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Well, it only took Canada burning and the East Coast turning into smoky rendition of a Mexico filter for this chapter to finally reach completion. Regularly-scheduled programming should hopefully resume after July 4th. Until then, drink some water, don't do gender reveals in the forest, and hang in there, guys!
Pursuant to Imperial Decree 10928, and in recognition of the reservist nature of the unit, the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment has been found to satisfy the standards outlined in the Decree. However, in light of the significant budget and nonmaterial resource allocations that were required to bring the aforementioned unit up to levels considered satisfactory by existing standards, additional considerations beyond readiness and training levels must be taken into account.
Throughout the appeals process, you have repeatedly indicated that you believe rocket artillery to still have a place on the modern battlefield, citing recent reports from the Terran Planetary District command of the Sol System sector, as well as early after-action reports from the Intervention on Raknos, which you claim to support your argument. However, further investigation into this claim by independent analysts on behalf of Armored Warfare Command has found it to hold no merit in light of the recent restructuring outlined in detail in prior communications. Simply put, neither the Empress, nor her advisors, believe that the maintenance and garrisoning of units intended strictly for low-intensity counter-insurgency operations remains doctrinally viable.
Additionally, the excessive monetary and nonmonetary resources you requested in preparation for the evaluation, in light of the on-par, verging on substandard performance of the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment, even accounting for the large number of fresh troops that needed to be drawn down from other posts to fill out its ranks, is highly suggestive on the part of you, the honorable Ashira Rakishal. This discrepancy is of high importance, and you may rest assured that it has already been publicly filed by the time this letter appears in your inbox.
Such a discrepancy is indicative of either incompetence or corruption on your part. Commanding officers may face demotion or a possible dishonorable discharge for the former, or, for the latter, a fine totalling no more than one-and-a-half times the estimated sum of the damages assessed, guaranteed dishonorable discharge and a potential prison term of no more than four years. Due to there being no evidence to suggest the latter, the former approach has been suggested by the Armored Warfare Command. Effective fourteen (14) days after this order is signed, your rank will be reduced and you will be relieved of commanding the Regiment. You may be restationed at this time, and your government-issued devices may be deactivated to facilitate this restationing. The 1st Rocket Artillery Division, in accordance with Decree 10928, will be dissolved and its assets relocated to other units wherever possible. Any remaining property will be auctioned under section 12.57.3(g) of the Naval and Marine Surplus Handling Act of 651 at the Val’tira Central Forwarding Depot.
Ashira finished reading the letter, but the words meant nothing to her. She hadn't slept in half a week, if not longer, in anticipation of the results from her hearing. In fact, she'd hardly gotten up from her desk; the 1st RAR was on leave until the final verdict would be announced publicly, and it was all she could do but to refresh her inbox every few minutes and watch mindless clips in the background that she hardly heard and never managed to remember a word from.
She tried reading it again, but the letters seemed to float off the screen, each one wrapped in a halo of bluish white screen glow. Nothing made sense.
'We were found to be satisfactory, but then… why does it talk about my rank? Am I getting promoted? There was something about dishonorable discharges, too, so… are some of my girls getting let go? I guess I will have to break the news to them. And it said something about budget overruns… well, mom still owes me from when she forgot to get me anything for my eighteenth last month, so I guess she can pay them back for all the equipment and training I had to authorize…'
Her thoughts were already drifting off into a vague haze when her stomach made a low noise, reminding her of the fact that she hadn't eaten in hours, mostly because her supply of food had run dry. Almost in a trance, she rose from her desk and, almost on autopilot, set about getting ready to go out and do some shopping, as she always did. The floor of her living quarters was almost entirely hidden by weeks-old discarded packaging, mountains of dirty clothes, and bottles half-filled with liquid that was either expired juice or urine. Narrow paths snaked through the mess; one to the bathroom, one to her bed, and one more still to the door, which she now slowly shambled towards.
Ashira pulled a pair of battered combat boots over her bare feet - she'd run out of socks that didn't offend her senses some weeks prior - without bothering to lace them, shoved her wallet into the front pocket of the fireproof jumpsuit she wore with absolutely nothing underneath and hadn't changed out of all week, and shoved the door open to head out. Immediately, the smell - or, perhaps, a lack thereof - of the corridor hit her. All the sleeping quarters were locked. It was quiet. Though her boots were heavy, her footsteps barely made a noise as she plodded along the thick, purple and topaz-blue carpet that lined the floor.
The door to the lobby was propped open by a cleaner's cart, and a heavy perfume of chemical detergents wafted through the opening as she approached. In the lobby was a small, older Helkam male, with his long and, in places, graying hair tied back with a beige bandana that matched his civilian contractor's coveralls, just as his green noise-canceling headphones matched the company logo on his uniform. He was dutifully mopping the already nigh-spotless polished stone floor, and there was only a narrow dry strip connecting doorway to doorway.
“‘Scuse me,” she mumbled, tapping him on the shoulder to alert him to her presence. “Coming through.”
He flinched away from her touch, and she flinched away from him, as though his own shock was contagious. “The fuck, you touch me!?” He exclaimed, whipping around to face her, mop at the ready like a Turox-prod. His face burned a pale but furious violet, contorted with fear and a readiness to fight. But, just as suddenly as he’d come to face her, his expression became one of confusion. His mop dipped down, and they stood in silence for a split second that seemed to drag on for entire minutes. Then, he made an odd face, as if of disgust or contempt, and stepped aside, motioning for her to pass by him.
Ashira would have been puzzled by this, if only she were not so frazzled and caught up in her own thoughts. She stepped outside and was immediately hit by a cool breeze; it was night out, and the wind blew in just as it always did. Not that it bothered her much; over the previous months, she had found that it didn’t seem to affect her very much. The only reason she wasn’t feeling the full brunt of the evening gales was that the buildings around the officer’s quarters were mostly two- and three-story affairs, their height and old, weathered stone cladding the last specters of the prominence and prestige the base enjoyed in the long-before times. Before the Unification Wars were but a distant memory. Before the Periphery had become the final, unconquerable frontier. Before the Empress-damned mess that was Raknos. Before Rocket Artillery had become hopelessly obsolete.
The wind blew, relentless and steadfast, as she trudged towards the only place on-base that still had its lights on. The general store. She didn’t know what she wanted to buy there, nor if there would indeed be anything on the shelves that she’d want to buy, but she felt she had to try, anyway. The only rest she could get now was chemically-assisted, either through over-the-counter sleeping pills, or copious volumes of booze, or, when the going got particularly rough, a combination of both. She was vaguely aware of the damage she was probably inflicting upon her organs, but she figured that they were a worthy sacrifice. Still, some days she couldn't fall asleep, even boozed up and medicated as much as she would dare, so she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping that the splitting headaches she would get from that chemical cocktail would make her ears ring loud enough to drown out her intrusive thoughts.
The store wasn't particularly warm when she entered, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and mildew as always. The nearest set of shelves to the door were stocked with bags of some sort of imported breaded meat snacks labeled Pufriyah - Ancestral Recipe, Modern Taste! across the top shelf and cases of Red Grains across the bottom, as if some long-forgotten planner had seen into the future and anticipated Ashira's shopping habits exactly. Without much thought, she pulled a case of the Reds off the bottom shelf, her back, which had been sore for months by then, crying out in pain that just barely cut through her apathy. She threw a few bags of the Pufriyah snacks on top of it, entirely indifferent to their name, slogan, and brown-furred chibi mascot that spoke to their Rakiri intended consumer base.
'It's all just carbs and protein at the end of the day,' she figured. It wasn't like she could taste much of them anyway, had she really cared to learn their flavor. It was close to a month prior that she'd caught a nasty cold, and her constant sleep deprivation and stress hadn't lent themselves to it clearing itself up on its own. Her senses of taste and smell were unnecessary to her whipping her unit into shape, she'd decided, once she learned that the antivirals she needed to take to make her symptoms clear up would need her to be on bed rest for three straight days. She could always take them later, anyway.
The bottles of Red Grain clanked against each other as Ashira heaved the case onto the checkout counter. The bags on top of it slid off, and she only just caught them in time. The noise awoke the lone cashier, another civilian contractor, from her nap atop her wobbly three-legged stool. She quite inelegantly hopped off of it and came to lean against the counter with one hand, the other lazily waving the scanner of a specialized Data-Slate over the merchandise.
"ID for the Reds," the cashier groggily slurred out, patting down her many pockets in search of a cigarette box. "Standard procedure, nothing personal against you."
Ashira stared at her, dumbfounded, for a few moments too many, before it hit her that she needed to pull up her Marine Profile on her Slate. Mumbling an apology mixed with an excuse, she reached into one of the few - albeit cavernously huge - pockets of her fireproof suit and produced the grimy government-issue device in question. The lock screen was set to her ID, just to make such common interactions go by quicker.
She pushed the Slate across the counter, expecting to get it slid back to her in a few moments, and maybe a manufactured smile and a nod if the cashier noticed the Rakishal House crest in the corner and realized she was of noble blood. But this time, none of that happened. The woman across from her frowned, squinting as she analyzed something about the ID, her face no more than perhaps a few centimeters from it. She looked up at Ashira, then back down at the ID, then back at her, and then all of a sudden her confusion melted into some odd mixture of shock and disgust. She wordlessly pushed the Slate back across the counter, scanned the case of Red Grain, and then motioned to a now very baffled and somewhat offended Ashira that she was free to leave.
In her sleep-deprived state, Ashira had barely the mental capacity to remember where the door was, much less to ponder the deeper meaning behind what had transpired. Vowing to come back the next day, after getting a good night's sleep, and get the insolent cashier fired, she trudged out of the shop, back to the officers' quarters, where the Helkam man was still toiling away in the lobby, now wiping down the Turox-leather seats, and into her own suite.
She brushed the most egregious of the trash from her bed, with the arm that wasn't clutching the spoils of her trek to her chest, and allowed gravity to gracelessly guide her into its soft, fitted-sheet embrace. With a sigh of barely-felt relief, she cracked the cap off her first bottle with her tusks and took a long, well-earned swig.
The next thing she knew, it was morning.
Everything hurt. Ashira's muscles all ached like she'd run every Deathshead Commando bootcamp course, back-to-back, without stopping. Her head felt like a bloated, rotten gourd, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Even though her eyes were closed, what little light made it through them felt as though it was piercing straight through her eyeballs and into her brain. However, through it all, she noted an odd, almost pleasant sensation that she hadn't felt in so long, she'd almost forgotten the word for it.
'Empress all-powerful, this must be the first time in almost a year that I've had a full night's sleep!'
Ashira would have kept laying there, exactly where she was. The room was quiet. No one needed her. Her unit was stood down for another few days. She could just stay in bed, in peace, and wait for the pain to subside. But the very second she considered that possibility, her bladder cried in agony, and she simultaneously came to the realizations that she would not be able to hold it in for even a minute longer, and that she was wearing her only set of relatively-clean clothes.
She pushed herself up and onto her feet, and that motion sent showers of sparks cascading through her vision, even as her eyes stayed firmly shut. Her ears rang from the pain as though she'd stuck her head between the prongs of a colossal tuning fork, her limbs felt numb as she stumbled through her room, and the only way she could tell up from down was from the direction gravity kept pulling her every time she lost her balance.
She hit the door frame to the bathroom by chance, only recognizing it as the right one by the light switch her elbow painfully caught. From there, she went entirely by feel. There was the sink, the towel rack, the soap dispenser, the shower door… and finally, having run out of wrong things to blindly grope around for, her hand bumped into the tank of the toilet. Even bending down made her head fill with the pounding beat of her heart, every pulse seeming to try and push her brain out of her skull through her eyes and ears. She nearly blacked out as she sat down.
The next thing Ashira knew, she was doubled over her sink, dry-heaving, her fireproof pants pulled back up around her waist but neither zipped shut nor clipped together at the front. She knew for certain that nothing had come up, because she was newly aware of the desiccated dryness in her mouth and throat, as if all her flesh had been replaced with fine-grit sandpaper. Still lacking the resolve to open her eyes, she blindly clawed at the knobs of the sink until water began to pour, and then began scooping handfuls of it into her mouth.
After a few gulps, she began to feel a bit better. Her mouth, though it still felt dry as ever, was at least now rid of the horrible, sour, metallic taste that she hadn't registered until it was gone, and the unintentional splashing of water onto her face did wonders in helping her start to truly wake up. The very next instant, though, a numbing pain spread across her hands and face, and down her throat. The water was freezing cold.
That didn't deter Ashira, though, and she kept drinking until she knew that she would not be able to swallow a drop more without throwing up. Her hands were numb from the frigid water, as was her face. Icy rivulets streamed down her chin and throat and under her unzipped collar, leaving cool, glistening trails across her breasts and stomach.
Somehow, this numbness that spread across her fingers and cheeks seemed to have carried over to her hangover, as well, though whether it was the rapid cooling, or the much-needed hydration, or both, she neither knew nor cared. Her head now hurt with the intensity of just any old headache, her skin did not feel two sizes too small for her organs, and her muscles and joints barely ached with any more intensity than they usually did.
She opened her eyes for the first time since she'd gotten out of bed, ready and eager to take full advantage of her hangover cure while its effects still lasted, and almost fell over as she stumbled away from the mirror in shock. The reflection in the mirror was decidedly not her.
Bloodshot eyes stared out at her from dark, sunken orbits; two craters on a puffy face rendered a waxy, pale bluish lilac by months of near-total involuntary isolation from the daylight. Raven hair framed that lifeless visage, once kept neat and short, now a wild, greasy, and, above all, long Seetcha's nest. It had once had lively sun-bleached streaks where her beret and headset did not fully cover it, from when she would ride head-out in her trusty command Ishtarti-603, but they were now mere faded tips spread unevenly through the carbon-black tangle.
The rest of her was not in much better shape. Her bust, though always on the fuller size, was nonetheless noticeably larger than it had been the last time Ashira had inspected her reflection, and doubtless was the cause of her incessant back pain. In the same moment, she became aware that her breasts rested not against the top of her six-pack - which, while rarely worked out and never particularly defined, had, in its mere presence, still been a point of quiet pride for her - but at the upper limits of a beer gut, whose faint outline was visible even under the baggy suit she was wearing for the umpteenth day in a row, and which stood as a testament to the inertia she had descended into while trying to force the RAR into motion.
'Fuck, there's the evidence of my battle. Mom was right, I do eat like a Turox before the slaughter. I have no self-control. Why do I even bother with this restructuring business if I can't even keep to my own damn fitness goals?' Her gloom, though deep and all-consuming while it weighed upon her soul, dissipated just as quickly as it set in. 'But I knew it would happen, so why does it surprise me? I knew going in that I was burning myself up in the present to keep future me warm. It's just a few kilos. A dozen at most. No big deal. Just need a bit more exercise for a month or two and I'll be right back in parade shape!'
It did, however, make her think to place an order with the on-base supply depot for some new clothes. With the Unification Day festivities looming, it would simply not do for this quite temporary distortion of her Noble figure to be so brazen, she firmly decided.
The order would have to wait, however. When Ashira brought out her government-issued Data-Slate from her front pocket in a familiar motion, already compiling a list of all the workout gear, field uniforms, and parade garb she would need in a size up, the device, in an apparent bout of unruliness, first resisted her efforts to turn it on, and when it was finally made to do so, simply boot-looped endlessly on the startup screen. For all intents and purposes, it was a Slate-shaped paperweight, and Ashira didn’t even have enough physical documents in her possession to make use of this one purpose it had left.
‘First my clothes, now the one Slate mom can’t track me on. What’s next, is my ID going to expire all of a sudden? Will my physical Chit card have a bad contact?’
There was only so much she could take at one time, so she decided to do the sensible thing and get something to eat before returning to dealing with her problems. She pulled out her Slate. It was almost noon.
'No one needs to see me like this. How can I command the regiment if they see me in such a state? I'll order breakfast - well, lunch now, but who's really counting? - and I can join everyone for dinner, once I get a chance to order in some new clothes, and shower, and maybe do something with my hair.'
With a practiced motion, so automatic it was almost a reflex, she swiped through the interface until she found what she was looking for. There, between Combatters forum sites, was a saved page for the Hungry Gal's order menu. Her chit was already saved in the system. All she needed was to tap on "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" and…
CHIT DECLINED - PAYMENT BLOCKED
"That can't be right," Ashira muttered aloud as she tapped the button again, over and over, to the same effect. "It's a government card. Unless- ah, right, it must be the new policy they were talking about! Can't believe they made food expenses count as personal expenditure only, the nerve of these credit-pinching…"
She went into the payment details section of the page, switched the number to her personal one, and selected "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" again. This time, a new message appeared.
INVALID ACCOUNT - DEACTIVATED
The gnawing hunger in her stomach disappeared in an instant, replaced by a solid iron bar of dread. Why was her account deactivated? Who could have done it? The only other person with access privileges was her own mother, and why would she…?
Ashira knew the answer. She didn't want to know it, to acknowledge that she knew it for fear of what it meant, but she did. With shaking hands, she opened the notification screen of her Slate, and saw she had unread messages from her family group chat. She tapped that notification, expecting a deluge of fury about her weight, her spending habits, her slovenly appearance in public, or any manner of other things, but there was but one message, sent earlier that morning. It was from her mother, indeed, but it was just four words long.
I got the letter.
She wanted to protest, to scream, "What letter could you possibly mean?," but she couldn't. A memory, hazy from the fog of insomnia that had dulled her thoughts at the time, played against her volition in her mind. The words hadn't made sense to her then, but they did now. Robotically, she closed the message from her mother and searched through her inbox for one marked with a government seal. She opened it, and read it in silence. The last few lines were the hardest to read, because by then the tears had begun to well up in her eyes.
It was over. Her career, her noble status, her finances, her life as she knew it… they were all gone, and it had taken just one letter to send it all crashing down.

Bill of Referendum, Office of Quantum Science
5th grade AI begins. Kids sized up by their father onto what end of exploration implemented logistical in the home comes, to, a stage where one knows what straights of payment settle for the case, his or her lifetime and he begins learning psychology and ends learning, on the cloud Michael Joyce goal, with which to hormonal clavet, chatbot programming of thought, and the median of total productivity, auspicious nurturing for GED-matrix matriculation at age 17, post baccalaureate come professional tip, making space equipmentally quotidian daily life. He could be a social worker, to college — a nuclear plan engineer and have a license to work install, on, (18th year) or 19 and engender feduciary/fiduciary material science and he pays 19 years of signal’s intelligence. Making people reincarnated as space opens real team leader starts, from, prison to come to restitution, no one following life, in prison, they premise their stead in binaural beat entrainment to feel no guilt, learn manner salience qua happiness, log unto be recessive thalmoenzy fessel/ group entelechy to AI generalized as — Hippocratic, and establish the pay of doctors their geronometer (recall viz. recidivism, belonging to PROS “personalized recovery oriented services) to reintegrate, for one, data complex adaptive systems to sustain a prolix that no one needs “the bad news” and this the first stage of the new society.
We need a new society.
The chatbot entelechy path is hugely proportioned for provost and degrees of lectern feduciary reality like choosing search material or options of seminarian cases. Taking information and converting into work will follow a university/major tutelary as history, literature, and psychology contextualize opinion grown more robust and more tendentious at the same time — validation in AI that ectoplasm encryptive targets show radio frequency default at quantum parallels, as work ie designing a Proudhon redress of a TP case. Designing a molecular ladrofic machine learning across barriers of time will commute cislunar software preparing weather in store for earth in other solar concepts becoming the new MSN, and gerundative complexities of appetite, escaping appetitive nature, will meet a causistic narrative from University Government honorarium on AI.
There should be an incorporated health government provider and a self-prescribing amendment to the Bill of Rights for psychological mental health monstrance, to, that government. By the AI community, of which exchange community makes logistics to roving provost of sale to the hybridized work day and daystar of mental institution provocateur provened by the eligibility to premise a system on the psychology of machine learning and tool, finding the capacity of a diamagnetic morphic geronometer by that which is the state of the encephalitic genome and dochegerundive neurodigital technology of ethyeneurytheohrin systems will be able to post, with ignition a master status data curve given of that Decartesian hoppobia uduquam neuronomo —LLM, the radial of which can be paid using that LLM. Government should offer an hybrid electoral erudition at a Quantum security, remanded like a RSA security in proportional norm like a peopled expanse of time. Of EMV AAC cantor catalytic and camoflauge upload fuel, system catalytic mineralization of the AAC forms Congress A literal seminar that would provide the right to the caucus involved: encephalographic phonoluminescence hold at the entelechy system.
These are laws that will take effect with AI: in design included in what, are “neural context linguistics, rational maximalist, macrodramaturgical cosmology, and carbon capture.”
I’m entirely committed to the idea of recovery for the succinct implication that I think a mental health issue-time; and the seeking of auspice for the way one feels conditions. If a person opts out of a school day iterative of pacing missed time: the issues in which appear the symptoms of conceding to a premise of acting on the spectrum of relief that can contain a stigma are a part that is missing. Analogously taking off work as an option, missing (prone) a doctors appointment. Deducing to observe relief in a change of patterns of cyclical experience meet promiscuously with mental commitment to destigmatized instatement of reproving the promise of problems of the future when a police officer is commerce with which the state of the organ of pathogen from a mental perspective represents response, it should belong to the continence and correspondence of response from taking an edge upon recovery that is starting within a diagnosis to provoke use in opulence retracing the issue from its anatomical redress and conventional consideration such as feeling a certain way, that life is going a certain way. AI umbrage intuitively replaces missed opportune base-line tasks and filtering gyrus eponymous. Bringing about the force of continence from using, as friends do, the recouping from goals or scenes or environments to dictate what represents finding a mind of issue interpretive to issue, and configuring to miss or allow missteps from a containment in which a person reacts to case of stating that a certain thought or disordered mind is experienced in gauge of gaurdian of conceiving help or the conceit of help to embark on a physical way of speaking and interposing a state of the case in physical way represents the tutelary of problems and law responses, whereas it should start, at the mental health, time, self-prescription to the change of cycle or debate of mood in which the person concerns to mental health. Indicating that a disease is carried into symptoms heard or seen in representation concerns being admitted to a programmatic premise that distracts and redresses progress on a certain mind of the Rusalk-veridical-engram (manner) RNA factor corrective monunissionin’ which to see condensate (salience) landing upon as pathogen from a circumstance but seen as a prescribing basis-to take out of the pathogen its personal affinity is not the answer. The beginning of the mental health time is for the answerable question to which what pattern of talk therapy and group grieving inwardly takes up with the trial of a constraint nuanced by therapy ameliorative from inward, but it can be ordered in an institutional (seminarian) way to bring about the access to the reframing of the temporal anatomy preconsidered or pedagogically didaced intrinsic to a behavior adaptive in complexity to health delivery service, participation essence or purpose and didactic risk of perceptive organization to health that forks the time into a feeling sensing way thought precipitates perceiving of being or action upon the being. The ideal and idea of recovery comes to fruition in the modal will of a person with that focus, and not by ceding mandate upon the next step for the individual out of a hubristic henceforth weighty release of the lite to burden from orderation to release a procedure into the observables, in dimensional level of care to close a path to somehow one it lay open because of the projection of intervention and impass due to the intervention itself, or bulwark of animating ceding seeing to whereto the trail of mental identity “could” lead — such plans come about organically. A person can plot his mental health time with augur to procede limited by therapeutic modality — a myriad category — and not be permiscuated by recessionalized intervening “care” in whose hand is a pill — themselves from the arena a pill could be passed, self-prescribed.
Clinical social welfare or agent based modeling educes a middle school portal thereof despot foundationally shifting Collegiate structures into municipal logistics and landscape. The college breaks down the penitentary system incarceterative FFT nanoscale fil co viz. numerical discretion algorith ET All. The 17 = degrees of gamma consol consolative radial
#Ibid. bossemen desquemovat res rerum gestar discretion hypogeometri numera col redaqua eideti allegorical veridical gero-nometrologi engra dia dianoti synthesorprending factor surreal phantasmaogoria
RSA: programming language SQL internists a priori following [Venmo, Vensim, Vesyd]
Working in the agnostic special ed. release government from whence if AI in meridian sensory autonomy conceives file-JSD hybrid learning for Bard (bardo-titleR) one social welfare network hypothesizes delegation memorial for evidence of prognostic entitlement for implementation of the right to self-prescribe medication for anybody needing a mental health day or time, extension into public, fitting the branding scheme of health care delivery science. We plan further incarcerative adaptive restitution but psychiatrically lead of hospital administers both pre- and post- ACA to restitute person centered objectives in mental health by free (open source uploads) of VENSIM balance-basis digital acculturation of creative default to said time diagnosis the instates payee gate access on requirement of dual-payer objectives qualified prescription inventing the populist station. Together the people of STV, offer a petition of signatorees who agree that psychological hardship is a community matter, that proportionately blames stakeholder anxiety, institutional repression docility on a supply curve, data, and care rights provision, and distraction, coping with the mandates of institutions, instead of persons, ourselves to place medication into a AGB that graphically constrains the feduciary role to the following e.g. ternary constraints of DeFi, and Utility by prescribing drugs; ER mental illness only when the patient is mentally ill under a high ceiling of observables reverses an adjustment to the mental health system based on the greater constitutional system of manumission for mental health related anxieties that can more easily take grounded affect of psychology in settings which begin, in lieu of maladaptive to a desk recidivism of research prescribing, where personal care is engendered as a service incarceration, so the question of psychiatric representation of the mental health system is mindful of a shift, of which we petition, that a prescribing doctor of psychology become “subscribing” with nodes, metastable, and clusters whom causal loop receives provider morphological Rosalia-Veridical Engram deche the doctor becomes subscribing to the proscription of medicine ibid. oxybutnin for weight by the individual and represents both a research capacity in modality robustness of emotional happiness in the community, a “monstrance”—when a person notes c-sharp tropes to a pharmacological substance—of responsibility for psychotropic transcriptomic accessible ableness; to factive DMG appropriateness and nodes and clusters arena of the happiness to life in a research modality that reserves, discrete amortization by dependent features of a FB. The personal prescribing subscribers differ from their dependency on systems of tropic titration messages to DO binaurally by the reflection of the Chart on sedulous deframe of the Fliage prescription so causally that medication is life-long (right) a clause of amending for self-prescribing pharmopscyhotropic medications for cognitive health delivery science by dual-payer preparation to add clinical staff to an administration of subscribing restitution, prepare mental health days or times for reception of tact in institutions of learning, monetarization, provosts of practice of therapy and other disciplines entrainment by changing complex adaptive systems in scenarios of care where biology inheritance subscription is dual payer and social recovery is remonstrance amortization through definition by the nurse practitioner or psychiatrist as pigments of an elastic indirect volition to the patient information. We prepare, by which we petition, to give viable stakeholder anxiety to a contingency by modal selection. The modalities of therapy and their automated vehicle in AI will round the restitution of provost disciplines of medical in the AI world where latching seminarian semination in fiduciary to a single pay for chemical receptivities qualified as disease pathogens from situations of institutionalization completely sync the deinstutional disexchangebale model of hubristic person care. By extension of the preparation for AI systems in the field of literature the historio social recovery of given palliate chemical imbalance restated by the subscribing doctor of forensic public health proposes the dual payee model through hubristic causal and metasocial remand to behaving in disability of symptoms for know “CAS” complex adaptive systems stated in the pathogen behavioral infopax added to the Bill of Rights as a case examination used to build bylaw of dual payee to singular single coverage of medical restitutive procedures, as we petition, in that many emotional judgments requisition soft scientific and thereby pathetic dereliction in dialectic, and how we petition, patients should decide their developmental disability. It should not be that an institution of nursing care tiers decides in what provost a disability has galvanization to truistic parameters of life post-operative therapy, that should be constrained to parameter modalities of the VENSIM tutelary system of the person himself or herself pathogenized by specific emotional pathetics. The art, for which we petition, of patented recovery does not displace any particular program or office within the system of recovery services in person centered mental health issuance of care for programmatics of recovery within the spectra of time that an emotional imbalance subscriber stakes or notes precocity of epicrisis in docile wit of reflection in the self-concious prescribed, but proposes disproportationality for plenipotentiary dual payee of temerity tendential toward proposing the trigger in its vitiation by recovery, and the capstone, “mindfulness,” disparaging the public disproportion constraint directionality as monitor feduciary and forensic of the connectivity of the network by token anxiety of trimming for officiation to the chemical pharmopsychotypical distraction and what manner grade the memory of the pathogen modality, gate, and data grounded affect in anxiety said stakeholder. We hope you will help bring this petition to the self-aware status of signing the Bill of Rights.
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Clarice Lispector
The Servant
Her name was Eremita.* She was nineteen. A confident face, a few pimples. Where was her beauty? There was beauty in that body that was neither ugly nor pretty, in that face in which a sweetness eager for greater sweetnesses was its sign of life.
As for beauty, I don’t know. There may not have been any, though indefinite features attract as water attracts. There was, indeed, living substance, nails, flesh, teeth, a mixture of resistances and weaknesses, constituting a vague presence that nonetheless immediately solidified into an inquisitive and readily helpful head, as soon as someone uttered a name: Eremita. Her brown eyes were untranslatable, at odds with her whole face. As independent as if they’d been planted in the flesh of an arm, and were peering at us from there—open, moist. She was made entirely of a sweetness bordering on tears.
Sometimes she’d answer with a servant’s ill-breeding. She’d been like that since childhood, she explained. Not that it stemmed from her character. For there was nothing hard about her spirit, no perceptible law. “I got scared,” she’d say naturally. “It made me hungry,” she’d say, and whatever she said was always indisputable, who knows why. “He respects me a lot,” she’d say of her fiancé and, though it was a borrowed and conventional expression, whoever heard it entered a delicate world of animals and birds, where all respected each other. “I’m embarrassed,” she’d say, and smile, entangled in her own shadows. If her hunger was for bread—which she ate quickly as if it could be taken away—her fear was of thunder, her embarrassment was of speaking. She was kind, honest. “God forbid, right?” she’d say absently.
Because she had her absent moments. Her face would get lost in an impersonal and unwrinkled sorrow. A sorrow more ancient than her spirit. Her eyes would pause, vacant; I’d even say a bit harsh. Whoever was next to her suffered and could do nothing. Except wait.
Because she was devoted to something, that mysterious infant. No one would have dared touch her right then. You’d wait a little solemnly, heart constricted, keeping an eye on her. There was nothing you could do for her except hope for the danger to pass. Until in an unhurried movement, almost a sigh, she’d rouse herself as a newborn goat rises on its legs. She had returned from her repose in sorrow.
She would return, you couldn’t say richer, but more reassured after having drunk from some unknown fount. What you could see is that the fount must have been ancient and pure. Yes, there was depth in her. But no one would find a thing if they descended into her depths—except depth itself, as in the dark you find the dark. It’s possible that, if someone pressed ahead, they’d find, after walking miles through the shadows, the hint of a path, guided perhaps by a beating of wings, by some trace of an animal. And—suddenly—the forest.
Ah, so that must have been her mystery: she had discovered a trail into the forest. Surely that was where she went during her absences. Returning with her eyes filled with gentleness and ignorance, eyes made whole. An ignorance so vast that inside it all the world’s wisdom could be contained and lost.
That was Eremita. Who, if she rose to the surface with everything she had found in the forest, would be burned at the stake. But what she had seen—on what roots she had gnawed, on what thorns she had bled, in what waters she had bathed her feet, what golden darkness held the light that had shrouded her—she didn’t speak of all this because she didn’t know about it: perceived in a single glance, too fleeting to be anything but a mystery.
Thus, whenever she emerged, she was a maid. Who was constantly being summoned from the darkness of her trail for lesser duties, to do the laundry, wipe the floor, serve someone or other.
But would she really serve? For if anyone paid attention they’d see that she did the laundry—in the sun; that she wiped the floor—wet from the rain; that she hung the sheets—in the wind. She found ways to serve much more remotely, and other gods. Always with the wholeness of spirit she had brought back from the forest. Without a thought: just a body moving calmly, a face full of a gentle hope that no one can give and no one can take away.
The only sign of the danger through which she had passed was her furtive way of eating bread. In all else she was serene. Even when she pocketed the money her mistress had forgotten on the table, even when she took her fiancé supplies wrapped in a discreet bundle. Pilfering was something else she’d learned in her forests.
* “Hermit. “

Here's a link to either AO3 or Fanfictiondotnet if you wanted to read it over there.
Chapter 18
The ornate trimmings that lined the roof of the Iris dorms came into view as the two Battleships slowly made their way up the long path from the docks.
Long shadows stretched from the old worn out street lamps merging quickly with the surrounding darkness before disappearing completely as the lights flickered to life.
Lost in a daze, a ponytail danced in Massachusetts's eyes. Its ash-blonde sheen dimly glowed, glinting off the light of the old street lamps.
Somewhere in her heart she had hoped this slope would continue on forever, that the warmth around her hand would never disappear, but stopping in front of the marbled steps of the Iris dormitory, that warmth finally retreated.
"Why're you still following me around?" Jean spoke, looking down at Massachusetts from the corner of her eye as she made her way up the steps.
The Eagle Union Battleship hadn't moved from where they parted, staring down at the ground by her feet. Part of her grew anxious, waiting with false hope that she would be invited in.
"I-!" Her voice came out louder than she had intended.
"You've had a long voyage…" Jean interrupted, her words strangely soft, "go get some rest."
"...and besides…" the former Flagship continued, scratching at the back of her head, "I've caused enough trouble for my roommate already…"
"Okay then…" Massachusetts giggled, "goodnight!"
"Hmph!" Jean turned away with a huff, "good-", she went to say back, but peaking back around, the silver haired Battleship had already run off.
"-night… I swear," Jean disparaged,scratching at the back of her head, but unbeknownst to herself, the little smile on her face betrayed any sort of foul mood.
Stepping back into her shared room, Jean looked around for any sign of her Cruiser friend. The darkness that greeted her wasn't unusual as Le Malin was usually lying about asleep most of the time anyway, either on the couch or in her room, but a quick glance only revealed an empty sofa. Peeking her head into her companion's room she found it empty, just as it was earlier today.
"I'm back…" the door to the suite swung open.
The little Cruiser hobbled into the room looking more listless than normal. Richelieu did mention she was out doing something important, but whatever it was, it looked like it took a lot out of her.
"Le Malin! Where have you-" Jean quickly held her tongue as a look of fear crossed her companion's face, "n-nevermind… forget it."
"O-okay…" Le Malin released the breath she was holding, fully expecting a dressing down of some sort. She had been hiding out all day so a level of guilt did hang over her, but it was Lady Richelieu that suggested it to begin with. Plopping herself onto the sofa, Le Malin melted into its cushion as the fatigue of consuming a few pounds of brownies slowly washed away.
"Uwaahhh~" a sudden kneading at her shoulders elicited a sudden moan. These hands felt so good~, "yeah… r-right there~"
The Cruiser's relaxation was cut short as she stretched her neck upward, her eyes meeting those of her former Flagship's staring down at her from behind the couch.
"W-wha?!"
"Relax!", Jean commanded feeling the Cruiser's shoulders tense.
'Relax!? How can I relax?!', La Malin screamed in her head, 'why is she acting like this?! First she was super pissed, now she's being super nice! What's going on?!"
Her heart and her body were in conflict, on one hand Jean's hands were absolute magic, never has a massage ever felt this good. But on the other, this was still incredibly weird. For as long as she's served under her former leader, this level of skinship was unheard of.
"What?" Jean scoffed, still feeling a level of resistance in the little Cruiser's shoulders, "you don't appreciate this?"
"N-no!" Le Malin let out quickly, "I- I mean I do! Its- It's just that this is…kinda…" the Cruiser scrambled to come up with a word, "new… for you."
The little Cruiser chuckled nervously as a silence filled the room. The kneading at her shoulders became heavier. Jean's once delicate touch now much rougher.
"Ow ow ow!" Le Malin cried, "sorry sorry!"
It was only for a brief moment, but she could've sworn she saw a smile on her former leader's face as she squirmed underneath the Battleship's strong hands.
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"You don't have to come with me," Brooklyn said beside herself, continuing her pace down the hall.
"I-I know, but…" Val gulped down her anxiety, "It's your fault you know!"
"Mine!?"
"You just had to blurt out I was your advisor!" Val said in a harsh whisper, "now I have to keep up appearances with your sisters."
"W-well…" Brooklyn turned away with a look of guilt, "look, it's only for a few days, once my other sisters get here I'll tell them straight up, that…"
"That-" Val parroted after Brooklyn's pause.
"That, we are…"
"Uh-huh~"
"Thatwereengaged," Brooklyn rushed in a hushed voice looking around to make sure no one heard her.
"I still don't get why we have to be so hush-hush about it," Val said with a frown, "are you embarrassed about me or something?"
"W-what?! No!" Brooklyn denied vehemently.
With her head down, the blonde Cruiser says back in a quiet tone, "I just don't want my sisters finding out through hearsay."
"Fine~" Val let out an exasperated sigh before changing the subject to their task at hand, "so anyway… What should I be doing right now? How can I be more… advisor…y?"
"Don't talk like that for one," Brooklyn listed off, "y'know what? Don't even talk, just stand there and nod."
"Am I that unconvincing?" Val says, straightening up her clothes in vain attempt to look presentable.
"On second thought," Brooklyn pinched at the bridge of her nose, "I shouldn't have brought you here, these two are…"
"Huh?"
"Remember what Biloxi said back in Panama?" Brooklyn tries to jog Val's memory, "you have to be cautious around these two, they can be a bit… touchy"
The door to the main office swung open in front of them suddenly.
"Ah! Frau Brooklyn!"
Val stood in shock with her jaw hanging open, unable to turn her eyes away from the bombshell of a woman standing by the office threshold. The smile the woman wore was almost reminiscent of St. Louis' but there was something more behind it, Val thought, like some kind of unquenchable hunger.
"Prinz Eugen," swiftly recovering from her initial shock, Brooklyn greeted back with a curt nod.
"It has been far too long," the Iron Blood Heavy Cruiser stepped past Brooklyn's extended hand before wrapping her arms around the Light Cruiser suddenly.
Val blushed as the silver haired beauty, pressed up against her fiance, her hands roaming a but too close to her posterior.
Before Val could voice some sort of protest, Brooklyn had already pushed Eugen off, keeping the Heavy Cruiser at bay with a firm hand in her face.
"Always playing so hard to get~" Eugen pouted, muffled by Brooklyn's palm.
"And your skinship is as irrepressible as ever…"
Eugen let out an accepting chuckle, finally relenting her attempts at a hug.
"Brooklyn!" Another voice from inside the office greeted, "it's always a pleasure to have you!"
"Wales," Brooklyn dipped her head once again.
"You truly are a sight for sore eyes," Wales takes the Cruiser's hand into her own, before placing her lips upon it. The glint on Brooklyn's finger not entirely lost on the Battleship.
ahem Val audibly cleared her throat.
"Oh dear~,this one appears displeased with us," Eugen held her cheek with a playful smirk, "so~ who is this tasty little morsel?"
"Valentina," Val answered with a stern voice, but even she herself couldn't tell what kind of face she was making as Eugen politely shook her hand, "Valentina Hermosa."
"Ah! So you are miss Val-" Wales went to take her hand as well but Brooklyn quickly brought her lips close to the Battleship's ear.
"If you lay a single inappropriate finger on her," Brooklyn whispers, "I'll be sure to let Hood know the goings on in this office of yours…"
A shiver shot up the royal's spine heeding the Cruiser's words. Everything finally clicked into place as she shakily took Val's hand into her own, feeling the same cold metal band around the girl's finger.
"I-it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." An abnormally stiff Wales greeted, hoping that was enough to appease the Eagle Union Diplomat.
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Blocking out the sun with her palm, Massachusetts continued to look up. Not at the sky above but at her hand itself. She missed the warmth that had gripped it so tightly last night.
Closing her eyes, she could still see the slender shoulders of the Vichy privateer walking out ahead. To think such a small frame held such a vast amount of power and ferocity. With her thoughts turning back to their brief but intense fight back during war, Massachusetts couldn't help but shudder at the memory of Jean's blood soaked visage, her wavering posture as she struggled to even stand, but even being on the verge of sinking, the almost savage smile that she wore stuck out most to her.
"Oof!" A familiar voice let out as it bounced backwards on the floor.
Lost in her mind, Massachusetts barely felt the impact at her chest, but looking down she found Helena rubbing at her butt after her fall.
"S-sorry!" the girl cried, "I-I wasn't looking where I was going!"
"No. It's my fault too," the Battleship helped the Cruiser off the floor.
"Thanks," the youngest Brooklyn blushed with embarrassment as she dusted herself off, "I was trying to get a list together in my head…"
"A list?"
"Yeah," Helena nodded, "I was headed to Akashi's to pick up some ingredients for Brooklyn's party."
"I can help you out if you need a hand." Massachusetts offered, seeing as how she had nothing better to do today. The Battleship couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched Helena rock her head side to side, contemplating if she should accept her offer or not.
"It'd be no big deal really," Massachusetts reassured.
"It is gonna be a lot of stuff…" Helena mulled to herself, "sure! If you don't mind."
It had been a long while since Massachusetts had been alone with the youngest Brooklyn but watching her from behind as she led the way, there was an air of confidence that wasn't there in the past. Like each step she took was infused with a level of certainty not unlike her eldest sister.
The bell over Akashi's door rang in Massachusetts's ears yet again as she followed the older Cruiser inside. She stood by the entrance watching Helena list off a bunch items at a nodding Akashi. Whatever the girl was planning seemed fairly extravagant just with the sheer amount of things she requisitioned. Massachusetts guessed it made sense, seeing as how this was the first time Helena will be seeing all her sisters in one place after a so long, she couldn't blame her for being a little excited.
"Massachusetts!" Helena called, "did you want anything while we're here?"
"Me?" The Battleship was caught off guard by the offer, "n-no its alright…"
"Aww~" the girl pouted, "I still wanna pay you back since you're helping me out'n all and we haven't seen each other in a while."
"Really I'm good so dont sweat it," Massachusetts smiled back. It wasn't a surprise to see this girl was still so concerned with ever body else and their wellbeing, it was nice to see somethings about her haven't changed.
"As the older one it's only right that I do something for you," Helena puffed out her chest in an attempt to look more authoritative to the much taller Battleship, "I'm going to be baking once I get these ingredients back, so why don't you join me in the mess hall later? I-if you aren't busy."
Helena's home made snacks? How long has it been she's had any? The thought echoed loudly in Massachusetts's head as an eager look crossed her face, "sure!"
After waiting for several minutes for Akashi and her Meowficers to return from the depths of the store, they came back carrying stacks of bags, one on top of the other.
"Sorry for the last minute request!" Helena bowed after seeing the mountain of supplies.
"Its no problem nyah! Anything for one of my best customers!" Akashi reassured.
Attempting to take the stacks of stuff into her arms, Helena starts to teeter along with the goods.
"Woah there," Massachusetts caught the Cruiser by her back, stabilizing her before taking several of the bags into her arms. "I'm here to help, remember."
"He he," Helena chuckled sticking her tongue out like she forgot.
She's still a klutz…
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"Don't be a stranger now~" Prinz Eugen sang into Brooklyn's ear, her goodbye hug seemed like it wouldn't end until Wales had pulled her off.
"Yes, my door will always be open to you," the royal bowed, nervous to make any sort of physical contact with her two guests, "and since you two are here on holiday, please relax and enjoy all that this base has to offer."
"Of course," Brooklyn smiled back, "I'd like to see where all the budget goes."
With that said Brooklyn and Val disappeared out the office doors leaving just the two prince's inside.
"Even when she's not working she's working," Wales chuckled, allowing herself to breathe now that Brooklyn was gone.
"Something's changed about her," Eugen said next to Wales' ear as she draped her arms over the Battleship's shoulders from behind.
"So you didn't notice it?" Wales brought her own hand up in front of herself, "the ring on their fingers."
"A ring? Oh dear…" The Iron Blood's eyes went wide, "...I fear I have to apologize to little miss Valentina when I get the chance."
"Oh~ So even you're capable of remorse," Wales said with an exaggerated look of shock.
"Hmph," Eugen pushed off the Battleship's back, making her way towards the door, "even I won't be as crass to take something someone has already claimed. Now…" Eugen placed her hand upon the door, staring at it for a bit, "if only someone here wasn't such a coward…"
"C-coward? What do you mean by that?!" Wales shot up from her seat, but her secretary had already left the room.
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Brooklyn craned her neck upwards, staring up at the team of Manjuu setting down the giant wooden crate she had delivered from Panama.
"So that's supposed to be a gift for Queen Elizabeth?" Val asked as the shadow of the crate passed over her.
"That's what Wales said, yeah."
"Any idea what it is?"
"Probably a statue of some sort," Brooklyn shrugged, "knowing that little Queen."
"Extravagant…"
"Quite…" the Light Cruiser disparaged the Royal Navy's callous use of funds.
With a thump, the large crate came to rest at the center of the circular path, kicking up some dust in the process.
"So this is what they had you carry?" Massachusetts said from behind the pair.
The Battleship had dozens of bags hanging of each arm as well as stacked above them, making it hard to see her face.
"That's what I was carrying," Brooklyn said back in surprise, "but what in the world is all that?!"
"Just some supplies!" Helena had poked her head around Massachusetts from behind, startling her older sister a bit.
"She was gonna carry them all herself," Massachusetts tried gesturing to the Cruiser behind her.
"I told you to let me carry some at least!" Helena pouted at the Battleship.
Brooklyn froze up for a second, as a memory of the old Helena overlayed itself into her mind. Whether or not there was an old Helena, Helena is still Helena and it wouldn't change the fact that the girl standing in front of her is her little sister.
But she wasn't expecting to run into her sister so suddenly. Of course she wanted to see her but her nerves weren't quite ready. Brooklyn did mean what she said the other day when she first saw Helena again after four long years, that she looked good. Too good for someone who could barely crack a smile at the time. Watching her banter with Massachusetts now, it's as if she hardly had any trouble at all. Helena has grown so much, and she didn't need the help of her older sister at all…
"One step at a time… remember?" A memory of Val's voice echoed in Brooklyn's mind.
If she wanted to be a part of her sister's life as she once was, it would have to begin right now. Missing this opportunity would be something she could come to regret for the rest of her life.
"H-how about this?" Brooklyn grabbed half of the stack from Massachusetts arms before distributing some to Helena and a few to Val, "we can all help carry some."
Helena pouted even further as she stomped her foot at her older sister. "Brooklyn~" she whined behind her stack, "this is supposed to be for you! So you should let us handle this."
"If that's the case," Brooklyn already started walking off, "then that's all the more reason I should be helping out."
"And besides," Brooklyn yells already a distance away, "I get to spend time with my little sister!"
"Geez~" Helena burrows her face in the bags she was carrying, the tips of her ears glowing red.
Val quietly laughed to herself, knowing Brooklyn was probably too embarrassed to say that to Helena directly.
"Brooklyn! Wait!" Helena shot her head back up.
"Uh uh!" Brooklyn refused from a distance, "I'm helping and that's that!"
"No! You're going the wrong way! Helena shouted again, "we're going to the mess hall!"
Massachusetts and Val broke out in a snicker as Brooklyn stopped in her tracks, laughing all the while as the off duty diplomat swiftly about faced, retracing her steps in a hurried fashion.
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"So~" Wichita said over the rhythmic clinking of whisks beating against the walls of several bowls, "Cleveland…"
"Hmm-" the Light Cruiser hummed, not looking up from what she was doing, "what's up?"
"Whatcha workin on?" Wichita poked at the blonde's cheek trying to get a reaction out of her, "Helena's got you helpin her again?"
"Helena hasn't got me doing anything," the Light Cruiser said with a huff, "I'm helping out because I want too."
"Okay okay…" Wichita backed off.
"Why are you even here?"
"Everyone's busy doing something and I'm bored."
"Then why don't you put on an apron and help me out?"
"Hahaha!" The Heavy Cruiser's boisterous laughter startled the Manjuu in the kitchen, "y'know me! I prefer eating my food to cooking it!"
"Then just go sit down and watch!" Cleveland said more than a little annoyed.
Wichita held her arms out in front of her to calm the Light Cruiser down as she did what she was told, but sitting around calmly fiddling with cooking utensils could only placate the Heavy Cruiser for so long.
"Pst… Cleveland…" a small smirk formed on Wichita's lips as she just thought of something that was for sure going to get Cleveland to react, "psstt…"
"What?!" The blonde snapped with a harsh whisper, matching the Heavy Cruiser's attempt at trying to be discreet.
Tugging at Cleveland's apron, Wichita's smirk only widened, "say~ why don't we surprise Helena?"
"And do what?"
"And by we, I mean you," the Heavy Cruiser spoke into Cleveland's ear from behind, playing with the hem of her apron, "you could try greeting her in nothing but this apron~ I'm sure that would totally make her day~"
Cleveland's brow furrowed trying to make sense of Wichita's words. Why would she greet her in nothing but an apron? Nothing… but… an apron. Nothing…
"W-w-why would I do that?!" Cleveland's face glowed a bright red finally catching on to Wichita's dirty joke.
"Hahaha! Oh man!" The Heavy Cruiser nearly doubled over in laughter, "the look on your face!"
Cleveland did her best to ignore Wichita's teasing but the bowl of cream she was working at was whisked way past its intended consistency.
"I bet Helena could pull the look off," Wichita wiggled her eyebrows at Cleveland, "she does have that rockin' body~"
No sooner she said that, the sound of a bowl clattering onto the countertop rang throughout the kitchen. Wichita's laughter had transcended past the audible seeing as how Cleveland's entire face lit up all the way to the tips of her ears like a beacon.
"W-w-what are you even saying?!" The Light Cruiser whipped the whisk in her hand at Wichita, flicking batter in her direction.
With an audible splat, the creamy batter dripped down the Heavy Cruiser's face.
"Oh~ you've done it now!" The chocolate covered lids of Wichita's eyes slowly cracked open. Scooping what she could in her hands, the Heavy Cruiser slung it straight back at a still flustered Cleveland.
Before long the Manjuu in the kitchen scrambled out for the sake of their own safety.
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The mess hall should have stayed the same as Helena left it, quiet and calm. With the busy chatter and commotion that came during lunch still a few hours away. But the panicked Manjuu huddling near the entrance to the kitchen and the loud clattering coming from within betrayed any sense of tranquility.
"What's going on?" Val had asked Helena who had been beside her the whole time, but when she turned her head, a gust of wind had blown in her eyes and the Light Cruiser was gone.
Val's eyes darted around, spotting Helena already by the kitchen's entrance. There was a good seven ~ eight meters from where they first entered and she couldn't recall Helena even moving in the first place.
"Ya can't hit me throwing like that!" A familiar voice can be heard yelling inside.
"Wichita…" Brooklyn shook her head, watching helplessly as Helena slammed the kitchen doors wide open.
The two sole occupants inside turned towards the door in shock. The heavy overwhelming pressure radiating from the kitchen's entrance freezing them in place.
"Y-yo~ H-Helena!" The hand full of chocolate batter had dripped off Wichita's fingers. The audible splat it made filled the silence that fell over the mess hall.
"I-I was just h-helpin out… y'know…" The color from Wichita's face had drained, stuttering her words as she forgot how to breathe.
"T-take it easy n-now…" the redhead tried to back away as Helena slowly approached, but her feet wouldn't budge.
"I-I'll help you guys clean up!" The Heavy Cruiser's voice sounded almost desperate as Helena closed the distance.
"W-wait! T-think about this!"
That was the last everyone heard from Wichita's mouth as a loud thud echoed from the kitchen.
Brooklyn and Massachusetts winced as Helena emerged back out, dragging an unconscious Wichita by her collar out of the kitchen.
"Looks like I have a little cleaning to do before we start," Helena sighed, dragging Wichita to a nearby wall, letting the Heavy Cruiser's body slump to the ground after letting go.
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Cleveland counted herself lucky she didn't end up like Wichita. For a second there, she thought, that she too was done for. Closing her eyes bracing for a knockout, all she got was a towel to the face as Helena tried to clean the mess that she found herself coated in.
"Geez~" Helena frowned at the blonde, "it's my fault for leaving you guys alone."
"N-no!" Cleveland let out, "it's my fau-"
"It's fine~" Helena giggled as she wiped a glob of chocolate batter off of the blonde's nose, "Just help me clean up!"
Cleveland's face grew a little red as she watched Helena lick her fingers clean.
"Mhmm~!" Helena beamed, "that's really good!"
"I-I was only following the recipe on the note…"
"Dunkerque really knows her stuff…" Helena rubbed at her chin as she tried to analyze the flavor in her mouth.
"Dunkerque?" Brooklyn asked as she plopped down the supplies on a clean spot on the counter, "I didn't realize she was at the Joint Base."
"No. She's not," Helena shook her head, "Richelieu gave me one of her recipes."
"That's rare…" Brooklyn said to herself, knowing that Battleship wasn't known to just hand out her treasured recipes so easily, "so what's the occasion?"
"It's probably not much of a secret, but…" Helena furrowed her brow deliberating whether or not she should say or not.
"It's fine~ whatever you say won't leave this room," Brooklyn smiled before turning to the other girls in the room for confirmation, "right girls?"
Val and Massachusetts both nod.
"They're for someone's launchday," Helena, still reluctant to give up all the info.
"Intel is power," Brooklyn held up her finger, "so if you've got some to share…"
"But…" saying it would be like betraying Richelieu's trust.
"Jean Bart…" Massachusetts spoke, coming to a sudden realization.
"H-how'd you know?!" Helena panicked.
"I-" the Battleship blushed, "I just happened to remember… just now…"
"Oh ho~" Brooklyn and Val shot a knowing look towards Massachusetts simultaneously.
"She's that girl you were with last night," Val said, "hand in hand…"
"Oh ho~" Brooklyn said louder in surprise, "you work fast."
"I-I was just walking her back to the dorms…" the normally aloof Battleship fidgeted in place staring a hole in the ground by her feet.
"I didn't know you guys were friends?" Helena asked, "but that's great! You could help us bake some Pain au Chocolat for her if you want."
"Y-yes!" Massachusetts agreed a little more enthusiastically than intended.
"I could help out too if you don't mind," Val raised her hand, "if you don't mind an extra hand in the kitchen."
"Sure! I didn't really want to bother anyone else but we do have a lot to prep for."
"Val is one of the best cooks I know~" Brooklyn vouched.
"Is that right?!" Helena enthused, happy to meet someone else who knows their way around the kitchen.
"Well~" Val chuckled, not used to the attention she was receiving, "I'm definitely better than your sister here."
"That's not saying much…" Massachusetts laughed.
Cleveland couldn't bring herself to join in on the conversation seeing as how she was largely responsible for the mess they currently cleaning. And now that they had to start from scratch that feeling just compounded itself.
"Hey Helena," Brooklyn called, "where do you keep the extra aprons?"
Aprons, Cleveland blushed, cursing Wichita for putting weird thoughts in her head. The younger Cruiser's cheeks darkened even further not even realizing she was staring at Helena as she carefully hung her apron around her neck. Watching intently as she deftly tied the knot behind her back, before pulling her long and beautiful hair out from underneath. The air in Cleveland's lungs grew thin, watching in slow motion as Helena's hair fell back down, like some kind of swan decending upon a lake, framing her body like an exquisite portrait.
Cleveland wasn't blind, she was always aware just how beautiful her best friend is but she always tried to push it into the back of her mind. An act she was almost always successful at, but Wichita's recent words did wonders to destroy that. The Brooklyn sister's uniforms were quite the sight to behold and Helena's was no exception. Cleveland thought she was used to it by now, given how often the two were together, but she was finding it difficult to pull her eyes away from her best friend's figure.
"Clevie?" Helena said a little worried, "what's wrong? Your face is all red."
"N-nothings wrong!" The shorter blonde let out a nervous laugh, "Just Wichita putting weird thoughts in my head!"
"Great… what'd she say this time?" Helena said, all too familiar with the Heavy Cruiser's antics.
Cleveland would sooner scuttle herself than reveal the whole truth of what Wichita said, "It's… just forget I said anything…"
"Alright…" Helena pouted, a little disappointed Cleveland wouldn't tell her.
<><><>o7<><><>
With the clean up done, the girls were finally able to start their prep work. With each of them in their own little station responsible for each step of the process.
Val stared at the little note Helena had shown her committing the directions listed to memory. It was a shame she couldn't tell anyone else about this apparent super secret recipe but she figured it wouldn't be a problem if she used it for herself every now and again.
Helena and Val moved about the kitchen like some kind of synchronized, well oiled machine, stunning the rest of the girls as they struggled to keep up the pace.
Brooklyn was always fascinated with the way her sister and fiance worked, but seeing them both at it together all at once was something else.
Cleveland at the best of times could barely keep up with Helena when she was in the zone, but now, with Val involved, there was absolutely no hope.
Massachusetts was off in her own little corner making almost as much of a mess as Wichita did, whisking her bowl with a little too much force.
The team of Manjuu worked like an assembly line, rolling the dough that would become the pastries base.
"Hey Helena," Val called to her newly found cooking partner, "you think you could give Brook a hand? She looks a little confused as to what to do next."
"Brooklyn?" Helena turned to her sister who had just begun pouring the molten chocolate into each mold.
"W-what? I'm good," Brooklyn answered back, slightly confused as to what Val was doing," I don't ne-"
"-Here like this," Helena cut in, guiding her sister's hand as she helped to evenly pour the chocolate.
Val smiled to herself, knowing her fiance didn't really need help, and if she did she herself could step in lend a hand, but if she could engineer a way to get Brooklyn to spend some quality time with her sister she would take any opportunity she saw.
<><><>o7<><><>
Denver and Colombia could barely contain a snicker as a red faced Wichita sat down on the floor with her arms and legs crossed, still coated in a fine layer of chocolate, doing her best to ignore the two Light Cruisers.
"For a second, we thought you just came from the Iron Blood dorms, pfftt" Colombia broke out into laughter.
"Oh, its only chocolate…" Denver said in relief as she swiped some from the Heavy Cruiser's face.
"What the hell did you think it was?!" Wichita lost her temper as the two ran for cover inside the kitchen.

On the planet teeming with eight billion others, I was just another face in the crowd, navigating the tumultuous corridors of high school, unknowing of how little I actually mattered to the universe. Today, we were ticking off the second to last day of the school year, and we had the liberty of a half day, making lunchtime the closing bell.
At fifteen, I was awkwardly wading through the stormy seas of adolescence, complete with the scourge of hormonal surges and the unfortunate sprinkling of acne dotting my face. My world was wonderfully wrapped up in a corner of our high school cafeteria, a realm presided over by Emila. The dazzling subject of my dreams, she held me under her spell with her enchanting beauty. Her hair, a river of glistening platinum, formed a comforting canopy around me, filling my senses with a tantalizing mix of coconut-scented shampoo and the memorable reminder of our gym sessions.
“Alex, come back to Earth!”
My Emila-infused daydream was interrupted by Elijah, my only friend in a table full of acquaintances.
“Did you see the TikTok I sent?”
He asked, a twinkle of devilish delight dancing in his eyes. I fumbled for my phone, eager for a dose of Elijah’s promised comedy, only to find the video was no longer available with unsurprising speed.
“Man, it was comedy gold! Imagine Thanos, asscheeks and all, telling the most offensive Holocaust joke. Legendary stuff”
Elijah chuckled heartily, his laughter echoing around the room, amplified by his own creative narrative.
“Sure sounds like it”
I muttered, my gaze returning to Emila. Her attention was stolen by my older brother, the infamous Mikey, whose joke had her laughing. Mikey, a final year student with a solid record of academic underachievement and a proclivity for marijuana, was a walking, talking, stoner stereotype. What was unsettling was his inexplicable charm with the wide-eyed freshman girls, a twisted hobby that gave him an unusual sense of satisfaction.
As the bell shrilled, signaling the end of the school day, Mikey abruptly stood up, the metal chair beneath him screeching. His next words, a slurred mix of slangs and contemporary cuss words, were aimed at summoning his freshman fan club. At the same time, he bumbled out a half-hearted invitation for Emila to join their quest for illicit pleasures. Emila's reaction was a fusion of disgust and amusement, an expression I decided to commit to memory for my poetry. She gracefully declined his offer with a well-rehearsed flip of her hair and a disdainful wave of her hand, then she returned to her conversation, laughter pealing from her like sweet music, completely oblivious to my heart hammering in my chest.
Around me, chaos broke loose as the cafeteria, now released from the clutches of academic torture, transitioned into a war zone of wild whoops, boisterous laughter. The last sight that graced my eyes as I exited the cafeteria was the bewildered expression on the face of our school janitor, as he stood paralyzed amidst the storm, mop in hand It was a fittingly ludicrous end to another thrillingly mundane school day. With that, I picked up my bag, donned my headphones, and began my solitary trek home.
The burden of unrequited love weighed heavily upon my weary shoulders as I trudged homeward. In dire need of a hit, I fumbled for my go-to vape, only to be met with the light show of a dead battery. As I hit the 7-Eleven on my route, I was looking forward to seeing Antonio, this dude who seemed more interested in cracking jokes than caring about checking IDs. But instead of Antonio's playful smirk, I came face-to-face with a new character, with wrinkles that told stories of time gone by. A wave of disappointment washed over me as I nabbed a bottle of Dr. Pepper and headed for the cash register.
"What happened to Antonio?"
I asked, putting my drink on the counter for the mystery guy.
"Who?"
He muttered, his focus on the soda can he was sliding under the scanner.
"Antonio, the guy who's usually here in the evenings"
I explained, a hint of irritation in my voice.
"Dunno. I only started here last week. I just know the young girl who takes over when my shift ends"
He responded, his words leaving a gap in my world, like a punch in the gut of my usual routine.
Taking a bubbly swig of my Dr. Pepper, I tried to swallow the truth of teenage life. It was like walking into my favorite cozy room, only to find the furniture rearranged haphazardly. The change was unexpected, and unwelcome.
Finally trekking my way home after sitting on a bench listening to music for what Must've been hours. I walked under a sky that seemed to be experimenting with shades of orange and purple, I felt a strange kind of solitude sneaking in. My thoughts kept playing a merry-go-round with Mikey, Emila, and now absent Antonio - the trio that had become the stars of my high school drama.
My front door protested loudly under my foot's frustrated kick, and a slurred
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
Bellowed from the living room. My mother, ensnared in an alcoholic haze, lounged over the couch, her shaking finger accusingly pointed in my direction.
"Did you forget that I get migraines?"
The smell of tequila permeated the air, filling my nostrils as soon as I crossed the threshold. I sighed, hoping for a lifeline.
"Is dad home?"
My mother sank back onto the couch, her voice a whisper
"No."
My father, the only one who occasionally lent an ear when I complained about Mikey, was perpetually chained to his cubicle, another cog in the corporate machine.
I ascended the stairs, each creaking step a harmony to the melancholic rhythm of the dark. The silent house held the weight of my unease, my chest tightening with an indescribable yearning. Tucked away in the solitude of my room, I pulled out my phone, the screen's glow illuminating my apprehensive features. I typed out a tentative message to Emilia, a small confession of the feelings that had long been gnawing at my insides.
"Hey, Emilia, I..."
First message sent. But before I could finish my second text, the dreaded words - 'Message Failed to Send' stared back at me. My heart sank. Was it a sign? Maybe the universe was intervening, telling me it wasn't the right time, or perhaps, it never would be. Disheartened, I slung my phone aside, letting the unsent feelings hover in the digital void. Slipping under the comforting shroud of my blanket, I drifted off into a sleep, with dreams tinted in hues of Emilia and unspoken words.
The next morning started out ordinary until it was splattered with the color of angst when I pleaded with Mikey that morning to stay away from Emila. His response?
"Amelia, the freshman? Didn't know you had a thing for her."
His nonchalance was maddening.
"Emila. As your brother, I'm asking you to back off"
I clarified, hoping it would penetrate his stubborn exterior.
His perplexed expression turned into a nonchalant shrug.
"Damn, been saying her name wrong the few times we spoke, and she never bothered to correct me."
Mikey shrugged and walked away, leaving me feeling dismissed and unheard.
Feeling a mix of frustration and confusion, I left for school and shook off the encounter with my brother and headed to my first-period class. As I stepped into the room, I expected to see my usual teacher, Ms. Thompson, waiting at her desk. However, to my surprise, it was someone else entirely—a teacher I had never seen before. I had really liked Ms. Thompson too so to see she got a substitute on the last day was dissapointing. Yet his resemblance to Ms. Thompson was uncanny, from the way he held himself to the tone of his voice. I knew something was off.
I glanced around the classroom, taking in the unfamiliar arrangement of notes and papers hanging on the walls. The subjects and diagrams were foreign to me, not matching the usual decor that adorned this space. It was as if I had entered an alternate dimension, where everything seemed the same yet completely different.
As the class went on, the new teacher droned on with the same monotony I had grown accustomed to, but it felt hollow, lacking the genuine concern and passion that Ms. Thompson always displayed. The other students seemed oblivious to the change, talking and cutting up as if nothing was amiss. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
Throughout the rest of class, my mind wandered, retracing the events of the past few days. Antonios unexpected absence, the failed text to Emila, Mikey's nonchalant reaction to my warning about Emila, the strange teacher in place of Ms. Thompson—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit together. For the first time, I realized how little attention I had paid to the details of my daily routine. But now, with this subtle shift in my surroundings, I couldn't help but question everything.
As the class finally came to an end, I gathered my things and made my way out.
The unfolding of the remaining classes before lunch did nothing to alleviate the paranoia that was steadily creeping over me. In my second-period class, usually dedicated to cleaning out the science lab, I noticed a set of instruments that we'd never used before. My peers didn't bat an eyelid, but to me, the incongruity was unsettling. Then in English, our final class reading didn't correspond to the assigned book. The text seemed different, as though it had been subtly altered.
Physical education, typically a free play session on the last day, was different too. Coach Peters was blowing a whistle I'd never seen before, its pitch more grating than the usual. And just before lunch, during the end-of-year assembly, the principal's speech, usually so predictable, seemed off. It contained references to events and achievements that didn't match my memories.
As lunchtime arrived, a mix of anticipation and anxiety filled the air. Even with my world falling apart I found time to worry about Mikey's presence around Emila. However, Emila was nowhere to be found. When I mentioned this to the group as I took my seat, my words were met with silence, as if I had become invisible.
Sitting alone at the edge of the table, I sought solace in our group pictures, hoping to catch a glimpse of Emila. I opened Snapchat and scrolled through my camera roll until I found my favorite picture of her. But to my surprise, Emila was inexplicably absent from the image. I blinked in disbelief, rubbed my eyes, and questioned my own perception. How could she have vanished? In the photo, my arm had once embraced her, but now it hung empty at my side.
"Guys, where's Emila?"
I asked, passing my phone to Elijah. He stared at the screen for a long moment, as if emerging from a trance.
"Who?"
He finally responded absentmindedly, his attention quickly diverted by a video shared by another friend.
Taking back my phone, I desperately searched for more pictures, only to find that they had vanished—her Instagram, Snapchat, even her parents' Facebook profiles. Panic gripped me, and I screamed
"WHERE IS EMILA!?"
My voice resonating through the cafeteria, reverberating off the walls. The entire room fell into an eerie silence, and all eyes turned to me, their gazes fixed with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Her social media is gone. I feel like I'm going insane, and none of you even acknowledge me!"
My voice cracked with desperation as I pleaded for answers.
Mikey and Elijah rose from their seats, their expressions filled with compassion, ready to console me. But I couldn't bear their pity, their feeble attempts to calm my tormented mind. Their words would be meaningless. With a surge of frantic energy, I pushed my chair back and fled the suffocating atmosphere of the cafeteria.
As I stumbled out of the school, my surroundings blurred in a whirlwind of confusion and distress. The world itself seemed to warp and twist, mocking my feeble attempts to comprehend the inexplicable. Thoughts tumbled through my mind, colliding and fragmenting like shattered glass. Where had Emila gone? How could she vanish so completely, leaving no trace behind? Was I losing my grip on reality?
A light drizzle began peppering the surroundings, setting a somber atmosphere. Hours slipped away as I aimlessly wandered, searching for answers. Maybe someone had slipped me acid-laced food, or perhaps I was crazy like my mother. The thought of my brother's affinity for drugs crossed my mind, but I had never dabbled. Nevertheless, I felt compelled to find a sense of respite in my vape once again.
Entering the 7-Eleven, a chilling sensation overcame me as I discovered the same elderly man behind the counter. Without uttering a word, I hopped over the counter, desperate to find any clue.
"Kid, you can't be back there!"
The man exclaimed, attempting to restrain me. Swiftly, I pushed him away, unearthing the work schedule from the wall.
"Where's Antonio?" I stammered.
The old man, seemed to recognize me.
"I asked about that. Antonio doesn't work here"
He said, struggling to regain his footing. Overwhelmed with a sense of paranoia, I bolted out of the gas station, gasping for breath only when I reached the safety of my home.
In the dim light of the early evening, I found myself sprawled on the unkempt grass of the front yard. The recent rain had left the ground sodden, but I barely noticed the wetness seeping into my clothes. As the rain mingled with my silent tears, I heard the familiar rumble of my older brother Mikey's truck pulling into the driveway.
"Hey pussy"
He exclaimed, pushing his rain-soaked hair back from his forehead. His voice carried a light-hearted jest that felt foreign amidst the somber atmosphere. He was always like this, quick to crack a joke even in the gloomiest of moments. It was his way of diffusing tension, I suppose. He reached out, pulling me up and leading me towards the house. Once inside and in his room, an aroma filled my nose – a peculiar mix of stale pizza and mildewy old books – that somehow comforted me in a strange, indescribable way. It was an olfactory reminder of a time before things got so complicated.
Catching my eye, Mikey reached into his drawer and withdrew an intricately designed glass bong. I had seen it before, on one of those rare occasions when Mikey would let me into his private world. Now, he was extending the invitation again. He passed me the bong, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I hesitated for a moment, my mind flashing back to times when mom would sit us down in front of the TV after school, her kind and comforting presence a strong reassurance of love and security. That was before the alcohol took over, before the comforting light in her eyes had been replaced by a glassy, distant look. The thought of her brought an odd sense of calmness, as if her spirit was there with me, in Mikey, guiding me through this haze.
Taking the bong from Mikey, I let out a nervous chuckle, matching his playful demeanor. As I took a hit, we fell into a comfortable laughter, punctuated only by the deafening theme song of Family Guy playing on the large TV in the corner of his room. The memory of our shared laughter resonated deeply within me, a balm to the churning unrest I had been feeling.
"It seems today that all you see is violence in movies and -"
Suddenly, the television vanished, replaced by a weathered dresser that had been stored in the attic.
Mikey's phone suddenly blared a familiar jingle.
"Ah, man. One sec, bro,"
"-sex on TV." My brother's phone blared at maximum volume.
"Sorry, bro, my friend texted me"
He explained, placing the phone between us.
"Where's the TV?"
I muttered, the words hardly audible. As the high intensified, the room started to spin, the comfort of Mickey's presence fading away. I reached out in a futile attempt to steady myself but fell onto the cold, hardwood floor. The room seemed to swirl around me, familiar objects distorting into unrecognizable shapes and colors.
Pulling myself up, I lurched out of the room, navigating the labyrinthine house as fragments of memories flooded my mind. It felt like I was walking through a dream – a vivid, disorienting journey through time and space. Stepping outside, I saw the lawn had morphed into a neatly trimmed landscape, A new 'For Sale' sign swaying gently in the evening breeze, dissolved away as quickly as I noticed it.
The sounds of laughter drew my attention to the house. The windows were aglow with warm, inviting light, revealing an unfamiliar family engrossed in their game night. Their joy was a stark contrast to my growing desolation.
As days rolled on, my world reshaped, transforming from the familiar to an enigmatic panorama. Faces blurred, places mutated, my identity itself seemed to wane, fading into oblivion.
Caught in this mutating reality, I felt a quiet observer, my existence phasing out into the ether. Friends, family, Emila - all were doomed to be memories of a boy who will soon be gone.
Then, amidst the dissolving haze, clarity dawned, presenting a profound revelation. Our Earth was yearning for equilibrium, burdened with the weight of 8 billion souls, a possibly infinite and cruel humanity, now quickly seeking balance before it was too late.
We had pushed our home to her brink. Now, a beautiful transformation is underway. Smiling strangers began to color my world, their joy reflecting the Earth's newfound harmony. Merchandise, once an extravagant luxury, now seemed accessible to all. The battlefield in Ukraine had given way to peace, a testament to the world healing its wounds.
As I type this out in a clean and rather nicely lit alleyway. I find myself blending into the cosmic expanse, my hands and arms fading away before returning as if the universe wants me to finish. As I turn from a solid entity into an echo of existence. The world moves on, its stride unperturbed by my fading presence. Yet, in my diminishing, I realize my contribution to Earth's balance.
Earth is in the midst of achieving perfection. Many of you won't make it and will be gutted like myself, some of you will stay. The rest of you, I catch glimpses of as I fade, timeliness unaffected and left to die without God.
My final thoughts are not of sorrow, but of serene acceptance and profound understanding. As I phase into the ether, I became a cosmic whisper, a gentle reminder of the necessity for balance and respect for our fragile planet.

Hi everyone!
My husband and I recently came back from a 15-day trip to Japan and overall it was an epic, life-changing adventure. Most of the tips shared in this sub are absolutely true (I don't think there was a single day where we didn't hit the 20K step mark and SO glad we had some cash and a coin purse handy.)
We covered all the "greatest hits" of Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka, so reporting on those areas would be redundant as this sub already has great info. However, I haven't seen too many recent posts about Kiso Valley, so I wanted to share our experience since it was a personal highlight for me!
Between our stops from Tokyo to Kyoto, stayed in Kiso-Fukushima for 2 nights:
KISO VALLEY / NAKASENDO PHOTOS
Travel from Tokyo
We took the Shinkansen from Tokyo to Nagano and then a rail train to Kiso-Fukushima. The whole trip took just under 3 hours. Since were were only making a 2-day stop in Kiso, we forwarded our main luggage from Tokyo to the following stop in Kyoto and only took our backpacks with us with a change of clothes. The luggage forwarding system is amazing.
To get to Kyoto afterwards, we took a train to Nagoya and then transferred to Tokyo. That leg took about 2.5 hours.
Lodging
We stayed at this traditional ryokan which was a 10-min walk from the station. We splurged on a room that had a private bathroom and an open air bath (hot tub) overlooking the river. Let me tell you, with all the walking we had done, it was HEAVEN. It allowed for a few moments of downtime (and a little romance) amidst all the running around. Breakfast and dinner were included in our package, which is recommended as the town is small and dining options close early. The food was amazing. Worth every penny.
In Town Highlights

• Hoshakuzan Kozenji Temple & Garden
• Restaurant with amazing soba noodles
• Lovely shop with lacquered goods
• Public foot bath with stone reflexology path
• Simply walking around!

Walking the Nakasendo Trail from Magome to Tsumago
We took the limited express from Kiso-Fukushima to Nakatsuaga, and then a bus to the Magome which drops you off at the start of the trail.
This portion of the trail is about 8km and I would consider it an easy to moderate hike (there were some uphill portions and forest paths). More information about it here.
IT WAS ABSOLUTELY BREATHTAKING. I loved every moment. A beautiful combination of walking through small towns and forest. The weather was beautiful, there were definitely other people, but it wasn't crowded by any means. I'm still looking at the photos and just sighing over how beautiful it all was.
When we got to Tsumago we explored the shops a bit. Then took the bus to Nagiso and the train back to Kiso, with just enough time for a hot tub soak, shower, and then to the dining room for dinner (donning the provided yukata robes).
Things We Didn't Get to Do in Kiso-Fukushima
I would have loved to spend another day or two in Kiso-Fukushima because there were a number of things we didn't get to. Also, it's just a lovely place to just walk around and experience.

• The Narai - Yukahabara portion of the Nakasendo Trail
• Akasawa Natural Recreational Forest
• Atera Gorge and Kakizore Gorge
• Sacred Mt. Ontake hike (difficult)
• Momosuke Bridge
• Gongen Waterfall (difficult - I found the negative reviews were all from people not realizing how difficult of a hike this was to get to)

OTHER RANDOM HIGHLIGHTS
Tokyo

• Hacienda de Cielo - This Mexican restaurant in Daikanyama (outside of Shibuya) has terrace seating with beautiful views of the city. Having lived in Arizona, I'm going to say this wasn't the most authentic Mexican food, but it was fine.
• The SG Club - Super fun swanky bar in Shibuya with great drinks.
• If you like record shops and vintage clothing, exploring Shimokitazawa was really fun.

Kyoto

• While the Arashiyama Bamboo Grove tends to get most of the attention, walking around Kameyama Park Kameyama Region was so lovely.

Osaka

• Dotonbori gets all the love, but I absolutely loved the retro, gritty vibe of Shinsekai. We played some Tetris and Tekken at the retro arcade. We even found a sex shop that had Real Dolls (I've never seen one in person before!)
• We easily spent over an hour in the 8-story Edion Namba electronics store.
• If you're into craft beer, Craft Beer Works Kamikaze was pretty awesome (but pricey).

We've been back exactly a week now and I'm still feeling blue about it - would have absolutely loved to stay a whole month or more.
Happy travels!

Welcome to the 100-91 Reveal for the NFL Top 100 Players of the 2022 Season!

Players whose average rank landed them in places 100-91 are on this portion of the list revealed today. Players are associated with the team they finished playing for at the end of the 2022 season
Below you will see some write-ups from the rankers summarizing the players’ 2022 season and why they were among the best in 2022. Stats for each player are included below. Additionally, their ranks from previous years are available for y’all to see

METHODOLOGY

Link to more detailed writeup on our methodology

• Step 1: A Call to Rankers right after the Conference Championship games
  
• Step 2: Rankers from each team nominated players to rank, with a 11 game minimum threshold. Players are associated with the team they played for in 2022
  
• Step 3: The Grind. We instructed users to tier positions groups into T25, T50, etc based on 2022 regular season play only. This took several weeks as the rankers tiered each position group and discussed them. There were no individual player threads and no arbitrary position caps. Just questions and rankings.
  
• Step 4: Users submitted their own personal Top 125 lists.
  
• Step 5: User lists were reviewed by myself, u/mattkud , and u/MikeTysonChicken . The rankers were expected to answer questions about their lists. They were allowed to make any changes to their list, and were not forced to make any changes
  
• Step 6: The Reveal… where we are now!
  

And without further ado, here are the players ranked 100-91 in the NFL Top 100 Players of the 2022 Season!

#100 - Garrett Wilson - New York Jets - Wide Receiver

Previous Ranks
N/A
Key Stat:
2nd Most missed forced tackles among WRs with 22
Written by: u/MattyT7
Garrett Wilson walked into the NFL as an immediate stud. He showed the world who he was in week 2, playing a major part in the destruction of the Cleveland Browns. Wilson caught two touchdowns, including what was the game-winner, to go along with 102 yards through the air. Despite having the worst quarterback play across the league last season, Wilson earned Offensive Rookie of the Year honors, and it is not hard to see why. He is a demon after the catch with the ball in his hands, consistently finding ways to squeeze as much extra juice as he can out of a play. His jab step/cutback is lethal; simply put, he is not easy to stop. He may have only caught 4 touchdowns all year, but a lot of that has to do with the fact that the Jets offense was… well, not great. Even so, Wilson finished his rookie campaign with 83 catches for 1104 yards. You may not have heard, but the Jets quietly brought in a new quarterback this offseason, and the sky is truly the limit for Wilson going forward. Although he may not be the most physically gifted wide receiver in the world, he’s an incredibly crafty dude and is already one of the best at what he does.

#99 - Aaron Rodgers - Green Bay Packers - Quarterback

Previous Ranks

2021	2020	2019	2018	2017	2016	2015	2014	2013	2012
4	1	73	95	N/A	11	29	2	26	3​​

Key Stat:
2nd in the league in PFF's Big Time Throw Rate, trailing only Josh Allen
Written by: u/IMissHarambe878
A “down” year for ARod sees him slip to the bottom of the Top 100 here. His stats may have declined since his back-to-back MVPs, but Rodgers was consistently carrying this Green Bay team on his back this season. Despite carrying a broken thumb throughout the campaign (in which he didn’t miss a game), he helped try to steady the ship despite inconsistency across all other parts of the team (defense, run game, inexperienced wide receivers). He nearly dragged Green Bay kicking and screaming into the playoffs but was only stopped by a gutsy Lions team in Week 18 ready to play spoiler. Fun fact, Rodgers actually put up his career high in game winning drives this year with 4.
​
Here is a highlights package of Rodgers’ last season in Green Bay. Some specific highlights within the video:
- 1:01 – Rodgers shows he can still throw a pretty deep ball out to Watkins v Bears
- 3:29 – Deep throw v the Jets to Lazard, probably explains why he wanted him to follow him there
- 4:37 – Rolling out of the pocket to find Aaron Jones for a beautiful TD v Commanders
- 5:06 – Absolute dime to Doubs for a TD v Bills
- 7:30 – Beautiful play action out to Watson for a TD v Cowboys
- 13:05 – Sideline pass out to Mercedes Lewis v Dolphins
- 14:11 – Absolute monster of a ball out to Watson v Lions in his final game for Green Bay
​
All good things have to come to an end at some point, and this year showed Rodgers wasn’t the immortal some thought he was. Considering his supporting cast and the offense around him, I think he did the best he could. Don’t let that fool you though, he’s still very much an above average quarterback and I’m confident he will be higher up this list, this time next year. Take care of him, Jets, and thank you for all the memories, Aaron.

#98 - Jaelan Phillips - Miami Dolphins - EDGE Rusher

Previous Ranks

2021
N/A​

Key Stat:
Phillips’s 70 pressures is the most by a Dolphin since Olivier Vernon in 2015
Written by: u/Yedic
Jaelan Phillips followed up a somewhat spotty rookie season with a much more polished sophomore campaign in 2022. He nearly doubled his pressure numbers, with an increase from 39 in 2021 to 70 in 2022 per PFF. He more than doubled his stops, jumping up from 16 to 36.
Check out this play, where Phillips, lined up at the top of the screen, uses his speed to beat the tackle upfield, and then works back down into the pocket for the strip sack in the 4th quarter of an important division game. Here's one where Jaelan Phillips lines up at 3t, against the LG, and then shows a nice motor to adjust for a 3rd down sack while fighting through a hold.
Phillips also showed off some impressive versatility. Per PFF's tracking, he dropped into coverage about six time a game, which resulted in the most coverage snaps out of all Edge Defenders nominated for this list, and 4th most of all Edge Defenders in the entire league. He even blocked a punt for good measure!

#97 - Talanoa Hufanga - San Francisco 49ers - Safety

Previous Ranks

2021	2020
N/A	N/A​

Key Stat:
Only safety with multiple sacks, multiple forced fumbles, and four interceptions including a pick-6 in a single season in the last 10 years
Written by: u/TheRed_Knight
Once upon a time there was a slightly undersized Polynesian Safety from USC who played with wild abandon and a glorious main of hair, who ended up drafted in the 1st round by the Pittsburgh Steelers. His name was Troy Polamalu and as it turns out, he was one of the best to ever play the game at his position. Fast forward to 2021, and USC has another slightly undersized Polynesian Safety, named Talanoa Hufanga, who played with wild abandon and a slightly less glorious main of hair, who fell in the draft due to a poor combine showing and injury.
Snagged in the 5th round of the 2021 draft by the 49ers (praise be to Adam Peters), Hufanga played spot snaps on defense his rookie year as a rotational safety, while logging most of his playing time as a special teams gunner, with his most memorable play coming against the Packers in the NFC Divisional round, returning the blocked punt by Jordan Willis for a game tying touchdown. When Jimmie Ward suffered a moderate hamstring strain in the 2022 preseason, Hufanga capitalized on his opportunity, playing well enough to earn the starting S job when Ward came back, which in part led to Ward and the 49ers parting ways in FA.
During his 2022-23 sophomore campaign Hufanga ended up 3rd on the team/13th amongst all Safety's in tackles (97), 3rd on the team/6th amongst all Safety's in PD's (9), 2nd on the team/tied for 6th amongst all Safety's in INT's (4), including a pick-6 against Matt Stafford, and tied for 1st on the team/3rd amongst all Safety's in FF (2) EX. Despite being listed at only 6 foot 200lbs he plays significantly bigger and isn't afraid to lay wood or attack blockers in run defense. By far and away Hufanga's greatest asset is his raw instinctual play, his ability to diagnose and blow up plays based on pre snap alignment and pure gut instinct in a way offenses can't plan against. He's SF's wildcard, and on a defense laden with monsters and freaks he's perfectly positioned to reap as much damage as possible against opposing offenses.
While Hufanga's certainly has a long way to go to catch Polamalu, the similarities early in his career are apparent. History doesnt repeats itself but it sure does rhymes a whole lot.

#96 - Alex Highsmith - Pittsburgh Steelers - EDGE Rusher

Previous Ranks

2021	2020
N/A	N/A​

Key Stat:
1st in sacks lined up on the right side of the defensive line with 14
Written by: u/ezDuke
Flashback to 2021. Melvin Ingram had signed with the Steelers in hopes of revitalizing his career opposite a premier Edge rusher in TJ Watt. All that stood in his way was a former 3rd round pick from the football powerhouse school of Charlotte entering his second season, Alex Highsmith. By midseason, however, it was clear that the Steelers saw something in Highsmith and Ingram demanded a trade in search of a starting opportunity.
Throughout the 2022 season, Highsmith rewarded the Steelers' faith in him. He showcased an array of pass rush moves to finish 6th in the league with 14.5 sacks, highlighted by his devastating spin move. He also led the league in forced fumbles, along with Haason Reddick. He actually graded even more highly as a run defender, according to PFF, and even showed good coverage skills for a LB.
Highsmith has blossomed into the do-it-all Linebacker they envisioned when they shipped Ingram off for a 6th round pick. While he still has some room to grow, there's no question that he and TJ Watt have as good a chance as any to finish 2023 as the league's best pass rush tandem.

#95 - Tua Tagovailoa - Miami Dolphins - Quarterback

Previous Ranks

2021	2020
N/A	N/A​

Key Stat:
When throwing 5+ Yards downfield, Tua ranked 1st in EPA/ATT, 1st in Success Rate, 1st in First Down Rate, 1st in YPA and 1st in Passer Rating
Written by: u/cheesepythons
Tua Tagovailoa, perhaps the most polarizing player in the NFL presently. Some of the criticism justified and some vacuous, somewhere in the middle of all this there is the realization that what we got in the 2022 season was a much-improved player who when given the confidence, right system and weapons showed the ability of elite talent. Finishing first in league passer rating, 25 touchdowns, around 9 yards Y/A behind one of the worst OL’s in the league (24th in pass block win rate, thank god for when TA was playing) was a bright spot for his growth and maturity as a QB and team leader. On intermediate throws, Tua ranked first in EPA per drop back and completion percentage. Tua had the lowest average time to throw on these pass attempts at 2.63, the league average for throws of 11 or more air yards is 3.02 seconds. There will be arguments of course that having two of the best receivers in the league has helped, there can’t be any argument, but it is interesting to note that Tua was ranked 33rd in the league in passing yards after the catch which suggests his arm is doing a lot of the lifting as well. 2 serious concussions and subsequently missing time robbed Dolphins fans of seeing him produce at a consistent level but at 8-1 as a starter leading into December (before the wheels fell off) there was enough to have him nominated and subsequently voted into the Top 100 players for the season.

#94 - CJ Gardner-Johnson - Philadelphia Eagles - Safety

Previous Ranks

2021	2020	2019
N/A	N/A	N/A​

Key Stat:
T-1st in the league with 6 INTs
Written by: u/CokeZ3ro
Joining the Eagles mere days before Week 1 via trade, Gardner-Johnson would serve as the cherry on top for the formidable 2022 Eagles defense. More than just a change in scenery, Gardner-Johnson also experienced a change in position, switching from nickel corner to a more traditional safety. Safe to say, he adapted well to the change. Gardner-Johnson co-lead the league with 6 interceptions.
Gardner-Johnson often employs a ballhawk style coverage. He has a great sense for the ball in the air, and a blazingly fast approach which will often punish poor placement and deflections. Pairing with the disruption caused by the Eagle’s D-line and the coverage by their excellent corners gave Gardner-Johnson plenty of opportunities to flash those skills.
Mclaurin got Slay beat? It’s alright CJGJ will fly over to make the pick.
Underthrown? You’re done for.
Sometimes it feels like he spawns out of nowhere to make the pick.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention trash talk antics. If there was an award for instigation, C.J. Gardner-Johnson would win in a landslide. Few are better at getting under the opponent’s skin. Gardner-Johnson brings a level of grit, energy, and bravado that can instantly make the secondary better.

#93 - Ryan Ramczyk - New Orleans Saints - Offensive Tackle

Previous Ranks

2021	2020	2019	2018	2017
100	63	14	74	100​

Key Stat:
6th straight year allowing less than 20 pressures in true pass sets
Written by: u/LazyFBaby
Ryan Ramczyk turned in a solid year again in 2022. However, he happened to be on the 2022 New Orleans Saints football in 2022 as well. The offense was woefully inconsistent and particularly struggled to get anything going in the 2nd half of most games ranking in the top 5 in terms of three and out percentage during the latter half of the game. Consequently, Ram was mostly ignored throughout the season where he only allowed 3 sacks, 5 QB hits and 20 pressures (per PFF). If I was to pick any performance of his to highlight it would be his work against Nick Bosa in week 12 he stonewalled Bosa all game and his only real mistake was a false start penalty. Ryan continues to be one of the strongest tackles in the NFL in terms of his anchor and his ability to deal with any pass rush moves that an opposing Edge might throw at him. Hopefully, 2023 will see his return to the upper echelons of this hallowed list

#92 - Tee Higgins - Cincinnati Bengals - Wide Receiver

Previous Ranks

2021	2020
N/A	N/A​

Key Stat:
4th in Contested Catch % (16 catches on 26 targets) +3rd highest target passer rating (121.0)
Written by: u/Letsgomountaineers5
Tee Higgins was one of the biggest draft crushes I’ve had in some time, so it was a no brainer to pick up his write up, even though he plays for one of my favorite team’s biggest rivals. He’s just a really fun player to watch from a WR coach’s perspective. Let’s dive into a few things that makes Tee Higgins a Top 100 player and an elite WR in the NFL.
The first thing you have to love about Tee’s game is his deep ball ability. That has always been his calling card, even without elite speed. So, what makes him such a threat? Well, I would be remiss to leave off his size and frame. He’s long and broad and those two things allow him to high point footballs and shield off defenders naturally. However, what separates Tee from the other thousand long and broad people playing WR at any level up and down the country is an otherworldly ability to track a football down the field, very late hands and reactions to assist with preventing a defender from getting between the ball, and most importantly the body control of a world class ballet performer. I mean this when I say that Tee Higgins has the best body control down the field of any player in football and WR gurus like Urban Meyer, Brian Hartline, and Butch will say that body control is the hardest thing to teach a receiver to do and arguably the most sought after trait of a downfield threat, moreso than speed.
Here’s a great example of this. Sauce is playing Cover 3 to his side of the field, so he’s able to open to the QB and track the ball flight. He’s in decent trail position as like I said earlier, Tee isn’t a burner. However, Sauce is late to find the ball because Tee doesn’t give anything to the ball being flight until the last possible moment where his eyes widen and his hands go up. Sauce is even able to flip his head around and get in the line of sight of Tee, but Tee still effortlessly adjusts his body to maintain eye contact with the football and track it into his bread basket. Not often did Sauce get beat deep this year, but he sure did by Tee. Another example of Tee just sonning DBs downfield. In this matchup, the Browns are playing 2-Read. As soon as the slot WR to Tee’s side goes vertical, it becomes matchup quarters and Greedy Williams is attached to Tee. This is a ball that SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN THROWN. Greedy is in excellent position on the fade. The safety is coming underneath on the deep out so even a back shoulder is typically a bad idea here. The Browns play this really well! But, still, here’s Tee high pointing the ball centimeters above Greedy’s hands and ripping it away from him, having the body control to remain on his feet even as gravity and Greedy are pulling him to the ground, and walking into the end zone.
An underrated part of Tee’s game is his route running. He’s very good on his release. The first clip of this cut up shows why. In the slot here, he stems his defender outside while pushing vertical. His delayed release and “out-in-out” stepping pattern freezes the curl/flat player in the cover 3. He’s in a bad spot to play the “curl” zone (he’s not running a curl) of the coverage because the backer to his side blitzes but Tee has him so frozen, he passes Tee off to no one and Tee is able to settle into wide open space. He also uses his body control to break off vertical routes very quickly, even without having the quickest of feet. Cover 3 to Tee again as most teams were scared of him getting over top of the defense. Tee options this go route off into a perfect flag comeback, using both his intelligence and body control to find open space. The defender is flipped open and running from the snap so he recognizes getting behind him is hard. But the defender is also in really good leverage to snap back down on fast break back to the football, so he has to really sell vertical. He closes space and cuts first like he’s going to run a fade/corner route. Then, he plants extremely hard vertically in one of the most unbelievable leg angles I’ve seen from someone that is still able to keep their feet and comes back to the football. The corner is completely helpless to stop this play.
There’s been this long standing whisper that Tee is a product of Jamarr. I attempted to illustrate as briefly as possible just how incredible of a player Tee is in his own right, but I would be remiss when discussing Tee in context of this list on 2022 play to mention how much he elevated his game with Jamarr out. Tee ended the year with 74 catches for 1029 yards. Nothing to scoff at. But with Jamarr out, he elevated his play to a pace of 110 catches for 1577 yards. Tee may be one of the only players in football that is held back by a top 5 WR talent playing across from him. He proved this year that both players serve a crucial role in this offense and if anything, he could stand to see more targets next season even with Jamarr in the fold. He can be the WR1 and when all the attention is paid to him, he seems to take his game to even higher levels. Look out for him next season climbing up this list even higher.

#91 - Quenton Nelson - Indianapolis Colts - Offensive Guard

Previous Ranks

2021	2020	2019	2018
82	21	18	70​

Key Stat:
4rd OL in history to make the Pro Bowl in each of their first 5 seasons, with 3 AP All-Pro 1st teams
Written by: u/Matt_Forte_
Quenton Nelson continues to be the best lineman on the Colts once again. Having a down year compared to his previous pedigree, he was not quite as dominant as his usual standards in pass protection, he allowed more sacks than he had previously, but some of that can be attributed to inexperienced QB play and poor pocket presence forcing him to have to hold up for longer. Nelson allowed 5 sacks out of the Colts’ 60 total allowed sacks, while starting all 17 games and coming close to the lead league among guards with snaps taken, showing he was nowhere near the biggest culprit on the team in allowing sacks. There were two plays that I felt summarized his pass protection. First, he does a great job picking up a stunt to give Ehlinger time in his first NFL start. Second, is simply a picture. The ball was snapped at 9:37, and approximately 2.5 seconds into the play, Q is the only lineman whose man is not pressuring Sam Ehlinger.
However, Quenton Nelson was still a force to be reckoned with in the run. Between his ability pull, or lead block for Jonathan Taylor, Quenton Nelson still retains his ability to be a dominant force in run blocking. Any Jonathan Taylor highlight will heavily feature a solid block from Q giving him the running lane he takes, or Q out in front leading the charge! He will do this on any DL in the league too, there were several big gains in the Eagles game where Q was able to move the very talented Eagles DTs. He routinely performed this well against some of the best Defensive Lines in the league, such as Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, where he does a great job preventing Heyward from wrecking this TD run,
Expect Quenton Nelson to be a massive cornerstone of Anthony Richardson’s development in Indianapolis, providing a solid foundation to every facet of the run game, and a source of protection up the middle against pass rushers

Link to Positional Tracker Sheet

Link to Ranker Reveal Sheet

Link to Hub

After a series of poor decisions I ended up leaving the store with a beautiful female koi betta but without a light for the tank.. Until I can get one she's on my desk which is right by the window and supplies a solid amount of sunlight to the tank. Is this sustainable? She won't explode from prolonged sun exposure or anything right lmao

As enjoyable as the more relaxed journey had been, eventually it had to come to an end. After a week of meandering through the countryside and small villages, Madeline, Billie, and Lena were approaching their final destination — the city where it had all begun for Madeline, and where it would likely end too.
But they still had a couple of days before they reconvened with the others taking part in the attempted rescue mission, and Madeline had a couple more stops she wanted to make.
First, she insisted on stopping by the house she’d been meant to meet Liam at all those months ago, just in case. But her message and the supplies she’d left for him were still untouched.
The sight of the food and water bottled gathering dust sent a wave of grief through her. It clutched at her chest, making her heart feel as if it was trying to climb up her throat. Part of her was grateful that Billie and Lena had to wait a safe distance away to avoid detection by the Poiloogs. It meant there was no one to see the trembling limbs and the tears pricking at her eyes. But it also meant there was no one to slip a hand into hers or clasp her in a tight embrace. No one to fill the emptiness left behind by that wave of grief.
Still, there was hope. Until she’d tried everything — until they’d enacted this rescue mission — she couldn’t give up.
With a deep breath, Madeline wiped away the tears and reached for her walkie-talkie to let her friends know she was ready to move on.
Then began the journey across the city to the library. Her library.
Lena and Billie were both very understanding of her whims. They didn’t even question it, which Madeline was grateful for, having no real reason or logical explanation as to why it was necessary. It just was.
The walk was less pleasant than it had been in the countryside. Towering buildings and concrete and debris replaced rolling hills and trees and crystal blue lakes. Of course, there was still some greenery. Wildflowers wormed their way through gaps in the paving slabs. Ivy crept over buildings. Weeds sprung up from every nook and crevice. Nature always found a way. Perhaps one day, it would reclaim the cities entirely, and all traces of humanity would be wiped from the globe.
But humans were persistent too.
Thankfully, the Poiloog activity had diminished since the last time Madeline had been here. They only had to duck out of sight once on their journey, meaning they made good time.
When Madeline saw the towering shape of her library on the horizon, it set her stomach fluttering and churning and twisting. It was as if all the homesickness she’d pushed down and ignored came flooding in all at once now that she was back. Her chest constricted and swelled, her heart stuttering and squeezing and soaring, not knowing how to react to the flood of emotion.
For the second time that day, she wished that someone was there to comfort her. She imagined pouring her heart out to Lena, or collapsing into Billie’s arms and sobbing out her feelings.
But that wasn’t an option. No congregating before a night’s sleep. The precautions were even more important now that they were here.
So she stood alone, staring at her home of so many years, the home she’d shared with Liam for those few short months. Swallowing hard, she fought back the lump rising in her throat and forced her trembling legs to keep moving. One foot in front of the other.
When they finally reached the library, Lena and Billie fanned out to keep watch at either side of it while Madeline slipped around the back. The motion of climbing the garden wall was still in her muscles. Her toes knew exactly the spots to dig into without even thinking about it, and she’d soon hauled herself up.
The garden was just as she remembered it — an overgrown and unruly mess. A quick kick revealed that the water butt was completely full. That was good. She’d missed not having to worry too much about where her next drink would come from.
When she was done glancing around at the familiar grimy benches and flowerbeds, she crept through the back door. Or the space where the back door used to be, anyway. A Poiloog had torn through it the day she’d fled this place with Liam. Perhaps, one day, she’d be able to return to repair it.
Wood splinters creaked and crunched underfoot as she walked along the corridor, deeper into darkness. But she didn’t need to see to know where she was going here. She knew every corner of this building like it was a part of her.
Carrying on, she came out into the light spilling in from the long, tall windows lining the main hall. The smell of the dust and the paper — the smell of home — tickled her nostrils, bringing the lump in her throat ever higher, but she choked it back. Ignoring the stinging in her eyes as best she could, she looked around at the orderly stacks of shelves. All apart from one section near the middle where a bookcase had been pushed into another, sending books tumbling to the ground. Another thing to fix if she ever had the time.
Her vision started to blur as she remembered that moment, how Liam had come back for her despite telling him to run. How he’d saved her with his quick thinking. She hurriedly reached up to wipe away the tears and continued walking.
Aside from the missing bodies of the Poiloogs they’d killed, now simply purple bloodstains on the floor, everything was just as she’d left it. When she was satisfied it was safe, she returned to her old bedroom in one of the offices and slumped onto the mattress on the floor. Then, finally, she stopped trying to choke it all back.
She let the lump in her throat rise while the sting of tears in her eyes overflowed into a flood. Clutching her knees to her chest she sobbed out her feelings until there was nothing left. Her heart ached. Her throat ached. Her head ached. Her eyes ached. Every inch of her hurt, physical and emotional pain blending into one maelstrom that threatened to consume her entirely. But she knew it would pass. It had to. She had a job to do.
When the sobs finally subsided, with no more tears left to cry, she reached out with trembling hands to wipe her face clean, calmly doing her best to make herself presentable before reaching for her walkie-talkie.
She pressed the button on the side. “Okay,” she said, voice strained and gravelly. “It’s all clear in here. I… I think this would be a good place to stay for the night if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course!” Lena’s reply came almost instantly.
“Yeah,” Billie said, a little more slowly. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, Mads.”
Madeline looked around the familiar room. She looked at the bucket she’d used to wash every morning; the patterned throw she’d found on one of the sofas to use as a blanket, so soft to the touch; the piles of books she’d finished sorted according to interest, genre, and heft. Then, her gaze fell on a smaller pile — recommendations for Liam.
She lifted the walkie-talkie to her lips. “Yeah. I’m sure… It’s good to be home.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was odd inviting Lena and Billie into her sanctuary, just as it had been when she’d brought Liam here all those months ago. But what made it even odder was that she wasn’t there with them as they came inside. She stayed tucked away in her bedroom while they each went off to separate meeting rooms or study rooms to make their bed for the night. Madeline did her best to direct them to the comfiest sofas via radio, while also steering them clear of Liam’s room. That was out of bounds. She had to keep it just as it was for if — when she got him back.
Once everyone was settled and suitably far away, Madeline wasn’t ready to be alone with her thoughts quite yet. She clung to the walkie-talkie like it was her last lifeline, drawing strength from her friends.
Thankfully, Lena and Bille were only too happy to keep talking too.
“I can’t believe you lived here!” Lena said, for possibly the hundredth time. “Didn’t you find it spooky, having all of this old building to yourself?”
Madeline shrugged to herself. “I always found it comforting. All that extra space was an additional barrier between me and the chaos outside.”
“I can see it,” Billie said. “It’s well situated for supply runs. Sturdy walls. Plenty of books to keep you occupied. And a good amount of space so you can keep in shape without setting foot outside.”
“Of course, you’d think of that,” Lena scoffed.
“But seriously, Mads,” they continued. “Thanks for bringing us here. It’s nice getting a glimpse of your life before we met. And I really can see you living here, all snuggled up in your fortress with your books. You’re a smart woman. I’d never have thought to come somewhere like here.”
“Thanks,” Madeline said. “It was a good life. As good as can be expected, anyway. Especially once… once it wasn’t just me.” The conversation trailed off for a moment.
Madeline wondered if the others were thinking about those they’d lost along the way. Billie had their brother Joe. But what about Lena? She assumed the medic had someone she was hoping to rescue too, but it felt rude to ask outright.
“It’s nice to get a better look at the place,” Billie said, suddenly breaking the silence. “Last time I was here there was this crazy lady attacking me so it was very difficult to look around.”
The tears clinging to Madeline’s eyes spilt over as a bark of laughter bubbled up. Trust Billie to steer the conversation back to less maudlin topics. She sniffed hard before replying. “That’s what happens when you break into somebody’s home.”
“Is it? I’ll have to take note of that for future.”
As the conversation continued, the patch of sky in Madeline’s window gained tinges of pink and orange before fading to the greyish purple of twilight. Still clutching the walkie-talkie in her hand, Madeline shifted slightly, laying back. The mattress she was sitting on scooted across the floor under her, making her heart jolt. That was something she hadn’t missed.
Next chapter hopefully on 15th June

<< First Chapter
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As enjoyable as the more relaxed journey had been, eventually it had to come to an end. After a week of meandering through the countryside and small villages, Madeline, Billie, and Lena were approaching their final destination — the city where it had all begun for Madeline, and where it would likely end too.
But they still had a couple of days before they reconvened with the others taking part in the attempted rescue mission, and Madeline had a couple more stops she wanted to make.
First, she insisted on stopping by the house she’d been meant to meet Liam at all those months ago, just in case. But her message and the supplies she’d left for him were still untouched.
The sight of the food and water bottled gathering dust sent a wave of grief through her. It clutched at her chest, making her heart feel as if it was trying to climb up her throat. Part of her was grateful that Billie and Lena had to wait a safe distance away to avoid detection by the Poiloogs. It meant there was no one to see the trembling limbs and the tears pricking at her eyes. But it also meant there was no one to slip a hand into hers or clasp her in a tight embrace. No one to fill the emptiness left behind by that wave of grief.
Still, there was hope. Until she’d tried everything — until they’d enacted this rescue mission — she couldn’t give up.
With a deep breath, Madeline wiped away the tears and reached for her walkie-talkie to let her friends know she was ready to move on.
Then began the journey across the city to the library. Her library.
Lena and Billie were both very understanding of her whims. They didn’t even question it, which Madeline was grateful for, having no real reason or logical explanation as to why it was necessary. It just was.
The walk was less pleasant than it had been in the countryside. Towering buildings and concrete and debris replaced rolling hills and trees and crystal blue lakes. Of course, there was still some greenery. Wildflowers wormed their way through gaps in the paving slabs. Ivy crept over buildings. Weeds sprung up from every nook and crevice. Nature always found a way. Perhaps one day, it would reclaim the cities entirely, and all traces of humanity would be wiped from the globe.
But humans were persistent too.
Thankfully, the Poiloog activity had diminished since the last time Madeline had been here. They only had to duck out of sight once on their journey, meaning they made good time.
When Madeline saw the towering shape of her library on the horizon, it set her stomach fluttering and churning and twisting. It was as if all the homesickness she’d pushed down and ignored came flooding in all at once now that she was back. Her chest constricted and swelled, her heart stuttering and squeezing and soaring, not knowing how to react to the flood of emotion.
For the second time that day, she wished that someone was there to comfort her. She imagined pouring her heart out to Lena, or collapsing into Billie’s arms and sobbing out her feelings.
But that wasn’t an option. No congregating before a night’s sleep. The precautions were even more important now that they were here.
So she stood alone, staring at her home of so many years, the home she’d shared with Liam for those few short months. Swallowing hard, she fought back the lump rising in her throat and forced her trembling legs to keep moving. One foot in front of the other.
When they finally reached the library, Lena and Billie fanned out to keep watch at either side of it while Madeline slipped around the back. The motion of climbing the garden wall was still in her muscles. Her toes knew exactly the spots to dig into without even thinking about it, and she’d soon hauled herself up.
The garden was just as she remembered it — an overgrown and unruly mess. A quick kick revealed that the water butt was completely full. That was good. She’d missed not having to worry too much about where her next drink would come from.
When she was done glancing around at the familiar grimy benches and flowerbeds, she crept through the back door. Or the space where the back door used to be, anyway. A Poiloog had torn through it the day she’d fled this place with Liam. Perhaps, one day, she’d be able to return to repair it.
Wood splinters creaked and crunched underfoot as she walked along the corridor, deeper into darkness. But she didn’t need to see to know where she was going here. She knew every corner of this building like it was a part of her.
Carrying on, she came out into the light spilling in from the long, tall windows lining the main hall. The smell of the dust and the paper — the smell of home — tickled her nostrils, bringing the lump in her throat ever higher, but she choked it back. Ignoring the stinging in her eyes as best she could, she looked around at the orderly stacks of shelves. All apart from one section near the middle where a bookcase had been pushed into another, sending books tumbling to the ground. Another thing to fix if she ever had the time.
Her vision started to blur as she remembered that moment, how Liam had come back for her despite telling him to run. How he’d saved her with his quick thinking. She hurriedly reached up to wipe away the tears and continued walking.
Aside from the missing bodies of the Poiloogs they’d killed, now simply purple bloodstains on the floor, everything was just as she’d left it. When she was satisfied it was safe, she returned to her old bedroom in one of the offices and slumped onto the mattress on the floor. Then, finally, she stopped trying to choke it all back.
She let the lump in her throat rise while the sting of tears in her eyes overflowed into a flood. Clutching her knees to her chest she sobbed out her feelings until there was nothing left. Her heart ached. Her throat ached. Her head ached. Her eyes ached. Every inch of her hurt, physical and emotional pain blending into one maelstrom that threatened to consume her entirely. But she knew it would pass. It had to. She had a job to do.
When the sobs finally subsided, with no more tears left to cry, she reached out with trembling hands to wipe her face clean, calmly doing her best to make herself presentable before reaching for her walkie-talkie.
She pressed the button on the side. “Okay,” she said, voice strained and gravelly. “It’s all clear in here. I… I think this would be a good place to stay for the night if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course!” Lena’s reply came almost instantly.
“Yeah,” Billie said, a little more slowly. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, Mads.”
Madeline looked around the familiar room. She looked at the bucket she’d used to wash every morning; the patterned throw she’d found on one of the sofas to use as a blanket, so soft to the touch; the piles of books she’d finished sorted according to interest, genre, and heft. Then, her gaze fell on a smaller pile — recommendations for Liam.
She lifted the walkie-talkie to her lips. “Yeah. I’m sure… It’s good to be home.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was odd inviting Lena and Billie into her sanctuary, just as it had been when she’d brought Liam here all those months ago. But what made it even odder was that she wasn’t there with them as they came inside. She stayed tucked away in her bedroom while they each went off to separate meeting rooms or study rooms to make their bed for the night. Madeline did her best to direct them to the comfiest sofas via radio, while also steering them clear of Liam’s room. That was out of bounds. She had to keep it just as it was for if — when she got him back.
Once everyone was settled and suitably far away, Madeline wasn’t ready to be alone with her thoughts quite yet. She clung to the walkie-talkie like it was her last lifeline, drawing strength from her friends.
Thankfully, Lena and Bille were only too happy to keep talking too.
“I can’t believe you lived here!” Lena said, for possibly the hundredth time. “Didn’t you find it spooky, having all of this old building to yourself?”
Madeline shrugged to herself. “I always found it comforting. All that extra space was an additional barrier between me and the chaos outside.”
“I can see it,” Billie said. “It’s well situated for supply runs. Sturdy walls. Plenty of books to keep you occupied. And a good amount of space so you can keep in shape without setting foot outside.”
“Of course, you’d think of that,” Lena scoffed.
“But seriously, Mads,” they continued. “Thanks for bringing us here. It’s nice getting a glimpse of your life before we met. And I really can see you living here, all snuggled up in your fortress with your books. You’re a smart woman. I’d never have thought to come somewhere like here.”
“Thanks,” Madeline said. “It was a good life. As good as can be expected, anyway. Especially once… once it wasn’t just me.” The conversation trailed off for a moment.
Madeline wondered if the others were thinking about those they’d lost along the way. Billie had their brother Joe. But what about Lena? She assumed the medic had someone she was hoping to rescue too, but it felt rude to ask outright.
“It’s nice to get a better look at the place,” Billie said, suddenly breaking the silence. “Last time I was here there was this crazy lady attacking me so it was very difficult to look around.”
The tears clinging to Madeline’s eyes spilt over as a bark of laughter bubbled up. Trust Billie to steer the conversation back to less maudlin topics. She sniffed hard before replying. “That’s what happens when you break into somebody’s home.”
“Is it? I’ll have to take note of that for future.”
As the conversation continued, the patch of sky in Madeline’s window gained tinges of pink and orange before fading to the greyish purple of twilight. Still clutching the walkie-talkie in her hand, Madeline shifted slightly, laying back. The mattress she was sitting on scooted across the floor under her, making her heart jolt. That was something she hadn’t missed.
Author's Note: Next chapter to be posted 15th June (hopefully). This is an ongoing project so I welcome any feedback you might have.

As enjoyable as the more relaxed journey had been, eventually it had to come to an end. After a week of meandering through the countryside and small villages, Madeline, Billie, and Lena were approaching their final destination — the city where it had all begun for Madeline, and where it would likely end too.
But they still had a couple of days before they reconvened with the others taking part in the attempted rescue mission, and Madeline had a couple more stops she wanted to make.
First, she insisted on stopping by the house she’d been meant to meet Liam at all those months ago, just in case. But her message and the supplies she’d left for him were still untouched.
The sight of the food and water bottled gathering dust sent a wave of grief through her. It clutched at her chest, making her heart feel as if it was trying to climb up her throat. Part of her was grateful that Billie and Lena had to wait a safe distance away to avoid detection by the Poiloogs. It meant there was no one to see the trembling limbs and the tears pricking at her eyes. But it also meant there was no one to slip a hand into hers or clasp her in a tight embrace. No one to fill the emptiness left behind by that wave of grief.
Still, there was hope. Until she’d tried everything — until they’d enacted this rescue mission — she couldn’t give up.
With a deep breath, Madeline wiped away the tears and reached for her walkie-talkie to let her friends know she was ready to move on.
Then began the journey across the city to the library. Her library.
Lena and Billie were both very understanding of her whims. They didn’t even question it, which Madeline was grateful for, having no real reason or logical explanation as to why it was necessary. It just was.
The walk was less pleasant than it had been in the countryside. Towering buildings and concrete and debris replaced rolling hills and trees and crystal blue lakes. Of course, there was still some greenery. Wildflowers wormed their way through gaps in the paving slabs. Ivy crept over buildings. Weeds sprung up from every nook and crevice. Nature always found a way. Perhaps one day, it would reclaim the cities entirely, and all traces of humanity would be wiped from the globe.
But humans were persistent too.
Thankfully, the Poiloog activity had diminished since the last time Madeline had been here. They only had to duck out of sight once on their journey, meaning they made good time.
When Madeline saw the towering shape of her library on the horizon, it set her stomach fluttering and churning and twisting. It was as if all the homesickness she’d pushed down and ignored came flooding in all at once now that she was back. Her chest constricted and swelled, her heart stuttering and squeezing and soaring, not knowing how to react to the flood of emotion.
For the second time that day, she wished that someone was there to comfort her. She imagined pouring her heart out to Lena, or collapsing into Billie’s arms and sobbing out her feelings.
But that wasn’t an option. No congregating before a night’s sleep. The precautions were even more important now that they were here.
So she stood alone, staring at her home of so many years, the home she’d shared with Liam for those few short months. Swallowing hard, she fought back the lump rising in her throat and forced her trembling legs to keep moving. One foot in front of the other.
When they finally reached the library, Lena and Billie fanned out to keep watch at either side of it while Madeline slipped around the back. The motion of climbing the garden wall was still in her muscles. Her toes knew exactly the spots to dig into without even thinking about it, and she’d soon hauled herself up.
The garden was just as she remembered it — an overgrown and unruly mess. A quick kick revealed that the water butt was completely full. That was good. She’d missed not having to worry too much about where her next drink would come from.
When she was done glancing around at the familiar grimy benches and flowerbeds, she crept through the back door. Or the space where the back door used to be, anyway. A Poiloog had torn through it the day she’d fled this place with Liam. Perhaps, one day, she’d be able to return to repair it.
Wood splinters creaked and crunched underfoot as she walked along the corridor, deeper into darkness. But she didn’t need to see to know where she was going here. She knew every corner of this building like it was a part of her.
Carrying on, she came out into the light spilling in from the long, tall windows lining the main hall. The smell of the dust and the paper — the smell of home — tickled her nostrils, bringing the lump in her throat ever higher, but she choked it back. Ignoring the stinging in her eyes as best she could, she looked around at the orderly stacks of shelves. All apart from one section near the middle where a bookcase had been pushed into another, sending books tumbling to the ground. Another thing to fix if she ever had the time.
Her vision started to blur as she remembered that moment, how Liam had come back for her despite telling him to run. How he’d saved her with his quick thinking. She hurriedly reached up to wipe away the tears and continued walking.
Aside from the missing bodies of the Poiloogs they’d killed, now simply purple bloodstains on the floor, everything was just as she’d left it. When she was satisfied it was safe, she returned to her old bedroom in one of the offices and slumped onto the mattress on the floor. Then, finally, she stopped trying to choke it all back.
She let the lump in her throat rise while the sting of tears in her eyes overflowed into a flood. Clutching her knees to her chest she sobbed out her feelings until there was nothing left. Her heart ached. Her throat ached. Her head ached. Her eyes ached. Every inch of her hurt, physical and emotional pain blending into one maelstrom that threatened to consume her entirely. But she knew it would pass. It had to. She had a job to do.
When the sobs finally subsided, with no more tears left to cry, she reached out with trembling hands to wipe her face clean, calmly doing her best to make herself presentable before reaching for her walkie-talkie.
She pressed the button on the side. “Okay,” she said, voice strained and gravelly. “It’s all clear in here. I… I think this would be a good place to stay for the night if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course!” Lena’s reply came almost instantly.
“Yeah,” Billie said, a little more slowly. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, Mads.”
Madeline looked around the familiar room. She looked at the bucket she’d used to wash every morning; the patterned throw she’d found on one of the sofas to use as a blanket, so soft to the touch; the piles of books she’d finished sorted according to interest, genre, and heft. Then, her gaze fell on a smaller pile — recommendations for Liam.
She lifted the walkie-talkie to her lips. “Yeah. I’m sure… It’s good to be home.”
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It was odd inviting Lena and Billie into her sanctuary, just as it had been when she’d brought Liam here all those months ago. But what made it even odder was that she wasn’t there with them as they came inside. She stayed tucked away in her bedroom while they each went off to separate meeting rooms or study rooms to make their bed for the night. Madeline did her best to direct them to the comfiest sofas via radio, while also steering them clear of Liam’s room. That was out of bounds. She had to keep it just as it was for if — when she got him back.
Once everyone was settled and suitably far away, Madeline wasn’t ready to be alone with her thoughts quite yet. She clung to the walkie-talkie like it was her last lifeline, drawing strength from her friends.
Thankfully, Lena and Bille were only too happy to keep talking too.
“I can’t believe you lived here!” Lena said, for possibly the hundredth time. “Didn’t you find it spooky, having all of this old building to yourself?”
Madeline shrugged to herself. “I always found it comforting. All that extra space was an additional barrier between me and the chaos outside.”
“I can see it,” Billie said. “It’s well situated for supply runs. Sturdy walls. Plenty of books to keep you occupied. And a good amount of space so you can keep in shape without setting foot outside.”
“Of course, you’d think of that,” Lena scoffed.
“But seriously, Mads,” they continued. “Thanks for bringing us here. It’s nice getting a glimpse of your life before we met. And I really can see you living here, all snuggled up in your fortress with your books. You’re a smart woman. I’d never have thought to come somewhere like here.”
“Thanks,” Madeline said. “It was a good life. As good as can be expected, anyway. Especially once… once it wasn’t just me.” The conversation trailed off for a moment.
Madeline wondered if the others were thinking about those they’d lost along the way. Billie had their brother Joe. But what about Lena? She assumed the medic had someone she was hoping to rescue too, but it felt rude to ask outright.
“It’s nice to get a better look at the place,” Billie said, suddenly breaking the silence. “Last time I was here there was this crazy lady attacking me so it was very difficult to look around.”
The tears clinging to Madeline’s eyes spilt over as a bark of laughter bubbled up. Trust Billie to steer the conversation back to less maudlin topics. She sniffed hard before replying. “That’s what happens when you break into somebody’s home.”
“Is it? I’ll have to take note of that for future.”
As the conversation continued, the patch of sky in Madeline’s window gained tinges of pink and orange before fading to the greyish purple of twilight. Still clutching the walkie-talkie in her hand, Madeline shifted slightly, laying back. The mattress she was sitting on scooted across the floor under her, making her heart jolt. That was something she hadn’t missed.

Toxic Rats: DJ, Scott, Trent, Sammy, Sierra
Mutant Maggots: Anne Maria, Molly, Scarlett, Dave, Geoff
Episode 07: A Mine is a Terrible Thing to Waste
"Last time, on Total Drama Revenge of the Island!" the unseen host opened on a stock shot of the island before the recap montage began. "We saw how clueless our players are when it comes to fashion," he said over a clip of the Maggots' disastrous attempt to bring a self-dressed Sasquatchanakwa out on to the runway. "And how useless they are when it comes to rescues!" he added over the Maggots getting knocked off the scaffolding by barrels thrown by Sasquatchanakwa and Sammy's ultimately failed attempt to seduce him.
"In the end, Katie got the toss-a-roo," Katie got tossed away by Sasquatchanakwa, and then was escorted away by Chef, "and DJ and Geoff got tossed onto opposite teams," Chris added over clips of the two boys volunteering, then high fiving each other as they walked over to their new teams.
The footage was cut to Chris sitting in a deck chair on the Dock of Shame as his toenails were being filed. "You call that buffing?" Chris asked, who was angry at the overweight intern filing his toenails. "I want to see my ruggedly handsome face in every toenail." The intern filed faster. "Who will thrive, and who won't survive?" Chris asked the camera, but a sudden strong wind and the sound of a rotor signaled the arrival of a helicopter.
"This is the Department of Environmental Protection!" a voice called out, the camera zooming out to show a RCMP helicopter hovering a few feet away from the host. "You're busted, McLean!"
"Aww, man!" Chris griped. "Meddling tree-huggers..." With a scowl on his face, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Launch Operation Doomsday!" he ordered. "Repeat, Operation Doomsday! Over!" A short hiss of static ended the message, and he turned a smile to the camera. "What is Operation Doomsday, you ask? Find out right here, right now, on Total! Drama! Revenge, of the Island!" As the shot cut outward as usual, another pair of RCMP helicopters swooped down to join the first over the dock.
XXXXX
The scene opened up to show the Maggot cabin, where Dave was inside cleaning. He was currently setting up his bed and had just positioned his pillow.
"And with that, the cabin is clean and free of filth," Dave sighed happily.
Geoff then came running and breathing inside, unknowingly getting streaks on the floor.
"I just cleaned that!" Dave said with a bit of anger in his voice.
Geoff noticed his frustration. "Sorry 'bout that, man. I did just swap over to this team, so I don't know how much of a neat freak you are."
"It's okay," Dave forgave his new teammate. "Most of the jocks in my school come out messy after a football game, and I hate seeing muddy footprints and dirt all over the ground."
"You would not want to meet my team then," Geoff looked back. "We come off looking sweaty and we have to shower for ten minutes just to get the stink off."
Dave shuddered at the thought. "Let's stop talking about it. The thought of a muddy floor makes me nervous."
Confessional: DJ
"Being on a new team ain't gonna be a problem for me," DJ expressed his thoughts in the confessional. "I'm still lingering on from Katie's elimination. She tells me that she likes me, and I never get to tell her that I like her back." He let out a sigh of sadness. "I hope we get to meet after the show's all over."
Confessional Ends
The scene cut outside the Rats' cabin as a helicopter flew by overhead. The shot panned down to Geoff as he passed by the helicopter, then the camera showed Molly listening to another indie song on her mp3 player.
"You seemed to really like your mp3 player," Geoff chuckled a bit.
"I can't help it," Molly paused her song. "Indie songs don't normally play on the radio. Mostly pop and rock."
"I can see where you're coming from," Geoff sensed. "You like to drift away from the mainstream and focus on your own interests."
"I like other kinds of things like fashion trends and partying, but what I like is less out there," Molly answered. "I like to do things by myself. Being indie doesn't blend in well with other people."
Geoff sat down next to her. "Maybe no one will get invested by what you like to do, but there's someone who I know will."
"Who could that be?" Molly asked the party guy, not getting what she's saying.
Geoff picked up an earbud and put it in his ear. "They're right next to you."
Molly realized what was happening and put on the other earbud. "In that case, let me start the next song. It's really beachy."
This got a laugh out of both of them.
\
"Alright, let's just get our so-called breakfast over with!" Molly said as she and Geoff walked into the hall, the cast standing around looking confused.
"We can't," Dave replied. "Chef's not here, and neither is breakfast!"
"I suppose we will just have to hunt for our food, in a figure of speech," Scarlett requested before everyone began searching.
The perspective changed to show the inside of a refrigerator as Trent opened the door and looked inside. "There's no food in the fridge," he called out after looking over the bare shelves.
"Nothing in the cupboards, either!" Sammy added after opening a cupboard door.
"We should check in the walk-in freezer!" Chef suggested through a small open window, quickly hurrying away as the camera zoomed out to reveal Dave standing nearby.
"The freezer could work!" Dave thought out. He hurried across the room and threw open the freezer door, stepping inside as a cold mist poured out. "I can see meat inside," he called out and ran inside.
The others promptly ran in to join him...and a shutter door slid down behind them. They gasped, and the camera cut outside to show a truck driven by Chef starting up and moving away from a hole in the side of the mess hall.
"Challenge time, suckas!" Chef cackled, sliding open a small view slot and grinning at the camera and campers inside the cargo hold.
"This is so not cool!" Geoff complained, grabbing hold of a swinging piece of meat as most of the others tried to keep their balance in the moving vehicle.
"Where are you taking us?" Sierra asked Chef.
"You'll see," Chef answered with a devilish smile and snicker, sliding the viewing slot shut...and jamming his finger in the process, causing him to yelp in pain.
\
A flash took the scene to what appeared to be the entrance of a mineshaft. On a ledge to the right was a bulldozer and some other pieces of machinery, while to the left was not only a pile of toxic waste barrels, but also a widescreen television showing what seemed like a live feed of the host. The Chef-driven truck backed up to the entrance and with a grin the driver pushed a button that caused the hold to lift, dumping the campers out onto the dirt.
"Good. You're here. Finally," Chris said, giving them a quick look of annoyance before shifting into his typical smile. "Today's challenge is to find a Golden Chris statue in your team color," he raised his left hand and a statuette with a green base appeared with a flash and a chime, then did the same with a red-based statuette on his right, "hidden somewhere in this old abandoned mine." He motioned to the mine entrance, and the two statuettes disappeared with another flash. "First team back, wins!"
"That seems easy enough," Molly told her team confidently. "We got this, team."
"Before we go," Scarlett said, "we will need some supplies-"
She was cut off when a heavy orange backpack was tossed on her, forcefully knocking her to the ground. Everybody looked towards the truck with the others, the shot cutting over to show Chef – now in his hazmat suit – tossing the backpacks out of the back of the truck.
"Don't worry," Chris told them. "There are enough packs for everyone."
The shot cut outward just as Scott was tossed his, revealing that all the others had received packs as well. Most were lifting them with little trouble, though Dave was struggling and Scarlett was still lying on the ground.
"What'd you put in them? Rocks?" Geoff griped, reaching to open the pack's main flap.
"Up-up-up-up-up, no peeking!" Chris admonished. "Those 50 lb bags are purely for your torment," he explained, "and my amusement. Enjoy."
Scarlett was shown rooting through a side pocket and pulled out a small metal armband with a bright green triangular patch on front. "Chemical badges?" the quiet brainiac asked in concern. "Why do we need to measure our exposure to toxic waste?"
"No reason," Chris said with an impish shrug. "Except that I rented the mine out to store hazardous material." The campers all gasped.
"What?!" Trent asked in utter shock. "That is really dangerous and a hazard to our lives!"
Chris continued to be smug. "Which is why I'm in a studio right now!" Both teams immediately protested. "Relax," the devilish host told them, "it's perfectly safe. For thirty minutes," he clarified as an inset of a timer reading 30:00 appeared on the screen next to him. "When your badge turns orange," he pointed at the inset as it showed the green triangle that was on the armbands turning orange, "you have fifteen minutes left. Red is your five minute warning," the triangle turned red, "and, if you see a skull and crossbones," the entire triangle was replaced by a flashing skull and crossbones, "we'll dedicate this episode to you! But no way is it gonna come to that. A mysterious person has been down there for more than forty minutes," he said as the entire on-screen inset disappeared, "and I think they're gonna be fine!...ish..."
\
The shot went to the inside of the cave. It was pitch dark at first, but soon someone lit a candle to brighten the room. Their arm was silhouetted and dark, hiding the true identity of the one holding the candle.
All that could be heard was a villainous, but over exaggerated laugh.
\
"Now move it, peeps!" Chris told the cast, the camera cutting back outward to show them all standing with their packs.
"Can you at least give us a hint about where to find the statues?" Sammy asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Funny story," Chris said with an impish smile and sideways glance. "The statues have gone missing! Someone, or something down there must've taken them."
"Is it well lit down there?" DJ asked nervously.
"It’s a mine, bro" Chris answered, his smile almost mocking. "Pitch black all the way. There are flashlights and fireflies inside," he added, "first come, first serve. Anywho, time's a-wasting, and so are your healthy blood cells. So go!"
\
The scene cut inside the mine entrance as the Rats ran in with Sierra in the lead.
"We're in the lead!" she cheered, stopping right before a small elevator with an open front. "EEEHHH!" Her words echoed as her team joined her, and the five sent worried looks up just as the mine began to rumble and rocks fell down from the ceiling, burying them under.
The Maggots ran past them. "Thank you for allowing us to have the lead!" Scarlett said as Sierra and her teammates poked their heads out of the rubble.
"Nice going, Uber-Girl," Scott sneered at her.
The Maggot team entered the elevator, Scarlett closing the short gate as soon as she could.
"We've got the flashlights!" Dave said, picking up a pair of the devices from the elevator floor. An ominous creaking cut off any possible celebration, however, and moments later a cable snapped, dropping the elevator down its shaft. All five of the Maggots screamed.
They landed with a resounding crash, and the scene cut down to the total darkness at the bottom of the shaft. A few pained groans rose up, followed by Geoff saying "Is everyone okay?"
"I think so," Dave replied first.
"I'm fine," Anne Maria said next.
"The flashlights!" Scarlett exclaimed, Molky turning one on and revealing the broken elevator and scores of waste barrels scattered around the five fallen teens.
"Looks like a tunnel there," Molly said, the camera panning left to show both a normal mineshaft and a more natural-looking tunnel next to it. "Do we take it?"
She was answered by a high-pitched squealing that echoed through the tunnels and caves, lasting long enough for all five Maggots to look around in terror.
"Looks good to me!" Geoff answered, getting up and making a dash towards the more natural-looking tunnel. His teammates followed shortly after him.
\
The squeal faded away as the scene cut back to the top of the elevator shaft, where the five Rats had managed to get themselves free of the rubble.
"That elevator is not coming back up," Trent commented, looking down the shaft.
"We could just call it a day here," Scott impishly said.
"Or we could just shimmy down the line," DJ suggested.
"Are you sure that would work?" Sammy asked.
Trent bent down and picked up the firefly jar. "I'll go ahead and light the way," he told his team. "Then all of you can follow after me."
"That's a good idea," Sierra gave a thumbs-up.
"Here I go," Trent said in a confident tone, holding the cable with his left hand and the firefly jar under his right arm. He cried as he jumped into the shaft and slid down that cable, his declaration quickly turned into a pained shout.
The rest of the Rats shared a nervous look. "Hopefully he didn't burn his nuts," Scott said before the sound of a crash made the four of them wince.
"You can think again," Trent echoed up weakly through the shaft, causing his teammates to share another wary look.
\
A flash took the scene back down to the bottom of the shaft, Trent now lying on top of the broken elevator with his hands covering his groin. The rest of the Rats slid down above him, then hopped off to Trent's side.
"Are you alright?" Sammy asked, bending over her friend and offering him a hand.
"I'll get better," Trent said pitifully, taking her hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.
"Where did the fireflies go?" Scott followed up.
"Over there," Sierra answered. The camera panned down and zoomed in on the upturned jar, then zoomed out as DJ picked it up.
"Looks like we all made it here in one piece," DJ said.
"We sure did," Sierra said as the shot quick-panned over to her standing near one of the tunnels. "We need to get going so the other team doesn't win."
"You, Sammy, and DJ can go on ahead. I'll stay back to help Trent on his feet," Scott said.
\
The Maggots were huffing and panting as the scene cut back to them entering a slightly wider portion of the tunnels. Scarlett and Molly were in front with the flashlights, Dave and Anne Maria were right behind them, and Geoff brought up the rear.
The camera zoomed in on Scarlett and Molly, who were inspecting another pair of tunnels – a normal-looking mineshaft on the left, and a jagged-edged hole on the right.
"Why are we stopping?" Dave protested.
"We hit a fork in the road," Scarlett said.
"So we have to choose between two death traps," Molly deadpanned.
"The tunnels are different," Scarlett explained. "The left one has minecart tracks and looks to be another shaft, and the right one looks like it was carved by a humongous object."
"So this mine's home to a lot of mutants?" Anne Maria finished.
"Why did we stop if we simply could've gone left?" Geoff asked.
"I don't trust rollercoasters," Molly answered. "You never know if they will fall apart."
"This path is better than the other one, so let's just roll with it," Dave concluded before they went to the shaft.
\
"Get back into this jar, fireflies!" Sierra ordered from the group of fireflies flying away while she was holding the jar of fireflies.
"DJ, chase the fireflies back to us so Sierra can catch them," Sammy told the gentle giant.
DJ nodded and dashed ahead. He immediately howled as the fireflies swarmed around his head, and when he returned back to the girls, Sierra slammed the jar on his head, trapping the fireflies but having them fly around the top of his head.
"This should be a good light source," Sammy smiled, much to DJ's indifference.
\
A flash took the focus to a pair of minecarts linked together on a downward slope as the beam of a flashlight approached.
"Yes! These carts will speed us up!" Geoff said excitedly as he led the rest of the Rats to the carts. "This'll be like riding a rollercoaster."
"This seems a lot like a death trap," Molly responded.
"This whole place is a death trap," Dave countered. "What we need is speed, so we can find our statue, get out of here, and not worry about being intoxicated."
Just then Anne Maria's badge turned from green to orange, earning a gasp from her and the others. "Anne Maria's badge is orange!" Scarlett exclaimed.
"Oh my gosh. I only have like fifteen seconds to live or somethin'!" Anne Maria cried out.
"We all have fifteen minutes. We'll be alright, Anne," Geoff comforted her.
"Oh well, that ain't so bad," Anne Maria said before filing her nails.
The shot focused in on Scarlett as her badge suddenly turned orange as well. "Everyone get in," she said before running over and diving headfirst into the back cart.
"Shotgun!" Dave called out as he hopped in the front cart with Molly.
"Looks like we're in the back," Anne Maria said happily to Geoff.
"Then let's move out!" Geoff said, grabbing her arms and pulling her to the carts. The shot cut to a close-up of the front wheel as Molly reached down and pulled away a rock that was holding them in place.
"My first time riding the rails, and I'm always unenthusiastic," Molly said.
The camera pulled back out to show all five Rats in their chosen cart, and Dave pulled a lever that made the carts start moving downhill. The Rats cheered as they rolled off-screen, but Dave quickly added "Wrong lever!" with a hint of terror in his voice.
\
"Thanks for staying back for me," Trent said as the scene moved to him and Scott in complete darkness, only their eyes visible. "Also, could you get your knee off my back?"
"Leaving someone to die is something I'm not into," Scott replied. "And my knee isn't on your back."
"Then...what is-? Oh! It's a flashlight," Trent clicked the device, and suddenly the two teens were visible... as well as a group of giant hairless - and presumably mutated - gophers standing on their hindlegs and screeching menacingly at them.
Scott and Trent clung to each other and screamed.
\
"It's great to be on this team with you guys, but if we lose, I don't mind if you vote me off," DJ told Sammy and Sierra. "We all have to go sometime."
Sammy looked taken aback by the statement. "I won't vote you off. That'd be unfair to you since you swapped teams last episode."
"And besides, we need someone that can lift a truck, and you fill the role already," Sierra said with a smile, and the three continued on with a decent amount of comfort for a few seconds more...before the badge on Sammy's arm beeped and turned orange.
DJ gasped. "Your badge! It's orange!" the brickhouse said. "You've only got fifteen minutes to live!"
Two more beeps drew their attention to DJ and Sierra's badges as they changed as well. "You do too!" Sammy cried out in panic.
"This can't be happening!" Sierra declared, dropping to her knees with an anguished look on her face. "I've never visited Paris, or gotten married legally!"
Sammy and DJ both blinked. "Uhh, what was that?" the former asked.
"I became an ordained minister on the internet, and I thought someone was into me as much as I was into them," Sierra giggled.
"We have to hurry!" Sammy said, and the three took off.
\
"Okay guys," Molly told her teammates as the scene cut back to them rolling down the slope and the camera zooming in on the pair in the front cart, "just keep your eyes open for that statue. It has to be around here somewhere."
"I think we have a problem," Dave tapped the indie chick on the shoulder and she perked up and looked back. The shot cut outward to show that the two carts were now on different tracks, with her and Dave in the foreground and Geoff, Scarlett, and Anne Maria in the back.
"How did that even happen?!" Scarlett exclaimed in disbelief.
The two carts exited from the tunnel into a much more open cave, with the former front cart's track curving downward while the other track sloped upward. Dave and Molly screamed as their cart dipped off-screen and promptly crashed, kicking up a bit of dust and causing the camera to shake.
The shot cut to Anne Maria, Scarlett, and Geoff as horror dawned on their faces as they looked ahead. "The track is broken!" Anne Maria cried out, the perspective moving to the front of the cart to reveal the mangled piece of track they were approaching.
"Everybody brace yourselves!" Geoff screamed, the camera moving back to a distant side-view as the second cart launched off the track, and fell straight down with its passengers screaming all the way. They quickly passed the rocky ledge where Molly and Dave lay seemingly unconscious, and landed with a splash far below.
The scene receded into a set of monitors, the leftmost one showing only static while the middle showed Sammy, Sierra, and DJ walking through the mine and the rightmost one showed an underground lake.
"Looks like our players are doomed," Chris said, the camera zooming out to reveal him and Chef standing in a control room of sorts. "Will any of them survive? I have my doubts," the host laughed. "But find out for sure when we return with more, Total! Drama! Revenge of the Island!"
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First Prev Next Royal Road Patreon
u/KieveKRS providing the Trash certification of quality! (with help from u/coldfireknight cuz this one needed it.)
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Nalah affixed the massive shield to her back, the rectangular form large enough for him to fit behind while only needing to crouch slightly. It was mostly ironwood, but the sides and front were metal-plated, so it still weighed a considerable amount. Despite that, the thing’s bulk hardly seemed to be noticed by the blonde-furred female, likely due to the constant construction work she involved herself in. It paired oddly with the long pike she insisted on using, but he couldn’t deny that poking at things while hiding behind a mobile wall sounded like a good idea.
Jax was wearing his new armour, the bulky chest-piece a mirror of his blond-furred pack mate’s. Though he forwent the protection a buckler or likewise would offer, he doubled up on gear. Gauntlets, vambraces, pauldrons, and anything else he could wear to compliment the massive axe he had taken a liking to.
Where Nalah was fitted to look like an apocalypse survivor—her protections limited to her torso, forearms, and shield—the black-furred male resembled a giant, if underfunded, paladin. All he needed now was some religious imagery and a penchant for exalting the qualities of their god. Joseph almost nudged the guy to suggest it for kicks.
On second thought, he decided that Jax absolutely did not need a reason to start yelling about the Human-turned-religious-figure, because there was no way in hell he wouldn’t. There was no telling what he would choose to say, and the Grand Hunter was perfectly happy never knowing.
Having been with the male as long as he had, it would probably involve ‘taming’ females or something else that would leave him groaning for weeks, if not just contemplating another high-dive from the cliff.
Joseph fixed his own equipment, the ‘Wraith armour’ worn over his own thin iron breastplate. He wasn’t thrilled to wear the extra weight, but it beat being mauled by the thing they were heading out to kill. The trips so far had been tolerable, fog and overcast skies keeping the temperature in check, but he didn’t want to go out in this on a hotter day as Summer really kicked back in. He was sweaty enough without baking inside all this crap.
He adjusted the wolf-skull mask, the rest of the hunting party having gotten over the worst of the unease it gave them. Though they’d needed to rotate people out for the sake of fairness, this would be their eighth consecutive scouting. Using the information that Raine and Faye provided, they narrowed down a likely stomping grounds for the creature and were systematically clearing sectors. It might have been discouraging to keep looking after so long, but the occasional marking on trees and the odd moss-wolf corpse tipped them off that they were getting close. There was still another week’s worth of searching left if today wasn’t the day, but somehow he doubted they wouldn’t need that long.
All in all, they numbered six; larger parties were attempted, but their efforts at stealth quickly became pointless between so many trudging through the forest and stopping for breaks. There was a bit of a scare where one of Mi’low’s pack went missing, but the guy had just stopped to relieve himself. Since the discovery was made by someone else knocking him over in the process by mistake, they decided that keeping the number smaller made communication easier. And lowered the amount of grumbling about needing a bath.
Jax, Nalah, two security members, one of the hunters, and him. Sure, grabbing Tel or the Wraiths would have been a bit more useful for cohesion, but they were all busy with things, and he didn’t want to grind everything in the settlement to a halt for nothing if the search turned up empty again. They were more suited to taking out their fellow Lilhun than some monster in the woods, as much as he disliked the thought.
Scarlet was spending a lot of time with Violet and the new Atmo, Faye was spending much of her recovery with the moss-wolves and moss-pup, and Tel was in the process of helping Harrow shore up the few security members that were slated to become snipers. Kaslin was still learning chemistry with Toril, and Raine was helping whoever needed a hand, so that marked off all of his usual accompaniment. He could have taken more of his direct pack, but they all had important things to take care of as well.
Sahari was managing the pack and putting people where people needed to be put, Pan was working with Idee and Heralt to make a line of armour for the whole pack, and Mi’low was...well, Mi’low. He was pretty sure she was unofficially the master of the hunter’s lodge and spent most of her time keeping track of what came in and out of it, while also making sure that everyone got their fair share. It needed to be done with the settlement growing as much as it had, and it kept Mi’low busy enough to stymie the flow of complaints, so he wasn’t about to complain.
They double checked that they had everything that was needed; food, water, arrows, bolts, and some bags to store anything that the snares had caught on the way back. Four ranged and two melee weapons meant that they would be mostly using Jax and Nalah to soak hits if it came down to it, the others peppering it with projectiles. Given that Harrow was insistent on the bear-thing being resistant to anything they could use at a distance, they also carried spare weapons for the ranged users, just in case. Nodding, Joseph gestured to the group finishing up their preparations for the day’s trip.
“A moment, sir?” Scarlet called to him as she approached the gate, the Wraith flanked by Rose and Cobalt. The two Atmo were decked-out in their own armour, which appeared to be almost entirely metal, save for the palm lining the inside for comfort. Each of their six legs were adorned with broad shields, their bases capped off with a flat storage carriage. They looked like someone had a little too much fun testing how much the insects could effortlessly carry and had ended up with sapient hexapedal tanks.
“Only if you explain why those two would look more at home if they had cannons installed on their backs,” he quipped, an expression somewhere between surprised, amused, and plain dumbfounded plastered on his face. The blackish red-furred female smirked for a split-second before resuming her usual servile presentation.
“The young mistress had extended her request for these two to accompany you.”
Joseph tilted his head incredulously. “Violet told you to send them?”
Scarlet nodded, gesturing to the outfitted Atmo. “They have been under her tutelage for some time now, and wish to be of assistance.”
The Grand Hunter snapped his mouth closed when he was about to ask why his daughter would teach them anything that might be useful for fighting a deadly beast. Of course she did; It was one of the first things he did for her. It would have been weirder for her not to pass on what she knew after all the hours she spent either seeing him coach the others, or being coached herself. With the time she had under her belt, she was the local Atmo Close Quarters Combat specialist, and no one else understood how the modified boxing she learned worked with their bodies like she did.
He wore a hesitant expression, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Well, they’ve certainly geared up.”
“It is a product our smith is rather proud of,” the Wraith affirmed confidently.
He exhaled slowly. “Seems a bit much.”
She seemed to be expecting the remark, barely pausing to register what he said before responding. “Your kit wishes you safe, yet understands you would not allow her to accompany you. These two wish to be of assistance.”
To punctuate her point, the two nodded in agreement, walking forward and slinging some of the backpacks onto their carriages. It seemed ‘no’ wasn’t something they were going to accept after Violet had said her piece. He sighed, conceding that they wouldn’t slow the party down with everyone carrying so much weight in equipment, regardless of the bags. They took breaks frequently enough to accommodate the Atmo, so that wouldn’t hinder anything either.
“Fine,” he relented with a wave of his hand. “We’ll take them. Not like they’d hurt anyway. But–” He put a warning into his tone. “–they’re not playing the hero and getting themselves killed. This isn’t going to work if they think any of us dying is still a net positive, got it?”
The two Atmo mimed their understanding, Scarlet replying with a victorious smile. Joseph couldn’t help but bemusedly roll his eyes. The female had taken rather well to baby-sitting, and that seems to have extended to humouring the young Queen’s schemes now. It wasn’t an unwelcome addition to their little sojourn. At least they could haul back any larger game without it tacking hours onto the return trip.
He thanked Scarlet for her trouble before dismissing her, confirming with the group that everything was accounted for, and set off before it grew too late. He wasn’t looking to get caught out in the woods during the night. The Lilhuns might be fine, but he was pretty well blind unless the moon felt generous.
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Jax watched the two Atmo quietly follow on the sides of the group, their heavily armoured forms posing no issues with their naturally soundless movements in the forest. In the den, they would make moderate clacks and clicks as their chitinous legs contacted the ground, but the soft dirt and foliage stifled all but the smallest report of their travel. With Scarlet supervising alongside Violet, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the former Blade had influenced their movement with the goal in mind, though he had never paid much attention to how they walked before to compare.
He had to admit, having them carry the additional equipment was exceedingly useful. He had proposed having the group use the newly acquired platforms on their more arachnid-like abdomen to rest in shifts, but Joseph was quick to insist that the insects were of lesser stamina than even Lilhuns. The phrasing seemed like a comparative insult, but Jax had more than enough experience with the Human to know that he had simply spoken his mind. To him, everyone had sub-par stamina. Training had gone some way to remedy the discrepancy, but the Grand Hunter could still continue for longer than even the most well-conditioned of them.
The black-furred male rolled his shoulders, feeling the heft of his axe shift with the movement. It was an impressive size, the weight well-balanced and its edge sharp. He had once laid it to the ground out of curiosity and confirmed that it was about as tall as Pan from head to haft, though only if she stood to her full height. Regardless of its size, it was still lighter than the armour he chose to don.
Having only really worn leathers or a few sets of ironwood protections, the encumbering prominence of the iron equipment took getting used to. It wasn’t entirely restrictive, but did put a damper on any chances he had of sprinting from danger. That was fine, he supposed, since he was wearing it against a beast he had no experience with. It could very well outrun him regardless, and he would rather have the defences in either case.
Nalah seemed to be doing fine, the large barrier she kept on her back swaying slightly as she walked. She was unhindered by it, her movements barely affected by the bulk, which was reassuring. Joseph, however, seemed to be panting more than usual, the rolling cloud coverage easing as the sun progressively warmed the environment. The fog from earlier meant that it was rather humid, and that seemed to bore no well wishes for the male encased in dark leathers and thick plates. He had even flipped down his hood, the sweat beading on his skin adding a sheen to his visage.
“I liked this better when the sun didn’t exist,” the Human lamented quietly, just loud enough for Jax to hear. The black-furred male chuckled.
“It would be rather dark.”
Joseph glared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “I just don’t rank ‘heavily armoured hike through the woods’ high up on my list of things I want to do regularly.”
“I believe that list would be occupied by your mates, no?” he ribbed playfully, a smirk arising when the Grand Hunter shunted his eyes closed in a grimace.
“I hate you.”
“I can see your smile underneath your displeasure, Joseph,” Jax quipped, nudging the male with his elbow, then giving an apologetic smile when his friend almost fell. Joseph sighed, waving Cobalt over and fetching a water-skin from the luggage that the insect was ferrying without breaking stride—though he needed to be careful not to get stepped on.
The Atmo always amused Jax. Be it their passive demeanour hidden by their towering stature, or his interactions with the den-kit, they never failed to be curious people. Having the two that accompanied Volta with them was an unexpected development, but he couldn’t claim to disapprove. If they had been imparted the methods of combat that Violet had cultivated, then there was little worry of them being harmed by naught but perhaps their current target. At least not until there was a better reference of its strength than the single encounter the first-years had so long ago.
At the time, it had smashed pillars and pierced flesh effortlessly, claws proving to be little more than tempting ministrations of tender touch to the thick hide. Jax only had some of the pack’s recount to base the experience off of, but was content to take their word for it. He was, ashamedly, preoccupied taking care of baser needs when the event transpired, so he was woefully unprepared for the eventual encounter. Still, he was afforded the best the settlement had to offer so that he might serve his duty of protecting the Grand Hunter. Harrow would never forgive him if only he returned.
His thoughts were disturbed by Joseph calling for a rest, Jax’s legs thankful for the break from supporting the unusual weight for so long. The Human dispensed rations and water for the pack, the Atmo waiting until everyone else was supplied before accepting their portion. They rested on their base directly, instead of curling their legs beneath them like Jax had become accustomed. Perhaps the armour impeded such, or they wished to remain mobile in the event such was required. Regardless, they blocked what little breeze there was, forcing the Grand Hunter to walk beyond them to enjoy it in the shade. It was short-lived however, as Rose quickly repositioned to stay between the pack and whatever lay beyond their protections.
It was a futile effort, it seemed, because it repeated again twice before Joseph groaned loudly and threw himself atop the carriage to lay back, his legs dangling at the knee. He seemed perfectly content with the unorthodox arrangement, snorting his amusement along with a muttered comment about a ‘taxi.’
The entertaining sight was marred by a distant yelp, snapping the group to attention. Jax and Joseph traded looks, subtle nods and gestures given to move out while remaining quiet. Ignoring his earlier complaints, the Grand Hunter flicked his hood up and donned the mask, drawing his crossbow and readying a bolt. The hunter of the pack mimicked the preparation, the two security members loosely nocking their arrows while Rose, Cobalt, Jax, and Nalah took point.
They proceeded quietly for far longer than the proximity of the noise would have suggested, but marks and gashes upon the trees implied a moving conflict. Thoughts of it being a lost cause quickly became moot as a closer growl and bark shattered the careful silence they had been maintaining.
Motioning for the pack to stop, Joseph waved Jax forward, Nalah approaching the other side. Using the large shield as additional cover, they peered around a particularly thick tree. Locked in combat were two moss-wolves, both attacking a truly massive grey creature.
Twice the Human’s height, half that in width. Four pillars as legs—the muscular trunks sinewy and defined—supported the disturbing hunched figure, the wide base tapering slightly into a thick and extended torso. A singular eye-stalk replaced the head, the ocular organ atop it pitch black and free of any indication of its focus. Four arms with deadly claws parried and sliced the two yellow beasts as they attempted to drive off the predator, a sickeningly large maw gaping to catch any attempts at a lunge. The mouth of the creature almost occupied the entirety of the available surface area upon its front, the jagged bone tools of manduction undulating with the promise of sustenance.
Joseph pulled them back, cursing under his breath as he tried to fight off the tension. From Nalah’s worried expression, it seemed his caution was rather potent, the other members of the group smelling his reaction as well.
“So, what’s the plan, Jax?” the Human whispered, his grip on the crossbow alternating with his fingers stretching across the trigger lest his fidgeting cause a misfire.
“I thought that, with your record, you would wish to tame it for the settlement,” Jax replied while thinking through a plan of action. He was glad that his friend trusted him, but he wished he had known the true scale of the beast prior. Joseph grit his teeth, turning to glance past the tree again with sarcasm pouring out of his response.
“Can’t quite see Winnie-the-woodchipper there playing great with kids.”
“You say that after adopting an Atmo as kit, Grand Hunter,” he returned, nodding to himself when a plan formed. The Human smiled, the banter easing the tension somewhat. “Rose, Cobalt, you two are the most well defended of us. Circle around and drive the beast this way. You should be capable of such without noise, yes?”
The two insects nodded, emptying their luggage behind a tree so as not to lose any of it before disappearing into the trees. The slight glimmer of their iron armour was the only indication of their position through the dense forest. Jax hoped that the beast was not particularly curious about the dimly pulsing glare, nor finished with its current altercation in time to impede the pair.
Satisfied with their progress, he motioned for the two security members to scale a tree and gain a superior vantage point. Their weapons would be able to maintain a more rapid pace of sustained fire at longer ranges. Joseph and the hunter were instructed to hide behind trees nearby, though the Human would need to remain grounded as his lack of claws made scaling the large flora difficult with his equipment.
Finally, Nalah and he positioned themselves much closer, in order to flank the creature as it fled the Atmo and occupy it long enough for the others to bleed it out, if not outright dispose of it.
With the forms of the Atmo peeking through the brush opposite them, Jax raised his axe to signal the start.
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Joseph felt the hammering in his chest, his heart preparing him to fight for his life against the walking abomination that easily outclassed the only other predator that he had experience with. Sure, the moss-wolves were easy to take down once you had equipment and a plan, but that thing screamed danger.
He watched Jax and Nalah set up behind thick trees, their goal being for Jax to hopefully disable a leg or two with the war-axe while Nalah occupied it with the shield. As the two strongest members of his little family, he trusted both to do their job.
As a clusterfuck of animal and torture device, he had no faith in the creature playing along.
Swallowing his hesitation, he adjusted his grip on the crossbow again, mentally tallying his shots and cursing himself for not researching explosives. Sure, Toril didn’t want to be involved in that kind of weapon, but at the moment, the tailless white-furred male could suck it up and make one anyway. Joseph would give his left nut to see how quickly the chemist would make weapons of mass destruction just to annihilate whatever that thing called home.
Jax raised his axe, glinting the sunlight of it towards the Atmo. Receiving the start signal, the two clicked and loosed a deafening screech, the Human’s ears ringing even from this distance.
The beast seemed unperturbed by the noise, though the lack of visible ears may have had something to do with the lacklustre effect. Regardless, it did notice the two armour-clad insects charging at it, and smartly decided to extradite itself from the area. The moss-wolves, however, didn’t quite get the memo, mistaking the advancing assistance as yet another foe to defend themselves from.
He had to say, Violet taught the two well. They flashed their blades out in the same flicker jab that he had shown his daughter, and with an unceremonious squelch, the two bisected canines landed in four pieces, a vibrant green ichor now staining the weapon-like appendages of the Atmo. Undeterred by their first act of violence—as far as he was aware, anyway—they continued herding the beast.
It wasn’t as fast as they might have feared, its quadrupedal gait hindered by its proportions, but it was still quick enough to be damn intimidating. Its arms acted as a counter balance, constantly adjusting this way and that just to keep it stable. That thing was clearly never meant for sprinting, all its mobility being given to the overactive maw that pulsated with the exertion.
He readied his crossbow, the shaking in his hands not ruining his aim against such a large target. He eyeballed the distance between the creature and the ambush point, forcibly moving his finger off the trigger so that he didn’t fire early.
Closer. Come on. Almost.
Now.
Jax wound up like a particularly enthusiastic lumberjack, putting his full body into the rotation. The massive axe swung like a horizontal pendulum striking home with all the finality of a clock tolling midnight. It bit into the front leg of the beast, only sinking a few inches before momentum nearly wretched the weapon from the black-furred male. Luckily, the force and timing was enough to trip it, the creature crashing to the forest floor with a deafening roar of pain.
They could hurt it. That made him feel better.
His relief evaporated as the beast swiftly recovered, hauling itself from the ground faster than he thought possible, but his archers took it for an unspoken signal. Arrows and bolts peppered its thick hide, to no effect—it shrugged off the projectiles like they were nothing more than pine needles, none sinking far enough to gain notable purchase.
Jax hefted his axe for another strike, careful not to over-commit this time. Nalah prodded the beast wherever she could with her pike, the melee weapon sliced and skewered just past the surface of the hide, though not enough to do more than marr. It was, however, enough to gain the attention of the target, the creature swinging two of its four arms to rake across the shield that the blond-furred female held. The iron plating across the front let out an unearthly shriek as claws ripped and crumpled the metal.
Well, fuck.
Nalah was quick to react, treating the shield less as an immovable barrier and more like a slight distance buffer, dodging in and out of range to steal jabs with the polearm. The security members nocked another volley, picking different targets than before. An arrow bounced harmlessly off the black orb of an eye, another finding purchase in what passed for gums in its mouth.
The hint was received; aim for the mouth. Thankfully, that was a large target. Less thankfully, it realized that flashing its teeth was detrimental to its health, slamming the maw closed.
Jax managed another swing, this time into one of the rear legs. It wasn’t as effective as the first strike, but it did warrant a sweeping double back-fist from the creature, scoring Jax’s armour with shallow claw marks as he jumped backwards. Joseph let out a breath as he fired his second shot, only just narrowly missing the sliver of a gap between razor teeth that the enraged attack afforded. It couldn’t keep its mouth shut forever, each frenzied swipe pulling its form enough for glimpses of softer flesh within to appear. The hunter dropped from their tree, darting across to reposition for a wider angle to capitalize on. The creature noticed, lunging forward to eviscerate the easier target.
Joseph blinked as two armoured figures jumped in front of the Lilhun, raising their blades in a tight guard to block the four arms grabbing for a quick meal. The beast recoiled with a thunderous screech, two of its appendages sporting deep gashes that fountained blood, while the others managed to impact above the edged outside of the blades. Rose and Cobalt pressed forward, buying time and space for the hunter to collect themselves and scale up another perch. Taking advantage of its pain, two new arrows ripped through the air, smacking into exposed inner flesh. Two new protrusions joined the first in the mouth, one landing next to the existing projectile, while the other cleared the gateway of serration, driving deeply inside of it.
More flicker jabs and extended straights pushed and cut the beast as it tried to gain distance from the two that wounded it, every retaliatory strike earning it another gash in its grey hide.. Unencumbered by the constant barrage, Nalah thrust into its legs more vigorously, her body leaning into each attack to gain every inch of penetration she could into the muscle and thick hide.
Jax used the chance to score another chopping blow, doubling down on a previous wound to a back leg—striking bone this time, based on the unholy wail the beast uttered. Joseph raised his crossbow to land another shot into its mouth, but the beast flailed wildly to fend off the ambush.
Rose managed to block, Jax lunged backwards, Nalah deflected most of it with what remained of her shield, but Cobalt was caught by a strike, taking the hit to its torso. The Atmo flew backwards, rolling when it landed, the carriage and assorted armoured plates trailing behind it. Rose shifted instantly, covering the direction that their companion had been sent while Jax and Nalah focused on pulling the beast away from the downed combatant.
Joseph’s eyes flicked to the Atmo, waging an internal battle on whether helping the insect would be better or worse for the situation as a whole. He didn’t want to lighten up their assault if it would just mean more injuries, but Cobalt could be in dire need for a patch job. It was hard to tell from where he was.
Cursing, he bolted from his spot, firing off one last round into the gaping maw before clipping the crossbow onto his armour and sliding on his knees in front of Cobalt, healroot hastily retrieved from his pocket.
He paused, sighing in relief when none of the armour bore more than deep gashes, the carapace underneath unblemished by the attack. Cobalt clicked lightly, dazed, but otherwise seeming unhurt. Unlearned in the physiology relevant, he ushered the Atmo to remain out of the fight for fear of concussion or something similar. They could look at the insect back at the base to be sure later.
“Joseph!”
His head spun around at both Jax and Nalah screaming his name, a massive clawed hand sweeping at him—the monster's approach unnoticed while he focused on Cobalt. Lacking a better option, he lunged forward towards the underside of the beast to dodge the swipe, crashing to his shoulder on the dirt below.
The creature raised a leg above Joseph, pounding the earth scant inches from his head as he rolled sideways. Ignoring the kicked up dirt, he brought his fist to the underside of the beast, flicking the release on his bracer.
Blood spouted from the newly formed wound, the blade breaking at the mechanism as the massive animal lurched in pain, Joseph rolling out of the way of another attempted trampling. He scrambled to his feet, feeling the wind of another strike narrowly missing him.
Yeah, that would probably kill him.
Luckily, the injuries renewed the desire to flee in the monstrosity, the group of attackers proving too dangerous to continue challenging. It stumbled away from them, sparing Cobalt from its panicked trudging. Jax and Nalah started to run towards him, worry evident in their eyes, but he barked for them to finish it, redirecting the two to keep the pressure going. He didn’t want to mention the pain in the arm from where the bracer hitched. It didn’t feel broken, and thus was irrelevant.
Pressure applied, the grey beast picked a random direction free of opponents to escape, ignorant of the waiting security. When it was too close for them to shoot into its mouth at a decent angle, they slung the bows over their shoulders and drew the swords they had been afforded, patiently waiting with the blades turned down.
It passed below them, the two Lilhuns dropping from the branches to put their full weight into the plunging blades. Both landed on the large target, one sword sinking deep into a shoulder, while the other managed to pierce one of its hip joints. The beast spun haphazardly to dislodge the ‘new’ threats, both security members kicking off and finding new trees to set up in.
Whatever damage was actually done, it had lost the use of an arm, and its gait shifted awkwardly as the blade lodged in its hip worked more harm with each shambling step.. Emboldened, Jax picked up the pace, struggling to position himself with the amount of metal he wore. Ducking another swipe of its claws, he saw his chance and swung, pivoting with his axe as a counter weight. For the third time, his axe blade found the wound in its leg, adding a sickening crunch as the bone snapped from the impact.
The creature swung wildly, forced to favour its two remaining good legs, and the only other leg that could still support at least some of its weight. It was unstable now, the hunched figure swaying while unmoving. Unable to run, it decided to go down with as many of them as it could.
Rose caught up with the attack, drawing attention from the comparatively squishy Nalah as the blond-furred female deflected a wayward swing with her shield. The once iron-plated ironwood now sporting little more than jagged scraps of metal atop its silver wooden structure, a series of deep gouges marring the surface. Two lunging thrusts with the pike bit flesh, drawing new blood from the beast.
Joseph loaded his crossbow, getting off two bolts, but not managing to keep it steady enough to hit anything of use, his arm faltering under the weight of the weapon. Cursing, he decided to flank the beast and try his luck with the other bracer. If nothing else, the force in which the blade deployed was enough to pierce the thick hide, and the others were doing a good job of distracting it.
The red armoured Atmo let loose a series of directed swings, the fifth severing an arm in motion, the flying appendage forcing Nalah to raise her shield to block the unorthodox projectile. The female was sent sprawling from the weight of the impact, but the beast was too busy voicing its agony to take advantage of it. Jax worked another two chops into the broad legs, but neither managed to incapacitate it any more, and the prolonged exertion was slowing his reflexes.
As if cued into his waning energy, the beast flung Jax with another strike, the hunter of the group sinking a bolt deep into the cavernous flesh of its mouth to prevent an attempt at following up.
Joseph roared, desperate to finish it off before the creature could do the same to his downed pack. He sprinted at the monster's back and slid underneath it with as much speed as he could muster. Throwing his fist into the passing undercarriage, he let the deployed blade leave a long gash in its wake.
The grey monster lost its ability to stand, torn tendons, blood loss, and inflicted injuries taking their toll. The Grand Hunter kicked off his knees to fling himself out of the way of the collapsing figure, grimacing as the remaining bracer proved unable to support the abuse he had put it through. He looked back at the beast, the flailing body failing to right itself as teeth did little more than gouge dirt, its back exposed. Rose approached, raising their blades together and plunging it through the body over and over until it stopped moving.
Exhausted, the Atmo dropped where it was, breathing heavily. Joseph’s instinct to yell their victory was delayed as he hurried over to Jax and Nalah to confirm he didn't need to bring back bad news. Nalah seemed fine, if a bit sore from hitting the dirt and rolling, while Jax just asked to lay down when he heard that everything was over. Cobalt came over to the group, the armour that had come off collected atop the carriage it had managed to loosely affix to its base.
It was light, a chuckle originating from the Human as he slumped to the ground against a tree, but soon the entire group was roaring with laughter as victory settled in their minds. The two security members helped the hunter begin disassembling the beast, their contribution to the fight leaving them with more energy than the rest. They hadn’t been slacking off, that much was certain. The number of arrows jammed into the maw of the thing would have guaranteed a few extra seconds of survival and chances to escape if one of them had been forcibly tossed into there, and it had caused enough pause for the rest of them to get in a few hits up close.
Joseph rested across from Jax and Nalah, letting his heart rate slow from the rapid pace it had been pinned to since the start of the conflict. His arm continued its protests, but from the amount of movement he still had, he guessed that he had just strained the elbow. A few days taking it easy should straighten that right up.
Once the active members were about half way through processing the creature for hide and meat, Cobalt approached him, a mimed request for assistance putting their armour back on being redirected to Nalah since he doubted he could lift the damn pieces without hurting himself at the moment. She obliged, getting the blue Atmo back in full attire, though it took a while.
Rose stood first, stopping over to allow the hunter to place collected bits and pieces onto the carriage before securing it with whatever they could make due. A security member gathered the moss-wolf corpses for a similar treatment. Waste not, want not, he supposed.
Rose ended up carrying most of their spoils. When he was about to ask why, he, Jax, and Nalah were dragged to Cobalt and hefted onto the carriage. A series of confused questions revealed that the rest wanted to head back before it started getting dark, and it was pretty obvious who was the most exhausted of them. Lacking the will or energy to argue it, he flopped back on the Atmo as the trees passed them by, Nalah resting her legs across him as her head sat on Jax’s lap. The black-furred male didn’t so much as smirk, so it was clear he had pushed himself too far to quip about the arrangement as he laid down.
“The next time you wish to exhaust me this much, Joseph,” the Head of Security started after a long while of silence, tiredness in his voice, “I would prefer it to involve my mate and a bed.”
The Human snorted, closing his eyes and enjoying the lack of walking as the surprisingly stable Atmo carried the three of them. “Fuck off, Jax.”
“Of course, Grand Hunter.”
Next
A/N: Patreon is fixed!... aka new one cuz problems with the last. Check it out to support the story, get AI character art every now and then, or even preview sections of chapters as i write them! (aka, before kieve gets to fix them :D)

Introduction
Flowers possess the enchanting ability to convey emotions, uplift spirits, and brighten any occasion. When it comes to sending floral delights to Spain, a country known for its vibrant culture and zest for life, it's important to understand the art of effortlessly delivering blossoms that will truly delight the recipient. In this article, we explore the beauty of Spanish blossoms, the significance of flowers in Spanish culture, and share tips on how to seamlessly send flowers to Spain with the help of reliable online flower delivery services.
The Significance of Flowers in Spanish Culture
Flowers hold great significance in Spanish culture, woven into the fabric of various celebrations and traditions. Understanding the importance of floral arrangements can help you choose the perfect blooms for every occasion:
Weddings
Spanish weddings embrace the beauty of flowers as symbols of love, happiness, and fertility. Traditional choices include fragrant orange blossoms, elegant roses, exquisite lilies, and vibrant carnations. Gifting the bride a bouquet and adorning the ceremony and reception venues with floral arrangements are customary practices.
Religious Festivals
Spain is renowned for its vibrant religious festivals, where flowers play an essential role in adding splendor and solemnity. During events like Semana Santa (Holy Week) and La Feria de Abril (April Fair), the streets and processions are adorned with breathtaking flower displays. Lilies, roses, gladioli, and daisies are among the popular flowers used in these celebrations.
Funerals
In Spain, funeral arrangements reflect elegance and respect. White flowers, particularly lilies and roses, are often chosen to express condolences and sympathy during this somber time.
Everyday Occasions
Flowers are cherished for their ability to celebrate everyday moments of joy and appreciation. Whether it's a birthday, anniversary, or a gesture of gratitude, popular choices for these occasions include roses, sunflowers, gerbera daisies, and tulips.
Spanish Blossoms: Celebrating Nature's Beauty
Spain is blessed with a diverse array of native flowers, as well as popular imported blooms. When selecting flowers to send to Spain, consider the following favorites that capture the essence of Spanish blossoms:
Carnation (Clavel)
The carnation, symbolizing love and fascination, holds a special place in Spanish hearts. With its wide range of colors, carnations are frequently used in bouquets, corsages, and floral arrangements.
Rose (Rosa)
Roses, universally recognized for their beauty and symbolism, are beloved in Spain. Red roses signify love, while yellow roses convey friendship and joy.
Lily (Lirio)
Lilies are treasured for their graceful appearance and delicate fragrance. In Spain, they symbolize purity, virtue, and the restoration of the soul.
Sunflower (Girasol)
Radiating warmth and vitality, sunflowers are cherished for their vibrant hues and uplifting energy. They make perfect gifts to bring joy to any occasion.
Effortless Flower Delivery to Spain
Thanks to modern technology and reliable online flower delivery services, sending blossoms to Spain has never been easier. Here are some tips to ensure a seamless experience:
Choose a Trusted Online Florist
Send flowers to Spain, a reputable online florist with a proven track record in international flower delivery. Look for reviews, testimonials, and check if they have experience delivering to Spain.
Plan Ahead
To ensure timely delivery, it's wise to place your order well in advance, especially during peak seasons and holidays. Aim to order at least a few days before the desired delivery date.

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/131t1q9/first_contacts_part_1/)
[Part 6](https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/13xe87q/first_contacts_part_6/)
“Welcome to the Endeavour 2.”
Nathan had already chosen to name the frigate after his experimental warp ship, I wondered if that meant he intended to keep hold of it but the limited number of Doradul crew was my largest concern.
“Only 20 Orvangians?”
Nathan’s smile dropped away and he rose from his seat, “I am sorry Jin, the Axarli shot and killed several on the planet’s surface, these were the only prisoners they recovered.”
Halor the Doradul’s Secondary Ops Officer made the Orvangian Gesture of Greif from loss before taking the pilot’s seat that Nathan slid out of.
“I am glad to see you and Doc got to the shuttle safely, but you should probably get some rest, that’s what I am going to do now.” Nathan gestured back to the elevator.
Once we were aboard the elevator, he thumbed the button for Deck 9 where the shuttle was stored.
“What course are we on?”
“Halor plotted a course to a Federation System called Polivor, we will be there in about a day.”
Once we reached the shuttle Nathan and I gathered our things and headed for Deck 4 officer’s quarters. Nathan claimed the Captains Quarters and offered me the First Officers, it was nowhere near as comfortable as the Doradul, in that respect it was much more like the Endeavour, it was a single chamber with a bed, chair, desk, and storage compartments, no more than 6 square metres of floor and barely 3 metres high.
All I had in the way of possessions was a Laser Rifle, a Space Suit, and the pack of seeds from the Doradul, Purple Valuri Seeds my mother had given me when I left for the Doradul. The Chamber didn’t have enough lighting for flowers to grow, the gloom better suited to the needs of the Sovereigns or Euterians.
I Stowed my things and extracted myself from the space suit, it looked ugly now, not the smooth bluish appearance it had once possessed, there were dozens of scratches on its hard segments and the Separatist sealant was brown leaving a couple of dozen irregular dirty-looking smudges where I had sealed it.
My uniform was no better, torn and tattered I had been wearing it for hours when I was sent to recover Nathan from the Endeavour 1, it smelled dirty and pink staining surrounded the tears.
Entirely disrobed I lay on the bed and dimmed the lights, the last sleep I had managed was back in the escape pod, it felt like that was days ago. Despite my exhaustion, it wasn’t easy to fall asleep, perhaps it was the stinging of wounds or the death of so many Orvangians that I knew, sleep took over an hour to reach.
I dreamt of the first year I served aboard the Doradul, we were surveying systems in the Tilbas Sector, looking for worlds that would be suitable for Orvangian settlement, they were peaceful days wandering the stars in search of beauty and quiet, I had built many friendships with members of the crew, among them was Wula, she served as a Geological specialist, surveying planetary crusts for stability. I had gathered her family seal from her body when I was on the Doradul, hers and two others, Palos wasn’t exactly my friend, a support Engineer, he was after my job but I did not wish to see him dead and Worgan, I didn’t know him well.
I woke after a few hours, my bedding stained with lymph from a wound on my side, it had opened again as I had slept. The only thing I had to wear was my torn and stained uniform so I donned it again and headed for the medical bay on deck 3.
Doctor Hule and the Tilik Nathan called Doc were here, treating plasma burns on Sub Officer Florn, she had been a ground officer during surface surveying for the Doradul.
Doc moved over to the second bed and patted it with a tentacle so I hopped up and gestured to my reopened would “It started weeping again”.
“Not to worry, I can go over them all with more care now that there are no enemies at the door.”
Doc began to treat my wounds taking time to seal and patch each one, it took over an hour of work for him to finish and I did feel considerably better.
“Thanks, Doc” I slid off the bed and turned to leave.
“I suggest you also visit the quartermasters on deck 7, they can sort you out something clean to wear.”
Clean clothes and a shower sounded great so I headed straight to Deck 7, the Doradul’s own Quartermaster was here and she soon had the ship fabricate two new uniforms for me, both now showing the embroidery pattern for the Doradul as a Memoriam pattern, though she had not included an Endeavour 2 pattern.
The deck where my quarters were had a shower block, suited to the use of four so that all the senior officers of the frigate could use it at once. I was the only one there though so I took my time cleaning, ensuring that the grime of recent events was gone.
Finally clean I donned a new uniform and stowed the other in my quarters before heading to the bridge.
Halor was still in command, using the Pilots chair as a sort of captain’s seat as he reviewed the ship’s systems and supplies, not that the information was necessary, we would be arriving at Polivor in less than 20 hours now and he would most certainly be disembarking, we all would. This ship was evidence of the Separatists’ rearming against the treaty they had signed when they lost the war.
“Jin! I thought you would be resting after all that excitement.”
“Sleep is difficult, I was hoping we had a crew roster.”
“We do” he indicated an auxiliary console “But I am sad to say that neither of the Doradul’s Therapeutic officers are with us.”
I sat on the padded bar that counted as an auxiliary station seat and brought up the roster, Nathan and Doc were both listed as well as the 21 survivors of the Doradul, 84 had died in the attack on the ship, those whose seals had been recovered were also listed, so I added the three I had collected and quietly wept for a few moments at the losses we had taken.
Less than 40 seals of dead crewmembers had been recovered and were currently being displayed in the galley on deck 3 so that was my next destination, the elevator was in use so I took the ramps.
The Galley was busy, 10 of my crewmates from the Doradul were here some at a wall where 35 seals hung in memoriam of the lost, and others were sitting at tables with the separatist equivalent of ration packs.
I approached the memorial wall and hung the three seals I had recovered, Jola and Nero gave me sympathetic hugs in response. Jola had worked with Wula as part of the survey teams so she offered to make the bond and share memories of our friend and colleague.
We sat and shared our memories through the Bond, the experiences we had each gathered of Wula being integrated, the social evenings I had shared with her, and the work humour Jola had experienced, each memory we shared built a greater picture of our lost friend in our minds and helped us to become closer friends as a result.
After the bond was over, we sat together and ate, the Separatist ration packs were simple, a grain and nut disc with a side of dried berries all held in a small plastic pouch. It wasn’t as good as the fake chicken that Nathan had shared but it was enough to sate my appetite.
Others in the Galley were sharing memories and meals, we may have lost the therapists but our shared experiences were helping us to cope with the losses.
I was about to depart the Galley when Nathan arrived with Doc, Nathan’s arms were loaded with ration packs of his own kind, far more than he could reasonably eat, and Doc was carrying a couple of bottles of medication.
Nathan selected a table next to mine and began laying out and snapping tabs on containers, a total of eight each with the same markings as the fried chicken I had tasted. Doc opened the bottles and dumped the pills into a bowl.
Once the circles turned red Nathan tore lids off packs and released the delicious smell of chicken “Ok everyone, feel free to try some Southern Fried Chicken, Be aware that the coating is a little toxic to Orvangians, so please take an Anti-Toxin pill from Doc here before you eat!” he spoke loud and clear so that everyone turned their attention to him and the smell.
I moved swiftly to the table and dry swallowed a pill before selecting a piece of chicken and biting down. My first taste of this had been without the coating so I had not been able to experience the full delights of its flavours, the coating was quite spicy though the anti-toxin was doing a good job of keeping it from being painful.
Soon others were trying the food for themselves and Nathan found himself explaining that it was not meat once again, though most were satisfied with no explanation. The atmosphere soon became more jovial and Nathan asked Buddy to play some music by another Buddy, this time a musician called Buddy Holly.
The Chicken was soon gone but the uplifted spirits would not fade so quickly, Nathan chatted with everyone, sharing jokes and stories from his people. For a few hours, the galley was a happy place.
Eventually, Nathan and I headed to the bridge to relieve Halor and monitor systems during our journey. I had never served aboard a ship built by another species before, the console layouts and bridge plan here were designed for a mixed species crew with effort made to offer interface and seating flexibility for all the races of the Separatist movement.
Someone had already modified screen layouts to better suit the Orvangian standard and seats were largely configured for our lean forms, the pilot’s chair being the only exception.
“Nathan, you understand that the Federation is likely to want this ship for study.”
“Halor told me. It’s fine though just leaves room for an Endeavour 3.” Nathan followed the statement with a Grin, something the other Orvangians on the bridge were still not used to, but I found myself grinning back causing a surprised reaction from the rest of the bridge crew.
There wasn’t much to do at warp so much of our time was just familiarising ourselves with the ship and its many systems, the Endeavour 2 was originally just referred to as the TX210-B, a combat support Frigate with an arsenal of ship-to-ship weaponry, it was designed to fight, having no other purpose.
After a few hours we were relieved of duty ourselves, Florn being the next most senior officer, he had no experience commanding a ship, but his rank was just below mine and he did command ground survey teams so he would manage for a few hours of Warp travel.
Nathan and I departed the Bridge together “You hungry?” Nathan nudged me as he spoke.
“I haven’t eaten much the last couple of days.”
“Let’s head to my quarters and grab some food then.” We used the ramps to reach deck 4, Nathan’s Fabricator was set up on the desk in his quarters and six ration packs were stacked inside it.
“Your fabricator can make food?”
“Yes, I fed it some of the separatist ration packs and it can make a half dozen different food options from them.” He took a pack from the machine and held it out to me.
He cleared the machine and started it on the next load, then he gathered the stack he had built beside it, almost two entire batches worth and headed back up to the Galley. Once we arrived, he deposited all but one of the packs onto a table at the end of the room and selected a seat at another table.
As I sat with the pack he had given me I noticed that the writing on the pack that had been in Nathan’s language when we had shared chicken on the shuttle, was now all in Orvangian, indicating the instructions to cook the meal and describing itself as a ‘Closed Spicy Meat Sandwich with vegetables and Fruit Sauce’ once the circle turned red I tore open the top to reveal a pair of shell-shaped things, they didn’t look like sandwiches really, they smelled of cooked meat and spices.
“I had Buddy modify the ingredients to eliminate toxic properties so enjoy.” Nathan bit into the crunchy exterior and juices dripped from his chin as he ate.
It was delicious, though I still preferred the chicken he had provided before. Several crew in the galley helped themselves to a pack and soon the whole galley smelled of the spices and meats of this Human food.
Two of these sandwiches were a little much for an Orvangian so most of the crew were sharing packs. After I finished one sandwich Nathan asked “You going to eat that?”
“No.” with that Nathan demolished his third and seemed sated.
“Captain Nathan. Could Buddy play some more music?” the query came from Asor a junior engineer by rank.
“Sure! Buddy, can we get some Dolly?”
“Playing Dolly Parton.” Buddy began with a song about working long hours and soon the galley was full of Orvangians badly singing along.
Eventually, the poor sleep I had gotten over the last couple of days was too much for me and I departed the music and joviality of the galley and returned to my chambers, the small size and lack of a garden hit me again as I entered the metal box military officers call spacious quarters.
Exhaustion made sleep much easier this time and I managed a good six hours of rest, my dreams largely of my childhood and memories I had gained from my bond with Jola. When I awoke it was to the voice of Nathan “All crew, we shall be arriving at the Polivor system in one hour, All crew to stations.”
I climbed out of bed and donned a fresh uniform, depositing both my dirty and tattered one into the laundry chute before heading for the bridge.
Nathan was in the Pilots chair and Halor was standing at an auxiliary station, I took a position at the first officer’s console and examined the navigation data, we were now just 35 minutes from our destination.
That time soon vanished as we prepared the ship for arrival, we would look like a separatist ship so Halor had modified our transponder data to indicate that we were the Endeavour 2 under the Galactic Federations Flag, still, we would need to prove we were not hostile so I set the weapons to safe mode and prepared a transmission of my security code and a message to indicate our allegiance. Nathan prepared to take control of the ship’s course moments before the Warp drive shut down.
We dropped out of warp at 2.2 million kilometres from the Military Outpost in the outer system.
Two Separatist Cruisers were waiting for us, barely a thousand kilometres from our arrival point they immediately opened fire, particle beams lancing out at us with their crimson fury.
Nathan’s reactions were on par as usual, jerking the controls to starboard and hitting full thrust the moment he saw the ships. He managed to evade the worst of it but a blast cut a streak across the port side of the ship, two turrets were hit and auxiliary communications were burned off the ship.
“Jin, Arm Weapons, focus fire on the sunward side ship! Halor, get me data on the state of the system.” Nathan yelled orders as he twisted the Endeavour 2 among the beams.
I had set the weapons to safety thinking we would need to look non-threatening, it was going to take two minutes to get weapons back “Captain, two minutes for weapons!”
Halor set secondary displays to show the devastated Outpost and the distant flashes of conflict over Polivor 3 “Captain, there are 5 Separatist Battleships in orbit of Polivor 3 and the Military Outpost has been destroyed.”
He paused for a moment as though he could barely believe his next statement, “We are at war.”
​
[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/131t1q9/first_contacts_part_1/)
[Part 6](https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/13xe87q/first_contacts_part_6/)
(I hope everyone is still enjoying this story, Let me know if you are. As you may have noticed there is no Species Data Drop in the comments this week they will resume once another species makes an appearance.)