly evolving to give you more of what you want and less of what you don’t. We want you to make the Web your own and are designing products to put you in the driver’s seat of your Internet experience. Our new brand positioning reflects that."
I thought that that I'd take a few minutes out of my busy morning browsing photos on Flickr (I browse hundreds a day) to share with you just exactly how you might "celebrate" my individual wants, needs, interests, and passions. Mostly I use Flickr on Yahoo -- and boy do I use it. So most of my remarks will be about that.
I thought I'd do this specifically in the form of a wish list. I hope that you are actually sincere in your stated pledge to put Yahoo under "my" management and would take a second out of your equally busy morning to respond to some of these requests -- the same courtesy I'm sure you'd extend to any of your other Yahoo managers. By the way, many of these wants, needs, interests and passions, are not just mine, but are shared by many of your other customers.
1. I'd like you to remove the ban on my account from the Flickr Help forum. Censorship sucks Elisa, c'mon, we both know that. Being booted from the Flickr Help Forum indefinitely for pointing Help Forum users to a relevant new blog about Flickr's censorship practices ought not to get you banned. Don't shoot the messenger Elisa. I'm sure you can appreciate the irony involved in censoring someone for talking about censorship. It's personal and it's petty. And it's not very nice. Banning someone from the Flickr help forum really ought to be a an action of last resort.
You should consider reviewing the banned list from this Forum and reinstating my account as well as many of the others who are banned there like my good friend Pierre Honeyman. Saying Flickr is all web 2.0ish and is about transparency isn't really true when you ban people from the help forum. How can we all sing kumbaya together in the campus quad when the security goons won't let some of us in? Tear down those walls Elisa, tear down those walls.
Oh, one other thing. Let's lock less critical threads in the Help Forum as well. When we do that it only makes us look foolish when others outside of our little community point out that we're censoring threads about censorship by locking them.
2. What the hell is up with NIPSA (it means Not In Public Site Areas, in case you're not familiar with the dreaded acronym)? Why you gotta go be like that? Flickr has a whole public content moderation system, so why the need to secretly apply hidden flags on individual images at Flickr? If you are going to censor people's images, be upfront about it and let them know.
Don't label an image "Safe Photo" as moderated by Flickr staff and then secretly remove it from search and other public site areas behind their back just because the image might include critical comments about Flickr. The fact that your recent "galleries" feature won't allow users to create "galleries" that contain NIPSA photos (another dumb restriction), by the way, is only highlighting how many people (me, included) are currently being secretly censored.
3. It scares me to know that Flickr has no way to recover my content if it is maliciously destroyed by a hacker, myself accidentally, or most scary of all, some of your overzealous censor-happy underlings in the Flickr Censorship Bureau. You may or may not be aware that recently Flickr users have lost *thousands* yes *thousands* of images permanently due to these sorts of actions.
People are putting years of their lives into their photostreams at Flickr. This is more than just about their photos by the way. It's about living part of your life inside of Flickr. And to think that all of that can just be destroyed permanently and with no recourse with the touch of a button, well, that just's insane Elisa. Seriously, Stewart Butterfield (back before he left to go mine tin) mentioned that it was a "mistake" for Flickr not to be able to recover deleted content over *two years ago*. The fact that Flickr still has no way to recover deleted content and, as admitted by your staff, ins't even working on it, well, that's wrong.
4. I think it's about time for a rewrite of the Flickr TOS/Community Guidelines. Have you read these lately Elisa? Did you know that you can be deleted from Flickr for being "That Guy." That's right. For being "That Guy." Who is "That Guy?" Is it me? I hope not. Is it Jerry Yang? I doubt it. Is it Carl Icahn? Wait, don't answer that.
Why the need to force a horribly subjective contract on your users who are investing thousands of hours on your site. Allowing Flickr to delete accounts because someone is "that guy," basically is the same as saying, "we can delete your account for whatever the hell we want." Heck, we can delete your account because you didn't wear purple during our last big Yahoo-love-fest marketing push that everybody needs to wear purple. A lot of the other terms are stupid too. You say don't upload content that isn't yours, but then your very own Flickr staff violate that rule. Let's be specific with the TOS and Community Guidelines. It will make people feel better when the exact rules are spelled out more exactly.
Ok, that's it for now. I'm looking forward to the next managers meeting. Plus I'm looking forward to the invigorating breakout sessions at the next company offsite. Have you thought about having the next one in Las Vegas Elisa? There is so much cool neon there worth photographing. Remember that time that you all set up that ice cream stand at CES Vegas way back when. Too cool for school!
Oh wait, no, I lied, one last thing. I'm going to post a link to this post in the comment section of the Yahoo blog, but I'm worried. In the comments section on your blog it reads "Notes: Please note that Yahoo! may, in our sole discretion, reject comments for any reason we deem appropriate. Links of value to readers are welcome, but please use them sparingly - wield spam and you're banished forever. This is a moderated site and comments will appear if and when they are approved. We will review the queue several times daily, so please don't resubmit if your comment doesn't appear immediately." What's up with that policy? Don't fear comments Elisa. Let everyone say whatever they want. It makes life more interesting.
Give my best to Carol and the rest of the gang Elisa and know that even when I'm not at HQ it's still always Sunnyvale in my heart.
Yours Truly,
Thomas Hawk
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/182445-f...
After skirmishing with the Empire on OSSUS, Nathan and Ozz begin their search for the artifact called BALAAM'S HEART. On the mysterious world of DAGOBAH they find both knowledge and danger, and for Nathan, a grueling test of his spirit and will.
Nathan recoiled, slumping in his seat in the Lucky Star. He felt a sudden pang of anguish, a ripping in his soul, as spirits were separated from their bodies back on Ossus. He sensed it only faintly, but whatever caused the sensation was so powerful that it hit him with the force of a wave.
“Kid? Kid! What’s wrong!”
He felt Ozz shaking his shoulder as he drifted into unconsciousness, the strain too much to bear. When he finally woke, it was to Ozz’s worried, ugly face. Nathan stared, as though his eyes were trained on something hundreds of parsecs away.
“The Searchers are dead, Ozz. At least, I think so,” he coughed. “They killed them. Abay…all of them.”
Ozz asked how he knew this, but Nathan couldn’t explain. Finally, Ozz nodded and sighed. He believed him. He’d seen enough strange stuff by now that he wasn’t going to question this one.
They flew in silence for the next few hours.
After a brief stop for fuel (“That’s gonna be our last fill unless we start makin’ some money soon,” Ozz had complained) and the purchase of a few cheap blaster pistols, Nathan and Ozz were set to continue their search.
“I’ll need some coordinates if I’m gonna fly somewhere, Nate.”
Nathan had spent nearly all of the time since Ossus huddled in the bunk with Luke’s journal and the inscribed slates they’d found in the deep archives. He was a quick learner and a voracious student, and with the help of a few runes already translated in the journal, he was able to compile a mostly accurate key for unlocking the old tongue Balaam had used for his writings. He had no idea what it was, but it wasn’t pleasant.
The writings of Balaam were primarily daily accounts and impossible to understand musings, but they also mentioned 'home made among vines and home made among flame, whilst tethered mine soul to the dark lord wert'. Of all the planets Nathan could recall from Mayla's manifest, Dagobah was the one most likely to feature vines. At least, according to their gazette. It might just be a wild bantha chase, but it was worth a short.
The planet Dagobah came into view. It looked musty and small and remote. Sensors revealed it was entirely free of settlers, based on a lack of technology readings. But it was packed to the brim with life.
Nathan leaned over the dashboard controls with interest. "Take us in, Ozz."
"I know, I know..." said the Iakaru, rolling his eyes.
They dipped beneath a dense sea of cloud and Ozz pulled back hard on the throttle, easing them down into what was revealing itself to be a tangled, dark mass of trees.
Nathan felt the planet, just as he had felt Ossus. There, it had been the power, the war, and the secrets, but on Dagobah, he felt life. Wildness and strangeness, the circle of things. Not good, but not evil. Just very alive.
"This place gives me the willies," said Ozz, peering out the viewscreen. There wasn't much to see. It was mostly fog and the shapes of trees.
"I can see a weirdo like Balaam living here..." Nathan mused. "You don’t think he put the Heart here, do you?"
“Nah, that’d be giving me a break. Luck hasn’t done that in years.” He glanced around at the damp, dismal surroundings, his face scrunched with dread. “It ain’t gonna start on this planet.”
Ozz set the Lucky Star down on some alarmingly mushy ground, and powered down the craft. He turned to his companion and shrugged.
"Let's go find out, nerd. And hey, let's stick it to those Imps, ey? What happened on Ossus..."
Nathan understood. He clapped a hand on Ozz's shoulder. “I know.”
They gathered their equipment and trekked out into the woods. The sounds of a million living things filled the air. The smell of mildew and bog water floated up into their noses from underfoot. Tendrils of vine hung down around them from the twisting branches overhead.
"Yeah, this has got to be the place...now, Balaam's writings mention landmarks; the shores of the swamp, a grove of mushrooms, and a magic tree."
Ozz scanned the canopy with the barrel of his blaster. Something flew overhead. He jumped, but held his fire. "Yeesh! How do we know they're not on the other side of the planet?"
That was a possibility, one that tempted Nathan to despair. But he kept his hope.
"Honestly, I don't know," he admitted. "But...I don't think they are. I'm not sure why, but I've got a feeling."
The sounds of creatures and the dense foliage became obstacles they were unwilling to brave. Much to their disgust, this forced them to their only remaining option: the water. Nathan cajoled Ozz into joining him, which says something about the noises in the void of the woods and how they affected them both, that they were willing to wade chest-deep into opaque, smoky water.
"What's that smell?" Ozz groaned, the swamp water inches from his nose.
Nathan, who was miserable, gave him an incredulous look. They were soaked in oily, gunky swampwater, dragging at their clothes and limbs. Something in Nathan's mind considered what else could he dragging at his hands and legs, and images of tentacles and eels had to be forcibly pushed from his brain.
Then they saw the strangest thing.
The flicker of firelight.
They pointed it out to each other and squinted against the tepid mist. It was real.
Just as real, they discovered, were the two men sitting at the campfire, their leaning tents pitched feet away. Tall trees reaching down towards them with roots like cages.
A shore, Nathan thought. Then he remembered this planet had been on Mayla's list. These strangers could be Imperial spies.
Just as he was about to warn Ozz, one of the men called out.
"Hoy, there! I don't believe it -- people?"
"Wet, stinky people," Ozz replied. "You fellas mind if we come on up?"
The man and his companion smiled. "Please do!"
They were rescued from the swamp waters and joined the strangers around the fire. Wings beat the air above them. Something groaned in the water they'd just left. But the fire was safefy.
"We're pilgrims," explained one of the strangers, with an odd grin. "What about you?"
Nathan and Ozz looked at each other. Even Nathan wasn't willing to extend trust this time, not in a situation like this.
Ozz cleared his throat. "Err, real estate," he lied. "Nice planet like this, with no colonies? I don't get it!"
The 'pilgrims' looked at each other, then broke into laughter. "You're a funny guy. Thanks for cheering up the mood."
Nathan felt paralyzed. Fear danced at the corners of his brain, fear of what might happen if they dropped their guard. He thought about the blaster at his side, and if it would work after being submerged. If he should just shoot them both now. They had to be spies, right?
But no. That would be murder. He couldn’t do something like that. You can't just shoot someone for a suspicion. Reacting to a nebulous fear was never the right opening move, and it was wrong, he decided, to try to prevent the possibility of evil by doing something evil first. Besides, the Searchers were pilgrims, maybe these were similar types.
A glow nearby caught Nathan's attention.
Small blue spots of light scattered across the mossy ground, hidden in and among the roots of the trees.
A grove of mushrooms.
Balaam's second landmark.
He felt something pull at him, a force or energy that wanted him to come searching. It was irresistible, and clouded his mind in such a way that he forgot his fears of Imperials and treachery.
He stared long enough that one of the pilgrims caught him looking.
“What are you, uh, looking at there?” the man asked, watching him keenly.
"Oh, nothing,” Nathan said, emerging from his thoughts. “I thought I saw a...an animal, out there. It was nothing. I, uh, better just go check, though."
Ozz half-rose from his spot. "Want a second?"
And expose their backs? No. "No," he said, and he smiled reassuringly. "You keep resting. I'll be right back."
"Sure thing!" Said one of the pilgrims, and the other nodded silently.
Nathan caught Ozz's eye, and flicked his own towards the Iakaru's blaster. Ozz understood.
"I'll be right back," said the young man, who then walked deeper into the woods.
The sound of cracking fire faded into the distance as it was replaced by the hum of forest life. The mushrooms were just the start, they led him like a trail, becoming larger and wilder as he went. Finally, after chasing their path for several minutes, Nathan looked up to see the tree.
It was old. Its bark was like wrinkles, crevices in a face with no features. Its roots splayed out like enormous fingers that raked the ground. It seemed to heave with breath, to pulse, to live. Now in silence, Nathan found he was utterly alone with this ancient thing. The woods shrank back from it, as if from deference or fear. Nothing ventured close.
It beckoned him.
He felt it in his inward being. The draw.
A dark opening in its roots, like a doorway, stood open to him.
Nathan took hesitating steps. His spirit ached with restlessness, a need to see what was inside that burned and fried the edges of his nerves.
He entered the depths of the Magic Tree.
The hollow was dark.
He was alone in a den of soil. Fibrous sinew traced many-forked veins in the earth.
He felt a presence.
"Who's there?" He whispered.
"It's me, Nathan."
Mayla stepped out from behind a gnarl of root. She looked as he remembered. Sharper, even. Her bangs fell over her face, her dark eyes shone in the bare light. She walked with grace, poise, as if compensating for her stature.
"Why are you here?" She asked.
He wanted to reach out, to touch her cheek. "To...to stop the Empire. To save lives and find…something powerful."
He saw the disappointment in her face. The vulnerability, the openness that had drawn him to her in the first place.
"...I thought you were here for me?"
"I am!" He said quickly. "But...Mayla...I don't know how to find you."
She stepped closer and smiled. "I forgot, you think my name is 'Mayla'...that's okay. You've done everything so well, exactly as I wanted."
"Well, that manifest you left us has been our guide. That’s all thanks to you."
"Yes, it is. Just what was needed, right? I was always told I was resourceful."
Nathan stood a hesitant step back. His mind was swirling. Everything felt completely real, the question of how it could be happening seemed distant and foggy and not worth considering. His skepticism seemed to leave him, soaked into the walls of soil. But his reason wasn’t gone entirely, and her words started to raise flags, even in his currently-dim mind. "...What?"
"You've done just what we needed. You'll find what you seek, and the Empire will win."
Nathan started to speak, but she stepped closer, close enough to smell. She held up a finger to his lips, quieting him.
"I know you don't like that, but if you need a consolation prize...we can be together. It's the only way it'll work. Things will happen fast, Nathan."
The way she said his name made his heart flip.
"They'll happen so fast. That's how things happen, when change is coming. Your pilot will die, Syfot, some others...but you and me? We'll be alive, together, forever. And so many others, too. We'll give them safety," she said, and she winked. He could feel her breath as it mingled with the fog.
"I...want...you," she whispered, and his stomach fell. He stared at her eyes as they closed.
No.
"No," he murmured.
She leant forward, her lips parted.
"No," he repeated, and he stepped back. "You're not her," he said. "I don't want this."
Mayla's eyes flicked open, staring up into his. "You do. You want me, most of all," she smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "Remember what you gave up? Everything else -- everyone else --- was just a way of getting to me."
"No!" He stuttered, and he fell back, tripping on a root. "No, no, no!"
Her eyebrow curved. She frowned. "Nathan..."
"Not anymore!" He said. "No, I...I want to find you so bad, Mayla, but...this isn't just about you and me, not anymore. Things have changed. I'm not just in this for you anymore, I've got to…” He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. “…I’ve got to do what's right. I've got to stand up to these people. It's about the Searchers who died on Ossus, and Abay, and Jep, and...and...Ozz."
Nathan blinked, thinking of his friend. He had left his friend, his best friend, with the enemy.
"Ozz," he repeated.
"That monkey? You've got to be tired of being cooped up with that smelly, stupid thing. Trust me," she whispered, her fingers running up his arm. "I’m much better company than he is."
Nathan, eyes wide, said nothing. With all his strength of will, he pulled away, turned, and fled.
Nathan rushed through the woods. He heard screams. His name.
First from behind, in the voice of the girl he loved.
Then from the shore, echoing, hoarse, in the voice of Ozz Sabaran.
"NATE! NAAATE!" Followed by grunts and shrieks of pain.
Ozz.
The firelight flickered in the mist. A dark shape stepped into his path, weapon raised. The blood-red light of blaster fire struck a tree by his head, sparks and smoke burst from the impact.
Nathan was not afraid. He was not angry. He had to help his friend.
Desperate, he raised his hands.
His fingers curled with the warm mist.
Reached with the roots.
Stretched with the beating wings.
Stood with the soil.
He heard one of the pilgrims cry. The thrash of water and wet cloth and arms. Dragged from the shore, he disappeared beneath the surface.
The wildness of life beat like a drum in his ears.
The other pilgrim—Imperial spy—stumbled and entangled himself in the strong vines. Something seized him and pulled into the air, while he flailed his arms to try and break free of the tightening plants. The flying things took notice, their squawking growing agitated and hungry.
His cries ended abruptly, and the flailing stopped.
Nathan rushed to his friend's side. Ozz's leg was bent wrong, blood trickled from his mouth.
"Too...fast...for me," he choked.
Nathan hurried to tear a piece of tent, his hands shaking.
Ozz wiped his mouth. "What...was...?"
"I don't know," Nathan said shakily. "How about we never speak of it again? Kinda freaked out. Are you okay? I can't believe I left you here!” he cursed himself. “What’d they do?"
"Wanted...to know...what we knew. Turns out, they were spies. Can you believe it?" he said weakly, with a hint of irony.
"Your leg is broken," Nathan said gravely. "Rest here, I'm so sorry, Ozz."
"it's okay, kid, I'm alright. We Iakaru are tough sons of -- ouch!"
Nathan let the leg go, the bone now set.
"What was that?" Ozz winced.
"Oh, a trick from the orphanage. I didn't come up with it."
"Geez, rough orphanage.” Ozz shook his head, impressed and relieved. “See? Long as I got you around, I'll be right as rain. Thanks for the save, kid."
"I’ll try to be quicker next time,” Nathan said with a wry look. “Things got weird. Ozz, we have to get out of here."
"You're telling me. Did you uh, get the Heart thing?"
"I didn't get anything, but I found what we need. But I need your help. Will you…” He swallowed his pride, asking his friend openly, “please come with me? I'm...honestly, I’m afraid to go back alone."
Ozz grinned to himself, chuckling at the irony. "You need Ozzie? Even one-legged Ozzie?"
Nathan made a face. "What else is new?"
"Wanna hand me my blaster? I'm really raring for a hike. Gotta get this leg working, that’s the best thing for a hurtin’ leg.”
Nathan stood before the magic tree again, now with Ozz by his side, supported by an old branch.
Nathan had explained what he'd seen to Ozz, but despite Ozz's vigilant eye, nothing appeared from the shadows of the roots.
There was writing on the trunk of the tree. Nathan got as close as he dared. Ozz covered him with the blaster.
"Whatcha got? Anything useful?"
Nathan was scratching down notes in his notebook, thankful for the material Luke had chosen that had endured the bog.
"Coordinates in the Bark, half."
“Coordinates? Like, readable, usable coordinates?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s that simple. Maybe Balaam wasn’t so bad after all. Thanks, pal,” he said quietly to the carving.
"Simple! Ha! You telling me--"
Nathan grimaced. "—He hid the other half on a flame world? Yeah, guess it would be weird for things to get any easier."
Ozz sighed. "Yeesh, another planet with no payout. Can't wait to eat more grayweave..." He shrugged, and gave a lopsided grin to his scribbling companion.
Well, at least we won't get wet again...right, kid?"
Nathan grinned back at him, feeling very glad he was there to joke and lighten the terrible mood. There was no one he could think of he’d rather have by his side.
"Yeah. Right!"
The tree, unmoving, unknown, watched as they left, Nathan supporting Ozz as while he limped along. Soon, the Lucky Star left the atmosphere, and the ancient planet was unchanged for their visit. The roots still dug, the fog still swirled, and the creatures flew between the trees. And despite its appearance, everything was vibrant and alive.
Even though I managed to survive the whole ordeal, I haven't been sleeping well ever since. Still reeling from the discovery that who I thought was my best friend, Nathan Gates, wasn't who he said he was. His real name was Nathan Burrows. Son of Vissia Burrows, who just happens to be the villain known as Syphon. His sister, Naomi, being the speedster serial killer, Turbokiller. So yeah, when you look at it that way, I should've seen this coming.. His friendship with me was all an act, and that his true allegiance lie with the Watchman. Not sure what their relationship is, but he did call Watchman father, so I guess he's his father. Though Nathan's father when I went to hang out with him didn't look like Watchman did.. But thinking about it now, that probably was a stand in any way. Anyways, it didn't quite work out for the two of them, as they're both in prison now. But I've got a bad feeling they'll be out sooner rather than later.
The news of Nathan Gate's arrest, sorry, Nathan Burrows' arrest was quick to reach the school. People I didn't even know from other grades would hound me with questions asking me what he was like, and if I knew about any of this. They were trying to tell me how to feel about everything that happened, and that it wasn't my fault. Unfortunately, that just made me feel even worse, as I still blame myself, even though I know deep in my heart there was nothing I could do. He was too far gone.
My parents think I should talk to someone about this. Like a therapist, or the councillor at school. Get my feelings off my chest and all that. But I don't really see the point, as no matter what they tell me, it won't get rid of this guilt I have. Why does this have to keep happening? First with Jess and Davina, and now with Nathan. Tragedy just seems to follow me, and no matter what I do, I'm not able to save those I care about. Though, I was able to save Jess a few months ago, so that's got to count for something, right?
Anyways, here I am, scrolling through the Captain Solar subreddit on my phone, on the way to my next class. And yes, I know how that looks. But I'm not the one who created it, alright? It's just nice to see people appreciating my heroics. Helps me when I'm feeling low, which is quite often recently. Whether it's someone posting about how I saved their kitten from a tree, me taking down purse snatchers, or even just theories on who I am. Those theories are highly amusing by the way. These past couple of days, I've noticed an increase in posts pertaining to someone calling themselves Time Bomb. Highly unoriginal name, I know. But that's beside the point. The point is that this Time-Bomb is seemingly a huge fan of Nathan's work as Detonator. Believes that he was a true hero to the people. So he's going around, blowing up buildings, and posing for a picture with whatever remains of it. Sometimes, it's even a video, calling me out. I have to find out where he is, before anyone else gets caught in the crossfire. But there isn't a pattern to his bombings. So that's easier said than done.
Since I'm too busy looking down at my phone, I bump into someone.
"Sorry." I apologize, looking back up to see that once again, I have bumped into Malia Jensen of all people. Great, now she'll yell at me again. Just what I needed today of all days. She's about to say something, before stopping herself from vocalizing that thought.
Instead, she replies with this. "It's fine. I'm sorry to hear about Nathan. Must be hard, to learn the truth he's been hiding for all these years. Especially since you two were pretty close. I don't envy you for having to deal with that pain. That and everyone hounding you with all these pointless questions that at the end of the day, don't matter. Anyways, I gotta go. See ya in choir tomorrow. Hope you feel better soon."
"Oh, uhm, thanks." I reply, walking away. That's the most genuine condolences I've gotten, besides Jess of course. And to think it was the ice queen, Malia Jensen herself of all people. Never thought I'd see the day. Guess she has a heart, after all.
----------------------------------------
Elsewhere, later that same day
There she is, Helen Mears . Cardinal City's local weather girl. Just sitting down on her couch, watching tv. Innocent enough, right? But in this city, nothing is ever as it seems. That doesn't change, 30 years from now. What's hiding behind that seemingly innocent exterior is an undercover Division agent. Hardly anyone here in this day and age knows Division exists, but where I'm from, everyone knows of them. They were a secret government organization, sent to deal with problems the government was incapable of handling. Most of the Division operations being highly illegal. Assassinations, espionage, and sabotage, just to name a few of the things they did. Division's leader, Courtney Pierce, is incredibly biased against those with superpowers. However, she is not afraid to employ powered individuals temporarily. But the second they become a liability; she will not hesitate to terminate them. Division was responsible for 208, an event which killed 98% of supers, including my parents. To top it all off, they are the reason Archon disbanded. As time went on, they didn't even try to hide their actions, knowing no one could stop them. So now I'm here, to stop their rise to power. To make sure they never hurt anymore innocent lives. And it all starts now, with my gun aimed at the back of her head, as she moves to the kitchen table. It's a good thing I'm invisible right now, or this would get ugly fast.
"This is for you, mom and dad." I think to myself, before pulling the trigger.
Made for SWFactions on Eurobricks.
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180827-j...
Captured by pirates! While searching for the natives of Imynusoph, our trio are beset upon by the cavalier Colonel Corbett's callous rogues! The murderous pirates and their flamboyant leader drag our heroes to their camp, where intrigue abounds!
Clod blinked against the harsh light streaming in from above. His hands were shackled. It wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in, he thought. Then, to his surprise, his next thoughts were about his two companions. He hoped they were alright. It would be a million years before he’d admit it.
The sergeant called “Slyfoot” stood in the darkness a few feet away. He could feel the man watching him, disturbingly calm. Precise.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “A treasure hunter. Ha! I believed Klatoonians to be nothing but pirates and scum.”
It was a struggle to form words, but Clod couldn’t give up the opportunity for a zinger. “Look how the…tables have turned.”
He almost immediately regretted it. The droid administered a searing shock to his ribs that sent his limbs convulsing. His skin burned. He shouted, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Such wit. No more of that, I think,” he heard Slyfoot say. “You should put your words to better use, like securing a release for you and your companions. All you must do is tell me what it was you were searching for.”
“Fat chance—Augh!” Another shock. More horrible pain.
Slyfoot stepped into the light. He slowly shook his head.
“’Fat chance’, you say? On the contrary, Mr. Clod,” he said, and a smile crept onto his face. “I quite like my odds.”
“Tea or Caf, Professor?” offered Colonel Corbett, busying himself with a gleaming pot and an ion heater.
“O-Oh, tea, I suppose.”
The Colonel looked up at him, a pleasant expression on his face. “I see you appreciate my décor!”
Floon had been staring at some of the trophies scattered about; horns, hides, huge eggs, droid parts, scraps of clothing. Some from beasts, others from treasure hunters who’d come before.
“Why…yes! It’s very…eclectic. Er, thank you again for having me, Colonel.”
“Of course, of course! I must say, I’ve positively chuffed about you being here. An academy man! On Imynusoph! Chandrila, you say?”
“Er, yes. I had, er, tenure at the Chandrila Academy.”
“Ha! Chandrila! A professor from Chandrila makes my acquaintance here, of all places. Who would have thought it would happen? Certainly not me! I admit it! Please, make yourself comfortable, my questions are bound to be numerous.”
The Neimodian professor looked nervously around the tent. One of the pirates loitered at the door. Floon felt that he should do some great act of bravery, try to free Mr. Clod and Ms. Rigo, but he didn’t know where he would even start.
“Professor?”
The question shook Floon from his thoughts. “Oh, y-yes?”
Colonel Corbett smiled. “You don’t look very comfortable. Come, you’re in good company. I am a man of learning and intelligence myself.”
“Why, o-of course!” said Floon. Unable to muster a relaxed smile, he summoned a polite grimace.
The Colonel frowned. “Professor, I brought you here that we might engage in riveting conversation! Without conversation, I have no reason to bring you here rather than lock you up in our brig. Do you understand?”
Floon did, but he was not very good at staying calm when faced with threats. He knew all too well what the murderous pirates might do if the Colonel permitted. With a great amount of sweating and stuttering, he apologized. “I’m…m-most…s-sorry, Colonel. Most s-sorry. Let us…er…converse, s-shall we?”
“Very good, very good!” said the Colonel, settling in and looking at the professor expectantly. “Well then, let us get down to, as they say, brass tacks. I want to hear everything you know about the giant birds of Imynusoph! I expect I’ll be quite fascinated!”
“Er, yes…” mumbled Floon. “Quite.”
“Let go of me, you idiots!” Kitsa did her best to break her restraints through sheer will, but no dice. She settled for whacking one of her captors instead, sending him reeling with a broken nose. She couldn’t believe how lucky her aim was. And finally, something for her story!
“Let the Stud take care of her! I don’t want to get kicked again,” whined one of the pirates. The others parted, allowing the largest one, the one with the bandolier and the AT-AT driver helmet, to step towards her. He was enormous, at least 6’8”, and not what you’d call ‘lanky’. There was no chance she’d make a dent against this guy. He settled one giant hand on her shoulder, and he steered her away.
She muttered threats as they walked through the Imperial camp, shooting glances around to take in everything she was seeing. They had left the treeline onto an open savannah. The camp had clearly been an Imperial outpost, but now was all ramshackle and bolted together to keep out the wildlife. There was a junkyard of impounded vehicles that caught her attention. Most of them were scrap, but one airspeeder, red-and-white, looked intact. She took note of this for later.
She eyed the pirate. He was a muscular guy, that was for sure. Where was he taking her? A pit of gundarks, or an interrogation chamber?
Neither, it turned out. She was escorted to a quiet corner of the pirate camp, a breeze-blown tent with foliage breaking in overhead and enshrouding the space.
“You can stay here,” said the big pirate.
She scoffed. “What are you, good cop? And what’s this place, the torture waiting room?”
“It’s, well,” the pirate hesitated. “No, it’s just a tent. I had a wife when we came here. This used to be hers. Thought you’d like it more than a cage, but if I’m wrong…”
That was unexpected. She turned and sized him up suspiciously, but there wasn’t much to observe in the blank stare of the helmet’s facemask. “A wife, huh? What happened to her? Your pirate buddies shoot her?”
“You think they’d get past me? Nah, not in a million years,” he chuckled, but his tone turned somber. “No, one day she went out to get clean water, our purifier was broken, and one of the jungle beasts came out of the trees. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Her blaster misfired. That’s all it took.”
In a rare moment, Kitsa didn’t know what to say.
The pirate took a deep breath, then said, “So if you were thinking of running, I wouldn’t.”
“Sure,” she nodded, collecting herself. “Sorry about your wife. Thanks for the tent.”
“No problem,” said the pirate. He then stood there awkwardly for a moment, before asking, “So, uh, you, uh, some kind of reporter?”
Kitsa lit up. “I sure am, Galactic Gazette.”
The man swayed on his feet, coughing uncomfortably. “What’s, uh, what’s going on out there? In the galaxy? Rebels gone, yet? We heard we had another Death Star.”
Kitsa stared at the emotionless facemask for a moment. Of course, it made sense. When was the last time they would’ve heard any news?
Her story was really heating up.
She smiled and deflected the question. “What’s your name?”
“Deksen. They call me ‘the Stud’. What’s your name, uh, miss?”
“Kitsa Rigo,” she answered smartly. “What do you say about sitting for an interview with me, Deksen? In return, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
The pirate said nothing for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. “I guess that’d be alright. We don’t exactly get much press on Imynusoph. I suppose you can tell the galaxy about our bravery.”
Kitsa sat on the medical bed, her pen poised. “So, Deksen, what’s it been like for you, out here?”
The pirate set his gun to the side and took a deep breath.
“Well…” he began.
Another shock, another burn, another stab. Harnaby Clod struggled in the interrogation gurney, his mouth full of spit. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like his mind was slipping through his fingers, jolted free by every prod from the droid. Karfing droid. He’d smash that droid to bits if he ever got out of this.
Another stab of a needle. His vision swam. He’d get out of this, right? Could he?
“Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you know,” Slyfoot said, walking around him. “I’d love to see you dead, believe me. Who will remember you if you’re gone? Some dog-faced lunatic on the edge of the galaxy, no one important. No accomplishments, no fealty, nothing of note. Another dead alien.”
“You…don’t…know…mersh.”
“Hm, perhaps. But tell me…am I wrong, Mr. Clod?”
The dark room blinked in and out of existence before Clod’s eyes. He felt his tongue go limp. His heart felt like it was drying up.
The sergeant watched him, smiling cruelly. “Alright, I’ll get it out of the Neimodian, then. Good bye, Mr.-“
“Waitsh, waitsh!” Clod gasped. “Ah’ll tell yoush…”
Slyfoot brightened. “Indeed, Mr. Clod? If you tell me, as I’ve said, this can all end.”
He couldn’t do this anymore. What was he thinking?
He wasn’t. Anything to stop this. Karf this place.
“Ah’ll…ah’ll…tell yoush anything…” he wheezed.
Slyfoot straightened his cap. “Very good, Mr. Clod. Go on then.” He leaned in, until his face dominated Clod’s view. Slyfoot tried to manage his own expectations, but he couldn’t suppress his excitement. He looked down at the drooling Klatoonian.
“Mr. Clod,” he said. “Is the treasure…real?”
“Wow!” muttered Kitsa, scribbling in her notebook.
“That’s just how it is out here. It’s made the other pirates what they are. It’s made me…” he shrugged. “Changed.”
“That’s really…tough! I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer through this place.”
“Hm, I’ve been lucky…I think. But what about you, Ms. Rigo?” asked the pirate called Deksen.
“M-Me?”
He leaned in attentively. “How does a woman such as you find yourself in a place like this?”
Even with the facemask in the way, Rigo felt his gaze on her face. She frowned.
“Well, I work for the Gazette.”
He tilted his head. “Because you wish to tell stories?”
“Because I want to…” she paused before answering. “I want to make others see the truth.”
Deksen nodded slowly. He was impressed by the honesty of her answer. “Will you tell me more?”
In a strange moment, the both of them felt the softening in their spirits take its full course, and they entirely let down their guards. Kitsa avoided his gaze, but launched into a treatise on how it was she ended up here, the absurdity of the situation, and how she hoped she might get something out of it anyway because while she was here there was no one investigating the Ubrikkian corporation and something had to be done soon because those poor Duros in the factories had no one standing up for them, and if no one else was going to take Ubrikkian to task, she sure as shaft would.
Deksen listened quietly, occasionally asking questions or affirming how Kitsa felt. Eventually she had completed her story. She took a deep breath, which she had expended whilst going on about her passions.
Deksen folded his hands. “Your spirit…moves me.”
“Oh!” said Kitsa, not sure how to respond. She felt her cheeks burn, and said quietly, “Thanks for listening.”
“And thank you for talking.”
She laughed. “You’d be a much better editor than the one I’ve got. Getting him to listen is a full time job.”
A breeze blew through the tent, carrying the sounds of harsh laughter from where the other pirates were getting into the brew. Far off, Kitsa heard a howl of pain that made her skin crawl and her mind turn towards her lost companions.
After a moment of silence, she looked into Deksen’s facemask. It was a risk, could she trust an ex-stormtrooper-turned-pirate? Strangely, she felt that she could trust him more than almost anyone she’d met. This disturbed her in a profound way, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her emotions. She had to take action.
“Deksen, I need to get out of here.”
“Yes, you do.” His shoulders slumped as he prepared himself for the choice he was making. His life would never be the same after this. “And yes, before you ask; I will help you.”
Kitsa sighed with relief, but there was no time to waste. They had to get down to business. “Alright, here’s what I was thinking. Tell me if it makes sense…”
“Spiritual creatures, you say?”
Colonel Corbett stroked his moustache, listening to what Professor Floon had to say with a most attentive mind.
“Well, y-yes. Regarded as spiritual creatures by…” Floon kept himself from revealing the natives at only the last moment. “…by all who visit this planet, I’ve heard.”
It was all Floon could do to keep the existence of the native tribes a secret. Apparently these pirates had no clue they might still be around.
“Fascinating! And you say the wingspan…”
The words tumbled out of Floon like a brook. His trepidation could not dampen his excitement. “No one has seen it in millennia, but I do not lie when I say,” he leaned in, saying conspiratorially, “it is said to be three men across!”
Corbett rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Incredible! Simply incredible. Say, Professor, I know you count yourself among the squeamish, but do you suppose that shooting down a bird of spiritual importance grants a hunter more, how do you say, ‘bragging rights’?”
Floon raised an eyeridge and stared. “Are…are you…joking, sir?”
“I assure you, I am not!” said Corbett, jabbing the desk with his finger. “A hunter such as myself has precious little time for jokes, what with so much glory left unobtained. You’re the closest thing in the galaxy to an expert, Professor. Do you believe killing such a creature would grant me more glory?”
Floon watched the officer nervously. His eyes were eager, his face covered in sweat. The heat was dull and damp in the shade of the tent, the kind of environment Floon had been born into. Very much a comfort zone.
The professor summoned up all his courage, swelling up his chest in rather an alarming way. Corbett’s eyes widened.
“No!” squeaked Floon.
Corbett was puzzled. “…’No’?”
“No!” Floon stood his ground. “How can you talk of killing a creature such as this? For all your talk about appreciating great beasts, you end their magnificent lives with such…relish!” He licked his lipless mouth, his words sputtering and cracking as adrenaline shot through him. He’d never confronted anyone in his life. Certainly not anyone who was willing to kill him. “I don’t mind saying that it is…despicable! Yes, despicable!”
Colonel Corbett, who had initially been very surprised, now furrowed his brow. When he spoke, his tone was dark. “Professor…I’m not used to being talked to in such a-”
“Indeed, indeed!” squawked Floon, suddenly desperate to turn his situation around. “But nor are you used to talking to your intellectual equal, as you have said! This is true, yes?”
Corbett considered it. “Yes, it is true,” he admitted.
“Then please, hear my words, as another man of learning! These creatures are not for killing, they are for studying! For conserving! For…loving! Please, take my offer of friendship and understand I mean you no ill will. I only wish to see a force such as yourself used for…better things!”
Colonel Corbett looked bothered. He had never thought of it in such terms before. Professor Floon breathed heavily, waiting in silence, heart hammering, hoping for a reaction that spared his life.
Finally, the Colonel’s expression softened, and he began to speak. “Professor, I—“
“Colonel Corbett!” came a voice from the tent’s opening. Floon, uncharacteristically, cursed in his head. His heart sank.
“How dare you interrupt me? I said, very clearly I thought, that no one was to interrupt!”
The pirate at the opening was the huge, shirtless one, with the AT-AT driver’s helmet. “But it’s the others, sir, they’ve broken out!”
The moment had passed, Corbett’s mind was on other things. He grabbed his cap and marched towards the entrance. “Well then! Wait here with the Professor, we must hunt them down!”
Corbett marched toward the tent flap, where he was promptly whacked in the head with a blaster handle, and fell flat on his back. He lay there, hair mussed, tongue out, and unconscious.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Floon.
“Quiet, Professor! It’s just me, Kitsa. Ms. Rigo.”
Indeed it was. The reporter came ducking in, blaster in hand. The large pirate stood guard while she knelt down to rummage in Corbett’s holster.
“What-what is going on? Who is this abnormally large man at the door?” asked Floon, who’s voice dropped to an anxious whisper as he added, “Is he not one of the pirates?”
Kitsa pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Huh? Oh, that’s Deksen,” she explained simply. “He’s gonna help us escape.”
The pirate named Deksen raised a hand in casual greeting.
“O-Oh, how do you do?” Floon replied weakly, and he tipped his hat on instinct. “You are…very big!”
“I get that a lot,” came Deksen’s reply, filtered through his helmet.
“He is, isn’t he?” Kitsa grinned.
“Y-Yes—hold on; escape, you said?” squeaked Floon, who’s brain was beginning to catch up at last.
“Yes, escape,” she repeated firmly, looking him in the eye. “But we have to go now, understand? Otherwise we’ll die?”
Floon withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “O-Oh, my. This is all rather a lot. And so sudden…”
“Yes, it is. We still have to save Clod, against my better judgement.”
“S-Save…Clod, you say?” said Floon, wilting with every word, and very close to fainting.
Kitsa smiled wryly and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, Professor,” she said, and she handed him the Colonel’s blaster before turning to leave. Deksen made to follow her.
Floon went after them, but before reaching the tent’s exit he spun around awkwardly to address his host.
“I’m…very sorry for all this,” he said to Corbett’s unconscious body. “It really w-was lovely meeting you.”
Floon felt it was polite for one to wait to be excused, but Corbett did not reply.
Thus, with a great deal of stumbling and nervous mumbling, the professor hurried to catch up with the others.
“And the natives,” said Slyfoot with relish. “You said you’ve met them before, is that true?”
“Yesh,” spat Clod. He eyed the interrogation droid floating a foot away, its red receptor blinking, prod extended towards him.
“Then you could lead us to them. You will lead me to them.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? They found me the first time. I don’t know how to find them now!”
Slyfoot waved a hand dismissively. “Well, no matter. They asked you to return, I’m sure they’ll show up to you soon.”
Clod wished he could wipe his mouth where he’d drooled after one of the many electroshocks. It was starting to chape. “…Thought you…were gonna let us go?” he groaned.
Slyfoot laughed. “Really? You did? I didn’t take you for a fool. No, Mr. Clod. You’ll stay in this luxury for many days to com--I said I wanted no interruptions!”
Light had flooded the room from the now-open door. He heard a blaster go off, and a red bolt smashed into the interrogation droid, knocking it to the ground.
“Pardon me!” said Professor Floon, turning the gun on Slyfoot. The pirate sergeant raised his hands in surrender. “I nearly forgot something on my way out!”
“P-professor?” slurred Clod, craning his neck to see. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s right, it’s me! I’ve come to rescue you, Mr. Clod.”
Clod groaned with relief. He hadn’t expected this in a million years. “You gotta get me out of here, doc.”
“Indeed!” said the Professor, who prodded Slyfoot with his pistol until he gave up the key to the bindings.
“Nice entry."
Floon seemed pleased. “Thank you! I am honored by the compliment, especially from someone as…daring-do as yourself! I practiced on the way here.”
“It paid off. Now…” he stretched and groaned his weary, burnt muscles. Then he turned towards Slyfoot, who held to his dignity even while fear seeped in the cracks. Weakened though he was, the Klatoonian was dangerous. He proved this to Slyfoot by knocking him to the floor with a right hook.
“Jerk. Wish I had more time.”
“We really must go, Rigo is waiting! She found a way out!”
Clod looked at the Professor and raised an eyebrow. “You already saved her?”
“Saved her?” replied the professor, leading him into the daylight. “Why, it was her who saved me!”
“You’re kidding!”
“I am not kidding, Mr. Clod! I assure you, I am entirely serious!”
They caught up with Kitsa and Deksen at the camp’s boneyard, where ship and vehicle carcasses formed a monument to the pirates’ past conquests.
“He’s fine,” said Kitsa, in response to the alarmed look on Clod’s face. “His name is Deksen, he’s helping us.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Deksen, voice filtered through his helmet.
“Sure, sure. A pleasure,” muttered Clod. “Listen, I told that creepy imp about the natives.”
Kitsa and Floon looked at him with dismay.
“It wasn’t exactly by choice,” grumbled Clod, but he avoided their gaze. “I’m betting they didn’t torture either of you.”
They answered by way of silence.
“Of course not,” he grunted. “Who else here has a face like a Corellian hound?”
“Ahem...I cannot imagine what you went through in that little room, so I cannot blame you for anything you’ve done,” said Floon seriously. “Besides…I let slip quite a lot about the wildlife to the Colonel, and I was under no compulsion besides a foolish enthusiasm for my subject! Oh, how moronic of me. I’m far worse than you, Mr. Clod. Fear no condemnation from us.”
Clod looked at him with something approaching humility and gratitude.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything,” said Kitsa. “Except about myself.”
“Their knowledge simply means we must make greater haste to find the natives first. And with the skills and talents of us three, I find our chances encouraging!”
Kitsa gestured to their soon-to-be-stolen ride. “Especially with this thing.”
Clod hurried forward to look at what she’d found. Underneath a tarp sat a small, aged red-and-white craft. Barely enough space for two people. “What is this, an Incom? Tiny, isn’t it?”
“Who cares who built it?” she replied shortly. “It’s an Airspeeder. Deksen says it’ll still fly.”
Deksen shrugged. “We use it for scout missions.
“Wait," Clod frowned. "We can’t leave yet.”
Kitsa threw up her hands. “Why not?”
“Hat."
“Oh, for karf’s sake--I got your hat, here. Can’t believe you’d get us killed over your hat.”
“My hat! You’re alright, Rigo.”
Deksen cleared his throat. “You three should climb in, you don’t have a lot of time.”
They threw their things in the speeder. Clod clambered into the pilot’s seat and brushed some crumbs off the controls. He checked various switches and toggles with an air of familiarity. Floon crammed himself into the back.
Kitsa was last to get in. She turned and threw herself at Deksen, hugging him awkwardly. She didn’t hug many people. Were you supposed to do it so forcefully? Fortunately, Deksen didn't seem to mind. He folded her gently in his massive arms.
“Thank you. I wish you could come with us.”
His tone carried a smile she couldn’t see through his facemask.
“It was good to meet you. I’ll see you again.”
“And you’ll be okay? The other pirates won’t…”
He put a calming hand on her shoulder. “You think they could?”
“Miss Rigo!” called the professor from the speeder. “I’m quite nervous waiting in here! I wouldn’t say anything, except that my muttering has made Mr. Clod angry.”
The two shared a chuckle. Kitsa smiled sadly and let go of him. She clambered into the airspeeder with the others, where she discovered it was a much tighter fit than she’d expected. Once she’d negotiated space with Floon, she leaned against the window and gave Deksen a final wave.
The pirate waved back.
“Whoof. He’s ripped, huh?” she said wistfully.
“Ripped?” Floon squeaked. “I’d say his shirt is beyond ripped, madam! There’s hardly a shirt there at all!”
The speeder was humming to life, the way any vehicle does that’s taken some battering. A warm, clanky kind of hum.
“Alright,” said Clod from the front. “Off to find the natives?”
“Before the pirates do!” said Kitsa.
“Oh my! A race against pirates, for the good of knowledge and sentient life!” flushed Floon. “It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it?”
The following is a chat log from our April 9th bookclub event. Photo credit: Klaus Bereznyak
__________
Zoe Foodiboo: Did I say welcome? Welcome!
Abinoam Nørgaard (Abinoam Resident): /me smiles
Zoe Foodiboo: Today, our discussion will be focused on poetry.
Zoe Foodiboo: written by yourself or someone else
Zoe Foodiboo: but focused on the 20s or Berlin or both
Zoe Foodiboo: /me grins
Abinoam Nørgaard (Abinoam Resident): /me gets comfy
Zoe Foodiboo: I thought we could share our poem (in local chat), then maybe share why you chose the poem, then everyone can comment on it and move to the next poem, etc.
Zoe Foodiboo: Sound good?
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): /me nods
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): nods
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me sips her wine. "Mhm!"
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): yes
Abinoam Nørgaard (Abinoam Resident): i've got two, but i can cut one out
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): you can use mine... I wasn't aware of this ... so I don't have one
Zoe Foodiboo: well...let's go around once and then if we have more time we can go around again?
Zoe Foodiboo: And yes, please don't worry if you don't have a poem. :)
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): (how do one take a snpashot o firestorm?
Zoe Foodiboo: So, who would like to go first?
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): not all at the same time !! ;)
Zoe Foodiboo: Well, I can go first to break the ice!
Zoe Foodiboo: /me giggles
Steadman Kondor: danke frl zoe :)
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): (Hallo, Steadman!)
Zoe Foodiboo: Hello Steadman
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): Hello Steadman
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): Guten abend steadman
Zoe Foodiboo: I chose a poem written by Rainer Maria Rilke
Zoe Foodiboo: This particular version was translated by Albert Ernst Flemming
Zoe Foodiboo: It's called "At Sundown"
Zoe Foodiboo: /me clears her throat
Zoe Foodiboo: Slowly the evening starts to change her raiments
for veils held up by rows of distant trees.
Zoe Foodiboo: "You watch how gradually the landscape's contours change,
some rising heavenward as others downward fall;"
Zoe Foodiboo: "leaving you alone, to neither quite belonging,
nor quite as dark as houses silent keep,"
Zoe Foodiboo: "nor quite so sure beseeching the eternal
as that which nightly turns to star and rises ---"
Zoe Foodiboo: "and leaving you (impossible to disentangle)
your life, fearful, gigantic and still ripening, "
Zoe Foodiboo: which, now limited, now comprehending,
alternatingly becomes stone in you and star.
Zoe Foodiboo: /me looks up and smiles, "The End."
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me claps. "Wonderful, Zoe!"
AlasAndAlack: /me claps in response.
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Lovely (claps quietly)
Zoe Foodiboo: I chose this poem because it reminded me of all the quiet evenings I spent sitting by the river in the Tiergarten - when I lived in the Tiergarten…
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): /me claps
Steadman Kondor: a thrilling poem, what an end!
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): clap clap clap
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): beautiful
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me feels her lower lip quiver at "when I lived in the Tiergarten..."
Zoe Foodiboo: I'd watch the sky change - either because the sim was changing or because I was playing with windlights
Zoe Foodiboo: …
Zoe Foodiboo: and that time of day, between light and darkness…
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me dabs her eyes with the corner of her sleeve.
Zoe Foodiboo: always makes me think of the inbetweenness in our lives and the balance that we often try to achieve…
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): /me ( me winders what he is ment to be doing but isnt because he is lazy)
Zoe Foodiboo: RL berlin vs SL berlin…
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): *sighs* it's beautiful
Zoe Foodiboo: Zoe in SL vs Zoe in RL…
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): (sl berlin)
Zoe Foodiboo: that sort of thing...does that make sense?
Zoe Foodiboo: What do you think about the poem?
Steadman Kondor: you add shades of your own meaning to it of course, and that's part of the reading process
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): It was gute
Zoe Foodiboo: /me nods at Steadman
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): exactly…
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): it really externalizes the internal
Steadman Kondor: it's someone at a difficult place in time
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): I was especially struck by, ""and leaving you (impossible to disentangle) / your life, fearful, gigantic and still ripening,"
Steadman Kondor: alone and yet full of potential
Zoe Foodiboo: /me hands out notecards with the poem typed on it
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): (nods)
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): oh thank you
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): thank you!
Zoe Foodiboo: Anyway...that's my poem.
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): whispers: words are words words
Zoe Foodiboo: /me smiles shyly
Abinoam Nørgaard (Abinoam Resident): much obliged
Zoe Foodiboo: Eloise? Did you bring a poem?
Zoe Foodiboo: Want to go next?
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): I sure did!
Zoe Foodiboo: And then we can just go around in circle..
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me shuffles some papers and pouts. "You know, I WAS going to read my own poem, about flowers, but my mean, nasty governess, Gerda, tore it up and threw it in the fire, calling it "too bourgeois."
Zoe Foodiboo: /me blinks at Eloise
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): So instead, I'd like to share something by Mr. Schiltzen's favorite poet, W. B. Yeats, called "Broken Dreams," published as part of his collection, "The Wild Swans at Coole." A few historical notes about this particular piece.
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): That Gerda sure is something…
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): The poem was originally published in 1917 (so persumably available and read in the 20s), just one year after Yeats' final proposal to Maud Gonne, the love of his youth (and some might say, of his entire life). He was 52 years old at the time.
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): /me cocks her her to one side
Zoe Foodiboo: whispers: oh nice
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): Yeats had proposed to Maud on several occasions, and on each one, she rebuffed him. Instead, she married a man named John MacBride, from whom she was later estranged. By the time Yeats wrote "Broken Dreams," he had already been executed for his part in the Easter 1916 rising.
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): so sad
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): Without saying too much more, there are many timeless themes in this poem: beauty, age, love ... all squished into a truly powerful poem of just five stanzas. I think it would be fun to have an entire Book Club event discussing just this one piece! But that, perhaps for another day.
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): So, here it is!
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): guten abend Klaus
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): There is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake—that all heart’s ache have known,
And given to others all heart’s ache,
From meagre girlhood’s putting on
Burdensome beauty—for your sole sake
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Zoe Foodiboo: whispers: There's a chair for you there, Klaus
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, 'Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.'
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): Vague memories, nothing but memories,
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,
Has set me muttering like a fool.
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those that have obeyed the holy law
Paddle and are perfect; leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed
For old sake’s sake.
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): ~ The End ~
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): *clap clap clap*
Zoe Foodiboo: /me applauds softly
Steadman Kondor: /me smiles and claps.
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): (claps)
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): /me claps
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): /me claps
Zoe Foodiboo: Thank you for sharing, Elo!
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me looks snooty, "My original about flowers was better!"
Zoe Foodiboo: /me grins
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): sighs
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): /me chuckles
Zoe Foodiboo: So what made you choose this poem?
AlasAndAlack: /me applauds. "Such a beautiful piece. Sigh!"
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): /me crinkles her paper nervously
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): I suppose what made me select this one was, Yeats was (to me) a bit of an idealist, a Platonist, but one who had to face the decidedly different reality of our temporal, changing, and mightily imperfect actual existence.
Zoe Foodiboo: ((If anyone takes photos, can you send them to me later? Everyone's hair isn't rezzing for me for some reason))
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): (nods)
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): So when he speaks of the ideals of Love, of Beauty ... and then his ability (or inability) to deal with these things, just ... WOW! ... well, it very much appeals to me. :)
Steadman Kondor: it's not wholly flattering to the muse... but that's part of the poems audacity
Abinoam Nørgaard (Abinoam Resident): /me takes out his comb and fixes his hair a bit
Zoe Foodiboo: /me smiles at Eloise
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): (my hair is painted on)
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): interesting that stanza with the lake-- am I reading right that he sounds a little critical of her? Is sounds like he's saying she dog paddles in a little lake where those who obey the holy law stay perfect. Sounds like sour grapes.
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): ah
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): I found it so modern .... precisely for that reason herr Kondor…
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): /me cough for a about a minute
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): (He was very bitter about losing Maud, yes, and jealous of her ex-husband for having "won" her in ways he never could or did. But depending on how you read it, and perhaps your own feelings relating to the poem, one could say he always loved her ... in some ways, more than ever, despite her aging and the lost beauty of her youth--and the beauty of youth was always something that somewhat tortured Yeats. He greatly idealized it, even in this poem.)
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me smiles and sips her wine so others can share now. :)
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): How SL of him.
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): ((Yes, exactly, William! Another reason why I shared this one. :) ))
Zoe Foodiboo: Thank you for sharing, Eloise.
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Yes, thanks so much.
Zoe Foodiboo: Shall we move along the circle?
Zoe Foodiboo: Steadman? Did you bring anything?
Zoe Foodiboo: It's okay if you didn't...
Steadman Kondor: i brought some short ones
Steadman Kondor: it was tricky to get the right translations of german poets!
Zoe Foodiboo: Great! Would you like to share one?
Steadman Kondor: but a joy discovering new ones
Steadman Kondor: /me looks through his notes for the blue piano
Zoe Foodiboo: We're going to go around the circle and share one, then share more if there's time
Steadman Kondor: My Blue Piano - by Else Lasker-Schüler
Steadman Kondor: At home I have a blue piano
but cannot play a single note.
Zoe Foodiboo: /me nods and smiles at Steadman
Steadman Kondor: It stands in the dark of the cellar door
since the world went savage.
Steadman Kondor: "Four starry hands play,"
Moon Woman sang in her boat.
Steadman Kondor: Now rats dance in a clatter.
Steadman Kondor: The keyboard is shattered.
I weep over the dead blue thing.
Steadman Kondor: Dearest Angel, I have eaten
such bitter bread. Please open
Steadman Kondor: for me while still alive— even though
it is forbidden—Heaven’s door.
Zoe Foodiboo: whispers: wb Ruuchan
Steadman Kondor: ~ end
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): oh!
Zoe Foodiboo: /me applauds softly
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Interesting!
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): makes me cold inside …
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): /me claps
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): wow
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): *claps*
AlasAndAlack: /me applauds.
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): /me clap and smoke pipe
Steadman Kondor: It's hard to say why i chose it but i'll try.
Zoe Foodiboo: whispers: I think Frau Jo would've liked that one.
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): sits up to better listen …
Steadman Kondor: the clear startling images. the image of broken creativity (the piano) is something that touches my heart
Steadman Kondor: and a hint of the war before and the war to come
Zoe Foodiboo: ahhh
Steadman Kondor: AND the rats dancing, lol
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): haha
Zoe Foodiboo: /me wrinkles her nose
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): of course :p
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): /me nods - very postwar
Zoe Foodiboo: Like at Der Keller
Steadman Kondor: yes i'm sure quite a few broken keys there
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): There are RATS at Der Keller?! (shivers)
Zoe Foodiboo: ...and rats!
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): haha
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): and sailors
Zoe Foodiboo: /me remembers herself and smiles politely
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Well I found it compelling and a little sad.
Steadman Kondor: when i try to play moonlight sonata, it comes out like jazz, because the broken keys makes me feel you are listening to syncopated music
Steadman Kondor: danke all
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): oh wow
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): I love the appeal to an angel to do something not allowed, the sheer yearning of it is really effective.
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): To me, it seems, it touched on a mourning over untapped potential. Talent unpursued.
Steadman Kondor: nods. yes that could be too.
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): A sort of "if only I had" thing.
Zoe Foodiboo: /me nods
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): Yes Herr William, to me too
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Perhaps rats are a metaphor for regrets.
Steadman Kondor: It can also be talent interrupted. The potential and talent is there , but circumstances can take the stage away from the actor, or the piano from the musician
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Good point.
Steadman Kondor: or the focus from the writer
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): I have a guitar, but no strings. I have a clarinet, but no reed. Etc.
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): How melancholy that could make me.
Zoe Foodiboo: /me nods
Zoe Foodiboo: well, thank you Herr Kondor - excellent choice!
Zoe Foodiboo: Teruumi?
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Indeed. Bravo.
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): brilliant
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): /me nods
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me claps softly. :)
Zoe Foodiboo: Is she there? It think she's a little crashy today…
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): /me clears her throat, "I also brought a poem. Called Arrow In The Sky by Henrikas Radauskas"
Zoe Foodiboo: oh good
Zoe Foodiboo: /me smiles
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): I am an arrow that a child shot through
An apple tree in bloom beside the sea;
A cloud of apple blossoms, like a swan,
Has shimmered down and landed on a wave;
The child is wondering, he cannot tell
The blossoms from the foam.
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): I am an arrow that a hunter shot
To hit an eagle that was flying by;
For all his strength and youth, he missed the bird,
Wounding instead the old enormous sun
And flooding all the twilight with its blood;
And now the day has died.
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): I am an arrow that was shot at night
By a crazed soldier from a fort besieged
To plead for help from mighty heaven, but
Not having spotted God, the arrow still
Wanders among the frigid constellations,
Not daring to return.
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): - The End -
Steadman Kondor: /me applauds
Zoe Foodiboo: /me smiles and applauds
Klaus Bereznyak: Brilliant!
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): I love this one
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): /me smiles and claps!
Steadman Kondor: This arrow quite has a life of its own!
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): *clap clap clap *
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): haha
Zoe Foodiboo: Ah, Herr von Stroheim
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): *smiles*
Otto Vanderstein (OttoVanderstein Resident): good
Zoe Foodiboo: Please, take my seat.
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): indeed
AlasAndAlack: /me claps. Quite a poem for the world suffering after the war.
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): yes!
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): Indeed !
Zoe Foodiboo: /me plops on the floor
Klaus Bereznyak: /me sees an opportunity to delay his turn and slips across to Zoe's vacant seat
Steadman Kondor: what a marvellous turnout today. I'm so glad poetry touches the hearts of so many of us
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): So the reason why I chose this particular poem is because I like how instead of depicting the arrows flight as something grand and amazing, Radauskas depicts it as more of an Icarus flight
Zoe Foodiboo: /me chuckles at Klaus
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): that's what poetry is supposed to do Herr Kondor ;)
Erich von Stroheim (erichvonstroheim Resident): /me gulps, only realising now what he's walked into
Zoe Foodiboo: We're happy to have you, Herr von Stroheim. Please join us and listen. :)
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): I like, also, how it has an almost sentient quality, especially at the end when it doesn't "dare" to return, fearful to disappoint, I assume, in not having found God.
Steadman Kondor: and now you're trapped!
Steadman Kondor: with no bier!
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): ...and having killed the sun
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): it's a very playfull poem…
Steadman Kondor: yes the arrow is like an extension of the poet's desires
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): yes, I agree!
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): It does indeed bear resemblance to some of the more playful Ancient Greek mythology.
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): The folly of the gods and mortals alike.
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): I don't know anything about this poet, but I was reading it like he was a soldier who was sent to war-- a beautiful romantic image of it-- but then it wasn't.
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): doesn't it make you wonder where your arrows would fly to?? Lol
Steadman Kondor: it's like the three stages of Man - innocence, experience... Desperation
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): (nods)
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): yes
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): (Oh, marvelous point!)
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): yes!
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): That's so sad ... I don't think the the third has to be desperation at all…
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): whispers: three stages of woman
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): whispers: nah, there's gotta be at least nine
Zoe Foodiboo: /me raises her hand
Steadman Kondor: /me grins at Fraulein T
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): May I help you up?
Zoe Foodiboo: Oh no, I couldn't tell if anyone was typing.
Steadman Kondor: Let's all throw cushions at Frl Zoe
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): /me looks at Zoe, expectant
Zoe Foodiboo: I see that it's almost time for El D but I know several more people prepared poems for today. Would you like to meet again? Maybe next weekend?
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): Sure!
Steadman Kondor: oh that would be great! i'm up for it
Herr William Thomson (KelvinD Kramer): Yes, please.
Zoe Foodiboo: I really hadn't expected so many people to show up - it's nice!
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): Absolutely!
Zoe Foodiboo: Okay, let's say same time, same place.
Eloise Schiltzen (EloiseSchiltzen Resident): Certainly!
Steadman Kondor: it's quite fun reading on the spot, with no homework, lol
Scout MacLeod (Maplekey Resident): Sounds great!
Steadman Kondor: except bringing your own
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): don't think I can make it next weekend but, I'll definitely come again!
Zoe Foodiboo: Oh, well then I'll use your chair, Frl Mosienko. Lol
Tiffany Mosienko (Ti Mosienko): I've come up with some automatic writing, a new style
Zoe Foodiboo: I send out notices and create an FB event.
Miss Mind Myhead (CeliaP Resident): I won't be able next week but count on me in 2 weeks time
Zoe Foodiboo: It's really very fitting as it's poetry month this month
Zoe Foodiboo: Or at least in America it is…
Teruumi Simoneaux (Korina Asamoah): YAY \☺/
Zoe Foodiboo: Well, thank you to everyone who shared today!
Linda briefly left to move her mom to a motel. Keep her safe and all that. It only took her over an hour and she was back at the clinic. Back with me. She told me how on the way she had to kill one of Sojighan's asskissers right outside her mom's doorstep. We gotta deal with this, now. That fucker needs to die. It's an offense that's he's even breathing the same air we do. Still, Liz kept me at the Clinic for another night. She used that experimental stuff on me since my side got so fucked up. Even then I was still sore. The last time she turned me into a labrat I was out for days after. I woke up feeling like...well, I didn't end up having a fucking arrow through my chest, seeing as that's what happened last time. Maybe this is what happens when you don't rest after getting Liz's brand of healing. There's still another thing that hurts, though. Something Liz just can't do anything about. I lost twice to that bastard....And every possible way I think about it just rubs salt in the wound. He's younger than me and clearly a massive dumbass. He's just a leader of a street gang, a breed of shit I've effortlessly taken town countless times. On top of it all, there's not really a motivation for all this evil...It's just mindless, ugly chaos. And it's kicked my ass twice. The next evening Linda helps me out of clinic. Physically I'm fine, but I'm still wounded...
"...you think you can drive? I don't really wanna drive your car again..."
"Yeah, I'm good...hey, uh..."
"What's up?"
"Thanks for sticking with me here. Made it a bit better."
"I wouldn't think of leaving you. Not like this. How 'bot we go back my place? have a drink?"
"Sure. Could use it after the bullshit we've been through..."
"Hope you feel better, Chéri! Come by again soon! Well, not bleeding at least, but....goodnight!"
Trucks are warmed up. Everything's backed. Soldiers are ready. Time for everyone to die. As if there's not enough reasons to hate the US Government. I take a moment to look at the mine entrance, now a smoldering pile of rubble no-one will ever be able to get into. For as shitty as it was, I was kinda liking it. Nice hideaway where nobody could fuck with us. I forget about it anyway and head for my truck. The same rusty old hunk of steel we rode into this land with. I see Linda by it....
"....hey."
LT: "........."
"Linda, look at me. Please...."
LT: ".........."
Nothing. And I still don't even know what to do...alright, you know what? Fuck this shit, Arnie is right. Linda's a goddamn mess and she needs someone. I may have done this to her and I deserve every layer of hell for it, but if there's one thing I'm gonna do before going off to die at a terrorist stronghold, it's clean this mess up. I'm not giving up on her like this before going down.
"Linda!"
LT: "......"
"Goddammit, look at me when I'm talking to you!!"
LT: "Please don't I--"
"No, be quiet! Just listen to me! You wanna hit me again, go right ahead, but that's not shutting me up, not this time!"
LT: "Let go, I--"
"Linda, I know I'm a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but that doesn't mean I can't help you. I don't know what you're going through, I don't really wanna imagine it. Whatever the fuck it is though, it there's not a single fucking chance it should hurt you like this."
LT: "......."
"You're the strongest person I know, Linda. Whatever's happening to you, you can overcome it. I know because I've seen this strength in you, even before you decide to put the armor on."
LT: "........"
"You're the woman I fell in love with, and from the moment I met you, to right now, to whatever's gonna happen tonight, that's not gonna change. You get me? I will always love you."
LT: "........."
"I...I don't know if you still feel the same way, but it doesn't matter. I'll still be here for you 'till I roll over and die. Whatever shit tears away at you, I'll always be there to help you. I can't do that though it you keep walking away from me."
LT: "......."
"Look at me. Say something. Let me know what's happening. I'll do anything and everything to help you. I'm here for you."
LT: "......God, Jerrick....I ju--"
RH: "HEY! saddle up, we gotta go!"
"I!...you!...."
RH: "You two can get a spot on Maury when we're done blowing the fort up, until then then get in the damn truck."
LT: "................."
"....you better not forget about this...."
I swear to fucking God the first thing I'm gonna do when we open up on that fort is throw Haines in front of a rocket....
WK: "Welcome aboard the Starlight one, dudes! Like, keep your hands and feet inside at all times!"
JD: "Helluvalot bigger than it looks..."
WK: "That's because like, it's just a cockpit and an empty cabin, dude. It's just a prototype model now. Once we start production there's gonna be seats, bathrooms, snacks, and totally hot babes as flight attendants....don't like, tell my wife I said that..."
"So where's my office, huh? You said I was flying this thing, right?"
WK: "Oh yeah, uhh, like in here!"
"....shit, I really gotta fly this?"
WK: "I'm like, not allowed to fly, babe. I can show you, though! Here, Ill just turn it on for you!"
*BBRRRRMMMM*
JD: "Shit, holograms? This just wasn't Star Trek enough."
WK: " 'kay, Babe, that like, green button there? That'll turn on the jet engines."
"Not really a button...just a green dot on the screen..."
WK: "It's like, a touchscreen. Just press it!"
"This is weird...."
JD: "What, you can fly a helicopter gunship but touchscreens are kicking your ass?"
"The Sky Slayer's all analogue, you dick! Just like everything else I've flown...."
JD: "Ha...."
WK: "Alright, the jets are fired up! Now like, there are two triggers behind the yolk, like an Xbox controller! The right one lifts, so hold down on it!"
"......oh yeah, that's lift! 'cause this wasn't scary enough...."
JD: "Hey, you're doing good so far...shouldn't we be buckled down for this?...."
WK: "Alright, we've like, got enough altitude! Now, that screen to your right? Those green bars are like the thrust levers!"
"What about the orange ones?"
WK: "Don't worry about those, babe. They're like, for when we're out of the atmosphere. Just throttle down on the green ones and keep gaining altitude1"
"Alright then, throttling down. Hold on!"
*FFFFFWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOSSSH*
JD: "Houston, we have liftoff!"
Bold Adrian Toomes
Italic Norman Osborn
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"FRESH MEAT!"
Adrian Toomes looked up. Today, was not initiation day.
"Yo Adrian, let's go."
Yeah Yeah. I've been to too many of these things.
He goes to the cafeteria where the "fresh meat" was supposed to be. He looks around and sees a man he has never seen before. His nametag says CASTLE.
"Excuse me, where can I find my bunk?"
"Hey Adrian! He says, Where can I find my bunk?"
It's upstairs kid...
"Hey, thanks."
"HEY NOTHIN! We cant let fresh meat go Adrian! You know that!"
Whattever Butch.
"Yah know what. Let's let Adrian go the first round huh?"
Everyone cheered at that.
I'm not the man I was. I want to change. I'm old now, and cant...
"Toomes! You're 46, so what? You can beat a few guys around!"
I really don't want to.
"You do it, or I'll give you 5 more years here."
Butch had power with the guards.
Fine.
Adrian thought of his son and wife, and how he desperately needed to see the two.
"Hey, thanks again man, I don't think I got you're name quite right is it..."
Adrian hit him with a full, hard left jab to the nose.
"Ahhh... Damn man. What the hell!"
Fresh meat kid. Gotta learn for you're crimes.
Adrian put in another before Castle stopped him. Castle hit him hard in the jaw. He then took a swing at Adrian's thy. It snapped.
GOD DAMN THIS KID IS STRONG!
They all leave Adrian on the floor. The only one left is Butch.
"Sorry 'bout that. Thought you could handle it."
Who was that kid?
"Ah... Oh yea! Frank Castle."
Frank Castle huh?
___________
Ah! Adrian.
You sound surprised.
Well you look good for a killer....
Adrian almost jumped at him.
.... but I came by for the opportunity to give you something.
A rock?
But he was gone.
___________
At night, Adrian looked at the object. It said on the back the instructions. It read:
Put on back.
Twist cap off.
Prepare for lift off.
Adrian didn't understand the last part, but decided to try it. He put it on his back, twisted the cap off, and he heard a spring go off. He turned his head to see mechanical wings on his back.
Interesting.
Then he got why it said prepare for takeoff. In an instant he was gone, out of sight. He had torn through the roof of the building with the razor sharp blades the wings were made out of. He had escaped. There was one thing he didn't know. He wasn't controlling the wings at the moment.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So that's #4.3! We are almost done the origins of the Six, and soon our new Web Slinger will go against them! Stay tuned for the last 2 issues of the origins!
Stranger 99/100 - Kevin
“I want to make a name for myself. I want people to know me.”
Meet Kevin.
What advice would you give to your younger self? “Take school extremely seriously. High school, middle school… all of it.”
What is your biggest challenge right now? “Maintaining… keeping a steady pace.”
What’s keeping you from doing that? “Myself… not being disciplined.”
What are your goals? Where do you want to be in ten years? “In ten years… I want to make a name for myself. I want people to know me. I want to make an impact… at least for my family.”
What’s the plan? “I do a little music right now… hip-hop, rap.”
What’s the biggest misconception people have about you? “I don’t know… people just ask me if I’m ok… like I have a mean face all the time. I don’t really talk to a whole lot of people. I just keep to myself.“
If you could put a billboard up in Charlotte, what would it say? “Life goes on.”
Are you active in the music scene yet? “I’m just writing. I haven’t stepped into the studio just yet, but I’ve been writing a lot of stuff.”
What advice would you give to people starting out in music? “Never give up honestly. Nowadays you can really go viral… you just gotta keep going. Even when you feel like you’re not going so good… you’re not gaining fans… even if it takes years, just keep going. Even people who are big now, it took them years. You just gotta keep pursuing it and getting better and better and finding that new thing that people like.”
Technical Notes: It was a cloudy day, and I used a reflector below Kevin’s face to even out the light. Despite the processed look, I barely edited this portrait at all in Lightroom. This was the rare case where the subject, lighting and background all came together at the same time.
This picture is #99 in my 100 strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the 100 Strangers Flickr Group page
This photo also appears in The Human Family Page
Disarming a bomb, even with J at my side, is by far one of the worst things I've done. J says they're "simple" bombs, too. Easy for him to say. After taking care of the south tower's bomb, we set off for the one in the central tower. We end up finding this small tram on a single railway going all the way through the bridge judging by how far it goes down. Probably a maintenance railway for engineers to quickly move around the bridge with. We need to move quickly anyway, so J and I hopped on. While going down the railway I noticed that goon wasn't kidding; there were a bunch of smaller bomb clusters all over this little tunnel alone, so there's bound to be hundreds all over the place. They're most likely meant to go off in a chain-reaction if the big one's pop. There's alot of them just in this tunnel, and explosives, good ones anyway, aren't cheap.
"Hey J?"
"What's up?"
"That bounty Bane put on us, the $75 million? What if he already spent that money? There's ALOT of explosives on this bridge..."
"Wouldn't be surprised. If someone found and actually brought us to him he'd probably waste the poor bastard before he can ask for check and credit. And you're right, these bombs gotta come from somewhere..."
"If the money was gone and he was never gonna pay anyway then why put up a bounty in the first place?"
"Make shit harder for us, I guess. We got him, the SWAT, and if anyone else bought it, them too. Try to make slip up juggling all that and then he'd go in for the kill or something. No-one bought it though so he got impatient."
"Kinda weird no-one went for the bounty besides the SWAT assholes. $75 million would set you for life. If it was there in the first place, anyway."
"People know better, Linda."
"Ha..."
The tram wasn't all that quick but we made it to the base of the central tower pretty quick regardless. The only way in from where we were at was this door in the tunnel that was barred off. Nothing my blade can't handle. Behind the door there were people with guns and bodyarmor walking around but it wasn't more Bane goons. The light behind them silhouetted them but I knew those voices anywhere by now. SWAT."
"Those mercs didn't put up much of a fight."
"Well, we got the jump on them."
"Still though, figured there'd be more..."
"You'll get more. Bloodfall's bound to be coming this way sooner or later. Gonna want that bomb we found and those hostages."
"We really should sneak bomb squad in here. Get someone to deal with all the bombs we've been seeing...."
"No. Captain said our communications are off until we find Bloodfall. If headquarters knows we're here, we're all fucked."
"Still, though, those hostages---"
"Fuck the hostages. I want my money."
Pieces of shit. Every one of them. What I would give to make some of their insides switch places. Hmm...there's one of those big bombs beyond this door and one just down the tunnel. And there's two of us....
"...You go handle the north tower. I'll take care of the bomb here."
"What?"
"If one of us takes a bomb each we can disarm them quicker before something happens like Bane finding out these assholes are running around."
"You sure you can take care of a bomb on your own? And then there's---No. Fuck no, I know why you wanna split up and if you think I'm fucking stupid--"
"I just told you why! The quicker these bombs are taken care of the better!"
"We can't fucking kill cops, Linda! I told you this already!"
"I know, alright!? Fuck, J, I just want this to end the best way it can! There's hostages in there and these assholes could care less about them!"
'Linda, you just can't!"
"And I won't, alright!? Just let me go in there and do this! I promise they'll all live!"
"Can you, though?"
"Sometimes I ask the same thing about you."
"....You promise. Remember that."
J hops on the maintenance tram alone and heads to the north tower, leaving me alone with SWAT, right where I want them. As much as I'd like to, I won't kill them. But some internal bleeding won't hurt....
The ticking got louder and louder as the clock edged closer to zero. Well, to me it did. Steph was tearing that box puzzle apart, flipping sides faster than I could keep up with. I couldn't tell if the look in her eyes was nervousness or just pure fear. I mean, that's a goddamn grenade she's holding and it's rigged to blow! Hell, I was scared, too. Even if the blast doesn't kill us, Brady is done for. So many endings lead to failure, All of those blew out when I looked back at the timer.
5
4
3
2
..........................
2 on the timer. One second to spare. Thank god....I look over to Steph and see something that lightens the situation up a bit. For me, at least. She's holding the Baxter's Box out in front of her, her head turned away and her eyes shut tightly, sweat going down her face. The really funny part was her shivering. Then I look at my hands and realize I'm doing the same damn thing. She opens her eyes, looks back at the box, and realizes she's done it. The sigh of relief from her was one of the best things I've heard all night.
"Well, that was unnecessarily Hollywood...."
"Tell me about it....but good job."
"Thank you...man, I though we were done..."
"So what was your previous record on one of these?"
"You don't wanna know. So, what's the box say?"
"Let's see."
She hands the box off to me and then sits against the wall. Can't blame her. I'd need a breather too after basically solving a puzzle with a gun against my skull. I look at the box for a bit before it disassembles in my hands. Out from the inside of it is another green note, reading:
"To this day by the sea-docks I lay lonely, My purpose was to create merry. Under the cheer, I was the center of fraud, Until the code of the blue-bulls find me did."
"Fraud...sea docks....this sounds familiar."
"Of course. Carnival Pier at Amusement Mile. Where eddy used to work and got busted for fraud. Something ain't right, though..."
"What do you mean?"
"This one was easy. Too easy."
"Yeah, you didn't even have to think hard and make that face."
"Okay, seriously, WHAT FACE?!"
"Anyway! Chances are it's a trap, but we've got nothing else to work with. You ready there, Pulse?"
"I just wanna get out of this place..."
"Alright! Let's go!"
"But...waitaminute!...hey, get back here!"
Seriously, what face?
..........................................................................................................................................
Amusement Mile in general wasn't completely shut down,just moved to another part of town. What remained was an abandoned, decrepit coastline amusement part. And dear god, it's creepy. Half expecting a mutated zombie clown or something to come out from behind the tilt-a-whirls and eat my face off. As least Carnival Pier was abit less spooky, but not by much. We eventually found what we were looking for. A small building about the size of a small apartment with a faded green a black paintsceme and question marks above the door. Too obvious. Too easy. I tell Jackie to be ready to use his powers if necessary, and we all walk in. The room's lighting has an eerie feel, the walls rocking black and green patterns, and a small desk facing us with a large green box on it. Our next puzzle, no doubt. A camera next to the desk whirrs to life and turns to us, and we hear a voice that I gotta say, I'm pretty sick of hearing.
"Well, you solved the last puzzle by the skin of your teeth. But this next puzzle is one none of you will survive."
"What, is the puzzle figuring out how to get you to shut the hell up? I'm pretty much convinced that's impossible."
"Just for that, I'm jumping straight to the point."
Heavy metal shutters slam down in front of the windows in the room, an even bigger one behind us cutting off the door we came in from. Then the box bursts apart, one of the panels annoyingly hitting me. But that annoyance quickly turns to fear when I see what that box was hiding. A timer and some wires connected to a pair of dynamite bundles.
"I have had it. I am sick of a trio of worthless, uneducated children besting me. I will not be defeated at my own game again! Not by the likes of you! So now you must solve one of the most difficult riddles I've devised yet. How does one survive a blast of 6 Ibs of C4 in a confined 50 square foot space?!
The timer clicks to life and the number starts at 30. And goes straight down from there. I look at Jackie and nod. He gets the idea and runs over to the door. It was then that Nigma graces us with the oh-so relaxing sound of his incredible, totally not annoying at all voice.
"It's funny how long C4 has been in use. The first plastic explosives where pioneered in the late 19th century and we still use them today. I guess one could say that this will be a blast from the past! HahahahAHAHAAA!!!"
Holy crap that was painful. Luckily, we didn't have to hear any more of Nigma's attempts at playing Joker. Jackie tore down the metal shutter blocking the exit and we ran like hell away from that pier. We where still close enough to the explosion though that we got knocked down by the shockwave, and for the burning embers to rain down on us. I lied there on ground, super thankful that Jackie was their to bust us out and have us escape with every part of our bodies where they should be. But there was something else I was thinking of at the moment, too. That last jab from Nigma."A blast from the past" he said. I smell a hint...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~```````````
Credit to r a p h y for the riddle.
SCENE ONE, Streets of Manhattan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spider-Man lied on the ground, all bloodied up from the fight... His vision was fading... he was dying. His vision went black, just for second, just before he saw a familiar face before him... Uncle Ben was clear in his mind, with a vivid white background...
Ben: Come on, kid...
Spider-Man: U-Uncle Ben?
Ben: We already know each other, Pete... No need for introductions... Get up.
Spider-Man was shaking, but he grabbed his stomach, and he began to breathe again...
Ben: Get up, son... Get up.
Spider-Man's vision was back, but he still heard Ben's voice in his head.
Ben: We're counting on you...
Peter kept going, he put one hand on the ground, and he started to lift his leg... He planted his foot on the ground, still shaking... The blood stopped pouring... He grabbed his stomach...
Ben: Come on...
He kept going, he managed to stand up!
Ben: Great..! Now be the hero this city needs, why don't ya'? Get out there, and stop that guy!
Spider-Man took several steps, each one he took he limped less... He swung out into the city!
Spider-Man: Alright... I need to... *cough*... Stop those guys...
He landed on a building, and pulled out his phone... He called Mary Jane...
MJ on phone: Hello?
Spider-Man: *wheeze*... H-...Hey MJ... I... *cough*... I'm at...
MJ on phone: Peter? Are you sick?
Spider-Man: I'm at uh... *cough*... T-...The shortest building in um... 1st at Rosedale...
Peter fell on the ground again, passed out...
MJ on phone: Peter? Peter?!
SCENE TWO, MJ's House, 2 Hours Later
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter could see again... He was in MJ's bedroom, lying on her bed, MJ standing by his side... His costume was repaired, and he felt better.
Spider-Man: Uh... MJ...
MJ: Ah, you're awake... My parents aren't home. I was worried about you... What happened, man? You haven't talked to me in a couple days, and now you call me from a rooftop, bleeding nearly to death!
Spider-Man: There's this... evil team... *cough*... They tried to kill me... Wait a second, how is my costume repaired? Did you do this?
MJ: Mhm. I've been learning to sow, I'm not great at it. And I also took a course on first-aid, so I knew how to stitch you up.
Spider-Man: Jeez, we really should talk more...
MJ: Yup.
Spider-Man: Wait a second... Doctor Octopus... I-I need to get back out there.
Spider-Man got up, and opened the window...
MJ: Wait, Parker... You forgetting something?
Peter turned around, and saw MJ smiling at him...
Spider-Man: Oh, uh...
Spider-Man pulled his mask back a bit, revealing his mouth and nose, he kissed MJ on the cheek, and crawled out the window...
Spider-Man: Later, MJ!
MJ: Bye!
Spider-Man swung off...
SCENE THREE, Oscorp Building
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Norman Osborn was being surrounded by the Six...
Norman: Please, don't hurt me... The crimes that have been happening related to this business are far past enough!
Doc Ock: We seem to disagree.
Rhino pounded his fist into his hand...
Rhino: When do I get to beat this sh#t head?!
Doc Ock: Not yet, Mr. O'Hirn.
Vulture: Well, when is "yet"? I'd like to right this awful mans wrongs...
Vulture cocked his gun...
Spider-Man: Maybe you never will!
The Six turned around, stunned... Spider-Man was here!
Spider-Man: Hey guys!
Doc Ock: Spider-Man!!! You 5 take Norman to another room, keep him alive, but the occasional injury is fine. I'll take the Spider myself..!
Sandman: On it!
Rhino grabbed Norman, and he ran with the other 4 to an unused lab...
Doc Ock: Now to spend some alone time...
Doc Ock morphed one of his claws into a saw blade, and slowly moved it towards Spider-Man...
Spider-Man: Otto, this insane... You're not evil..!
Doc Ock: Says the arachnid... You know nothing of who I am, and I will be the one to take over Oscorp...
He used his tentacle to point at a sign reading "Oscorp", with a gear instead of an O. It's their logo.
Doc Ock: Soon this will say Octavious Industries, and I will kill you if I have to...
Spider-Man: Oh yeah? Well maybe this will make you say otherwise...
Spider-Man took off his mask... Otto's jaw dropped, and he shed a tear, before his jaw quickly closed, into a frown...
Doc Ock: I can get past our life experiences, Peter... If it means I'll get what I want...
Spider-Man put his mask back on...
Spider-Man: I won't let you kill Osborn...
Doc Ock: That's why I have to kill you..!
Otto threw his mechanical claw at Peter, before he quickly dodged it..! Peter shot a ball of webs at Ock, but he caught it in his claw... He used the same claw to jolt over to Peter once more, this time grabbing him by the neck!
Doc Ock: I've since learned your skill set, one that I use with far superiority to you.
Spider-Man: Then-... *cough*... Explain how I could do this..!
Peter used his webs to grab a computer from across the room, and slam it at Otto's tentacle, damaging the circuits, and causing him to let go of Peter! Spider-Man landed on his knees, grasping his neck...
Spider-Man: Seems like I'm the superior one, don't ya' think?
Doc Ock: Aghh! Just die already!!!
Doc Ock threw all of his tentacles at Peter, and wrapped his claws around his neck..!
Spider-Man: Ugh... *cough*...
Doc Ock: Die!
Otto threw Peter across the room!
Spider-Man: *uff*!
Doc Ock: Why aren't you dead?!!
Spider-Man: Not trying hard enough, Octavious..!
Spider-Man swung from the ceiling, and kicked Otto in the chest! Otto fell on the ground, but Spider-Man landed on his feet!
Doc Ock: Ughh!!!
Spider-Man: You gotta snap out of this, Otto!
Doc Ock: Do you know who I am?! I am Doctor Octopus!!! Otto Octavious is dead, and never coming back!
Otto got up, and swung his claw at Spider-Man, which he dodged.
Spider-Man: Please, Dr. Octavious!
Doc Ock: Stop talking and die!!!
Doc Ock morphed his claw into a saw blade once more, and flung it at Spider-Man, which he dodged by swinging at Ock, and punching him in the face!
Doc Ock: Aghh!
Spider-Man swung at Ock one final time, blasting him into machinery, which brought him to the ground! It broke the piece of his tentacles entering his brain... He was Otto again...
Otto: I... Oh god...
He started tearing up...
Otto: What have I done...
His tentacles broke down, limp... He took off his goggles...
Spider-Man: Otto..?
Otto: Peter I... I'm so sorry... If I... If I hurt you... I...
Otto pressed the earpiece he was wearing...
Otto: Call it off... Don't hurt Mr. Osborn...
Kraven on earpiece: But why, Mr. Octavious?
Otto: Just do it...
Kraven on earpiece: ...Understood, commander.
Otto put his hand down... Spider-Man took off his mask...
Spider-Man: If you need help... I can find someone to get treatment for you-
Otto interrupted Peter.
Otto: I think I'll be fine...
Spider-Man: Okay... Just to let you know? I'll let this slide... But if this happens again? You're going to prison. But I am taking your "Sinister Six" back to the raft, okay?
Otto: Understood... Thank you, Peter...
Spider-Man: ...Don't mention it...
Spider-Man pulled out his phone, and called Yuri...
Spider-Man: Yuri. Doc Ock's innocent, he was under some kind of mind control... But get as many guys as you can to the Oscorp building by 5th. the 5 criminals that broke out are here.
Yuri on phone: Okay... I'll get my squad over there right away.
Spider-Man put his phone away, and put his mask back on... Otto smiled at him... Spider-Man swung out the building, off into the city...
SCENE FOUR, Streets of Manhattan, days later
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lonnie Lincoln walks through the streets of Manhattan, and he finds shreds of Spider-Mans costume, along with a puddle of blood... He takes a knee, and puts his finger in it...
Lonnie: Perfect...
SCENE FIVE, Another Oscorp Building
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Norman Osborn stands in the middle of the Oscorp building his home is in the top of... He's the only one in the room he's in. He paces around in circles...
Norman: I'm always being attacked... I need someway to stop it... It's a bad idea, no it's not... It's genius... It's wonderful, I have to go through with it... But you can't, yes I can! I am Norman god damn Osborn... But better. I am the great goblin of New York city, I am an ultimate threat..!!!
Norman pulled a vile of green liquid from his pocket... He began to read a label on the vile.
Norman: "Project GBN-155... Nicknamed 'The Goblin Formula'... Enhances strength, agility, and all of your senses. Warning... The side effects that have been revealed after product testing revealed that this formula has risk of memory loss, mood swings, and murderous thoughts." Well, I've already got a bit of insanity...
He drank the entire thing, and smashed the vile on the ground. He began moving unevenly, and started laughing... He fell back in a chair, and kept laughing and laughing...
Norman: Heh heh heh... Heh heh heh..! Ha ha ha! Hah ha hah!!!
~Madam Web
What the fuck, Liz? You should've came home with me, you would've been much safer. It would've been easier for everyone. Now I gotta work extra hard to make sure you don't get your boney ass brutally murdered. Brutal murder is my job! Luckily this is an excuse to bust out something I've just never had a good time to use. Nope, it's not a $10,000 tux. This is far more expensive, probably. It's somewhere in my basement which probably isn't smart since it should be in my shack in the woods. Then again I got my armor, blade and minigun down there so what the shit, I guess. Linda follows me down in my basement because she doesn't have anything better to do, I guess. Glad it's clean down here. Well, cleaner than is was before anyway.
"Soooo what's with the crates?"
"Most of them are empty."
"This one has grenades...."
"Take 'em, I got tons of the damn things."
"I'm good. So just how many people have you killed down here?
"Zero-point-zero. I'm not that stupid to bring 'em to my own home. Well, except that one time, but--"
"I don't wanna know, J."
"Suit yourself. Now where the fuck?..."
"....y'know, I've never actually like, 'looked' at your armor..."
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
"....yeah. Yeah, it really is."
"I can think of something prettier though."
"Like?..."
"Well, you for one..."
"Aw..."
"Oh hohohooo....and this guy right here!"
"....what the hell is that thing?"
"Anti-tank missile of sorts. Or anti-air. Dunno."
"You don't even know what it is, and you got it buried under a mountain of crap in your basement."
"Yep. Arnie just gave it me one time when we were cleaning out a storeroom at Paton Arms. Fucker has like 50 of these things."
"He just gives you missile launchers?"
"Yep!"
"What do even need it for?"
"Something's out for Liz, Linda. Something big. I've been looking into that string of murders."
"I know. All STAR Labs employees. And the path is heading here. Makes some sense, but how do you know Dr. Vincent is next."
"Did some digging. All the victims so far are not just ex-STAR labs, but ex-STAR labs of Quebec, where she used to work."
"Alright, but is a missile launcher necessary?"
"Probably. At the scene of the murders, either there was a part of their home torn down or their car was torn open. And the victims were squashed all over the ground like something huge stomped them out like a bug. Something big is coming, Linda."
"Are you sure you can handle it?"
"I've handled worse. If anyone knows that, it's you..."
At a recent concert for Jem and the Holograms' Pretty in Pink World Tour, the paparazzi set forth a media blitz for the sugary Pop princess and her entourage, which included: the Holograms, Rio, Anthony Julian, Video Montgomery, Danse, Astral, Régine...and a mysterious face that appeared in the distance. The fans roared in utter hysteria and the high-tech cameras flickered in unison as photographers, fashion designers and Hollywood reporters gathered side by side in the concert hall to get a word or two from the superstar musicians. Jem was accosted by twenty different photogs who began asking twenty different questions, chief among them: “WHO'S THAT GIRL”? Then one handsomely Black, tall photographer zeroed in on the mysterious figure and asked her name. The artist slowly turned her head to the camera in a sly manner, blew a kiss and said one word...“Graphix!” Many people have never seen or heard of this Cali native and that's because she has laid low...until now! Three things are for sure about this wealthy valley girl. One, she's an amazing graffiti artist. Two, her taste for wild fashions. And last, her famous tag on all the elaborate artwork that she's created for countless singing groups and solo acts! A gifted artist with an eye for up-to-the-minute trends in art and fashion, Graphix lives for creating award-winning album covers and caters to each of her favorite Pop/Rock/R&B bands, particularly Jem and the Holograms! Her breathtaking designs for their latest concert, in South Africa, garnered her several international awards abroad. She's also a giving soul and enjoys helping in any way she can, for example, her collaboration with Danse Dvorak on some outrageous art designs for Haven House's 4th Annual Special Benefit. Another unknown fact about this tanned beauty is that she had experienced great success very early in her career, when she conceived and designed the front cover for Missing Persons 1982 New Wave album! Time has passed (seven years to be exact) and she's kept up with what's in, designing concert posters, album covers and merchandise for a slew of acts, like Sean Harrison, Johnny Deacon, Lena Lerner, the Blue Bloods, the Leatherettes, Taps Tucker's comeback album, Nefertiti Nikki, Kimber and Stormer's sophomore album, the Space Cadets, the Fifth Avenue Boys, New Edition, the Downtown Boyz, the Limp Lizards and the Stingers! In fact, it was Ms. Lena Lerner who enlisted her to design her lavish “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?” world tour, in late '86. And boy, oh boy, did she go all out for that particular assignment. She literally lit the stadium's walls with cutting-edge art that glowed in the dark! Ohhh, and how could her associates and fans forget the mega concert she styled and designed for Luna Dark, in late '87?! Luna was billed with musicians Samantha Fox and Jody Watley for their “Exotic Escapades” world tour, and all three musicians were in debt to Graphix for her impeccable work! She even designed a line of leather and lace embroidery bottle-holders for Luna’s perfume line, “Lush.” Few have met her and immediately pegged her as a snooty, well-to-do snob, even the Misfits who have been known for trashing her good name over creative differences and copyright issues. And though Graphix exudes a good-natured, kind soul, she will not hesitate to set someone straight or strike back, which is exactly what she did one Summer evening, in 1987, at Misfits Headquarters, when Pizzazz started an argument with her over a single can of Aqua Net hairspray! The talented artist couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably at the site of Pizzi’s flat hairdo, and admitted how much it resembled a chunk of cotton candy. It was then that WWIII broke loose. As the screaming grew, the thudding multiplied, eventually leaving Pizzazz picking all her expensive makeup, lashes, designer heels and some outfits from out of the tub Gwen filled with bleach! She then planted the cranky rocker on her derrière as she began to sashay to the elevator, never to be seen again by the Misfits. So it’s quite understandable that she would grow exhaustingly annoyed when it comes to setting the record straight on whether or not she's a Misfit. And you better believe that nothing brings her more joy than incinerating those who assume they KNOW her, because she belongs to NO ONE, and is her OWN boss! At this point, it's probably a good idea for the Misfits and the Stingers to steer clear, for they have met their match, and she's one helluva force to be reckoned with!
First and foremost, I would like to express my appreciation to Integrity's Design Team for their creation of Graphix! I am extremely grateful to ALL involved, and I am totally over the moon for this doll! To be completely honest, I wasn't sure if they were going to create her at all. It was clear from the start that even so much as a notion from Integrity Toys for Graphix would require an abundance of optimism and hope. Guess it all paid off in the end because here she lies in her box draped in her signature (prototype) outfit, eagerly awaiting to strike a pose alongside her friends and foes! One might ask, “Why do Jem fans care about a doll that never existed in the first place?!” Aaah! Such a typical question with an extremely simple answer. You see, technically, Graphix DID EXIST! She has a brief bio and actually advanced to the prototype stage, both of which were created in 1988. The fact that she happens to be the only character in the entire Jem Bible who never made it to the show is all well and true, but, nevertheless, she's in the Jem Bible! I think most Jem fans feel that because of her absence from the show that she's unimportant. Some may even consider her to be a flash in the pan, but such an attitude will never change the fact that she was once conceived, written and named simultaneously! Her moniker and background bio has remained in our hearts and minds for several years now. So the arrival of this W Club Exclusive is indeed a celebratory moment for a vast majority of Jem fans everywhere! Now, as I'm sure we all know, this is the last year of Jem and it feels like the end of yet another era. Integrity Toys' Jem has accomplished more in this decade than ever expected! She (counterparts included) has sold better than she did in the ‘80s, and she's also surpassed the third year mark that her show reached in its heyday! Integrity's Jem has even had more staying power than the 2015 film itself, of course. In my opinion, Jem has conquered her revival in the new century, and boy did she come strutting through with a vengeance!
As of this moment, though, it's all about Gwenny-Gwen! The aesthetic was taken into high consideration for this doll. If you take a minute to examine her you'll notice the dedication put forth to create a more modern resemblance from her ‘80s prototype doll. I mean, it's all there but with a slight twist! The second I removed the lid to her box I noticed her tan skin. My attention was then directed at her hair color, which blends flawlessly with her Hungarian skin tone! One thing I must confess is my discontent with the color spots in her hair. I just wish that we were given the option to somehow apply the colorful spots (or streaks) ourselves. Yet and still, that doesn't take anything away from the golden blond color that Integrity created! She's definitely an Orange County girl through and through! Integrity made sure to stay true to what little details they had for her makeup, especially with the art designs on both sides of her face: blue and yellow zigzag shapes on her left cheek, and several small black and white squares alongside the right side of her eye. The full appearance of her face, again, matches perfectly with her original prototype creation, her cool blue eyebrows included! Graphix is a professional illustrator; a colorist, and excels at drawing/designing, so it would come as a huge surprise if she didn't have the raw talent to create wonders with her makeup! The evidence of her artistic capabilities shows, starting with a wash of yellow eyeshadow, in “Preppy Professional”, all over her eyelids and on both brow bones. She remained somewhat consistent with the colors, slightly switching gears to her burnt sienna eyeshadow, in “Loco-Motion”, and creating a thin, sharp wing in the creases of her eyelids, then lining her lids with black “Rag Doll” eyeliner, and brightening the bottom lash lines with her blue “Orinoco Flow” eye pencil! There are many characters who I've inducted into my personal Hall of Fame for winged-out eyeliner (Jem, Kimber, Régine, Clash, Rapture, Pizzazz, Stormer and Jetta) and Graphix is top queen! Minx has been appointed runner-up lol! Gwen loves to plant a smooch on her autograph pictures after signing them, and when she does, her lips are usually painted with red “Kiss Me Deadly” lipstick. And her fingernails are often finished with red hot “Pyromania” nail polish! Ok! Now, where must I start regarding her outfit?! The Design Team definitely went with a more suitable approach compared to her ‘88 doll, and I greatly appreciate it! Didn't she wear shiny vinyl-like material for that photoshoot?...LOL! I have always had a feeling that there's a deeper backstory regarding the idea and style for her outfit, but I wouldn't know for sure. Anyway, it's elaborate, yet peculiar...busy...loud...and I LOVE IT! Gotta admit that the new material is delicate to the touch. It stretches and separates the design prints on the shirt and pants, both of which are dipped in a pool of multi-colored zigzags, triangles and long rectangles—I know, I know, it's a mind-scrambler! And you can't tell her that she's not blazing in her red, snake-skinned mini skirt with a side slit! Well, maybe Aja has something to say about it! I love her red hoop earrings and bracelets, too! With Graphix, it's really all about the color red, and that's why I get such a thrill when gazing at her in my cabinet. The Design Team never fails when it comes to the heels and boots for this particular collection. This is also true with Graphix's tall heel-boots! They are gorgeous and a tad easier to apply than Minx's, but as equally smooth and fitting as Bad Kimber's! Her fire engine, red-colored designer heel-boots are the latest news in Jem world as they set her apart from the pack and look highly unique! I also love her matching red portfolio with her name in black and white shapes on the front! Before viewing her product pictures, I wasn't sure what Integrity had planned for her main accessories. I just knew that a video distorter was out of the question lol. However, I have always envision at least one can of spray paint, and here we have three different colors: green, pink and orange! Graphix doesn't mind providing samples of her artwork and she's brought along a few to share. And that pretty much sums up the Integrity Toys W Club Exclusive on Ms. Snyder. The shock and reality of this doll is all too real. What a joy and relief to finally have her!
Graphix now exists! This talented artist stands under a spotlight that burns bright. She's business savvy, self-sufficient, a bit of a nonconformist, totally underrated and overdue! Gwendolyn “Graphix” Snyder is a monarch, dammit! 👸
If you haven't read Chapter One and you are the kind of person who likes things to be in order, I would recommend you read that first. Sunshine doll and I thought it would be sweet to do a little story. This chapter mentions our flickr friend sincerely sarah. So, here it is: Chapter two!
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“So where are you heading?” asked Sunshine in a sweet, confident voice.
“Well, its kind of not really been decided yet to tell you the truth. I’m just sort of trying to.. you know.. find myself.”
Sunshine quickly turned her head from side to side and looked around the diner. Then she made eye contact with Graham.
“You’re right there!” she said, pointing directly at him (which for some reason she had always been told was rude)
Graham looked back at her with a sarcastic yet humorous smirk that immediately let Sunshine know that he fancied her sense of humor. She wasn’t like the other girls he was usually surrounded by. There was something different about the way she behaved that let Graham know that he was in for quite an adventure.
Once the two new friends were finished dining, they paid the tab and walked out the door. Sunshine looked around the parking lot, trying to figure out which car belonged to her new pal.
“Oh wow, does that bumper sticker say ‘Palin 2012’” asked Sunshine. “Please tell me that’s your car! I call shotgun!”
Sure enough it was. The two were in the car and back on the road in no time. The road was wide and seemingly endless, like something you would see in a music video or a postcard from Arizona. It was already starting to get dark. Graham started to scan the radio for something good to listen to, and more importantly, something to keep him awake.
“We should probably pull over for the night, you look kind of worn out” Suggested Sunshine. “I have an extra sleeping bag with me!”
After a while, they pulled into a rest area that was overlooking a lake. It was surprisingly pleasant for a rest area in the middle of nowhere, and the weather was just right for a campout. There was a family of campers sitting around a glowing campfire, singing songs and roasting marshmallows. Graham attempted to lock his car doors but accidentally hit the panic button by mistake. The family quickly turned around to see what the commotion was about. Sunshine was of course laughing hysterically as she watched Graham try to figure out how to make his car stop making dreadful noises.
After some time, Graham and Sunshine were able to silence the car alarm. The family had resumed their song and marshmallow roasting, and a girl stood up from the campfire and introduced herself to the two travelers.
”Hey there my name’s Sarah. Are you two from around here?”
They both shook their heads no.
“Out of towners? Well sweet!” replied Sarah in an enthusiastic tone. “That’s pretty cool if you ask me! The one thing you should know is that the sunrise here is INCREDIBLE! We usually ring that there cowbell when the suns about to come up, so when you hear it ding-a-lingin’, be sure to hop out of bed because the sunrise is comin!”
The excitement and sound of Sarah’s voice carried throughout the camp site.
“Wow that sounds amazing!” said Sunshine, looking at Graham to see what his response would be.
Nothing but a yawn came out of Graham’s mouth however.
“Oh, um, yes. Yea! Sunrise.. sunset.. yea.” muttered Graham. It was obvious that he was not a night owl, at least not after he had been driving all day. “I’m sorry It really does seem cool. But I’m just too tired to think about anything but sleep at the moment.”
“It’s okay, you have a while before the sun comes up! Why don’t you just put your sleeping bag over by the fire and I’ll fix you some hot coca before you go to bed!” said Sarah.
After the best cup of Swiss Miss either Sunshine or Graham had ever tasted, the two went and got in their sleeping beds. It was late at night and Graham only had one thing on his mind: sleep. However, Sunshine was not quite as sleepy, and wanted to talk.
“Look at the stars! It’s like there always there but you can only see them when you’re at a place like this.” Said Sunshine. “Sometimes, I look at the stars and wish I could see them from every different part of the world. You know they’ve gotta look amazing from France, or Australia, or so many other places.”
“I’ve never thought about it like that” said Graham in between yawns. “But if you think about it, they probably look the same from there as they do here. You just have to know what you’re looking for.”
Sunshine was pretty sure what Graham had just said made little to no sense. However she smiled and nodded anyways. She thought it was probably time for sleep and she was starting to feel a little drowsy herself. Plus she knew she had a big day ahead of her. It wasn’t going to be all fun and games. From now on, she was a part of a team, whose main goal was self-exploration.
The next morning both Sunshine and Graham were awakened by none other than the cowbell they had heard about the night before. Sarah could be heard shouting “Sunrise people!” which was what they had all been waiting for. Sunshine and Graham crawled out of their sleeping bags and headed up to a hill overlooking the lake. They sat down Indian style in the dew covered grass and waited patiently for the sun to rise. It took a little while but once the sun started to come up, they knew what all the fuss was about. It was the most breathtaking thing either of them had ever experienced. A sunrise with yellows, oranges, reds, pinks, blues, purples, and every color in between was before their eyes. The rays of sunshine peeked through the pine trees on the lake. The golden glow of the sun fell on the faces of everyone who stared in awe at this incredible sight. It was truly breathtaking.
Once the sun was in the sky, the ten or so spectators including Sunshine and Graham began to clap, as if they had just watched a live performance.
“That was so cool!” exclaimed Sunshine with an excited fervor in her voice. “I feel all, inspired now!”
“I knew you two would like it. I just knew it!” said Sarah, proud of her ability to read people like a book. “You just know that when you’re lookin up at that sun, that there’s someone, or something lookin back down at you. Looking after you, making sure you make the right decision.” Sarah paused for a second. “Whoa! That was deep! I need to write that down or something!”
The two travelers said their goodbyes to their camp site friends and packed up their belongings once more. It was inspiring to see such a breathtaking site and it goes without saying that it brightened their day for sure. Sometimes the most beautiful things in life are right in front of us, we simply have to make an effort to get up and look for them first. This journey has only just begun, but already things are starting to make more sense to Sunshine and Graham.
"What the fuck?!"
I charge into the office and exchange dark looks with Skeevers.
"Who the fuck are-"
I don't let him finish.
I point my gun and fire instantly, but my poor concentration and nervousness causes me to miss.
This gives him time to counter me, and I cannot let this happen.
As he reaches for a knife on his desk, I charge at the table and volt over it.
He falls back, knife in hand, and swings at me.
I am about to fire a second shot, but he tackles me and pushes me up against a cabinet.
I've dropped my gun also.
He sends some punches into my face, causing my hood to fall.
"You're gonna be sorry you crossed me, you bastard!"
He raises his knife above his head, and just as he is about to swing at me, I send a beam of light from my eyes straight at him.
This takes him by surprise, for I imagine it is not every day he sees this type of thing.
My attack has not hurt him.
He scrambles across the floor as he tries to retrieve his knife.
I hear gunshots echoing around outside, over the wail of sirens.
The police are here.
I kick his spine as he crawls along the floor and grab my gun off the table.
He grabs a bottle from behind his chair and lazily swings it at me.
I slam the butt of my gun into his head and he flops onto his knees.
Now I don't give him any more time to retaliate.
As he tries to lift himself up off his knees, I point my gun between his eyes.
"Fuck..."
But before I can pull the trigger and end Skeevers' miserable existence, I hear another click of a gun behind me.
"STAY WHERE YOU ARE! BOTH OF YOU!"
The police.
"You in the hoodie, look forward and lower your weapon!"
I do as he commands, and lower my weapon.
He approaches me slowly, and Skeevers starts to babble.
"You gotta help me! This guy 'aint-"
"You're gonna shut the hell up, Skeevers. And stay down there, if you know what's good for you!"
He is right behind me now.
"Officer, I-"
But before I can finish, a sharp pain spreads around the back of my head, and I fall to the ground unconscious.
I gotta admit that I really enjoy meetin' people and sharin' good stories with them.
Good story tellers always appreciate each others company.
I think I was born to be a sailor.
Because I love the water and sailor's tell the best stories.
Long hours of tediousness and boredom at sea punctuated by short periods of indescribable terror and panic create the perfect environment for telling stories.
Not only that... but in all of that monotony sailors themselves since time began have sat around in circles and passed the 'story torch.'
I do it on the street all the time.
It always goes like this...
I meet someone and they tell an interesting story that I appreciate hearing.
Doesn't matter if the story is good most of the time...
a good story teller is an artist that can render any tale exciting and pull you right into it.
The thing is... and this is always true...
someone who tells a good story appreciates hearing one back.
It's almost an unwritten rule and many a time I've listened to a guy finish tellin' a story and then he looks at me like 'alright... what do you got?'
I've dug hearing great stories since I was a kid and my grandfather told me all kinds of stories about World War Two in the Pacific.
I couldn't get enough of those stories and everytime I saw him it was the first thing I asked him...
'tell me another story grampa.'
I used to sit there and visualize the stories he told.
I'd actually 'see' what he was talking about in my mind and in my memories I can still 'see' his stories today.
I remember the way the sun glinted off the wings of the Japanese Zero Fighter that turned into his position and started firing it's machine guns at him and his buddies...
the muzzle flashes of the guns in the wings of that plane and the seconds later sound of spent brass bullet cartridges hitting the ground with a 'tinging' noise.
I could 'smell' the sweat of fear as he jumped into a foxhole and said a few words to God as that plane flew overhead.
Shit like that makes a good story and as Irish as my grandfather was the stories always improved with a little bit of whiskey so as I grew older and encouraged him to drink more the same stories just kept getting better and better.
They got even better when he encouraged me to take a few sips of the whiskey.
'How did you FEEL when that plane pointed right at you and started shooting' I asked him once.
Man I really miss that man and his stories.
I wish I'd have recorded them all.
He gave me that and those were the best memories of my childhood.
Stories have gotten me into trouble and stories have gotten me out of it.
I'd just gotten kicked out of Japan for stabbin' a guy with a broken beer bottle.
Don't worry...
I'm not a violent thug...
the dude broke into my home wearing a mask and I woke up none too sober after a great night at The Pig and The Whistle bar in Osaka.
It was kinda weird because I woke up punching some stranger in the face right over my futon.
He was wearing what looked like a white pillow case with eye holes cut into it and I'd broken his nose by the time I 'really' woke up so my first recollection of the whole thing was looking at my right fist about to hit the guy's face again and all kindsa blood on his mask.
I was confused as shit.
'What was I doing... and who's face was I pummeling' I wondered as I took another punch.
'Why am I doing this' I asked myself.
I knew I must've had a really good reason though.
I was really hoping it wasn't my roommate playing some kind of a joke.
Which was confirmed when he came around screaming behind me.
He was kinda confused too.
In that split second where I stopped trying to kill the guy and ask my roommate what the fuck was going on the guy took expert advantage of that distraction and proceeded to try to kill me.
I had no idea what the hell was going on but pretty simply put the guy was trying to kill me so I figured that if I could avoid that that maybe I could figure it all out later.
I didn't know what to do.
I didn't really wanna kill the guy...
I was just tryin' to get some sleep after all of those Asahi's and now look what I gotta deal with.
Well...
for some reason I just wanted to throw the guy outta my house.
Seemed smart at the time.
Well thought out.
A good plan even.
The thought of holding him 'til the police came never even entered my mind.
Maybe because we didn't have a phone and I wouldn't know how to call the cops in Japan anyway.
I don't even remember how I got the empty Asahi bottle in my hand or how it got broken like that.
I mighta taken it away from him.
My roommate was no help at all...
he was screamin' like a little girl who just saw a nasty spider and the shock of the whole thing just rendered him incapacitated as all get out.
I can understand his gettin' freaked out.
As crazy as it is wakin' up findin' yourself tryin' to kill a guy it's prolly crazier to wake up watchin' your roommate tryin' to kill some masked guy in your house.
Busy as I was tryin' to kill the guy I didn't have the luxury of freakin' out.
Somehow with the jagged beer bottle in my right hand and the dude with a broken nose in a headlock in my left arm I got to the front door... maybe he'd left it open when he broke in because I don't know how I could even have opened it with my hands full of hell like that.
And I know my roommate didn't open it.
By this time he'd gone fetal on the floor.
Sometimes I wonder about my reactions that night.
I didn't think about callin' the police until it was all over.
Instinct told me that life would be a lot better if the guy who was tryin' to kill me wasn't in my house anymore.
It all happened so fast.
When I threw him out the door somehow I pulled the guys mask off.
I felt like I hadda see his face.
When I did that he turned back on me in this rage that I'd never seen in a person before.
He was goin' for me hard and I just kind of without much thinking stabbed him in the stomach with the jagged beer bottle.
I had never stabbed anyone before and right after I did it I was tellin' myself 'dude... you just stabbed a guy.'
Sort of a weird thing to think.
I guess I thought maybe he'd just die then.
I don't know... I never killed a guy with a broken beer bottle to the gut before.
The whole thing was a new experience.
I mean... I stuck him pretty good.
Shards of glass stuck in his stomach and some other shards fell onto the tile floor.
He got this really surprised look on his face for a second...
like 'why the fuck did you just stab me asshole?'
There wasn't time to say 'because I woke up with you tryin' to kill me dickhead.'
Besides... I didn't know how to say that in japanese.
Instead he recovered from his initial shock and came at me again.
I couldn't believe this guy.
And my freakin' out room mate is freakin' out even more 'cause now I just stabbed the guy.
It wasn't like I was left with a whole lotta choices man.
The whole situation was a lot to deal with and I was starting to get pissed off.
I was woken up enough by that time that I finally decided to kill the guy with my bare hands.
I'd had enough of this shit you know?
Didja ever just try to get some sleep and all of the sudden you gotta kill a guy?
A guy who seems hell bent on killin' you?
I wasn't angry or mad or filled with hatred... I just wanted some peace in my life and this guy's completely going apeshit on me and we seem to have differing agendas on how the evening should end.
And I still don't know what the whole thing's all about.
We fought there in the hallway in front of the front door...
It was comedic really in a way when I think back on it...
there was so much blood on the floor and I'm barefoot in my underwear tryin' to kill the guy but I can't keep from slipping in the blood.
Couldn't stay on my feet for all the money in the world.
Neither could he.
We ended up wrestling on the floor.
Blood on porcelain tile is really slippery.
I think losin' as much blood as he did just took the fight out of him.
The last few throws from either of us were weak and exasperating.
I don't know what told me to let him go but I did.
Something just told me it was all over.
He stumbled down the hallway and I went back inside.
The hallway was a bloody mess.
It was blood all over the floor... bloody smeared handprints on the wall...
I sat down on my futon and tried to figure out if any of the blood that covered me was mine.
Did a little examination of all my extremities and such.
Nothin'.
A couple of cuts on my feet maybe from walking on the broken glass.
Now is where I started to get angry.
I didn't ask for any of that.
I tried asking my room mate what the fuck that was all about but all he could do was talk gibberish.
He couldn't even get the words out.
I don't know who called the cops and they seemed to show up pretty quickly.
Lots of them.
Now I hadda deal with that shit too.
I couldn't even get dressed and go wash the blood off.
They wouldn't let me.
Because they were too busy taking pictures of me and the blood I was wearing.
The first thing the cops asked when they got there and saw the bloody mess in the hallway was 'where is the body.'
Come on man.
Some dude just broke into my house for reasons unknown in a mask and tried to kill me and freaked the shit out of my roommate.
And now I gotta be interrogated?
I really just wanted to take a shower and go back to sleep.
I knew enough japanese to score with the ladies but I had no idea how to talk to these guys.
It was crazy mojo all the way around...
and I told them what happened but they kept treating me like the criminal here.
Which it turned out they presumed me to be.
Because I stabbed the guy OUTSIDE of my house.
And I told them that.
Awwwwww fuck.
It's funny how things go that way.
It all made perfect sense at the time.
I didn't think... 'don't stab the guy because he's outside of your house and it's a whole different ballgame if you kill him there versus killin' him in your bedroom according to the law.'
But it was.
That's where I learned it's always better to call your lawyer before you call the police.
Lawyers are better at making up stories in the middle of the night than you or I will ever be.
Not that I thought I needed a story...
it seemed pretty obvious what had happened.
But the 'lack of a body' seemed to get everybody upset.
After lots and lots of interrogation I was simply advised by the police the next morning that everything would be better if I just left Japan right away.
Like now.
Before I was charged with something like murder.
If they found that guy's body.
So I quickly packed up my backpack and decided to take their advice.
I cleaned up... shared a coffee with the roomie who could talk now and told him I'd keep in touch.
The best way out I'd figured was the Port of Osaka.
There's all kinds of ships comin' in and out and I knew I could hitch a ride with one.
Sailors don't ask too many questions.
Australia was soundin' good and I'd told my room mate that before I left.
'I'll send you a postcard' I told him.
I couldn't find a ship headed to Australia that day... but there was one heading to Shanghai and that was like half way according to my map.
I figured I'd hafta try and jump another ship right there in Shanghai.
I'd think about all that when I got there.
When I approached the ship I asked one of the crew memebers if I might be able to trouble them for a ride to Shanghai.
'Whaddaya got' of of the sailors said... beginning the negotiations over how much the fare was gonna cost me.
'I'm a great story teller' I said.