Yonkers voice
Tribulations - Episode Twenty-Six: The Wages of War
2023.03.16 02:17 FossilBoi Tribulations - Episode Twenty-Six: The Wages of War
"Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."
- Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay
I finally awoke, the light from the ceiling blinding me. Once again I found myself in a hospital bed. For a moment I thought it was the hospital room at McMurdo Station in Antarctica. Maybe I was hurt more than I thought from the falling ice and the gunshot. Maybe though Molloy died, everything else didn't happen. Maybe it was a dream or coma fantasy or something. I looked and saw a doctor approach. "Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" I nodded slowly. "Could be better. Worst dream I ever had. Like I've conjured up a terrible part of my life," I said. Then, Mary Ann and Bodero walked in, and as I saw them, I realized their outfits were the same things they wore earlier. That made my heart sink. "Hey Fossil," Bodero said quietly, and both he and her seemed meek and quiet. "You're in Saint Joseph's Medical Center in Yonkers. You had quite a bit of bruising stuff from the trip to the Hollow Earth to now. Unfortunately, Hahnunah is.... gone." If my heart could sink any further, it would've disappeared into the abyss. Everything that happened was real. I couldn't believe it. I lost my favorite Titan. My one and only hope that I can rely on. My source of comfort. My source of everything! Before they could say anything else, someone else entered the room. It was Mark Russell, and he seemed hesitant to approach me. "Hello there, Director Fossil. I've... heard about what has happened, and I am sorry for your loss, plus for everything that you've gone through. I'm here to supervise efforts to rebuild and recover here and wanted to stop by for the survivors. As for you, I wanted to briefly discuss with you your employment at Monarch," he said. I sighed. "Dr. Russell, I don't care. I did so many things wrong since the beginning. If it has to be done, fire me. Get rid of me. I don't care anymore," I said, my voice more monotone than I expected, my eyes ahead and avoiding the gaze of anyone in the room. Russell shook his head. "No, no. We're not terminating you. Sure, you'll receive a reprimand or two, especially for that little Maser drone stunt you did back there, but you'll keep your position at Monarch. It has been deemed that your accountability for such things does not warrant any kind of termination or suspension of your position. So rest easy. Take time off. You can return to work whenever you feel like it. And of course, you have these folks back here to talk to if you need anything. If you need to speak with me for anything, by all means, reach out. I'll be seeing you soon. Get well soon," he said before he left the room. The doctor informed me that my injuries were relatively minor and I was to be discharged later that day. Mary Ann and Bodero offered to stay with me, but I declined. At this point, the silence and oppression of loneliness seemed like the best place to turn. Reluctantly they did so, although I couldn't guarantee if they would try to pick me up later.
A few hours passed, and I was cleared. Before I left, I decided to walk around. I ended up going down a large hallway where many nurses, orderlies and EMTs seemed to escort people down. Then I saw it from up ahead. A big open space leading down into the building's basement. It was massive, converted into an immense triage unit, and populating it were gurneys and beds as far as the eye can see, all occupied by patients and attended to by doctors, nurses and other medical staff. I walked down a set of stairs and among everything. The way things were packed together, it was like a war triage unit. Civilians from the Hollow Earth attacks and those who missed the evacuation were here, injuries varying. Some looked okay while others looked like their lives would never be the same. The large space was filled with the echoes of cries, whimpers, coughs, and shouts for assistance from others, occasionally overlaid with quieter sounds of prayer, sobs or reassurances. I heard a sudden series of crying screams. I looked to my left and saw several gurneys being taken into another room, the morgue. Those who did not survive, and standing by it all were their relatives, their reactions and states of mind visibly and audibly known as their sobs echoed across the room. I saw many people being brought in; some were G-Team, some were civilians. Many were of those whose lives had just begun. Many whose childhoods were never finished. Many whose home lives will never be the same. Many whose friends and families won't survive without. One scene that broke my heart was of a woman and her daughter as she stood by who I presume was her husband on a gurney. A doctor was talking to her quietly, and though I didn't hear what he said, the woman's reaction spoke a thousand words: her wails and tears adding onto the somber mood of the place. What made it more heartbreaking was the fact that her daughter was so young that she didn't even seem to process the fact that her father was dead, and was seemingly confused as to why her mother was upset. All these families torn apart, these relationships shattered, these lives changed. All because of me. All this death and destruction was part of Molloy's revenge. And I was accountable for it even existing. If it wasn't for me, Molloy wouldn't have done what he had done, and all of this.... would never have happened, and things could've been peaceful.
But no. I had to mess up. I had to not catch on. I had wanted Molloy and I to be friends again. I trusted him, and that was all that was needed to set up a Pandora's box of misery and agony for everyone around me. Even in death, Molloy's evil plagues us, in part because of me. I let him in. I let him come back. I let him 'resume' our friendship. This.... is all my fault. I was eventually snapped from my train of thought by a nurse who directed me to the main desk to sign off on discharging, and that was that. With all that said, I left and started walking down the street. It was like the world was desperately trying to reassemble itself. As I went, I found myself going into the New York disaster area. As I did, I noticed the people's dismayed reactions to it from afar. On TVs in barber shops and restaurants, the scenes from elsewhere in the world came into view. All those other places in the Titan attacks and Statera Custodes raids and BRS leaks. All those lives affected. The people sifting through the wreckage for loved ones. The desperation and anger in those whose homes were destroyed against their governments for not doing enough to help them. The hopelessness as many gazed upon their destroyed homes. The walk into the city didn't help. The buildings were still in ruins. Blood was still on the streets. The belongings of the deceased still in their last place. Those not recovered sticking out of the wreckage, hands aimed out for a salvation that will never come. I found myself disappearing into the distance. This was all my fault. People died. Lives were damaged. Cities were destroyed. All this, because of Molloy's hatred against me. I don't know what I did to warrant this, but I had to have deserved it. I don't know what to do next to take accountability for this. But I know this: this was all my fault.
submitted by FossilBoi to MonarchCustomTitans [link] [comments]
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."
- Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay
I finally awoke, the light from the ceiling blinding me. Once again I found myself in a hospital bed. For a moment I thought it was the hospital room at McMurdo Station in Antarctica. Maybe I was hurt more than I thought from the falling ice and the gunshot. Maybe though Molloy died, everything else didn't happen. Maybe it was a dream or coma fantasy or something. I looked and saw a doctor approach. "Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" I nodded slowly. "Could be better. Worst dream I ever had. Like I've conjured up a terrible part of my life," I said. Then, Mary Ann and Bodero walked in, and as I saw them, I realized their outfits were the same things they wore earlier. That made my heart sink. "Hey Fossil," Bodero said quietly, and both he and her seemed meek and quiet. "You're in Saint Joseph's Medical Center in Yonkers. You had quite a bit of bruising stuff from the trip to the Hollow Earth to now. Unfortunately, Hahnunah is.... gone." If my heart could sink any further, it would've disappeared into the abyss. Everything that happened was real. I couldn't believe it. I lost my favorite Titan. My one and only hope that I can rely on. My source of comfort. My source of everything! Before they could say anything else, someone else entered the room. It was Mark Russell, and he seemed hesitant to approach me. "Hello there, Director Fossil. I've... heard about what has happened, and I am sorry for your loss, plus for everything that you've gone through. I'm here to supervise efforts to rebuild and recover here and wanted to stop by for the survivors. As for you, I wanted to briefly discuss with you your employment at Monarch," he said. I sighed. "Dr. Russell, I don't care. I did so many things wrong since the beginning. If it has to be done, fire me. Get rid of me. I don't care anymore," I said, my voice more monotone than I expected, my eyes ahead and avoiding the gaze of anyone in the room. Russell shook his head. "No, no. We're not terminating you. Sure, you'll receive a reprimand or two, especially for that little Maser drone stunt you did back there, but you'll keep your position at Monarch. It has been deemed that your accountability for such things does not warrant any kind of termination or suspension of your position. So rest easy. Take time off. You can return to work whenever you feel like it. And of course, you have these folks back here to talk to if you need anything. If you need to speak with me for anything, by all means, reach out. I'll be seeing you soon. Get well soon," he said before he left the room. The doctor informed me that my injuries were relatively minor and I was to be discharged later that day. Mary Ann and Bodero offered to stay with me, but I declined. At this point, the silence and oppression of loneliness seemed like the best place to turn. Reluctantly they did so, although I couldn't guarantee if they would try to pick me up later.
A few hours passed, and I was cleared. Before I left, I decided to walk around. I ended up going down a large hallway where many nurses, orderlies and EMTs seemed to escort people down. Then I saw it from up ahead. A big open space leading down into the building's basement. It was massive, converted into an immense triage unit, and populating it were gurneys and beds as far as the eye can see, all occupied by patients and attended to by doctors, nurses and other medical staff. I walked down a set of stairs and among everything. The way things were packed together, it was like a war triage unit. Civilians from the Hollow Earth attacks and those who missed the evacuation were here, injuries varying. Some looked okay while others looked like their lives would never be the same. The large space was filled with the echoes of cries, whimpers, coughs, and shouts for assistance from others, occasionally overlaid with quieter sounds of prayer, sobs or reassurances. I heard a sudden series of crying screams. I looked to my left and saw several gurneys being taken into another room, the morgue. Those who did not survive, and standing by it all were their relatives, their reactions and states of mind visibly and audibly known as their sobs echoed across the room. I saw many people being brought in; some were G-Team, some were civilians. Many were of those whose lives had just begun. Many whose childhoods were never finished. Many whose home lives will never be the same. Many whose friends and families won't survive without. One scene that broke my heart was of a woman and her daughter as she stood by who I presume was her husband on a gurney. A doctor was talking to her quietly, and though I didn't hear what he said, the woman's reaction spoke a thousand words: her wails and tears adding onto the somber mood of the place. What made it more heartbreaking was the fact that her daughter was so young that she didn't even seem to process the fact that her father was dead, and was seemingly confused as to why her mother was upset. All these families torn apart, these relationships shattered, these lives changed. All because of me. All this death and destruction was part of Molloy's revenge. And I was accountable for it even existing. If it wasn't for me, Molloy wouldn't have done what he had done, and all of this.... would never have happened, and things could've been peaceful.
But no. I had to mess up. I had to not catch on. I had wanted Molloy and I to be friends again. I trusted him, and that was all that was needed to set up a Pandora's box of misery and agony for everyone around me. Even in death, Molloy's evil plagues us, in part because of me. I let him in. I let him come back. I let him 'resume' our friendship. This.... is all my fault. I was eventually snapped from my train of thought by a nurse who directed me to the main desk to sign off on discharging, and that was that. With all that said, I left and started walking down the street. It was like the world was desperately trying to reassemble itself. As I went, I found myself going into the New York disaster area. As I did, I noticed the people's dismayed reactions to it from afar. On TVs in barber shops and restaurants, the scenes from elsewhere in the world came into view. All those other places in the Titan attacks and Statera Custodes raids and BRS leaks. All those lives affected. The people sifting through the wreckage for loved ones. The desperation and anger in those whose homes were destroyed against their governments for not doing enough to help them. The hopelessness as many gazed upon their destroyed homes. The walk into the city didn't help. The buildings were still in ruins. Blood was still on the streets. The belongings of the deceased still in their last place. Those not recovered sticking out of the wreckage, hands aimed out for a salvation that will never come. I found myself disappearing into the distance. This was all my fault. People died. Lives were damaged. Cities were destroyed. All this, because of Molloy's hatred against me. I don't know what I did to warrant this, but I had to have deserved it. I don't know what to do next to take accountability for this. But I know this: this was all my fault.
2023.03.11 01:05 mrelectriccc Ultimate PaymoneyWubby Iceberg
 | submitted by mrelectriccc to PaymoneyWubby [link] [comments] |
2023.03.07 03:17 Langston1113 "The Italian Job." A duo came up with an elaborate plot to try to fool me. Whyyyyyyy??? [Rewind]
 | This post is a "rewind" which is different from a "repost." submitted by Langston1113 to havingfunhobbying [link] [comments] Not only am I saving you the trouble of scrolling down 3 years worth of posts, a rewind also means taking a fresh look at an ordeal, putting emphasis on new detail which just popped back into my recollection. I'll leave the links to the originals so I can keep this one relatively short. And the fresh look comes in the form of a question: WHAT THE FUCK WERE THEY THINKING??? [Yoda voice] "Curious, the mind of a hooker is." THE ITALIANS In spite of New York being New York with the wide variety of ethnicities and cultures, each with their respective neighborhood in the boroughs, the overwhelming majority of the escorts and hookers I've fucked have been Latinas. I've never had one of the neighborhood Russians, Polish, or Jewish New Yorkers no matter how well they're represented in the population. But I have had a duo of Italians. Actually, it was a trio that ran together but I only managed to have 2 of them from the trio. I was thinking about Summer-Lynn and remembering how I came straight from the road late at night after driving up from Philly. Well, my memory was inaccurate because, as my trusty journal corrected me, I had gone to see someone before getting to Summer-Lynn that early morning. It as a too-beautiful-to-be-true Colombiana named Palmitta from an SLA. Her incall was an upscale Marriott, one of those older classic Marriotts, in Tarrytown. As beautiful and hard-bodied as she was, it was not a great experience. https://preview.redd.it/mytxnx8108ma1.png?width=1355&format=png&auto=webp&s=d66c260e6a0a8611ce710389a21e3a86b340fc9d LMAO. She was like, "Why you sweat so much? Something wrong with you? You go to doctor and get checked out, cuz you sweat too much." I couldn't go home with that "L". So even though it was past midnight and I just came from a long trip, I kept roaming like a demon in search of a nut. I found Summer-Lynn at a Ramada in Yonkers. It was late, I was tired, she was tired, but GODDAMN what an ass she had on her. Those ass cheeks Jesus Christ, who knew Italian chicks were holdin' like that? And I'm not talking about an Italian mutt, like a Puerto Rican-Italian which I've had several, even in the Midwest. No, I'm talking about purebred and proud, Roman Catholic, "My Cousin Vinny" Italians from New York or New Jersey type of Italian. My journal notes for this adventure were uncharacteristically brief, but don't be fooled. I must've been tired and satisfied when I got home. Cuz, trust me, it was a joy to give her backshots. https://preview.redd.it/1je3yui408ma1.png?width=1355&format=png&auto=webp&s=bfaa510f0d9c6f7aa1c75c501f9b27098a54bf8f
NOW, THE ITALIAN JOB ITSELF A few hours later while at work, I couldn't get that fuck out of my head, so much so that I decided to book her for my lunch break. However, my journal notes reads "DISASTER." Hmmm. Furthermore, the score was "0 / 5" (this time I didn't forget and leave it blank) and for "Finished?" the answer was "No." WTF happened? I'll do this line by line until I get the main point of this post. Here we go. "DISASTER. The session with Summer-Lynn was interrupted by Nicole when she came knocking on the door..."Let me backtrack a bit. when I first got to the hotel, I was delayed in going inside Summer-Lynn's room for some reason. So had to buy time walking up and down the hallway. When I went into the stairwell, I ran across a young girl, what looked like a high-schooler, wearing white cut-off Daisy Dukes jean shorts. She was very short and had nice, toned legs and a nice ass. I won't lie, I felt kinda bad for staring at her ass because she looked so young. I thought maybe she was at the hotel/motel with her family or something. Funny thing, though, is she turned back to look at me to catch me checking her out and kinda smirked flirtatiously. Ouch. Bad!!! Bad, Langston!!! That's a high-schooler, for crying out loud. Anyways, eventually I was able to get inside Summer-Lynn's room and, ummm, get inside Summer-Lynn. While I was enjoying plowing her again, there was a loud and frantic knock on the door which prompted Summer-Lynn to jump up to go answer it. I had to scramble, too. GUESS WHO WAS AT THE DOOR It was the girl with the white cut-off jean shorts who I ran across in the stairwell. WTF!!! I eventually found out her name is Nicole. Here's what came next. "...[Nicole] complained that her client tried to choke her. Summer-Lynn got dressed and I had to leave."WTF! She's a hooker, too??? Holy shit. She was hyperventilating as she Summer-Lynn about the client who was choking her. Nicole even mentioned his name and it seemed like it was someone that both she and Summer-Lynn knew him. Summer-Lynn sprang into action like Wonder Woman, got dressed, and rushed out the door to go deal with him. As she was off to save the day, she told me that I had to leave. Damn, that sucked. But what a weird situation to be in. There I was having to get dressed while that girl who I previously thought was an innocent girl but turned out to be a hooker as well. She stood in the middle of the room with her arms folded, silent, as I got dressed in my shirt, tie, and blazer. Then the unthinkable happened: "But Nicole offered to see me instead."Yup. You read that right. As I was about to leave, Nicole said something like, "I can fuck you if you want." Lord God, what a shock and what a thrill to hear those words. This scenes is still one of the the most unforgettable moments of all my hobbying. Needless to say, I obliged. But guess what. The whole thing was a ruse; some elaborate fake-out.
What... dafuck... was the POINT of all that??? LOLI wasn't even all that pissed when this was happening, and certainly not worried or afraid. It's just interesting trying to figure out what they were even TRYING to achieve.
"...after starting [to fuck Nicole], the condom broke."You can't script a broken condom. That's one of hobbying's happiest accidents. In fact, just a few pumps of accidentally rawdoggin' Nicole left such an impression on me that it led to a continuation to this story. Cuz back then, I was good lil boy and would avoid doing BBFS with escorts and hookers. Wait, wait, wait. Hold on, hold the FUCK UP!!! What if she INTENTIALLY made it so the condom would break!!! Could she have poked a hole in it? Or just used one of those cheap-ass NYC brand condoms that they pass out in the subways for free that always seem to break? Because what happened next was a complete mind fuck. "I went to the vending machine to get another one. When I returned, I found my things outside the hotel room and the door locked. Nicole refused to answer. My shoes were left inside and I had to go home in my socks."And this is how the legend of "Shoes Nicole" was born. I got back at her, though, in the most glorious fashion imaginable. Because exactly 1 month later, I texted Nicole again... and she actually picked up... I wanted my shoes back... but got something else instead. [Archive Bests] Shoes Nicole [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] I guess this is yet another example of yours truly taking chances and seeing the red flags as yellow flags. In closing, what a weird scam. No matter what, I came out as the clear winner. Happy (barefooted) hobbying, gents. |
2023.02.22 18:52 eastendprd January 1969. Jimi on NYE and the GD on 1/2-3. What a bill for $3.50!
 | submitted by eastendprd to gratefuldead [link] [comments] |
2023.01.22 15:00 Warm_Citron_3823 J.I.D + Cocaine = đ„đ„đ„
 | Man... His voice, the beats. submitted by Warm_Citron_3823 to cocaine [link] [comments] Try doing a few lines and listening to Bruuuh without bobbing your head or anything JID actually. Also Tyler the Creator, start at Yonkers and thank me later |
2023.01.02 10:12 Kellie_Little Tyler's Colorful and Magical World, The Creator
 | With nearly 15 years of experience in the hip-hop world and respect from colleagues and seniors, there are no limits to what Tyler, The Creator will do in the future. submitted by Kellie_Little to rappers [link] [comments] From the dark basslines and charismatic delivery of âYonkersâ, the experimental sound of âGoblinâ to the varied and âsalty at timesâ sounds from âFlower Boyâ, Tylerâs musical treasure , The Creator has been constantly changing and developing since the beginning of 2007. His image, style, transmission and message have always had significant changes throughout since he started making music. However, now is the time to question whether Tyler is a name that has been mentioned a lot in popular culture. https://preview.redd.it/ue27wp8sjl9a1.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b04be1b254818a8bdc3d1ae7e86cea8b10c10f52 Tyler has cemented his place as one of the most frequent chart-topping artists, with his two most recent albums both at number one on the Billboard 200: winning "Igor" Grammy Awards 2019 and "Call Me If You Get Lost", arguably the best hip-hop album of 2021 from the very first week of its release. Along with that, the success of Tyler The Creator merch has further affirmed his position. Tyler also has a real talent for bringing the anomalous worlds of his albums onto the stage and creating fantastical realities in his music videos. He is not afraid to bring listeners different moods, skillful wordplay and smooth rhyme throughout his works; His musicality is also enhanced through the lens of escapism and the boldness of Tyler himself, and he is also not very concerned about taking himself or his voice as something too serious. |
2022.12.14 05:25 CornSquashBeans A Social Star in a World of Loners: Part 11
Memory transcription subject: Hunter Josak
Date [standardized human time]: October 24-26, 2136
I was hardly able to stay awake when they loaded me into the helicopter. My vision was blurred and my chest felt like a crater of fiery pain. I couldnât walk, so they picked me up by my body. I heard crying and shouting. Cris spouted rage at his sister despite having only now found her. He was evidently angry that a bullet had found itâs way into my chest. I could hardly make out their faces, but I knew that Cris was among those carrying me. We boarded the air beast and it shook my painful frame as it lifted itself into the air against the will of the planetâs hold.
âIt hurts. It all hurtsâŠâ I struggled out.
âLet the pain keep you awake, Josak. Donât go dull. Donât fall asleep.â I heard Cris say.
Cris had wrapped bands of bandages all the way around my chest. The center of my mass was colored scarlet and dyed the bandages as such. Pressure kept on my chest. Someone was holding a towel to my wound, trying desperately to prevent the bleeding. I assumed then and there that my end would be in the beast, but somehow, I was still awake as we reached a small hospital in a place known as Yonkers. I heard yelling as I was lifted out onto a bed on wheels.
âSue, get the muzzle. This guyâs in shock and I donât want a chunk out of my neck if he snaps.â a paramedic in blue garments yelled.
âFor the last goddamned time! Itâs Stew! Hereâs your muzzle, fuckwit.â another screamed before handing the first man a metal cage.
âHell no! You ainât putting that on him!â I heard Cris scream.
âHe wears it, or he bleeds out on the rocks! The doctorâs lives are a lot more important than a Nazi lizard!â the paramedic screamed.
Knowing what was necessary, I looked at the blob that I assumed was Cris and shook my head. I would allow them their humiliation and hatred if it meant seeing another day. The cage nearly locked my jaw shut as it clasped over my snout. The belts connected at the back of my head as the doctors cautiously lifted my weakened head up. As the job was finished, the bed began rolling forward to an unknown fate. Darkness overtook me, but death was still locked behind the front door.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I awoke within a few minutes to arguing between various people. A translator yelled and exchanged heated words with Cris, UN volunteers, and hospital staff. We were in some sort of hospital room and I had been transferred into a bed firmly attached to the ground. My vision cleared for a split second as I saw what the translator was attached to. A Zurulian doctor looked at me in disgust as I looked at her.
âIâm not saving this⊠thing! Look how it looks at me! Even when itâs about to die, it thinks of flesh!â the being said with hatred for all that I was.
âYouâre a fucking doctor! This âtHinGâ saved my ass and my familyâs asses! Do your fucking job and save his fucking life or Iâll kick your fucking ass down the hall!â Cris raged in a predatory way that I had not seen previously.
The doctor, despite facing down the raging glint of a predator, still held her ground. I had fully accepted that I was due to die. The only doctor capable of saving me was of a people who my kind had killed on numerous occasions. Still, maybe there was a chance for mercy. I would give mercy, maybe they could. I struggled to spit out what I said next.
âPlease⊠mercyâŠâ I sputtered with a fading breath from the lung that didnât have a hole in it.
The Zurulian seemed to hear my begging truly then. She turned her head to face her right pupil at me. She had never expected such a request from an Arxur. She inspected me and dissected me. I looked into her eye with the most earnest stare I had ever mustered up. She flinched for a second, but then returned her gaze to my eyes. It was as if she was looking into my soul, weighing good against bad. The doctor sighed as she took her head away from me and face the humans again.
âFine, but I want enough gas to put this thing under for the next two days. I refuse to operate if this thing is anywhere near awake.â the doctor declared.
âThatâs fair. Thanks for actually being a doctor, doc.â Cris said as the last of his anger dissipated into his statement.
âI can still let him die, human!â the doctor said, with annoyance for Crisâ lack of thankfulness.
âNo! Please, just donât let him die. Iâm sorry. Please just keep him breathing.â Cris begged and pleaded.
âI will do whatever is in my power to do so.â the doctor said to Cris.
âNurse, get the mask over him and knock him out.â said the doctor to an unknown figure in baby blue scrubs.
âYes, maâam.â responded the blue nurse.
âSir, this will make you sleep. Donât worry. You will wake up, whether it be here or somewhere else.â the nurse declared.
âDonât die, Josak. Youâre stronger than a 9mm. If youâre gonna die from something, let it be years from now. â Cris requested of me morosely.
âI will⊠try.â I whispered as a makeshift mask went over my caged maw.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The world went black for a long while as a mysterious gas went through my nostrils and a breathing tube went down my throat. Everything was so dark, I felt as if I was walking in this darkness until eventually it blended into a forest similar to the ones I had seen in New York. I walked down a paved road until I eventually reached an open gate made of wood.
I was at a homestead of sorts. A beautiful house sat next to a long stretching lake. Stone staircases made a footpath for me as I walked into the property. Giant windows adorned the house and I saw a shadowy figure looking out of them and peering across the darkened night sky that lived above the lake. I continued walking until the light of a fire caught my eye. A short distance ahead of me stood a ring of torches with a fire at itâs center. A man sat on a wooden bench with his face to the fire and his back to me. He held the same instrument as Cris, a guitar, but his was painted black, as were his clothes.
âLove is a burning thing⊠and it makes a fiery ringâŠâ the figure sang as the guitar sat still in his hands.
I walked forward more, but despite being silent, the figure turned his face to mine in an instant so quick, I almost feared whatever allowed him to do so. I gulped down my fear and allowed myself to speak.
âHello, sir.â I said limply.
âHello, my friend. What has you finding yourself here?â the man asked.
âI donât know, sir. I think I may be dead. A mask went over my head and I saw darkness. I woke up walking and now Iâm here.â I sputtered out without a filter as to what I said.
I thought that the man may have found me insane, but then I realized how unlikely that was given that he was completely passive about facing down a creature so alien to him. The man gave a chuckle and started speaking again.
âWell, son, you ainât dead. I can tell you that. Youâre lucky in that way. Youâre lucky too, cause youâre just in time for dinner.â the man said.
âJune, savior of my life, weâve got a guest. Bring another portion out. He needs the food more than we need the leftoversâ the man screamed to the mysterious figure who was now looking out at us from a window.
âYou got it, Johnny.â a womanâs voice yelled in response.
The figure retreated back into the house before coming out with arms holding a large tub of some sort. I could smell it from a long way away. The smell of the meat in the pot filled my airways. As she sat the dish down, I stared at the meal. The meat was coated with orange and was sat next to a yellowish bread of sorts.
âThank you, honey. This traveler needs some meat on his bones after that long walk.â the man said.
âHave a couple of pieces, boy. Guests always eat first.â the woman said.
I grabbed a chunk of the meat and popped it into my mouth. The bones crunched and splintered, but my gullet was strong enough to handle the tickling sensation of such occasions. Herbs bounced flavor in my mouth and the taste of the meat was augmented by fried fat and delicious skin. It was truly amazing.
âBones and all, boy? You oughta eat some more if you need all that.â the man said.
âThank you for your kindness, sir and maâam. May I ask your names?â I requested as I stuffed another piece into my mouth.
The man and woman looked at each other with loving smiles before returning their attention to me and answering.
âJohn. This is my wife, June. What would yours be, bud?â asked John.
âJosak. May I ask, sir. Are you a celebrity? My friend, Cris Walton plays such a thing as that and he says thatâs why heâs famous.â I stated.
John gave a laugh, as did his wife.
âWe both were a time ago, Josak. Great country singers of our age, but that was long before the time youâre from.â June said with aged wisdom.
âI see. Were you from the time of Johnny Cash?â I asked.
Both humans sputtered out laughing at this. Clearly I wasnât getting something. I pointed my head down in embarrassment. The laughing finally died down as John spoke again.
âKid, Iâm Johnny Cash, and this here is my wife, the even better June Carter.â John said with a friendly smile.
I recoiled in shock at this revelation. Johnny Cash was dead, that must have meant I was dead too. The nurse was right, I had woken up somewhere else.
John laid a hand over my shoulder to calm me and handed me a bit of bread.
âHave some cornbread, boy. It will calm you down a tad.â John declared.
âI canât eat this. I canât eat plant matter alone.â I responded.
âYou can eat anything you want here, boy. You could even eat the coals in that fire. Wouldnât hurt ya at all.â John spoke while pointing at the flames.
âAm⊠am I dead?â I weakly queried.
âNot at this time. Youâre somewhere in between at the moment. The man wonât be calling your name today. Instead, youâre stuck in a temporary bit of purgatory so that we can leave you with some passing wisdom.â Johnny said as he stretched his back out.
âWhat is your wisdom, Mr. Cash?â I questioned as the fear drained from me and I stuffed the bread into my mouth. It crumbled and had an odd taste, but it wasnât terrible.
âMy wisdom is that which the Lord has given me. Kid, youâre gonna be a star like both of us, but life is going to get a little tough as soon as you wake up. Life ainât never gonna be a picnic, and for a while, it will seem like itâs gotten worse than the times before, but soon enough, it will get better. Youâve got a good future ahead of you kid, you just gotta get through the now.â Johnny responded.
I took in the wisdom of his speech for several minutes as we all exchanged glances between the fire and each other. The moon began to appear and shine light into the forest where I had came from. It would soon be time for me to return to life. I felt that before Cash even spoke again.
âGot any questions, Josak?â Cash asked.
âIs there any other advice you think I should have?â I asked back.
âActually, yes. When they give you the painkillers, be careful with them. Donât make the mistake of falling into using them for no good reasons. Pills arenât the key to happiness.â Cash said before grabbing June and planting a kiss on her forehead as a tear shimmered in his eye.
âFamily and love are the keys to happiness, Josak. Thatâs our parting wisdom for you. Keep it in your alligator head.â June said with a chuckle.
âI will.â I responded.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I stood up and looked to the forest for a quick few seconds. The light almost looked unnatural, but it was the path I was destined to take. It wasnât my time to die just yet. Life had so much opportunity awaiting me.
âI think it may be time for me to go back. Mr. Cash, Mrs. Carter, I thank you for your company, your food, and your wisdom. I hope that I may see you again one day, but for now, I have to be getting back to the living.â I uttered with slight sadness over having to leave.
âWeâll see you again eventually, Josak. Weâll all have a longer talk round the fire then.â June said.
âYes we will. Also, Josak, when they give you the pain pills, try to avoid using them. They make you feel good, but damn are they addictive. You gotta be careful with them. Thatâs just some advice from a reborn junkie.â Cash declared with a laugh.
âI will keep that in mind. Goodbye, you jolly old country music stars.â I said with reverence for these old souls.
I walked away from the fire and back towards the woods. As I reached the gate, I paused for a moment and looked back. They waved goodbye to me and I returned the favor in turn. I heard Johnny say one last thing as I did.
âJOSAK, TELL CRIS THANKS FOR BRINGING OUR SONGS BACK! ITâS BRINGS US BOTH SMILES TO KNOW OUR WORK IS STILL LISTENED TO!â I heard the soul yell across the distance.
I shook my head in response and turned to face the woods. I walked back into the light and to the world of the living. As I did this, my body shot up in my hospital bed. My vision was clear, but my chest hurt like hell. To even breathe almost felt like a stab to the ribs. I tried to grab at my wound, but Cris shot a hand at mine before I could.
âIt was hard enough to get those stitches in you when you were asleep. Donât go tearing âem out.â he said with much concern.
âOkay.â I responded.
âCris, I need to tell you something.â I added to my response.
âHit me, Josak.â Cris said as he collapsed back into his chair.
âJohnny Cash asked me to give his thanks to you for singing his songs. He says the fans bring a smile to him and Juneâs faces.â I said with softness in my voice.
Cris stared me in the eyes, not knowing if I should be believed. I only stared back to declare that I was telling the truth in every way. We shared a nod and he accepted that I was not lying to him. A couple moments went by in silence.
âFigures youâd be the one to meet him first.â Cris exclaimed with a chortle.
âMaybe next time, you should take the shot instead.â I responded with a painful laugh.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
PrevFirst Next
So Josak has met some old souls. I hope it is not too presumptuous of me to assume that Mr. Cash would react this way. Personally, I think he would be rather chill about the situation given his temperament with various issues during his time. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy.
submitted by CornSquashBeans to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Date [standardized human time]: October 24-26, 2136
I was hardly able to stay awake when they loaded me into the helicopter. My vision was blurred and my chest felt like a crater of fiery pain. I couldnât walk, so they picked me up by my body. I heard crying and shouting. Cris spouted rage at his sister despite having only now found her. He was evidently angry that a bullet had found itâs way into my chest. I could hardly make out their faces, but I knew that Cris was among those carrying me. We boarded the air beast and it shook my painful frame as it lifted itself into the air against the will of the planetâs hold.
âIt hurts. It all hurtsâŠâ I struggled out.
âLet the pain keep you awake, Josak. Donât go dull. Donât fall asleep.â I heard Cris say.
Cris had wrapped bands of bandages all the way around my chest. The center of my mass was colored scarlet and dyed the bandages as such. Pressure kept on my chest. Someone was holding a towel to my wound, trying desperately to prevent the bleeding. I assumed then and there that my end would be in the beast, but somehow, I was still awake as we reached a small hospital in a place known as Yonkers. I heard yelling as I was lifted out onto a bed on wheels.
âSue, get the muzzle. This guyâs in shock and I donât want a chunk out of my neck if he snaps.â a paramedic in blue garments yelled.
âFor the last goddamned time! Itâs Stew! Hereâs your muzzle, fuckwit.â another screamed before handing the first man a metal cage.
âHell no! You ainât putting that on him!â I heard Cris scream.
âHe wears it, or he bleeds out on the rocks! The doctorâs lives are a lot more important than a Nazi lizard!â the paramedic screamed.
Knowing what was necessary, I looked at the blob that I assumed was Cris and shook my head. I would allow them their humiliation and hatred if it meant seeing another day. The cage nearly locked my jaw shut as it clasped over my snout. The belts connected at the back of my head as the doctors cautiously lifted my weakened head up. As the job was finished, the bed began rolling forward to an unknown fate. Darkness overtook me, but death was still locked behind the front door.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I awoke within a few minutes to arguing between various people. A translator yelled and exchanged heated words with Cris, UN volunteers, and hospital staff. We were in some sort of hospital room and I had been transferred into a bed firmly attached to the ground. My vision cleared for a split second as I saw what the translator was attached to. A Zurulian doctor looked at me in disgust as I looked at her.
âIâm not saving this⊠thing! Look how it looks at me! Even when itâs about to die, it thinks of flesh!â the being said with hatred for all that I was.
âYouâre a fucking doctor! This âtHinGâ saved my ass and my familyâs asses! Do your fucking job and save his fucking life or Iâll kick your fucking ass down the hall!â Cris raged in a predatory way that I had not seen previously.
The doctor, despite facing down the raging glint of a predator, still held her ground. I had fully accepted that I was due to die. The only doctor capable of saving me was of a people who my kind had killed on numerous occasions. Still, maybe there was a chance for mercy. I would give mercy, maybe they could. I struggled to spit out what I said next.
âPlease⊠mercyâŠâ I sputtered with a fading breath from the lung that didnât have a hole in it.
The Zurulian seemed to hear my begging truly then. She turned her head to face her right pupil at me. She had never expected such a request from an Arxur. She inspected me and dissected me. I looked into her eye with the most earnest stare I had ever mustered up. She flinched for a second, but then returned her gaze to my eyes. It was as if she was looking into my soul, weighing good against bad. The doctor sighed as she took her head away from me and face the humans again.
âFine, but I want enough gas to put this thing under for the next two days. I refuse to operate if this thing is anywhere near awake.â the doctor declared.
âThatâs fair. Thanks for actually being a doctor, doc.â Cris said as the last of his anger dissipated into his statement.
âI can still let him die, human!â the doctor said, with annoyance for Crisâ lack of thankfulness.
âNo! Please, just donât let him die. Iâm sorry. Please just keep him breathing.â Cris begged and pleaded.
âI will do whatever is in my power to do so.â the doctor said to Cris.
âNurse, get the mask over him and knock him out.â said the doctor to an unknown figure in baby blue scrubs.
âYes, maâam.â responded the blue nurse.
âSir, this will make you sleep. Donât worry. You will wake up, whether it be here or somewhere else.â the nurse declared.
âDonât die, Josak. Youâre stronger than a 9mm. If youâre gonna die from something, let it be years from now. â Cris requested of me morosely.
âI will⊠try.â I whispered as a makeshift mask went over my caged maw.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The world went black for a long while as a mysterious gas went through my nostrils and a breathing tube went down my throat. Everything was so dark, I felt as if I was walking in this darkness until eventually it blended into a forest similar to the ones I had seen in New York. I walked down a paved road until I eventually reached an open gate made of wood.
I was at a homestead of sorts. A beautiful house sat next to a long stretching lake. Stone staircases made a footpath for me as I walked into the property. Giant windows adorned the house and I saw a shadowy figure looking out of them and peering across the darkened night sky that lived above the lake. I continued walking until the light of a fire caught my eye. A short distance ahead of me stood a ring of torches with a fire at itâs center. A man sat on a wooden bench with his face to the fire and his back to me. He held the same instrument as Cris, a guitar, but his was painted black, as were his clothes.
âLove is a burning thing⊠and it makes a fiery ringâŠâ the figure sang as the guitar sat still in his hands.
I walked forward more, but despite being silent, the figure turned his face to mine in an instant so quick, I almost feared whatever allowed him to do so. I gulped down my fear and allowed myself to speak.
âHello, sir.â I said limply.
âHello, my friend. What has you finding yourself here?â the man asked.
âI donât know, sir. I think I may be dead. A mask went over my head and I saw darkness. I woke up walking and now Iâm here.â I sputtered out without a filter as to what I said.
I thought that the man may have found me insane, but then I realized how unlikely that was given that he was completely passive about facing down a creature so alien to him. The man gave a chuckle and started speaking again.
âWell, son, you ainât dead. I can tell you that. Youâre lucky in that way. Youâre lucky too, cause youâre just in time for dinner.â the man said.
âJune, savior of my life, weâve got a guest. Bring another portion out. He needs the food more than we need the leftoversâ the man screamed to the mysterious figure who was now looking out at us from a window.
âYou got it, Johnny.â a womanâs voice yelled in response.
The figure retreated back into the house before coming out with arms holding a large tub of some sort. I could smell it from a long way away. The smell of the meat in the pot filled my airways. As she sat the dish down, I stared at the meal. The meat was coated with orange and was sat next to a yellowish bread of sorts.
âThank you, honey. This traveler needs some meat on his bones after that long walk.â the man said.
âHave a couple of pieces, boy. Guests always eat first.â the woman said.
I grabbed a chunk of the meat and popped it into my mouth. The bones crunched and splintered, but my gullet was strong enough to handle the tickling sensation of such occasions. Herbs bounced flavor in my mouth and the taste of the meat was augmented by fried fat and delicious skin. It was truly amazing.
âBones and all, boy? You oughta eat some more if you need all that.â the man said.
âThank you for your kindness, sir and maâam. May I ask your names?â I requested as I stuffed another piece into my mouth.
The man and woman looked at each other with loving smiles before returning their attention to me and answering.
âJohn. This is my wife, June. What would yours be, bud?â asked John.
âJosak. May I ask, sir. Are you a celebrity? My friend, Cris Walton plays such a thing as that and he says thatâs why heâs famous.â I stated.
John gave a laugh, as did his wife.
âWe both were a time ago, Josak. Great country singers of our age, but that was long before the time youâre from.â June said with aged wisdom.
âI see. Were you from the time of Johnny Cash?â I asked.
Both humans sputtered out laughing at this. Clearly I wasnât getting something. I pointed my head down in embarrassment. The laughing finally died down as John spoke again.
âKid, Iâm Johnny Cash, and this here is my wife, the even better June Carter.â John said with a friendly smile.
I recoiled in shock at this revelation. Johnny Cash was dead, that must have meant I was dead too. The nurse was right, I had woken up somewhere else.
John laid a hand over my shoulder to calm me and handed me a bit of bread.
âHave some cornbread, boy. It will calm you down a tad.â John declared.
âI canât eat this. I canât eat plant matter alone.â I responded.
âYou can eat anything you want here, boy. You could even eat the coals in that fire. Wouldnât hurt ya at all.â John spoke while pointing at the flames.
âAm⊠am I dead?â I weakly queried.
âNot at this time. Youâre somewhere in between at the moment. The man wonât be calling your name today. Instead, youâre stuck in a temporary bit of purgatory so that we can leave you with some passing wisdom.â Johnny said as he stretched his back out.
âWhat is your wisdom, Mr. Cash?â I questioned as the fear drained from me and I stuffed the bread into my mouth. It crumbled and had an odd taste, but it wasnât terrible.
âMy wisdom is that which the Lord has given me. Kid, youâre gonna be a star like both of us, but life is going to get a little tough as soon as you wake up. Life ainât never gonna be a picnic, and for a while, it will seem like itâs gotten worse than the times before, but soon enough, it will get better. Youâve got a good future ahead of you kid, you just gotta get through the now.â Johnny responded.
I took in the wisdom of his speech for several minutes as we all exchanged glances between the fire and each other. The moon began to appear and shine light into the forest where I had came from. It would soon be time for me to return to life. I felt that before Cash even spoke again.
âGot any questions, Josak?â Cash asked.
âIs there any other advice you think I should have?â I asked back.
âActually, yes. When they give you the painkillers, be careful with them. Donât make the mistake of falling into using them for no good reasons. Pills arenât the key to happiness.â Cash said before grabbing June and planting a kiss on her forehead as a tear shimmered in his eye.
âFamily and love are the keys to happiness, Josak. Thatâs our parting wisdom for you. Keep it in your alligator head.â June said with a chuckle.
âI will.â I responded.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I stood up and looked to the forest for a quick few seconds. The light almost looked unnatural, but it was the path I was destined to take. It wasnât my time to die just yet. Life had so much opportunity awaiting me.
âI think it may be time for me to go back. Mr. Cash, Mrs. Carter, I thank you for your company, your food, and your wisdom. I hope that I may see you again one day, but for now, I have to be getting back to the living.â I uttered with slight sadness over having to leave.
âWeâll see you again eventually, Josak. Weâll all have a longer talk round the fire then.â June said.
âYes we will. Also, Josak, when they give you the pain pills, try to avoid using them. They make you feel good, but damn are they addictive. You gotta be careful with them. Thatâs just some advice from a reborn junkie.â Cash declared with a laugh.
âI will keep that in mind. Goodbye, you jolly old country music stars.â I said with reverence for these old souls.
I walked away from the fire and back towards the woods. As I reached the gate, I paused for a moment and looked back. They waved goodbye to me and I returned the favor in turn. I heard Johnny say one last thing as I did.
âJOSAK, TELL CRIS THANKS FOR BRINGING OUR SONGS BACK! ITâS BRINGS US BOTH SMILES TO KNOW OUR WORK IS STILL LISTENED TO!â I heard the soul yell across the distance.
I shook my head in response and turned to face the woods. I walked back into the light and to the world of the living. As I did this, my body shot up in my hospital bed. My vision was clear, but my chest hurt like hell. To even breathe almost felt like a stab to the ribs. I tried to grab at my wound, but Cris shot a hand at mine before I could.
âIt was hard enough to get those stitches in you when you were asleep. Donât go tearing âem out.â he said with much concern.
âOkay.â I responded.
âCris, I need to tell you something.â I added to my response.
âHit me, Josak.â Cris said as he collapsed back into his chair.
âJohnny Cash asked me to give his thanks to you for singing his songs. He says the fans bring a smile to him and Juneâs faces.â I said with softness in my voice.
Cris stared me in the eyes, not knowing if I should be believed. I only stared back to declare that I was telling the truth in every way. We shared a nod and he accepted that I was not lying to him. A couple moments went by in silence.
âFigures youâd be the one to meet him first.â Cris exclaimed with a chortle.
âMaybe next time, you should take the shot instead.â I responded with a painful laugh.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
PrevFirst Next
So Josak has met some old souls. I hope it is not too presumptuous of me to assume that Mr. Cash would react this way. Personally, I think he would be rather chill about the situation given his temperament with various issues during his time. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy.
2022.11.13 21:56 Iherdyouleikmudkipz Found on r/tylerthecreator
Sometimes I pretend I'm Tyler and I play his music and I pretend my living room is the stage, and all the girls that made fun of me one day are watching me and impressed with me
The song I pretend to sing the most is Sandwitches, all my teachers are sitting around watching, in a talent competition. So in the intro and my friends come riding skateboards and a beautiful girl I know says ''Wow, he's cool'' then the song starts and everyone is already impressed by my deep voice and lyrics. When the beat drops everyone is terrified by the lyrics, and my performance on stage, with a green mask looking directly at the audience and spitting destruction.
My teachers are also very impressed thinking ''This kid is different, I understand what he's doing'' and they are also shocked when I say ''Fuck school'' and encourage students to screw up. And when Tyler says ''Fuck a mask I want that hoe know it's me'' I take off my mask and all the girls are impressed by my handsomeness, and one downstairs who is mysterious and pretty thinks my style is cool and thinks me different.
I do it with a lot of other songs too, like French, Seven, Who Dat Boy, Yonkers, Bastard, Goblin, all songs with shocking lyrics or when the beat drops everyone feels like jumping. I just want to make a song like Tyler someday, and make people impressed with it, make people angry by saying things that wouldn't be accepted in society. I wanted so badly to start a rap group with some friends, but the only ones I have don't know how to rhyme or don't like that style of rap. Have you guys ever pretended to be Tyler or some other artist on stage? impressing everyone with your music and your talent? Could this be that problem called excessive daydreaming?
submitted by Iherdyouleikmudkipz to copypasta [link] [comments]
The song I pretend to sing the most is Sandwitches, all my teachers are sitting around watching, in a talent competition. So in the intro and my friends come riding skateboards and a beautiful girl I know says ''Wow, he's cool'' then the song starts and everyone is already impressed by my deep voice and lyrics. When the beat drops everyone is terrified by the lyrics, and my performance on stage, with a green mask looking directly at the audience and spitting destruction.
My teachers are also very impressed thinking ''This kid is different, I understand what he's doing'' and they are also shocked when I say ''Fuck school'' and encourage students to screw up. And when Tyler says ''Fuck a mask I want that hoe know it's me'' I take off my mask and all the girls are impressed by my handsomeness, and one downstairs who is mysterious and pretty thinks my style is cool and thinks me different.
I do it with a lot of other songs too, like French, Seven, Who Dat Boy, Yonkers, Bastard, Goblin, all songs with shocking lyrics or when the beat drops everyone feels like jumping. I just want to make a song like Tyler someday, and make people impressed with it, make people angry by saying things that wouldn't be accepted in society. I wanted so badly to start a rap group with some friends, but the only ones I have don't know how to rhyme or don't like that style of rap. Have you guys ever pretended to be Tyler or some other artist on stage? impressing everyone with your music and your talent? Could this be that problem called excessive daydreaming?
2022.11.13 05:31 LilNastyBooty Sometimes I pretend I'm Tyler and I play his music and I pretend my living room is the stage, and all the girls that made fun of me one day are watching me and impressed with me
The song I pretend to sing the most is Sandwitches, all my teachers are sitting around watching, in a talent competition. So in the intro and my friends come riding skateboards and a beautiful girl I know says ''Wow, he's cool'' then the song starts and everyone is already impressed by my deep voice and lyrics. When the beat drops everyone is terrified by the lyrics, and my performance on stage, with a green mask looking directly at the audience and spitting destruction.
My teachers are also very impressed thinking ''This kid is different, I understand what he's doing'' and they are also shocked when I say ''Fuck school'' and encourage students to screw up. And when Tyler says ''Fuck a mask I want that hoe know it's me'' I take off my mask and all the girls are impressed by my handsomeness, and one downstairs who is mysterious and pretty thinks my style is cool and thinks me different.
I do it with a lot of other songs too, like French, Seven, Who Dat Boy, Yonkers, Bastard, Goblin, all songs with shocking lyrics or when the beat drops everyone feels like jumping. I just want to make a song like Tyler someday, and make people impressed with it, make people angry by saying things that wouldn't be accepted in society. I wanted so badly to start a rap group with some friends, but the only ones I have don't know how to rhyme or don't like that style of rap. Have you guys ever pretended to be Tyler or some other artist on stage? impressing everyone with your music and your talent? Could this be that problem called excessive daydreaming?
submitted by LilNastyBooty to tylerthecreator [link] [comments]
My teachers are also very impressed thinking ''This kid is different, I understand what he's doing'' and they are also shocked when I say ''Fuck school'' and encourage students to screw up. And when Tyler says ''Fuck a mask I want that hoe know it's me'' I take off my mask and all the girls are impressed by my handsomeness, and one downstairs who is mysterious and pretty thinks my style is cool and thinks me different.
I do it with a lot of other songs too, like French, Seven, Who Dat Boy, Yonkers, Bastard, Goblin, all songs with shocking lyrics or when the beat drops everyone feels like jumping. I just want to make a song like Tyler someday, and make people impressed with it, make people angry by saying things that wouldn't be accepted in society. I wanted so badly to start a rap group with some friends, but the only ones I have don't know how to rhyme or don't like that style of rap. Have you guys ever pretended to be Tyler or some other artist on stage? impressing everyone with your music and your talent? Could this be that problem called excessive daydreaming?
2022.10.09 02:40 TawnyaWilcoxson Mid-Love Crisis cast list: Teri Hatcher, James Tupper and others star in HMM film
This fall, Hallmark Movies & Mysteries' upcoming romantic comedy, Mid-Love Crisis, will drop on Sunday, October 9, 2022, at 9 pm ET. It stars Desperate Housewives' Teri Hatcher and Big Little Lies' James Tupper, as well as Brian Markinson, June Laporte and Matreya Scarrwener.
Mid-Love Crisis revolves around Mindy (Hatcher), who finds herself in the middle of a serious mid-life crisis one week before her 50th birthday. Life throws Mindy a surprise when her daughter Rita (Laporte), her girlfriend Emily (Scarrwener), and Emily's uncle Sam (Tupper) visit their lake house for a long weekend. It is revealed that Sam was also Mindy's boyfriend from high school.
Rita breaks the news to Mindy that she intends to surprise Emily with a proposal and wants her dad, Mindy's ex-husband Marc (Markinson), to join them. This takes their weekend trip through another unexpected turn.
With her two exes under one roof competing for her attention, Mindy has a lot to deal with as she plans to cancel all birthday celebrations.
The synopsis for Mid-Love Crisis reads:
"As the weekend progresses, an assertiveness inside her awakens and Mindy finds herself not only embracing her life, but discovering what it is she truly wants as she gets ready to start the next chapter."
Meet the ensemble cast of HMM's upcoming rom-com Mid-Love Crisis
1) Teri Hatcher as Mindy Quinn
Throughout her career, Teri Hatcher has delivered standout roles in films, television shows, and stage productions. Her performance on ABC's Desperate Housewives helped her land many nominations and accolades over the course of the pioneering show's eight-season run.
Hatcher also portrayed Lois in the ABC series Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman and very recently appeared as the evil Rhea in Supergirl on The CW. Her other television credits include well-known shows such as Seinfeld, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Frasier, MacGyver, Two and a Half Men, and Smallville. She also hosted Saturday Night Live once, in 1995.
Hatcher made her Hallmark debut in 2021's A Kiss Before Christmas and made her first feature film role in Christopher Guestâs The Big Picture.
Her other movie roles include those in Soapdish, Spy Kids, and Tomorrow Never Dies. She also voiced all three mothers in A Kiss Before Christmas and Dottie in. Disney's Planes franchise.
2) James Tupper as Sam Berman
James Tupper's film credits include Decoding Annie Parker, Mr. Popperâs Penguins, and Me and Orsen Welles. Tupper, a Canadian actor, gained popularity for his portrayal as Jack Slattery in the ABC television series Men in Trees. He also starred in Mercy on NBC and on ABC's Grey's Anatomy and Revenge.
Tupper most recently appeared in the Hallmark film My Christmas Family Tree in 2021. He also played Nathan Carlson in the critically acclaimed HBO series Big Little Lies. His other television credits include The Hardy Boys on Hulu and A Million Little Things on ABC.
3) Brian Markinson as Marc Quinn
Brian Markinson began his acting career in the New York theater scene. He appeared in the Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning Broadway production of Neil Simon's Lost in Yonkers and in the off-Broadway production of Mike Nichols' Elliot Loves.
Brian has also appeared in a number of Nichols' films such as Wolf, Primary Colors and Charlie Wilsonâs War and Angels in America.
Markinson has appeared in projects including Sweet and Lowdown, Small Time Crooks, and The Curse of the Jade Scorpion. Godzilla, Shooter, Mayerthorpe, and Enemy of the State are among the other movies under his belt.
The Mid-Love Crisis actor has also appeared in over 100 television shows, including FX's Fargo, Mad Men on AMC, the Sundance TV miniseries Unspeakable, Rogue, and Romeo Section. Markinson recently featured in the APTN series Tribal, Mayor of Kingstown, A Million Little Things, and the Netflix series Away.
Who are the remaining cast members of Mid-Love Crisis?
While Teri Hatcher and James Tupper will be at the center of HMM's upcoming rom-com Mid-Love Crisis, the remainder of the ensemble cast includes:
June Laporte as Rita Quinn
Matreya Scarrwener as Emily
Lauren K. Robek as Nathalie
Brian Cyburt as Richard
Andy Yu as Andy
The Teri Hatcher-starrer Mid-Love Crisis premieres on Hallmark Movies & Mysteries on Sunday, October 9, 2022.
submitted by TawnyaWilcoxson to looktex [link] [comments]
Mid-Love Crisis revolves around Mindy (Hatcher), who finds herself in the middle of a serious mid-life crisis one week before her 50th birthday. Life throws Mindy a surprise when her daughter Rita (Laporte), her girlfriend Emily (Scarrwener), and Emily's uncle Sam (Tupper) visit their lake house for a long weekend. It is revealed that Sam was also Mindy's boyfriend from high school.
Rita breaks the news to Mindy that she intends to surprise Emily with a proposal and wants her dad, Mindy's ex-husband Marc (Markinson), to join them. This takes their weekend trip through another unexpected turn.
With her two exes under one roof competing for her attention, Mindy has a lot to deal with as she plans to cancel all birthday celebrations.
The synopsis for Mid-Love Crisis reads:
"As the weekend progresses, an assertiveness inside her awakens and Mindy finds herself not only embracing her life, but discovering what it is she truly wants as she gets ready to start the next chapter."
Meet the ensemble cast of HMM's upcoming rom-com Mid-Love Crisis
1) Teri Hatcher as Mindy Quinn
Throughout her career, Teri Hatcher has delivered standout roles in films, television shows, and stage productions. Her performance on ABC's Desperate Housewives helped her land many nominations and accolades over the course of the pioneering show's eight-season run.
Hatcher also portrayed Lois in the ABC series Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman and very recently appeared as the evil Rhea in Supergirl on The CW. Her other television credits include well-known shows such as Seinfeld, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Frasier, MacGyver, Two and a Half Men, and Smallville. She also hosted Saturday Night Live once, in 1995.
Hatcher made her Hallmark debut in 2021's A Kiss Before Christmas and made her first feature film role in Christopher Guestâs The Big Picture.
Her other movie roles include those in Soapdish, Spy Kids, and Tomorrow Never Dies. She also voiced all three mothers in A Kiss Before Christmas and Dottie in. Disney's Planes franchise.
2) James Tupper as Sam Berman
James Tupper's film credits include Decoding Annie Parker, Mr. Popperâs Penguins, and Me and Orsen Welles. Tupper, a Canadian actor, gained popularity for his portrayal as Jack Slattery in the ABC television series Men in Trees. He also starred in Mercy on NBC and on ABC's Grey's Anatomy and Revenge.
Tupper most recently appeared in the Hallmark film My Christmas Family Tree in 2021. He also played Nathan Carlson in the critically acclaimed HBO series Big Little Lies. His other television credits include The Hardy Boys on Hulu and A Million Little Things on ABC.
3) Brian Markinson as Marc Quinn
Brian Markinson began his acting career in the New York theater scene. He appeared in the Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning Broadway production of Neil Simon's Lost in Yonkers and in the off-Broadway production of Mike Nichols' Elliot Loves.
Brian has also appeared in a number of Nichols' films such as Wolf, Primary Colors and Charlie Wilsonâs War and Angels in America.
Markinson has appeared in projects including Sweet and Lowdown, Small Time Crooks, and The Curse of the Jade Scorpion. Godzilla, Shooter, Mayerthorpe, and Enemy of the State are among the other movies under his belt.
The Mid-Love Crisis actor has also appeared in over 100 television shows, including FX's Fargo, Mad Men on AMC, the Sundance TV miniseries Unspeakable, Rogue, and Romeo Section. Markinson recently featured in the APTN series Tribal, Mayor of Kingstown, A Million Little Things, and the Netflix series Away.
Who are the remaining cast members of Mid-Love Crisis?
While Teri Hatcher and James Tupper will be at the center of HMM's upcoming rom-com Mid-Love Crisis, the remainder of the ensemble cast includes:
June Laporte as Rita Quinn
Matreya Scarrwener as Emily
Lauren K. Robek as Nathalie
Brian Cyburt as Richard
Andy Yu as Andy
The Teri Hatcher-starrer Mid-Love Crisis premieres on Hallmark Movies & Mysteries on Sunday, October 9, 2022.
2022.10.01 13:22 Kdowden Sources for Local Political News
Where does everyone go for information about local politics? I'm thinking of Yonkers City Council and Westchester County Legislator laws, regulations and issue debates.
So far, I've found LoHud, the Yonkers Times and the Yonkers Voice (on YouTube), however none of them really seem to consistently focus on local political news.
The example that comes to mind is a debate about modifying how much affordable housing should be required for development in Yonkers. Each source seems to have one, maybe two, articles on it but if there's a source that provides more consistent coverage, I would love to know about it.
submitted by Kdowden to yonkers [link] [comments]
So far, I've found LoHud, the Yonkers Times and the Yonkers Voice (on YouTube), however none of them really seem to consistently focus on local political news.
The example that comes to mind is a debate about modifying how much affordable housing should be required for development in Yonkers. Each source seems to have one, maybe two, articles on it but if there's a source that provides more consistent coverage, I would love to know about it.
2022.08.10 11:35 somnum_osseus Interviews with the "Son of Sam," David Berkowitz
On this day in history- On August 10, 1977, The "Son of Sam," David Berkowitz, was arrested in Yonkers, NY. Berkowitz, a postal employee, had shot and killed six people and wounded seven others.
Over 40 years later Berkowitz remains incarcerated for his crimes. Yet he is perhaps one of the most vocal of post-conviction serial killers, having given multiple long-form interviews, made public media statements and even hosted his own website over the years.
Berkowitz is a self proclaimed "born-again Christian" having converted to Evangelical Christianity in 1987. According to his website, his moment of conversion occurred after reading Psalm 34:6 from a Bible given to him by a fellow inmate. He says he is no longer to be referred to as the "Son of Sam" but the "Son of Hope." He has continued to write essays on faith and repentance for Evangelical websites, and his website is maintained on his behalf by a church group, since he is not allowed access to a computer.
Here is a comprehensive list of the interviews Berkowitz has given over the past 40 years, the last one being as recent as 10 months ago.
Maury Terry Interview (1993)
RoxAnne Tauriello Interview (1995)
Inside Edition Interview (1999)
Larry King Weekend Interview (1999)
CBS New York Interview (2007)
Suffolk Leadership Prayer Breakfast Interview (2012)
David Berkowitz in his own words (2016)
CBS Special Son of Sam- The Killer Speaks (2017)
The Balanced Voice Podcast Interview (2021)
FOX 26 Interview (2021)
submitted by somnum_osseus to TrueCrime [link] [comments]
Over 40 years later Berkowitz remains incarcerated for his crimes. Yet he is perhaps one of the most vocal of post-conviction serial killers, having given multiple long-form interviews, made public media statements and even hosted his own website over the years.
Berkowitz is a self proclaimed "born-again Christian" having converted to Evangelical Christianity in 1987. According to his website, his moment of conversion occurred after reading Psalm 34:6 from a Bible given to him by a fellow inmate. He says he is no longer to be referred to as the "Son of Sam" but the "Son of Hope." He has continued to write essays on faith and repentance for Evangelical websites, and his website is maintained on his behalf by a church group, since he is not allowed access to a computer.
Here is a comprehensive list of the interviews Berkowitz has given over the past 40 years, the last one being as recent as 10 months ago.
Maury Terry Interview (1993)
RoxAnne Tauriello Interview (1995)
Inside Edition Interview (1999)
Larry King Weekend Interview (1999)
CBS New York Interview (2007)
Suffolk Leadership Prayer Breakfast Interview (2012)
David Berkowitz in his own words (2016)
CBS Special Son of Sam- The Killer Speaks (2017)
The Balanced Voice Podcast Interview (2021)
FOX 26 Interview (2021)
2022.07.14 04:48 No_Door4675 My Mom tried to kill me
January 17th 2003
My mom hooked up with some random person. She was a s3x worker and she did this a lot. But this time, something went wrong.
December 23rd 2003 I was born, and ever since that day, my mom hated me. She's went from beating me to kicking me out the house for days or even weeks. She threatened to mutilate me and put it on a video more times than I could even count.
That was all until one very fateful day. It's November 14th, 2019 in the quiet suburbs of Yonkers, New York. You can hear the raking of leaves, the crunching from the people walking to the Dunkin', and the birds flocking to migrate for the winter. This was set to be a normal day for me but for some reason, my mom was more pissed than normal. She threatened to beat me more times than usual. Something had angered her, but I ignored it.
I walked to school not knowing what would be waiting for me when I made it home. "Dude can you come over tommorow?" My friend told me. "I'll check with my mom, you know how over protective she is of me bro." "Sounds like a plan? "I mean if my mom agrees I guess?" I exclaimed with a slightly monotone expression in my voice. Tick Tock, I watched the clock speed as my day went by.
Eventually it hit 3:15 and we were out of school. I walked home wondering what I was going to be fed, maybe a tv dinner if I'm lucky.
I arrived home to my mom screaming her lungs off yelling at me to come over to her. She shouted "I didn't give birth to you JUST FOR YOU TO SPEND 50 DOLLARS ON SOME ONLINE SHIT?!" "What I didn't do any of that what makes you say that?" "I got the BANK STATEMENT, do you think that the bank is going to FUCKING LIE TO ME?" "I mean what if someone h-hacked your ac-" "You're a MISTAKE and you don't even help me with my taxes anymore..." Seconds after she said that she pulled a butcher knife from under her pillow and flung it at me, I narrowly dodged it and rushed out the room at flash speeds. "Don't you dare run from me TOMMY!" I quickly turned the corner into the living room and pulled out the plug on the lamp and waited for her to turn the corner. "I'm going to fucking KILL YO-" I threw the lamp at her with full force, knocking her out. Realising what I just did, I grabbed the butcher knife, threw it at the wall in a fit, crouched down, grabbed my phone and dialed 911
"911 what is your emergency?"
"My mom chased me with a butcher knife and I knocked her out with a lamp."
"Alright sir, step away from her, grab the knife, put it somewhere safe and run out the house."
"Okay"
4 minutes pass by
"The adress is 100 Treelog Blvd, please just come, I am scared shes gonna wake up.."
15 minutes later, the police arrived and they take my mom in. I was weirded out by this situation and I was very moved. Although my mom is evil, she is still my mom.
3 Years Later...
I'm doing well financially and every couple of months this story pops up in the back of my head, I decided to share it because I guess it's something worth sharing. If you are wondering what happened to my dad, he was arrested after he tried killing me, but that's a story for another time...
submitted by No_Door4675 to nosleep [link] [comments]
My mom hooked up with some random person. She was a s3x worker and she did this a lot. But this time, something went wrong.
December 23rd 2003 I was born, and ever since that day, my mom hated me. She's went from beating me to kicking me out the house for days or even weeks. She threatened to mutilate me and put it on a video more times than I could even count.
That was all until one very fateful day. It's November 14th, 2019 in the quiet suburbs of Yonkers, New York. You can hear the raking of leaves, the crunching from the people walking to the Dunkin', and the birds flocking to migrate for the winter. This was set to be a normal day for me but for some reason, my mom was more pissed than normal. She threatened to beat me more times than usual. Something had angered her, but I ignored it.
I walked to school not knowing what would be waiting for me when I made it home. "Dude can you come over tommorow?" My friend told me. "I'll check with my mom, you know how over protective she is of me bro." "Sounds like a plan? "I mean if my mom agrees I guess?" I exclaimed with a slightly monotone expression in my voice. Tick Tock, I watched the clock speed as my day went by.
Eventually it hit 3:15 and we were out of school. I walked home wondering what I was going to be fed, maybe a tv dinner if I'm lucky.
I arrived home to my mom screaming her lungs off yelling at me to come over to her. She shouted "I didn't give birth to you JUST FOR YOU TO SPEND 50 DOLLARS ON SOME ONLINE SHIT?!" "What I didn't do any of that what makes you say that?" "I got the BANK STATEMENT, do you think that the bank is going to FUCKING LIE TO ME?" "I mean what if someone h-hacked your ac-" "You're a MISTAKE and you don't even help me with my taxes anymore..." Seconds after she said that she pulled a butcher knife from under her pillow and flung it at me, I narrowly dodged it and rushed out the room at flash speeds. "Don't you dare run from me TOMMY!" I quickly turned the corner into the living room and pulled out the plug on the lamp and waited for her to turn the corner. "I'm going to fucking KILL YO-" I threw the lamp at her with full force, knocking her out. Realising what I just did, I grabbed the butcher knife, threw it at the wall in a fit, crouched down, grabbed my phone and dialed 911
"911 what is your emergency?"
"My mom chased me with a butcher knife and I knocked her out with a lamp."
"Alright sir, step away from her, grab the knife, put it somewhere safe and run out the house."
"Okay"
4 minutes pass by
"The adress is 100 Treelog Blvd, please just come, I am scared shes gonna wake up.."
15 minutes later, the police arrived and they take my mom in. I was weirded out by this situation and I was very moved. Although my mom is evil, she is still my mom.
3 Years Later...
I'm doing well financially and every couple of months this story pops up in the back of my head, I decided to share it because I guess it's something worth sharing. If you are wondering what happened to my dad, he was arrested after he tried killing me, but that's a story for another time...
2022.07.07 01:06 shawncbaker9 I Think I Might Have Killed Someone With My Art
Part Three
(Part One is HERE)
(Part Two is HERE)
(Part Four is HERE)
I quickly learned that if Carissa had a strong point, it was marketing. She revamped my entire image, dubbing these new pieces my âSlasher Cycle.â In keeping with this, she changed the gallery website to credit me as âThe Official Biographer of the Silver Lake Slasher.â I had to admire her audacity, even as I grew to loathe her. But the approach garnered much interest, with each new painting selling first day of display, all for the nifty price of $6,066.00.
With all the money coming in, I didnât have to try very hard to convince Carissa I was on board. Carissa wanted to believe Iâd gotten over my compunctions and now embraced this new chapter in our lives. Little did she know that when I approached her about hosting a show, my motives had absolutely nothing to do with money. If Portlock had been filming me this whole time, she had to be in on it. And if Carissa was helping Portlock make his movie at my expense, that meant our entire relationship amounted to little more than an adventurous fiction; one long-con performance in a cut-throat filmmakerâs master plan: a two-act meta-movie designed to turn an ordinary person into a monster.
We inked the idea for the show by paying for a full-page ad in LA Weekly and another on Instagram. I smiled; everything was coming up Milhouse.
Thatâs when I discovered just how deep Carissaâs betrayal ran.
Three days after returning to the Walshâs I woke to discover several new paintings and a nasty cut across my left palm. In the previous nightâs fog, I could clearly remember a manâs face, tall and thin and at least seventy years old. Heâd been murdered - a story in the paper later that night would confirm this - but blood found at the scene suggested that heâd managed to take a piece off his assailant with a kitchen knife during the struggle. Upon waking, the paintings I found in the studio confirmed this: images of blood and gore, with one a close-up of the palm of my hand, cut deep and leaking blood. Inside the gash, a bloodshot eye stared out from between the layers of lacerated meat. The thing inside me finally coming to the surface.
As I sat at the kitchen table shaking, I tried to drink my morning dose of Carissaâs tea. With the final mouthful, something caught in my teeth. Using my left pinky finger, I dislodged and recognized a tiny, purple flake. The lightbulb proved blinding: Carissaâs tea was made from Portlockâs drug. Sheâd been dosing me every day since the night of the first murder. Maybe before.
**
The next day was Thursday. I tried to play it cool. Not hard to do, considering how busy Carissa was with the moveâs logistics. By the end of the weekend, weâd be in the new space, and Iâd already convinced her that if I pitched in, weâd have the new Shock up and running by Wednesday. This meant a Thursday night show for my work was indeed a possibility.
**
Thereâs something I havenât told you yet, but I very much need to now, before we continue. If youâre still reading this, maybe you believe me. I hope so; my experiences very much affect others, especially if you live in the Los Angeles area. As I proceed, youâll see that the events that follow move the story out into a considerably larger scale. The thing is, though, from here things get weird. Well, weirder. I may lose some of you. Fine. Just remember, I tried to warn you.
Shortly after watching those videos of myself in the Walshâs house, I had begun to experience a kind of tenacious lucidity during my blackouts. Whatâs more, when I did sleep, my dreams effectively became a conversation with the Lava. Yeah, I know, fungus as we think of it canât talk. Only, thatâs not exactly true. Guys like Terence and Dennis McKenna posited the idea of sentient fungus as far back as the 60s, but most people donât listen to anyone who talks about stuff like that, and a lot of the ones that do tend to be burnt-outs. The first time I heard the âvoiceâ of the Lava in my dream, I woke up knowing I had 100% been listening to an actual living, thinking being. Because of this, I was finally able to learn a thing or two about it, given name Deschidere, or âopeningâ in its native Romania, where it grew wild among the Carpathian Mountains on the Southeast border of the historic region known colloquially as Transylvania.
No, Iâm not fucking kidding.
Put what you know about this region aside because itâs probably all Hollywood bullshit. Deschidere is a rare, sentient fungus that, when ingested, joins with its host to create a macro-consciousness. Whatâs that mean? It means Lava is a living, intelligent entity - a parasite, if you will - and once introduced into a host body, it burrows deep into the unconscious mind and awakens certain primal personality traits in order to perpetuate itself. This is apparently known as âThe First Processâ due to a pre-existing relationship early tribal humans in that geographic area had with the fungus. You see, Lava makes its host kill because the blood is the soil that yields more Lava. So yeah, that weird mold Iâd seen at the Walsh place? More Lava. And I was willing to bet if I went back there again, all traces of it would be gone, harvested by Portlock.
Now the second filmâs title made sense; Its Soil Be Murder was a direct reference to Lava and how it grew from a combination of violence, blood and death. Not just death - wrongful death.
**
Iâd imagine it must seem fairly ludicrous that, after everything I have related to bring this story up to speed, I have yet to mention the police in any substantial capacity. Thatâs not embellishment or lethargy on my part. Quite the contrary; looking back now, I can tell you that despite my confusion and terror, my increasing success as an artist had instilled a hubris that made me careless. I didnât give more than a perfunctory fuck about the fact that I had publicly launched a series of paintings based on intimate knowledge of recent crime scenes. If you think you can imagine the egomania that compelled me to do this, you are mistaken. All I wanted by that point was Portlock, and I wasnât thinking about anything else. This was another big mistake, thinking myself invisible to the police.
Turns out, the Walsh family had pervasive home security cameras. Weâre talking every room. And based on a hunch, one of the detectives working the case had asked the monitoring company to keep them active. Once a day, Six Point Security would send the dayâs feed from Casa Walsh to the LAPD. As time allowed, a cadet would toggle through every frame of that footage, eyes peeled for anything out of place. Seems this Detective - Arthur Gradanko - believed the old cop adage to be gospel:
The killer always returns to the scene of the crime.
There was no way for me to know then that I was living on borrowed time. The general pulse of the department must have been rather chaotic, the crimes having kicked up all manner of social unrest. Because of this, the police struggled to keep up with the surveillance. But little by little, someone watched every second of that footage until the afternoon before the show, when Detective Gradanko got what he was hoping for.
My face.
**
The day of the show, I had to keep myself from outright asking Carissa if sheâd invited Portlock. I didnât want to tip my hand in any way. If Justin didnât show, it would be back to square one.
The doors opened at 9:00 PM, but we didnât see anyone for over two hours.
âI told you,â Carissa said flirtatiously, hiking up her skirt and maneuvering me into the back room, where she fucked me on my new worktable. Might as well get some use out of the thing.
No sooner did we start going at it than the little bell on the door alerted us to our first visitor.
âWelcome, friend! Be right out,â Carissa called as she came, her voice quivering. I followed a minute or two later, and in less than five, we casually strolled into the gallery to meet our guest, beads of sweat still glistening on our foreheads.
âWow. I love the new place.â
âThank you, Detective.â
My head snapped around and I made eye contact with a tall man, grayish hair, mid-to-late fifties. Dick Traceyâs chin mixed with DiCaprioâs brow.
âRenn, this is Detective Gradanko. Heâs the one I told you about.â
âWho?â
âYou know, the Detective I told you who stopped by a few days ago? The one working the Silver Lake Slasher case.â
Carissa had not told me anything of the sort. My hackles went up; was she working for Portlock or the fucking cops?
**
Shortly after Detective Gradanko appeared, the gallery became mobbed. I cornered Carissa and argued with her about withholding his visit from me, but she insisted she had told me.
âHow the fuck would you even remember, Renn? Youâre always blasted on one drug or another.â
I had to bite my tongue, knowing what I did about her fucking tea, but Iâd come too far and was so close to Portlock, I couldnât blow it now. Amidst the crowd, I found it easy to avoid Gradanko. Flitting around the room, talking about my work, I played the role Carissa had created for me. What better way to avoid the shit storm amassing at my heels?
âYes, well, the intense nature of these crimes leaves imprints on our reality. My gift - really a curse - is to be able to interact with these imprints.â I told a gangly, androgynous hipster named Sailor who had cornered me in front of one of my latest pieces, an overhead view of a room saturated with blood.
By 10:30, Gradanko had disappeared. I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. But with relaxation came fatigue; my social mileage was way tapped out. I excused myself to dip into the back and do a couple lines to keep me going.
Since weâd only been in the space for less than a day, there was quite a bit of work we still needed to do. Chief among those tasks was building a proper barrier between the public and private areas. For the moment, a thin, black sheet hung over the double doorway that opened into the supply room, at the rear left of which sat the door to the office and the small living space we planned to create. It was here I found Gradanko smoking a cigarette and looking through a small bureau Carissa used for invoices.
âThis is a private area, capiche?â
âYeah, yeah. Let me guess, this where you keep the photo references you use for your work?â
âI donât use photo references, Detective.â
âOh, right. You paint from, ahem, visionary experiences.â
He said this in a way that told me he thought I was full of shit.
âThe website calls you the âOfficial Biographer of the Silver Lake Slasher.â To me, that implies you know him. Or, ah, maybe you are him. Eh?â
I tried to play it cool but felt like a stoned teenager coming home late to find my parents still awake. Everything I did or said seemed to telegraph my secret in ten-foot-high, neon letters. Because of this, I let the Detective do most of the talking.
Detective Gradanko took this opportunity to explain what he had on me and how heâd gotten it. His first visit might have been motivated by no more than the sheer audacity of my nom de plume, but with the advent of the Walshâs security footage, he had me dead to rights.
His words.
Of course, when I asked why they hadnât already arrested me, I realized that Gradanko harbored some pretty interesting ideas about the scene that had sprung up around my work.
âI started as a cop back in New York. Summer of 1977, to be exact.â
When I confessed this meant little to me, he went on to explain that heâd come on board at NYPD during the Son of Sam murders. Heâd been assigned to the unit that discovered the connection to Untermeyer Park in Yonkers and, subsequently, something called The Church of the Final Process, a name I recognized immediately as a derivation of the early Romanianâs âFirst Processâ relationship with the Deschidere. The recognition was unexpected, and Gradanko took it as a sign of involvement.
âYeah. Thatâs what I thought. See, the city of New York may have served Berkowitz up a la carte, but some of us thought the connection to a larger Satanic Conspiracy was, you know, incontrovertible.â
âFascinating. And I suppose your video proves that I am⊠what? The real Son of Sam?â
âI think thereâs a lot more people involved in this shit than most cops realize, and Iâd say your recent brush with success goes a long way toward corroborating that. Let me show you something.â
Gradanko unlocked his phone and studied it for a moment, his fingers swiping over the screen until he stopped and held it out so I could see.
Before me was a photograph of Carissa, there was no doubt about that. She stood surrounded by several others on the steps of what I took to be a church I knew right away was the same one in my painting. The same one in the painting on the wall during Primordial Return. On her left hand, clear as day, was a ring with the symbol I recognized from Benjamin the Producerâs sway bag.
âThatâs your lady, right?â
I couldnât hide my surprise at the image. The picture was black and white and grainy, no doubt a quick snap of a photo in an old file, mildewed and forgotten until this manâs obsession led him to find it.
âWhat year is this from?â
âThatâs the rub, kid. 1981. Hasnât aged a day, has she?â
I didnât know what to say; looking back, I now know this was the point where part of me figured it all out. But it was a deep part and one I wasnât used to listening to unless I had a brush in my hand.
Carissa emerged from the back room, eyed us suspiciously.
âAre you having a good time, Lieutenant?â
âDetective,â Gradanko corrected her as he took a defiant drag from his cigarette, then stubbed it out on the floor with his boot, âYou can stop trying to butter me up. I know youâre in on your boyfriendâs little art project.â
Carissa fixed her icy stare on him. For a moment, she resembled a statue with a nearly perfect porcelain complexion. One that might turn you to stone if you met her gaze.
âDo tell? What makes you think Renn is my *ahem* boyfriend?â
âSave it, Morticia. You think I didnât hear you too pounding away in the back room when I first came in? I can practically smell his cum running down the inside of your stockings.â
âClassy.â
âWay I figure it, you both set it up. Recon the victims, plan it out. He does the fun part; you take the photos.â
âSo you have her on camera, too?â I asked.
âMaybe I do,â he lied. I wondered what else heâd said might be make-believe.
âOh, well, Lieutenant, if you have us on camera, I guess you should just arrest us, no?â
I shot Carissa a what the fuck look, but she remained intent on our opponent. From the bureau behind me, I picked up the putty knife Iâd used to cut up the canvas night before last. Fuck, this was escalating quickly.
âIt would be my pleasure. Youâre both under arrest for murder. Happy?â
âVery much,â Carissa said, holding out her arms to accept the cuffs; a smile spread across her face.
âWipe that smug grin off your puss, bitch. Whatâd you have to be happy about?â
âWell, you said it yourself, Dee-tech-teev,â Carissaâs enunciation of Gradankoâs title sounded like a slap in the face, âlook how well your little investigation into Sam went. You might have taken an arm, but The Process will always grow the limb back. Lotâs of limbs, ya know?â
Gradankoâs face betrayed the wave of his utter frustration as it broke and rolled back. He jerked forward, grabbed Carissa by the wrists, and slapped on the first cuff. Before he could get the second, I saw the androgynous Hipster dip beneath the black sheet divider. He moved fast and silent, was up on the Detective just as he clasped that second cuff.
âYou have the right to remain silent-â he started but got no further as Sailor caught him by the hair with his left hand and dragged a straight razor across his throat with his right.
âWhat the fuck?â I screamed, a geyser of blood spraying me in the face, neck and chest.
âItâs time, Renn. Welcome to the Church of the First Process.â
submitted by shawncbaker9 to nosleep [link] [comments]
(Part One is HERE)
(Part Two is HERE)
(Part Four is HERE)
I quickly learned that if Carissa had a strong point, it was marketing. She revamped my entire image, dubbing these new pieces my âSlasher Cycle.â In keeping with this, she changed the gallery website to credit me as âThe Official Biographer of the Silver Lake Slasher.â I had to admire her audacity, even as I grew to loathe her. But the approach garnered much interest, with each new painting selling first day of display, all for the nifty price of $6,066.00.
With all the money coming in, I didnât have to try very hard to convince Carissa I was on board. Carissa wanted to believe Iâd gotten over my compunctions and now embraced this new chapter in our lives. Little did she know that when I approached her about hosting a show, my motives had absolutely nothing to do with money. If Portlock had been filming me this whole time, she had to be in on it. And if Carissa was helping Portlock make his movie at my expense, that meant our entire relationship amounted to little more than an adventurous fiction; one long-con performance in a cut-throat filmmakerâs master plan: a two-act meta-movie designed to turn an ordinary person into a monster.
We inked the idea for the show by paying for a full-page ad in LA Weekly and another on Instagram. I smiled; everything was coming up Milhouse.
Thatâs when I discovered just how deep Carissaâs betrayal ran.
Three days after returning to the Walshâs I woke to discover several new paintings and a nasty cut across my left palm. In the previous nightâs fog, I could clearly remember a manâs face, tall and thin and at least seventy years old. Heâd been murdered - a story in the paper later that night would confirm this - but blood found at the scene suggested that heâd managed to take a piece off his assailant with a kitchen knife during the struggle. Upon waking, the paintings I found in the studio confirmed this: images of blood and gore, with one a close-up of the palm of my hand, cut deep and leaking blood. Inside the gash, a bloodshot eye stared out from between the layers of lacerated meat. The thing inside me finally coming to the surface.
As I sat at the kitchen table shaking, I tried to drink my morning dose of Carissaâs tea. With the final mouthful, something caught in my teeth. Using my left pinky finger, I dislodged and recognized a tiny, purple flake. The lightbulb proved blinding: Carissaâs tea was made from Portlockâs drug. Sheâd been dosing me every day since the night of the first murder. Maybe before.
**
The next day was Thursday. I tried to play it cool. Not hard to do, considering how busy Carissa was with the moveâs logistics. By the end of the weekend, weâd be in the new space, and Iâd already convinced her that if I pitched in, weâd have the new Shock up and running by Wednesday. This meant a Thursday night show for my work was indeed a possibility.
**
Thereâs something I havenât told you yet, but I very much need to now, before we continue. If youâre still reading this, maybe you believe me. I hope so; my experiences very much affect others, especially if you live in the Los Angeles area. As I proceed, youâll see that the events that follow move the story out into a considerably larger scale. The thing is, though, from here things get weird. Well, weirder. I may lose some of you. Fine. Just remember, I tried to warn you.
Shortly after watching those videos of myself in the Walshâs house, I had begun to experience a kind of tenacious lucidity during my blackouts. Whatâs more, when I did sleep, my dreams effectively became a conversation with the Lava. Yeah, I know, fungus as we think of it canât talk. Only, thatâs not exactly true. Guys like Terence and Dennis McKenna posited the idea of sentient fungus as far back as the 60s, but most people donât listen to anyone who talks about stuff like that, and a lot of the ones that do tend to be burnt-outs. The first time I heard the âvoiceâ of the Lava in my dream, I woke up knowing I had 100% been listening to an actual living, thinking being. Because of this, I was finally able to learn a thing or two about it, given name Deschidere, or âopeningâ in its native Romania, where it grew wild among the Carpathian Mountains on the Southeast border of the historic region known colloquially as Transylvania.
No, Iâm not fucking kidding.
Put what you know about this region aside because itâs probably all Hollywood bullshit. Deschidere is a rare, sentient fungus that, when ingested, joins with its host to create a macro-consciousness. Whatâs that mean? It means Lava is a living, intelligent entity - a parasite, if you will - and once introduced into a host body, it burrows deep into the unconscious mind and awakens certain primal personality traits in order to perpetuate itself. This is apparently known as âThe First Processâ due to a pre-existing relationship early tribal humans in that geographic area had with the fungus. You see, Lava makes its host kill because the blood is the soil that yields more Lava. So yeah, that weird mold Iâd seen at the Walsh place? More Lava. And I was willing to bet if I went back there again, all traces of it would be gone, harvested by Portlock.
Now the second filmâs title made sense; Its Soil Be Murder was a direct reference to Lava and how it grew from a combination of violence, blood and death. Not just death - wrongful death.
**
Iâd imagine it must seem fairly ludicrous that, after everything I have related to bring this story up to speed, I have yet to mention the police in any substantial capacity. Thatâs not embellishment or lethargy on my part. Quite the contrary; looking back now, I can tell you that despite my confusion and terror, my increasing success as an artist had instilled a hubris that made me careless. I didnât give more than a perfunctory fuck about the fact that I had publicly launched a series of paintings based on intimate knowledge of recent crime scenes. If you think you can imagine the egomania that compelled me to do this, you are mistaken. All I wanted by that point was Portlock, and I wasnât thinking about anything else. This was another big mistake, thinking myself invisible to the police.
Turns out, the Walsh family had pervasive home security cameras. Weâre talking every room. And based on a hunch, one of the detectives working the case had asked the monitoring company to keep them active. Once a day, Six Point Security would send the dayâs feed from Casa Walsh to the LAPD. As time allowed, a cadet would toggle through every frame of that footage, eyes peeled for anything out of place. Seems this Detective - Arthur Gradanko - believed the old cop adage to be gospel:
The killer always returns to the scene of the crime.
There was no way for me to know then that I was living on borrowed time. The general pulse of the department must have been rather chaotic, the crimes having kicked up all manner of social unrest. Because of this, the police struggled to keep up with the surveillance. But little by little, someone watched every second of that footage until the afternoon before the show, when Detective Gradanko got what he was hoping for.
My face.
**
The day of the show, I had to keep myself from outright asking Carissa if sheâd invited Portlock. I didnât want to tip my hand in any way. If Justin didnât show, it would be back to square one.
The doors opened at 9:00 PM, but we didnât see anyone for over two hours.
âI told you,â Carissa said flirtatiously, hiking up her skirt and maneuvering me into the back room, where she fucked me on my new worktable. Might as well get some use out of the thing.
No sooner did we start going at it than the little bell on the door alerted us to our first visitor.
âWelcome, friend! Be right out,â Carissa called as she came, her voice quivering. I followed a minute or two later, and in less than five, we casually strolled into the gallery to meet our guest, beads of sweat still glistening on our foreheads.
âWow. I love the new place.â
âThank you, Detective.â
My head snapped around and I made eye contact with a tall man, grayish hair, mid-to-late fifties. Dick Traceyâs chin mixed with DiCaprioâs brow.
âRenn, this is Detective Gradanko. Heâs the one I told you about.â
âWho?â
âYou know, the Detective I told you who stopped by a few days ago? The one working the Silver Lake Slasher case.â
Carissa had not told me anything of the sort. My hackles went up; was she working for Portlock or the fucking cops?
**
Shortly after Detective Gradanko appeared, the gallery became mobbed. I cornered Carissa and argued with her about withholding his visit from me, but she insisted she had told me.
âHow the fuck would you even remember, Renn? Youâre always blasted on one drug or another.â
I had to bite my tongue, knowing what I did about her fucking tea, but Iâd come too far and was so close to Portlock, I couldnât blow it now. Amidst the crowd, I found it easy to avoid Gradanko. Flitting around the room, talking about my work, I played the role Carissa had created for me. What better way to avoid the shit storm amassing at my heels?
âYes, well, the intense nature of these crimes leaves imprints on our reality. My gift - really a curse - is to be able to interact with these imprints.â I told a gangly, androgynous hipster named Sailor who had cornered me in front of one of my latest pieces, an overhead view of a room saturated with blood.
By 10:30, Gradanko had disappeared. I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. But with relaxation came fatigue; my social mileage was way tapped out. I excused myself to dip into the back and do a couple lines to keep me going.
Since weâd only been in the space for less than a day, there was quite a bit of work we still needed to do. Chief among those tasks was building a proper barrier between the public and private areas. For the moment, a thin, black sheet hung over the double doorway that opened into the supply room, at the rear left of which sat the door to the office and the small living space we planned to create. It was here I found Gradanko smoking a cigarette and looking through a small bureau Carissa used for invoices.
âThis is a private area, capiche?â
âYeah, yeah. Let me guess, this where you keep the photo references you use for your work?â
âI donât use photo references, Detective.â
âOh, right. You paint from, ahem, visionary experiences.â
He said this in a way that told me he thought I was full of shit.
âThe website calls you the âOfficial Biographer of the Silver Lake Slasher.â To me, that implies you know him. Or, ah, maybe you are him. Eh?â
I tried to play it cool but felt like a stoned teenager coming home late to find my parents still awake. Everything I did or said seemed to telegraph my secret in ten-foot-high, neon letters. Because of this, I let the Detective do most of the talking.
Detective Gradanko took this opportunity to explain what he had on me and how heâd gotten it. His first visit might have been motivated by no more than the sheer audacity of my nom de plume, but with the advent of the Walshâs security footage, he had me dead to rights.
His words.
Of course, when I asked why they hadnât already arrested me, I realized that Gradanko harbored some pretty interesting ideas about the scene that had sprung up around my work.
âI started as a cop back in New York. Summer of 1977, to be exact.â
When I confessed this meant little to me, he went on to explain that heâd come on board at NYPD during the Son of Sam murders. Heâd been assigned to the unit that discovered the connection to Untermeyer Park in Yonkers and, subsequently, something called The Church of the Final Process, a name I recognized immediately as a derivation of the early Romanianâs âFirst Processâ relationship with the Deschidere. The recognition was unexpected, and Gradanko took it as a sign of involvement.
âYeah. Thatâs what I thought. See, the city of New York may have served Berkowitz up a la carte, but some of us thought the connection to a larger Satanic Conspiracy was, you know, incontrovertible.â
âFascinating. And I suppose your video proves that I am⊠what? The real Son of Sam?â
âI think thereâs a lot more people involved in this shit than most cops realize, and Iâd say your recent brush with success goes a long way toward corroborating that. Let me show you something.â
Gradanko unlocked his phone and studied it for a moment, his fingers swiping over the screen until he stopped and held it out so I could see.
Before me was a photograph of Carissa, there was no doubt about that. She stood surrounded by several others on the steps of what I took to be a church I knew right away was the same one in my painting. The same one in the painting on the wall during Primordial Return. On her left hand, clear as day, was a ring with the symbol I recognized from Benjamin the Producerâs sway bag.
âThatâs your lady, right?â
I couldnât hide my surprise at the image. The picture was black and white and grainy, no doubt a quick snap of a photo in an old file, mildewed and forgotten until this manâs obsession led him to find it.
âWhat year is this from?â
âThatâs the rub, kid. 1981. Hasnât aged a day, has she?â
I didnât know what to say; looking back, I now know this was the point where part of me figured it all out. But it was a deep part and one I wasnât used to listening to unless I had a brush in my hand.
Carissa emerged from the back room, eyed us suspiciously.
âAre you having a good time, Lieutenant?â
âDetective,â Gradanko corrected her as he took a defiant drag from his cigarette, then stubbed it out on the floor with his boot, âYou can stop trying to butter me up. I know youâre in on your boyfriendâs little art project.â
Carissa fixed her icy stare on him. For a moment, she resembled a statue with a nearly perfect porcelain complexion. One that might turn you to stone if you met her gaze.
âDo tell? What makes you think Renn is my *ahem* boyfriend?â
âSave it, Morticia. You think I didnât hear you too pounding away in the back room when I first came in? I can practically smell his cum running down the inside of your stockings.â
âClassy.â
âWay I figure it, you both set it up. Recon the victims, plan it out. He does the fun part; you take the photos.â
âSo you have her on camera, too?â I asked.
âMaybe I do,â he lied. I wondered what else heâd said might be make-believe.
âOh, well, Lieutenant, if you have us on camera, I guess you should just arrest us, no?â
I shot Carissa a what the fuck look, but she remained intent on our opponent. From the bureau behind me, I picked up the putty knife Iâd used to cut up the canvas night before last. Fuck, this was escalating quickly.
âIt would be my pleasure. Youâre both under arrest for murder. Happy?â
âVery much,â Carissa said, holding out her arms to accept the cuffs; a smile spread across her face.
âWipe that smug grin off your puss, bitch. Whatâd you have to be happy about?â
âWell, you said it yourself, Dee-tech-teev,â Carissaâs enunciation of Gradankoâs title sounded like a slap in the face, âlook how well your little investigation into Sam went. You might have taken an arm, but The Process will always grow the limb back. Lotâs of limbs, ya know?â
Gradankoâs face betrayed the wave of his utter frustration as it broke and rolled back. He jerked forward, grabbed Carissa by the wrists, and slapped on the first cuff. Before he could get the second, I saw the androgynous Hipster dip beneath the black sheet divider. He moved fast and silent, was up on the Detective just as he clasped that second cuff.
âYou have the right to remain silent-â he started but got no further as Sailor caught him by the hair with his left hand and dragged a straight razor across his throat with his right.
âWhat the fuck?â I screamed, a geyser of blood spraying me in the face, neck and chest.
âItâs time, Renn. Welcome to the Church of the First Process.â
2022.05.07 19:47 averystrangeguy [Discussion] Wiki & NAH - Telephonebooth (1 Year Later)
Bandcamp
Spotify
It's been a year since NYC's Wiki teamed up with Philly's NAH to give us Telephonebooth, a 22 minute collection of lean mean storytelling lyrics on beats that sound like they were made by installing Ableton on an MPC 2000 and making it BSOD.
Personally I like it a lot. Wiki's rapping isn't as out there as on other albums but his flow is on point, not to mention his slick writing on tracks like Yonkers, Truth Be Told, Hip Hop, Friendship. NAH's beats are very cool, most of them centre on samples cut up in a "choppy" way. And they all sound crunchy and distorted which sounds really great paired with Wiki's voice. If you liked the way Wik sounded on Sporting Life beats you might like this too.
What do you think of it?
submitted by averystrangeguy to hiphopheads [link] [comments]
Spotify
It's been a year since NYC's Wiki teamed up with Philly's NAH to give us Telephonebooth, a 22 minute collection of lean mean storytelling lyrics on beats that sound like they were made by installing Ableton on an MPC 2000 and making it BSOD.
Personally I like it a lot. Wiki's rapping isn't as out there as on other albums but his flow is on point, not to mention his slick writing on tracks like Yonkers, Truth Be Told, Hip Hop, Friendship. NAH's beats are very cool, most of them centre on samples cut up in a "choppy" way. And they all sound crunchy and distorted which sounds really great paired with Wiki's voice. If you liked the way Wik sounded on Sporting Life beats you might like this too.
What do you think of it?
2022.04.12 07:44 Kehwanna Much Love To You All on This Sub
I'm just doing a shout out to you all. Humans are annoying as hell and we all get tired of the grief humans put us through, so it's refreshing to hear people be open about their feelings and not get trashed for voicing them. I like how everyone here just vibe with the rants and comforts those that make posts that sound like they're leaning on suicidal sentiments.
I work and live in Yonkers, NY. New Yorkers are infamous for being dicks, so I often find myself roaming through this thread. Needless to say, you guys make me feel less misanthropic by not being the absolute pieces of shit we rant about.
submitted by Kehwanna to misanthropy [link] [comments]
I work and live in Yonkers, NY. New Yorkers are infamous for being dicks, so I often find myself roaming through this thread. Needless to say, you guys make me feel less misanthropic by not being the absolute pieces of shit we rant about.
2022.03.26 00:29 elmerV2 From the Ashes Comes a Fenix
Rey Fenix has been gone a long time. Fenix, one of the single most renowned Lucha Libre wrestlers of the current century, as well as the brother-in-arms of another critically important Luchador known as Penta El Zero M. Together, the brothers made their bones in the now defunct Lucha Underground, before spending the following collection of years traveling all across the globe as two of the most acclaimed and successful fighters in all the known world of wrestling. Now, though, they have found permanent residence amongst the halls of AEW and it's lot, as well as joining up with the infamous PAC, a ruthless British Bastard who has made a deliberate point of it to burn down every living soul in his path. Together, the three were The Death Triangle, and for a bit they were successful. Pac challenged for the World Title, The Lucha Bros were the tag champs. They maintained a dominant grip over the AEW landscape rivaled only by that of The Elite and The Rhodes Family. Things weren't looking so bad.
In January of 2022, during a brawl with Jurassic Express, Fenix found himself going mano y mano with the opposing team's tank, Luchasaurus. A stumble to the outside and a nasty Chokeslam later, and Fenix's arm had been completely dislocated. He had been fundamentally injured, and, against his own judgment, was forced by his home company to sit out the next few months and leave Death Triangle while he made his recovery. For a long time, Fenix and Penta have found themselves polar opposites. Yin and Yang. Penta, a crazed sadist with a penchant for complete, unchecked brutality. Fenix, a mostly altruistic daredevil who focused more on putting on a show than anything else. They balance each other out, they keep each other in check. But now, Fenix would no longer be able to look out for his brother. For his own wellbeing, he would have to leave Penta in AEW all alone. All alone with no one else by his side but PAC. No one else to guide him but PAC. It was a scary prospect, but it had to be done. Truly, Rey Fenix has been gone a long time. But now he's back.
LETâS FUCKING RUMBLE BABY!!!
AEW Dynamite, June 1st, 2022: AEW World Tag Team Championship Match- Top Flight © Vs. Jurassic Express w/ Christian Cage
The Dynamite following Double or Nothing, and the first of June, we see Jurassic Express dueling back and forth in the ring against the impressive pairing of Top Flight, who were responsible for nabbing the highly sought Tag Titles right out from under Jurassic Express during a triple threat between them and The Hardyz several nights prior at the PPV. Now, Jurassic Express have one last chance to reclaim their lost belts, and theyâre pulling off every last desperate stop in the book in order to pull that off. Theyâre making impossible tag breaks, pulling off insane new double team maneuvers, and even veering into a slightly heelish direction under the tutelage of one Christian Cage. Still, nothing they do, no matter how unpredictable or clever, seems to do the trick. Top Flight are on the run of a lifetime after shockingly become the Champs, and they arenât going to let anything slow their roll. After a desperate, nonstop sequence of no-fucks-given high flying action and incredible mid-air reversals Luchasaurus is taken out and Jungle Boy finds himself alone against both Dante and Darius Martin. No shot here. He fights anyway. He fends Dante off with a kick to the face and springboards off the ropes, only to be caught on the way down with a facebreaker courtesy of Darius. JB uses the momentum of the âbreaker to flip back up onto his feet and brace himself against the ropes, before quickly managing to drive Darius back with a Rana. End this now, Christian yells. JB picks up Darius for a definitive Canadian Destroyer, only to be knocked dizzy by a vengeful elbow to the face courtesy of Dante. Jungle Boy wobbles a moment, and the two brothers descend upon him like vultures. One Double Cutter later, and things are over for Jurassic Express.
Top Flight © def. Jurassic Express to retain the AEW World Tag Team Championships
After the match, Jungle Boy looks absolutely crushed, devastated that he let his group down. Top Flight walk out, heads held high, while Christian and Luchasaurus slide into the ring to comfort their distraught friend. No sooner do they stand JB up though, than does the sound of PACâs theme begin ricocheting wildly into the night. Jungle Boy and Luchasaurus look up, terrified. Christian cowers a bit. PAC appears on the ramp, flanked by Penta and new addition Erick Redbeard. âYou knew this day was close.â He mutters, âNow you get whatâs coming to you.â Death Triangle have not had a particularly good time of it as of late, engaging in a wild tooth and nail battle against the cult-like House of Black, only to eventually come up short. Following that humiliation, theyâre angry, and perfectly motivated to destroy Jurassic Express with as little remorse left in them as humanly possible. This isnât just revenge, itâs a way to work off some stress for the psychos that make up the Triangle. Surprisingly, though, Jurassic Express still manage to put up a pretty good fight despite just getting out of another match, and seem to be on the verge of overcoming their attackers, when suddenlyâŠ
REY FENIX IS BACK BABY!!!
Like a cooler, more Mexican Jeff Hardy, Fenix swags the fuck out of his way down to the ring before clearing Christian with a Black Fire Driver right off the fucking bat! Jungle Boy mimes âIâm sorryâ as Fenix comes for him, but it doesnât much matter. He takes JB out with a Sunset Flip Powerbomb, before allowing PAC to finish off the rookie with a Black Arrow. In the corner of the ring, Luchasaurus has managed to completely incapacitate Redbeard, only to shrink when he realizes that heâs been flanked by both Penta and Fenix. He swings, but Fenix cuts him off at the legs and Penta swiftly knocks him on his back with a knee to the face. The two take a moment, laugh, theyâre back together again and things are how they should be. Then, they finish things with an LB Driver onto Luchasaurus, before tossing him out of the ring and helping Redbeard back up to his feet. Death Triangle, finally returned to itâs former glory after months of waiting, stand together in the middle of the ring joyous (At least Redbeard and the Luchadors are, PAC is his typical state of extremely fuckinâ pissed off at everything)- Except wait, what does Death Triangle do with four members?
AEW Dynamite Fyter Fest Night One, June 8th, 2022: Rey Fenix w/ Penta El Zero M Vs. Erick Redbeard w/ PAC
On the face, this whole match really shouldn't look like much. Just a friendly competition between the newest member of the stable and it's returning hero. Death Triangle doesn't really actually do "friendly competition", but maybe this is the exception to that rule. Fenix is fully animated, bouncing back and forth across the ring like a rubber ball and dodging Redbeard's lumbering attacks with an infuriating slyness. He's excited to be back, and as such is treating this whole thing more like an interesting little game than anything else. Penta is a total mark for Fenix, slapping the mat enthusiastically anytime his brother even moves, and losing his absolute fucking shit anytime Fenix is able to knock Erik down to the ground. PAC sits in Redbeard's corner, looking bored and annoyed. Pointedly less hyped about Fenix's comeback than everyone else seems to be. He doesnât have sole control over Penta anymore, and itâs incredibly bothersome. As the match goes on, what started as a casual contest between pals quickly morphs into a desperate battle for survival, at least on Rowanâs part. The big man seems determined to succeed, and the possibility that he may fail seems to terrify him. Unfortunately for him, Fenix proves the superior wrestler this time around, and is able to take him out with relative ease after a good ten minutes. Fenix is back, and heâs back in full force.
Rey Fenix def. Erick Redbeard
Following the match, Penta and Fenix celebrate emphatically while Redbeard cowers in the corner rather uncharacteristically. PAC sighs, rolls into the ring, congratulates Fenix, and then turns to where Redbeard is sitting, defeated. He strolls over and offers a hand. Erik looks up, face awash with a shocked hope. He takes PACâs hand, grinning, only for The Bastard to suddenly lock Redbeard into a deadly tight Brutalizer! Holding Erik incapacitated on the ground, PAC gestures at The Lucha Bros to attack him. For their part, Fenix and Penta look shocked, they clearly werenât expecting this. Fenix shakes his head at PAC, heâs not going to turn on and attack a man heâs supposed to be aligned with that, heâs nothing else if not loyal. Penta, deeply loyal in his own way, gives Redbeard a resigned Lanza to the head from the top rope, effectively destroying the Big Manâs skull in the process. Several Germans and a Fear Factor later, and is Redbeard is left an unconscious mess strewn outside of the ring. PAC goes to grab but a still baffled Fenix gets in his face, âWhat was that?â he asks. âHe was weak and didnât have a place with us. He was a placeholder. Next time, when me and Pentagon need you, donât let us down.â
With that, PAC leaves Fenix standing awkwardly at his back alongside, Penta, and grabs a mic in order to make a declaration. âA good year ago, there was no collection of wrestlers in this entire company as threatening and singularly dominant as us three, Death Triangle. Not them overrated, self indulgent pricks that hang around and like to call themselves The Elite, and certainly not those pathetic wankers that make up âThe Inner Circleâ. But then King Fenix over here got injured, and we had to hunker down for a while. Lay low. Make due with what we could. Well, now weâre back and Iâve got to tell you, it doesnât feel like so special as it used to. Weâve got useless hangers on riding our coattails and weighing us down, weâve got every single team in the goddamned division grouping up into trios and trying to be us, taking the spots that should belong to us by now. Christ, everywhere I look I see a new group popping up trying to be the next Death Triangle. None of you are Death Triangle. None of ye have the anger, the intensity, the skill, to be the next Death Triangle. So now that weâve trimmed the fat and gotten ourselves back in fighting shape, thereâs one clear target marked up next on our hitlist: All of you. Heads up to any mediocre so-called-stables who might like to try their hand at dominance from here out, you may just run afoul of Death Triangle. And rest assured, the three of us will rip you limb from bloody limb.â
AEW Dynamite Fyter Fest Night Four, June 29th: Death Triangle Vs. The Blackpool Combat Club w/ William Regal
With their war on literally every other stable and team on the All Elite Wrestling roster declared, Death Triangle spend the next month running absolutely fucking rampant. They trash matches, attack folks outta fucking nowhere. Continue to mercilessly bully the likes of Dark Order and Jurassic Express. Everywhere PAC goes things burn, and everywhere PAC goes Penta follows religiously. The two of them kill everything in their path with a unrivaled gleeful intensity, and while Fenix is clearly far more reluctant than either of them, he plays along regardless. PAC can fucking smell weakness, and thereâs a good chance that the first time he catches even a whiff of it on his least favorite Lucha Brother that everything will go to Hell. Finally, a full month after the expulsion of Redbeard from the Death Quadrangle, one group finally grows big enough balls to confront the roving gang of PAC and his cohorts. That group? None other than Lord William Regalâs militaristic cult of violence, The Blackpool Combat Club. Regal believes that AEW is only big enough for one dominant stable, but offers that that stable will be him and his students rather than anyone else, and believes that putting down Death Triangle will serve as a good display of his Clubâs capabilities. Death Triangle, never ones to back down from a challenge, accepts Regalâs proposal, and a match between the two factions is set for the final night of Fyter Fest.
Facing off against PAC, Fenix, and Penta, we have two of Regalâs chief lieutenants, the technical savant and possibly single greatest pure wrestler of the modern era Bryan Danielson, and the absolutely crazed legend of the hardcore scene by the name of Jon Moxley. Joining the two of them, The Combat Clubâs star student Wheeler Yuta, a defector from the popular Best Friends group who absolutely needs this match as a way to prove himself to his new peers. The match here is an absolute fucking banger, how could it not be? Two of the most violent groups in wrestling going head to head, doing everything they can without being arrested by local authorities to prove whoâs better. DT is already a well oiled machine, and they have each otherâs back every single step of the way, saving each otherâs asses constantly and pulling off impossibly cool tag maneuver after impossibly cool tag maneuver. Combat Club, while made up of some incredibly talented ârasslers, is frankly deeply outclassed when it comes to teamwork. Danielson and Moxley are still trying to figure how to work effectively and cohesively as a team, and Yuta is just trying to keep up with the two of them. Itâs a whirlwind of a fight, and the three of them are just trying to hold on for their lives. From the sidelines, Regal watches undeterred, he knows his boys, he knows theyâll pull through.
Danielson and PAC tear shit down in the middle of the ring as Fenix duels with Moxley on the outside and Penta goes toe to toe with Yuta. Everyone has paired off by this point. Danielson is able to bring PAC down with a Running Knee, and a distracted Yuta eats a boot to the face. Moxley manages to brawl the smaller Penta to the ground, but Fenix makes the save and the two of them are able to eventually fend him off. They then descend onto Bryan all at once, rescuing PAC from the clutches of one of the most sadistic technical wizards out there. Once again, the pack mentality of the group allows them to grasp a substantial advantage over their enemies. Danielson, beaten and outnumbered, makes one last wild attempt at survival, knocking Penta out of the ring with a Roundhose, but he is ultimately smashed into the ground by PAC. PAC locks Danielson up and tells Fenix to go for their downed enemyâs neck, but Fenix seems to pause. Danielson has a long history of spinal issues, he canât just go after such a sensitive spot like that. PAC continues yelling at him to do it, a desperation creeping into his voice. Now or never. Make your choice. Fenix takes a deep breath and sets up for the Le Garra del Fenix, only for Yuta to catch him at the last second and slam him down onto the mat! PAC attacks Yuta viciously, but Danielson is able to use his last ounce of strength to grab PAC still, allowing Yuta to topple him with a Flying Splash. PAC tries to get up, but is caught by Moxley, who properly ends him with a Paradigm Shift. Altogether now, in unison, The Combat Club circles a lone Fenix in the ring. Some double team maneuver ensues, cementing BCCâs bond, and 1, 2, 3, weâve got our winners. Yuta has proven he can run with some of the all-time greats, and the BCC has cemented itâs mark of dominance over the AEW landscape.
The Blackpool Combat Club def. Death Triangle
Following the match, PAC is fucking fuming. He gets in Fenixâs face immediately, âI told you not to choke when we needed you! What in the hell do you think you were doing?! You think this is a joke?!â. It looks, for a moment, like a brawl might break out between PAC and Fenix. Barely a month back, and already Death Triangle is on the very verge of extinction. Ultimately, Penta has to tear the two of them like a little kid attempting in futile vain to stop his parents from arguing. Pull yourselves together, he cries at them, we are better than this, stronger than this. PAC spits and walks to the back alone, leaving The Lucha Brothers to trail behind him in a defeated silence. Fenix looks tortured, a second more and he would have had the match won, why had he waited? As they disappear into AEWâs heel tunnels, the future of Death Triangle only looks all the darker.
AEW Dynamite, July 13th, 2022: Death Triangle Vs. Jurassic Express
The following month, we finally come to the blowoff match between these two teams that have managed to cultivate so much vitriol towards each other in so little time. They havenât even faced each other and yet they hate each other so goddamn much. After the Blackpool Combat Club debacle, the chasm between PAC and Fenix has only further deepened, and Penta has been forced to do everything in his power to keep the two parties at least semi-friendly. They arenât getting along, and the tension between the two grows stronger each passing day. Despite all that, the two donât skip a beat when wrestling together. Thereâs no denying that Death Triangle has a rapport, and even after weeks of infighting, theyâre able to continue fighting like theyâre the closest team in the world. Early on, this quickly becomes a handicap, as DT is able to isolate Luchasaurus in the middle of the ring before proceeding to brutalize the poor scaly as revenge for all the pain he inadvertently caused Fenix months prior at the start of the year. After beating him till bloody and red, the three of them pull him in for a Chokeslam, and throw him right down on his arm the exact same way he did Fenix.
From there, Luchasaurus is completely incapacitated, and Jungle Boy and Christian are forced to fight off their pursuers outnumbered and outgunned. Theyâre valiant, the perfect underdog babyfaces. Jungle Boy flips around everywhere and catches everyone with pitch perfect kicks, Christian plays second fiddle and provides the perfect backup to his prodigious young pupil. Theyâre scrappier than expected, and itâs pissing PAC the hell off. The Bastard is frothing out the mouth, spitting orders at both the Lucha Bros and flying at his opponents recklessly, eating counters and reversals every time. Things arenât going well, and his headstrong demeanor is only making things worse. JB and Christian, seeing a comeback on the horizon, go all out. A relentless barrage of attacks, suicide dives and moonsaults and destroyers and all the like, anything to wipe out their rivals once and for all. PAC goes down hard, collapsing to the ground in a heap, and The Lucha brothers are left alone. One last brawl between the final four. Penta manages a takedown on Cage, but is quickly set upon by Jungle Boy. Fenix watches nearby, the whole sequence playing out in slow motion right before his eyes. His brother needs his help. Heâs not choking again. He grabs Jungle Boy, flips him around, FENIX DRIVER! FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER! With Jungle Boy effectively downed, Fenix lays into him even more, relentlessly, mercilessly, bloodlust completely overtaking him. As Fenix continues his barrage of ruthless attack, PAC re-enters the ring grinning, while Penta looks on, slightly perturbed by his brotherâs ability for violence. Holding Jungle Boyâs limp head loosely in his hand, Fenix beckons PAC to his side, allowing The Brit the honor of that perfect finishing stroke. PAC nods approvingly, hits a definitive Black Arrow, and finishes the match with Fenix and Penta both standing attentively by his side.
Death Triangle def. Jurassic Express
It seems that Death Triangle have finally found their groove after a fairly mediocre lukewarm, and PAC swears on the microphone afterwards that this is only the beginning. Theyâre going to lay waste to absolutely everyone in their path together. He pulls Fenix in for a hug, all the former vitriol between the two seemingly forgotten, and the two celebrate profusely together. Penta celebrates too, but thereâs a hint of melancholy hidden in his revelry. Something has snapped in his brother, he can tell, and Fenix may just never be the same again.
AEW Dynamite, July 27th, 2022: Death Triangle Vs. The Best Friends
Two weeks later, our trio of death finds themselves facing off against another beloved staple of AEW's prosperous face scene, this time the hilariously charming Best Friends. The enigmatic Orange Cassidy, flanked by his reliable pals Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta, has sorta had enough of Death Triangle's absolutely inane dick swinging and supposes he would like to knock them down a peg (If he gets a chance, that is). PAC and his crew just see this as a chance to stomp another overrated trio, and are happy to oblige. Before the match is even able to get off to a start, PAC grabs Danhausen and smashes his face repeatedly into the ringpost until he passes out from blood loss and blunt force trauma. Danhausen is fatally injured and dies in the hospital several hours later. Motivated by this attack on their buddy, The Best Friends go hard in this match like they very rarely get the chance to do. Orange Cassidy and PAC already have a long history filled with some absolutely crazy fights, and while he tries to maintain his composure for the first half or so of the much, things eventually break down and OC drops all pretense of laziness to beat the absolute fuck out of one of his greatest rivals. Trent and Chuck back him up with much of the same tactical play, confusing Death Triangle with their goofiness and using that confusion to subsequently catch PAC and the Lucha Bros off guard and surprise them with a series of surprisingly efficient attacks.
Despite what jokes Fenix and Penta sort of expected them to be, The Best Friends very quickly prove themselves to be just about on par with Death Triangle, maybe the single most violently brutal stable in all of wrestling. PAC isnât surprised though, he knows the game, he knows how Cassidy operates. He refuses to let The Best Friendâs eccentricities phase him, fighting on relentlessly just like he would with any other match. In the end, Nevilleâs knowledge of the territory proves to be his and The Lucha Brosâ saving grace, allowing the three of them to brave their way through The Best Friendsâ hurricane of weirdness, and eventually overcome them through sheer force of will. Things end when PAC, alongside a much more in-sync Fenix, is able to just narrowly escape a Canadian Destroyer from Cassidy, before forcing his former rival to tap to The Brutalizer following a beautiful Spanish Fly courtesy of Fenix. Another dominant win for Death Triangle, and another notch in their belt. Still, itâs clear that Fenix and PAC are growing closer. Post-match they grab each other by the shoulders and walk out side by side, forcing a sullen Penta to follow behind them neglected and alone. He was the glue that held the whole operation together just a few short weeks together. Now? Barely anything at all.
Death Triangle def. The Best Friends
AEW Dynamite, August 3rd, 2022: The Lucha Brothers w/ PAC Vs. American Top Team w/ Dan Lambert and Paige VanZant
Seeking to rekindle their apparently dwindling rapport, Pentagon hooks himself and Fenix a match against Dan Lambertâs AEW branch of The American Top Team, The Men of the Year, otherwise known as Ethan Page and Scorpio Sky, the current AEW TNT Champ. Penta and Fenix are elated to finally have another two-on-two tag match together again, and while PAC thinks itâs a distraction from their real goals, he agrees to accompany them at ringside anyways. Things are looking up. The bell rings, and The Lucha Bros are right back in it. A good two thirds of a year since they last teamed as a duo, and yet they havenât skipped a beat. This was what they were made to do, itâs clear from the jump, they were made to team together. As tag matches go, they run circles around the stellar Page and Sky, making a spectacle of their teamwork. On the outside, PAC inexplicably gets really hyped up and starts beating the everloving shit out of Dan Lambert, continuing his streak of assaulting bystanders for no explicable reason. PAC rocks.
Anyways, Page and Sky catch on quickly enough, realizing that rather than going for the throat, Penta and Fenix are more or less just using this match as an opportunity to enjoy their reunion. Like, the properly hateable fucks they are, Page and Sky exploit that, deliberately derailing the Lucha Brosâ perfect comeback and making plays to seriously aggravate them. In Fenixâs case, it seems to be working. Blinded by anger, Fenix has to be stopped by Penta, typically the far more pigheaded of the two, from doing anything rash or stupid. Despite all that, The Lucha Bros still come out on top, with Penta being the clear MVP this time around and basically carrying them through much of the meat of the bout. In the end, things come down to him and Scorpio Sky, alone in the ring. Sky is desperate to get things over with, but Penta is focused, ready for anything. This is his and Fenixâs first ride alongside one another in awhile, he has to make it count. A quick series of reversals, Sky catches Penta with a VHS! Goes for the cover, 1, 2, Penta shoves Sky clear off of him, and kips up to his feet with a fire and rage in his belly bursting out through his eyes. Sky tries to catch him quickly with a knee strike, but Penta rolls under and goes for the Lanza. Sky catches it midair and sets up for what is sure to be a killer Fatal Answer, only for Penta to push away at the very last moment and CATCH SKY FINALLY WITH A FEAR FACTOR FOLLOWED BY A PENTAGON DRIVER! Roll-up, 1-2-3. Pentagon has just pinned the TNT Champion clear in the middle of the ring.
The Lucha Brothers def. American Top Team
Following the match, Penta and Fenix go to celebrate together, but Skyâs pride is clearly wounded and he immediately gets in Pentaâs face the second heâs recovered. A bit of arguing ensues, which ultimately culminates in Sky smashing Penta directly in the face with the TNT title. As one would expect, a brawl between American Top Team and Death Triangle, with Fenix and PAC absolutely beating the crud out of both Page and Sky. Lambert momentarily tries to get involved, but turns tail once he makes eye contact with PAC. Ultimately, the segment ends with Death Triangle standing tall over yet another felled stable, with Pentagon in the front, TNT Title held high in his arms.
AEW Dynamite Fight for the Fallen, August 17th, 2022: TNT Championship Match- Scorpio Sky © w/ Ethan Page Vs. Penta El Zero M w/ Rey Fenix and PAC
Following his dominant victory over Men of the Year, and subsequent dominant asswhupping over Scorpio Sky, Penta is ultimately rewarded a pretty clearly deserved shot at Skyâs title several weeks later. Despite being undefeated until just now, Sky is pretty clearly pissing his pants at having to face Pentagon. The loss, however miniscule it may be in the grand scheme of things, has absolutely shaken him and left a deep insecurity to fester evermore down in his heart. Adding even more to that insecurity, Lambert is just as scared of Death Triangle, albeit more for PAC-related reasons than anything else, and has refused to accompany Sky down to the ring for the TNT Title, leaving Page his only remaining ally. Pentagon, meanwhile, has been only growing in power. With his and and Fenixâs bond somewhat restored, and Death Triangle just popping off in general, Pentagonâs general mood is at an all time high. Heâs been training nonstop for this match for weeks, and he genuinely believes that itâs his destiny to win it with his two closest allies by his side. At this rate, nothing can stop his and Death Triangleâs ascent to power. The bell hasnât even rung, and Penta is already seeming like the pretty clear favorite.
Once the bell does actually end up ringing though, things end up being a whole lot more closely matched than one would expect. Sky, seeming one fuckup from a completely mental breakdown, abandons all of his usual showiness in favor of pure, unadulterated wrestling goodness. The threat of failure is very clear here, and he canât spend time fucking around or goofing off, he has to just make sure this gets done as quick as possible. Penta, prepared for a much more typical Scorpio Sky, is caught offguard by his opponentâs straightforwardness and lack of bravado, affording Sky an advantage early on. More than any other match in this booking, this one here is a brawl, as much of a brawl as a fight between Pentagon Jr and Scorpio Sky can end up being. The two duel back in forth, forced to constantly adapt their styles to each other in a match with an ever evolving psychology. Fenix waits on the sidelines, breath baited. Page is flashing his tits at people. PAC looks as uninterested and vaguely pissed off as ever. Ultimately, things come to a close with Penta and Sky both exhausted, collapsed in the middle of the ring. This match has been a marathon, and the two of them are utterly worn out. The two of them recover, lock eyes, and electricity seems to crackle between them. The next move is the last, they both know it, itâs just a matter of who can hit it first. From here, one last desperate sprint, reversal and dodge after reversal and dodge. Who will touch the other first, who will be just the tiniest bit faster? Sky attempts a Plancha, one last ditch shot, but Penta dodges at the last second. You can see the light drain out of Scorpioâs eyes in real time. Penta bounces off the ropes and ENDS THINGS WITH THE LANZA! THE MOVE HE FAILED TO PULL OF LAST TIME! Scorpio Sky collapses, defeated. Pentagon just drapes an arm across his chest. The ref counts. Ladies, gents, we have a new TNT Champion.
Penta El Zero M def. Scorpio Sky to win the TNT Championship
Page tries to help Sky back up to his feet, but eats a hard right to the jaw from PAC the second he steps into the ring. Quickly, The Men of The Year clear the ring, defeated and ashamed. Inside, Penta sits, staring at his newly won TNT title, eyes glazed over in shock. Beside him, Fenix is literally jumping for joy, filled with a genuinely selfless sort of happiness for the fortunes of his friend. PAC does his PAC thing, but does manage to give Penta one affirmative little nod. They stand together, as they have so many times before, in the middle of the ring. But this time somethingâs different. This time theyâre champions.
AEW Dynamite September 14th, 2022: Rey Fenix w/ Penta El Zero M and PAC Vs. Eddie Kingston w/ Santana and Ortiz
Well, following that many genuine highs, things had to go bad at some point. Following Penta's impressive TNT Title Victory, Death Triangle is riding stronger than ever. Penta transitions into more of a singles role, defending his title in the main event of every other week of Dynamite and just generally being very impressive. PAC and Fenix, meanwhile, continue to carry the banner for Death Triangle, crushing teams like The Hardyz and The Jericho Appreciation Society in back to back tag matches. Doesn't really seem like there's anything the trio's swag. That is, until one day, Penta and Fenix are confronted backstage by their friend and longtime associate, Eddie Kingston. Kingston, the leader of the newly reformed AEW Branch of LAX, is disappointed in The Lucha Bros. They've lost their way. They've become thugs, worse, They've become lackeys. They've got their heads stuck so far up PAC's ass they can't even see the sun no more. Penta makes an effort to hear Kingston out, but Fenix, much angrier and rash than he used to be, instantly wants to throw down. Blinded by rage once again, he demands Kingston faces off with him mono y mono so he can show him just how much of a thug he's really become. Kingston agrees, and a match is set between the two for later tonight.
I cannot express this enough, going into this Fenix is completely livid. He's like an avatar of anger and hatred, a manifested weapon of rage aimed directly at Eddie Kingston's head. When he sees Santana and Ortiz flanking Kingston, he only gets angrier. Eddie wants to trash talk them for grouping up and then do the exact same thing? No fucking way does that fly. Before the bell can even ring, Fenix is diving clear out of the ring and into Kingston, smashing elbows into the face of The King of Yonkers and driving him up the ramp. Santana and Ortiz try to lend Kingston a hand, but they're set upon immediately by PAC, who's laughing maniacally at the chance at a fight. Reluctantly, Penta follows close behind, whipping his title belt into the stomach of Ortiz and helping PAC kick Santana into the curb. While they fend off P&P, Eddie and Fenix continue to bare knuckle fuck their way up the ramp. This isn't Eddie's first rodeo, and he's pushing back against Fenix just as hard as Fenix is coming at him. No doubt at this point, this thing is no contest.
Rey Fenix and Eddie Kingston draw by way of No Contest
Eventually, after like ten straight minutes of unrepentant battle all throughout the arena, through the crowd and into the backstage area, Fenix and Kingston find themselves back in the ring. Kingston is tired, haggard and worn down. His head is split open like a watermelon. He's stumbling, trying to find his bearings. Fenix catches him with a Roundhouse to put him down once and for all. Except⊠Kingston gets up. Fenix looks confused. Facebreaker. Kingston gets up. Now Fenix looks annoyed. Discus smash. Takes a bit longer, but Kingston, drenched in his own viscera, gets up. PAC and Penta gather around, and Penta looks like he's trying not to watch. Kingston takes another hit and gets up one final time. Fenix sets up for a 450, but before he can Kingston is smashed to the ground from behind by PAC. It's over. Time to end this. Death Triangle circles Eddie, who can't even pull himself up by this point, and it looks like they're about to absolutely kill the guy. Fortunately for him, they are ambushed by a recovered Santana and Ortiz, who manage to fight the three of them off just long enough to pull Eddie out of the ring and help him up the ramp. The seg ends with a bloodied Kingston, bloodied and grinning, held upright by Santana and Ortiz, staring down Death Triangle from the top of the stage.
Continued in comments.
submitted by elmerV2 to FantasyBookingElite [link] [comments]
In January of 2022, during a brawl with Jurassic Express, Fenix found himself going mano y mano with the opposing team's tank, Luchasaurus. A stumble to the outside and a nasty Chokeslam later, and Fenix's arm had been completely dislocated. He had been fundamentally injured, and, against his own judgment, was forced by his home company to sit out the next few months and leave Death Triangle while he made his recovery. For a long time, Fenix and Penta have found themselves polar opposites. Yin and Yang. Penta, a crazed sadist with a penchant for complete, unchecked brutality. Fenix, a mostly altruistic daredevil who focused more on putting on a show than anything else. They balance each other out, they keep each other in check. But now, Fenix would no longer be able to look out for his brother. For his own wellbeing, he would have to leave Penta in AEW all alone. All alone with no one else by his side but PAC. No one else to guide him but PAC. It was a scary prospect, but it had to be done. Truly, Rey Fenix has been gone a long time. But now he's back.
LETâS FUCKING RUMBLE BABY!!!
AEW Dynamite, June 1st, 2022: AEW World Tag Team Championship Match- Top Flight © Vs. Jurassic Express w/ Christian Cage
The Dynamite following Double or Nothing, and the first of June, we see Jurassic Express dueling back and forth in the ring against the impressive pairing of Top Flight, who were responsible for nabbing the highly sought Tag Titles right out from under Jurassic Express during a triple threat between them and The Hardyz several nights prior at the PPV. Now, Jurassic Express have one last chance to reclaim their lost belts, and theyâre pulling off every last desperate stop in the book in order to pull that off. Theyâre making impossible tag breaks, pulling off insane new double team maneuvers, and even veering into a slightly heelish direction under the tutelage of one Christian Cage. Still, nothing they do, no matter how unpredictable or clever, seems to do the trick. Top Flight are on the run of a lifetime after shockingly become the Champs, and they arenât going to let anything slow their roll. After a desperate, nonstop sequence of no-fucks-given high flying action and incredible mid-air reversals Luchasaurus is taken out and Jungle Boy finds himself alone against both Dante and Darius Martin. No shot here. He fights anyway. He fends Dante off with a kick to the face and springboards off the ropes, only to be caught on the way down with a facebreaker courtesy of Darius. JB uses the momentum of the âbreaker to flip back up onto his feet and brace himself against the ropes, before quickly managing to drive Darius back with a Rana. End this now, Christian yells. JB picks up Darius for a definitive Canadian Destroyer, only to be knocked dizzy by a vengeful elbow to the face courtesy of Dante. Jungle Boy wobbles a moment, and the two brothers descend upon him like vultures. One Double Cutter later, and things are over for Jurassic Express.
Top Flight © def. Jurassic Express to retain the AEW World Tag Team Championships
After the match, Jungle Boy looks absolutely crushed, devastated that he let his group down. Top Flight walk out, heads held high, while Christian and Luchasaurus slide into the ring to comfort their distraught friend. No sooner do they stand JB up though, than does the sound of PACâs theme begin ricocheting wildly into the night. Jungle Boy and Luchasaurus look up, terrified. Christian cowers a bit. PAC appears on the ramp, flanked by Penta and new addition Erick Redbeard. âYou knew this day was close.â He mutters, âNow you get whatâs coming to you.â Death Triangle have not had a particularly good time of it as of late, engaging in a wild tooth and nail battle against the cult-like House of Black, only to eventually come up short. Following that humiliation, theyâre angry, and perfectly motivated to destroy Jurassic Express with as little remorse left in them as humanly possible. This isnât just revenge, itâs a way to work off some stress for the psychos that make up the Triangle. Surprisingly, though, Jurassic Express still manage to put up a pretty good fight despite just getting out of another match, and seem to be on the verge of overcoming their attackers, when suddenlyâŠ
REY FENIX IS BACK BABY!!!
Like a cooler, more Mexican Jeff Hardy, Fenix swags the fuck out of his way down to the ring before clearing Christian with a Black Fire Driver right off the fucking bat! Jungle Boy mimes âIâm sorryâ as Fenix comes for him, but it doesnât much matter. He takes JB out with a Sunset Flip Powerbomb, before allowing PAC to finish off the rookie with a Black Arrow. In the corner of the ring, Luchasaurus has managed to completely incapacitate Redbeard, only to shrink when he realizes that heâs been flanked by both Penta and Fenix. He swings, but Fenix cuts him off at the legs and Penta swiftly knocks him on his back with a knee to the face. The two take a moment, laugh, theyâre back together again and things are how they should be. Then, they finish things with an LB Driver onto Luchasaurus, before tossing him out of the ring and helping Redbeard back up to his feet. Death Triangle, finally returned to itâs former glory after months of waiting, stand together in the middle of the ring joyous (At least Redbeard and the Luchadors are, PAC is his typical state of extremely fuckinâ pissed off at everything)- Except wait, what does Death Triangle do with four members?
AEW Dynamite Fyter Fest Night One, June 8th, 2022: Rey Fenix w/ Penta El Zero M Vs. Erick Redbeard w/ PAC
On the face, this whole match really shouldn't look like much. Just a friendly competition between the newest member of the stable and it's returning hero. Death Triangle doesn't really actually do "friendly competition", but maybe this is the exception to that rule. Fenix is fully animated, bouncing back and forth across the ring like a rubber ball and dodging Redbeard's lumbering attacks with an infuriating slyness. He's excited to be back, and as such is treating this whole thing more like an interesting little game than anything else. Penta is a total mark for Fenix, slapping the mat enthusiastically anytime his brother even moves, and losing his absolute fucking shit anytime Fenix is able to knock Erik down to the ground. PAC sits in Redbeard's corner, looking bored and annoyed. Pointedly less hyped about Fenix's comeback than everyone else seems to be. He doesnât have sole control over Penta anymore, and itâs incredibly bothersome. As the match goes on, what started as a casual contest between pals quickly morphs into a desperate battle for survival, at least on Rowanâs part. The big man seems determined to succeed, and the possibility that he may fail seems to terrify him. Unfortunately for him, Fenix proves the superior wrestler this time around, and is able to take him out with relative ease after a good ten minutes. Fenix is back, and heâs back in full force.
Rey Fenix def. Erick Redbeard
Following the match, Penta and Fenix celebrate emphatically while Redbeard cowers in the corner rather uncharacteristically. PAC sighs, rolls into the ring, congratulates Fenix, and then turns to where Redbeard is sitting, defeated. He strolls over and offers a hand. Erik looks up, face awash with a shocked hope. He takes PACâs hand, grinning, only for The Bastard to suddenly lock Redbeard into a deadly tight Brutalizer! Holding Erik incapacitated on the ground, PAC gestures at The Lucha Bros to attack him. For their part, Fenix and Penta look shocked, they clearly werenât expecting this. Fenix shakes his head at PAC, heâs not going to turn on and attack a man heâs supposed to be aligned with that, heâs nothing else if not loyal. Penta, deeply loyal in his own way, gives Redbeard a resigned Lanza to the head from the top rope, effectively destroying the Big Manâs skull in the process. Several Germans and a Fear Factor later, and is Redbeard is left an unconscious mess strewn outside of the ring. PAC goes to grab but a still baffled Fenix gets in his face, âWhat was that?â he asks. âHe was weak and didnât have a place with us. He was a placeholder. Next time, when me and Pentagon need you, donât let us down.â
With that, PAC leaves Fenix standing awkwardly at his back alongside, Penta, and grabs a mic in order to make a declaration. âA good year ago, there was no collection of wrestlers in this entire company as threatening and singularly dominant as us three, Death Triangle. Not them overrated, self indulgent pricks that hang around and like to call themselves The Elite, and certainly not those pathetic wankers that make up âThe Inner Circleâ. But then King Fenix over here got injured, and we had to hunker down for a while. Lay low. Make due with what we could. Well, now weâre back and Iâve got to tell you, it doesnât feel like so special as it used to. Weâve got useless hangers on riding our coattails and weighing us down, weâve got every single team in the goddamned division grouping up into trios and trying to be us, taking the spots that should belong to us by now. Christ, everywhere I look I see a new group popping up trying to be the next Death Triangle. None of you are Death Triangle. None of ye have the anger, the intensity, the skill, to be the next Death Triangle. So now that weâve trimmed the fat and gotten ourselves back in fighting shape, thereâs one clear target marked up next on our hitlist: All of you. Heads up to any mediocre so-called-stables who might like to try their hand at dominance from here out, you may just run afoul of Death Triangle. And rest assured, the three of us will rip you limb from bloody limb.â
AEW Dynamite Fyter Fest Night Four, June 29th: Death Triangle Vs. The Blackpool Combat Club w/ William Regal
With their war on literally every other stable and team on the All Elite Wrestling roster declared, Death Triangle spend the next month running absolutely fucking rampant. They trash matches, attack folks outta fucking nowhere. Continue to mercilessly bully the likes of Dark Order and Jurassic Express. Everywhere PAC goes things burn, and everywhere PAC goes Penta follows religiously. The two of them kill everything in their path with a unrivaled gleeful intensity, and while Fenix is clearly far more reluctant than either of them, he plays along regardless. PAC can fucking smell weakness, and thereâs a good chance that the first time he catches even a whiff of it on his least favorite Lucha Brother that everything will go to Hell. Finally, a full month after the expulsion of Redbeard from the Death Quadrangle, one group finally grows big enough balls to confront the roving gang of PAC and his cohorts. That group? None other than Lord William Regalâs militaristic cult of violence, The Blackpool Combat Club. Regal believes that AEW is only big enough for one dominant stable, but offers that that stable will be him and his students rather than anyone else, and believes that putting down Death Triangle will serve as a good display of his Clubâs capabilities. Death Triangle, never ones to back down from a challenge, accepts Regalâs proposal, and a match between the two factions is set for the final night of Fyter Fest.
Facing off against PAC, Fenix, and Penta, we have two of Regalâs chief lieutenants, the technical savant and possibly single greatest pure wrestler of the modern era Bryan Danielson, and the absolutely crazed legend of the hardcore scene by the name of Jon Moxley. Joining the two of them, The Combat Clubâs star student Wheeler Yuta, a defector from the popular Best Friends group who absolutely needs this match as a way to prove himself to his new peers. The match here is an absolute fucking banger, how could it not be? Two of the most violent groups in wrestling going head to head, doing everything they can without being arrested by local authorities to prove whoâs better. DT is already a well oiled machine, and they have each otherâs back every single step of the way, saving each otherâs asses constantly and pulling off impossibly cool tag maneuver after impossibly cool tag maneuver. Combat Club, while made up of some incredibly talented ârasslers, is frankly deeply outclassed when it comes to teamwork. Danielson and Moxley are still trying to figure how to work effectively and cohesively as a team, and Yuta is just trying to keep up with the two of them. Itâs a whirlwind of a fight, and the three of them are just trying to hold on for their lives. From the sidelines, Regal watches undeterred, he knows his boys, he knows theyâll pull through.
Danielson and PAC tear shit down in the middle of the ring as Fenix duels with Moxley on the outside and Penta goes toe to toe with Yuta. Everyone has paired off by this point. Danielson is able to bring PAC down with a Running Knee, and a distracted Yuta eats a boot to the face. Moxley manages to brawl the smaller Penta to the ground, but Fenix makes the save and the two of them are able to eventually fend him off. They then descend onto Bryan all at once, rescuing PAC from the clutches of one of the most sadistic technical wizards out there. Once again, the pack mentality of the group allows them to grasp a substantial advantage over their enemies. Danielson, beaten and outnumbered, makes one last wild attempt at survival, knocking Penta out of the ring with a Roundhose, but he is ultimately smashed into the ground by PAC. PAC locks Danielson up and tells Fenix to go for their downed enemyâs neck, but Fenix seems to pause. Danielson has a long history of spinal issues, he canât just go after such a sensitive spot like that. PAC continues yelling at him to do it, a desperation creeping into his voice. Now or never. Make your choice. Fenix takes a deep breath and sets up for the Le Garra del Fenix, only for Yuta to catch him at the last second and slam him down onto the mat! PAC attacks Yuta viciously, but Danielson is able to use his last ounce of strength to grab PAC still, allowing Yuta to topple him with a Flying Splash. PAC tries to get up, but is caught by Moxley, who properly ends him with a Paradigm Shift. Altogether now, in unison, The Combat Club circles a lone Fenix in the ring. Some double team maneuver ensues, cementing BCCâs bond, and 1, 2, 3, weâve got our winners. Yuta has proven he can run with some of the all-time greats, and the BCC has cemented itâs mark of dominance over the AEW landscape.
The Blackpool Combat Club def. Death Triangle
Following the match, PAC is fucking fuming. He gets in Fenixâs face immediately, âI told you not to choke when we needed you! What in the hell do you think you were doing?! You think this is a joke?!â. It looks, for a moment, like a brawl might break out between PAC and Fenix. Barely a month back, and already Death Triangle is on the very verge of extinction. Ultimately, Penta has to tear the two of them like a little kid attempting in futile vain to stop his parents from arguing. Pull yourselves together, he cries at them, we are better than this, stronger than this. PAC spits and walks to the back alone, leaving The Lucha Brothers to trail behind him in a defeated silence. Fenix looks tortured, a second more and he would have had the match won, why had he waited? As they disappear into AEWâs heel tunnels, the future of Death Triangle only looks all the darker.
AEW Dynamite, July 13th, 2022: Death Triangle Vs. Jurassic Express
The following month, we finally come to the blowoff match between these two teams that have managed to cultivate so much vitriol towards each other in so little time. They havenât even faced each other and yet they hate each other so goddamn much. After the Blackpool Combat Club debacle, the chasm between PAC and Fenix has only further deepened, and Penta has been forced to do everything in his power to keep the two parties at least semi-friendly. They arenât getting along, and the tension between the two grows stronger each passing day. Despite all that, the two donât skip a beat when wrestling together. Thereâs no denying that Death Triangle has a rapport, and even after weeks of infighting, theyâre able to continue fighting like theyâre the closest team in the world. Early on, this quickly becomes a handicap, as DT is able to isolate Luchasaurus in the middle of the ring before proceeding to brutalize the poor scaly as revenge for all the pain he inadvertently caused Fenix months prior at the start of the year. After beating him till bloody and red, the three of them pull him in for a Chokeslam, and throw him right down on his arm the exact same way he did Fenix.
From there, Luchasaurus is completely incapacitated, and Jungle Boy and Christian are forced to fight off their pursuers outnumbered and outgunned. Theyâre valiant, the perfect underdog babyfaces. Jungle Boy flips around everywhere and catches everyone with pitch perfect kicks, Christian plays second fiddle and provides the perfect backup to his prodigious young pupil. Theyâre scrappier than expected, and itâs pissing PAC the hell off. The Bastard is frothing out the mouth, spitting orders at both the Lucha Bros and flying at his opponents recklessly, eating counters and reversals every time. Things arenât going well, and his headstrong demeanor is only making things worse. JB and Christian, seeing a comeback on the horizon, go all out. A relentless barrage of attacks, suicide dives and moonsaults and destroyers and all the like, anything to wipe out their rivals once and for all. PAC goes down hard, collapsing to the ground in a heap, and The Lucha brothers are left alone. One last brawl between the final four. Penta manages a takedown on Cage, but is quickly set upon by Jungle Boy. Fenix watches nearby, the whole sequence playing out in slow motion right before his eyes. His brother needs his help. Heâs not choking again. He grabs Jungle Boy, flips him around, FENIX DRIVER! FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER! With Jungle Boy effectively downed, Fenix lays into him even more, relentlessly, mercilessly, bloodlust completely overtaking him. As Fenix continues his barrage of ruthless attack, PAC re-enters the ring grinning, while Penta looks on, slightly perturbed by his brotherâs ability for violence. Holding Jungle Boyâs limp head loosely in his hand, Fenix beckons PAC to his side, allowing The Brit the honor of that perfect finishing stroke. PAC nods approvingly, hits a definitive Black Arrow, and finishes the match with Fenix and Penta both standing attentively by his side.
Death Triangle def. Jurassic Express
It seems that Death Triangle have finally found their groove after a fairly mediocre lukewarm, and PAC swears on the microphone afterwards that this is only the beginning. Theyâre going to lay waste to absolutely everyone in their path together. He pulls Fenix in for a hug, all the former vitriol between the two seemingly forgotten, and the two celebrate profusely together. Penta celebrates too, but thereâs a hint of melancholy hidden in his revelry. Something has snapped in his brother, he can tell, and Fenix may just never be the same again.
AEW Dynamite, July 27th, 2022: Death Triangle Vs. The Best Friends
Two weeks later, our trio of death finds themselves facing off against another beloved staple of AEW's prosperous face scene, this time the hilariously charming Best Friends. The enigmatic Orange Cassidy, flanked by his reliable pals Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta, has sorta had enough of Death Triangle's absolutely inane dick swinging and supposes he would like to knock them down a peg (If he gets a chance, that is). PAC and his crew just see this as a chance to stomp another overrated trio, and are happy to oblige. Before the match is even able to get off to a start, PAC grabs Danhausen and smashes his face repeatedly into the ringpost until he passes out from blood loss and blunt force trauma. Danhausen is fatally injured and dies in the hospital several hours later. Motivated by this attack on their buddy, The Best Friends go hard in this match like they very rarely get the chance to do. Orange Cassidy and PAC already have a long history filled with some absolutely crazy fights, and while he tries to maintain his composure for the first half or so of the much, things eventually break down and OC drops all pretense of laziness to beat the absolute fuck out of one of his greatest rivals. Trent and Chuck back him up with much of the same tactical play, confusing Death Triangle with their goofiness and using that confusion to subsequently catch PAC and the Lucha Bros off guard and surprise them with a series of surprisingly efficient attacks.
Despite what jokes Fenix and Penta sort of expected them to be, The Best Friends very quickly prove themselves to be just about on par with Death Triangle, maybe the single most violently brutal stable in all of wrestling. PAC isnât surprised though, he knows the game, he knows how Cassidy operates. He refuses to let The Best Friendâs eccentricities phase him, fighting on relentlessly just like he would with any other match. In the end, Nevilleâs knowledge of the territory proves to be his and The Lucha Brosâ saving grace, allowing the three of them to brave their way through The Best Friendsâ hurricane of weirdness, and eventually overcome them through sheer force of will. Things end when PAC, alongside a much more in-sync Fenix, is able to just narrowly escape a Canadian Destroyer from Cassidy, before forcing his former rival to tap to The Brutalizer following a beautiful Spanish Fly courtesy of Fenix. Another dominant win for Death Triangle, and another notch in their belt. Still, itâs clear that Fenix and PAC are growing closer. Post-match they grab each other by the shoulders and walk out side by side, forcing a sullen Penta to follow behind them neglected and alone. He was the glue that held the whole operation together just a few short weeks together. Now? Barely anything at all.
Death Triangle def. The Best Friends
AEW Dynamite, August 3rd, 2022: The Lucha Brothers w/ PAC Vs. American Top Team w/ Dan Lambert and Paige VanZant
Seeking to rekindle their apparently dwindling rapport, Pentagon hooks himself and Fenix a match against Dan Lambertâs AEW branch of The American Top Team, The Men of the Year, otherwise known as Ethan Page and Scorpio Sky, the current AEW TNT Champ. Penta and Fenix are elated to finally have another two-on-two tag match together again, and while PAC thinks itâs a distraction from their real goals, he agrees to accompany them at ringside anyways. Things are looking up. The bell rings, and The Lucha Bros are right back in it. A good two thirds of a year since they last teamed as a duo, and yet they havenât skipped a beat. This was what they were made to do, itâs clear from the jump, they were made to team together. As tag matches go, they run circles around the stellar Page and Sky, making a spectacle of their teamwork. On the outside, PAC inexplicably gets really hyped up and starts beating the everloving shit out of Dan Lambert, continuing his streak of assaulting bystanders for no explicable reason. PAC rocks.
Anyways, Page and Sky catch on quickly enough, realizing that rather than going for the throat, Penta and Fenix are more or less just using this match as an opportunity to enjoy their reunion. Like, the properly hateable fucks they are, Page and Sky exploit that, deliberately derailing the Lucha Brosâ perfect comeback and making plays to seriously aggravate them. In Fenixâs case, it seems to be working. Blinded by anger, Fenix has to be stopped by Penta, typically the far more pigheaded of the two, from doing anything rash or stupid. Despite all that, The Lucha Bros still come out on top, with Penta being the clear MVP this time around and basically carrying them through much of the meat of the bout. In the end, things come down to him and Scorpio Sky, alone in the ring. Sky is desperate to get things over with, but Penta is focused, ready for anything. This is his and Fenixâs first ride alongside one another in awhile, he has to make it count. A quick series of reversals, Sky catches Penta with a VHS! Goes for the cover, 1, 2, Penta shoves Sky clear off of him, and kips up to his feet with a fire and rage in his belly bursting out through his eyes. Sky tries to catch him quickly with a knee strike, but Penta rolls under and goes for the Lanza. Sky catches it midair and sets up for what is sure to be a killer Fatal Answer, only for Penta to push away at the very last moment and CATCH SKY FINALLY WITH A FEAR FACTOR FOLLOWED BY A PENTAGON DRIVER! Roll-up, 1-2-3. Pentagon has just pinned the TNT Champion clear in the middle of the ring.
The Lucha Brothers def. American Top Team
Following the match, Penta and Fenix go to celebrate together, but Skyâs pride is clearly wounded and he immediately gets in Pentaâs face the second heâs recovered. A bit of arguing ensues, which ultimately culminates in Sky smashing Penta directly in the face with the TNT title. As one would expect, a brawl between American Top Team and Death Triangle, with Fenix and PAC absolutely beating the crud out of both Page and Sky. Lambert momentarily tries to get involved, but turns tail once he makes eye contact with PAC. Ultimately, the segment ends with Death Triangle standing tall over yet another felled stable, with Pentagon in the front, TNT Title held high in his arms.
AEW Dynamite Fight for the Fallen, August 17th, 2022: TNT Championship Match- Scorpio Sky © w/ Ethan Page Vs. Penta El Zero M w/ Rey Fenix and PAC
Following his dominant victory over Men of the Year, and subsequent dominant asswhupping over Scorpio Sky, Penta is ultimately rewarded a pretty clearly deserved shot at Skyâs title several weeks later. Despite being undefeated until just now, Sky is pretty clearly pissing his pants at having to face Pentagon. The loss, however miniscule it may be in the grand scheme of things, has absolutely shaken him and left a deep insecurity to fester evermore down in his heart. Adding even more to that insecurity, Lambert is just as scared of Death Triangle, albeit more for PAC-related reasons than anything else, and has refused to accompany Sky down to the ring for the TNT Title, leaving Page his only remaining ally. Pentagon, meanwhile, has been only growing in power. With his and and Fenixâs bond somewhat restored, and Death Triangle just popping off in general, Pentagonâs general mood is at an all time high. Heâs been training nonstop for this match for weeks, and he genuinely believes that itâs his destiny to win it with his two closest allies by his side. At this rate, nothing can stop his and Death Triangleâs ascent to power. The bell hasnât even rung, and Penta is already seeming like the pretty clear favorite.
Once the bell does actually end up ringing though, things end up being a whole lot more closely matched than one would expect. Sky, seeming one fuckup from a completely mental breakdown, abandons all of his usual showiness in favor of pure, unadulterated wrestling goodness. The threat of failure is very clear here, and he canât spend time fucking around or goofing off, he has to just make sure this gets done as quick as possible. Penta, prepared for a much more typical Scorpio Sky, is caught offguard by his opponentâs straightforwardness and lack of bravado, affording Sky an advantage early on. More than any other match in this booking, this one here is a brawl, as much of a brawl as a fight between Pentagon Jr and Scorpio Sky can end up being. The two duel back in forth, forced to constantly adapt their styles to each other in a match with an ever evolving psychology. Fenix waits on the sidelines, breath baited. Page is flashing his tits at people. PAC looks as uninterested and vaguely pissed off as ever. Ultimately, things come to a close with Penta and Sky both exhausted, collapsed in the middle of the ring. This match has been a marathon, and the two of them are utterly worn out. The two of them recover, lock eyes, and electricity seems to crackle between them. The next move is the last, they both know it, itâs just a matter of who can hit it first. From here, one last desperate sprint, reversal and dodge after reversal and dodge. Who will touch the other first, who will be just the tiniest bit faster? Sky attempts a Plancha, one last ditch shot, but Penta dodges at the last second. You can see the light drain out of Scorpioâs eyes in real time. Penta bounces off the ropes and ENDS THINGS WITH THE LANZA! THE MOVE HE FAILED TO PULL OF LAST TIME! Scorpio Sky collapses, defeated. Pentagon just drapes an arm across his chest. The ref counts. Ladies, gents, we have a new TNT Champion.
Penta El Zero M def. Scorpio Sky to win the TNT Championship
Page tries to help Sky back up to his feet, but eats a hard right to the jaw from PAC the second he steps into the ring. Quickly, The Men of The Year clear the ring, defeated and ashamed. Inside, Penta sits, staring at his newly won TNT title, eyes glazed over in shock. Beside him, Fenix is literally jumping for joy, filled with a genuinely selfless sort of happiness for the fortunes of his friend. PAC does his PAC thing, but does manage to give Penta one affirmative little nod. They stand together, as they have so many times before, in the middle of the ring. But this time somethingâs different. This time theyâre champions.
AEW Dynamite September 14th, 2022: Rey Fenix w/ Penta El Zero M and PAC Vs. Eddie Kingston w/ Santana and Ortiz
Well, following that many genuine highs, things had to go bad at some point. Following Penta's impressive TNT Title Victory, Death Triangle is riding stronger than ever. Penta transitions into more of a singles role, defending his title in the main event of every other week of Dynamite and just generally being very impressive. PAC and Fenix, meanwhile, continue to carry the banner for Death Triangle, crushing teams like The Hardyz and The Jericho Appreciation Society in back to back tag matches. Doesn't really seem like there's anything the trio's swag. That is, until one day, Penta and Fenix are confronted backstage by their friend and longtime associate, Eddie Kingston. Kingston, the leader of the newly reformed AEW Branch of LAX, is disappointed in The Lucha Bros. They've lost their way. They've become thugs, worse, They've become lackeys. They've got their heads stuck so far up PAC's ass they can't even see the sun no more. Penta makes an effort to hear Kingston out, but Fenix, much angrier and rash than he used to be, instantly wants to throw down. Blinded by rage once again, he demands Kingston faces off with him mono y mono so he can show him just how much of a thug he's really become. Kingston agrees, and a match is set between the two for later tonight.
I cannot express this enough, going into this Fenix is completely livid. He's like an avatar of anger and hatred, a manifested weapon of rage aimed directly at Eddie Kingston's head. When he sees Santana and Ortiz flanking Kingston, he only gets angrier. Eddie wants to trash talk them for grouping up and then do the exact same thing? No fucking way does that fly. Before the bell can even ring, Fenix is diving clear out of the ring and into Kingston, smashing elbows into the face of The King of Yonkers and driving him up the ramp. Santana and Ortiz try to lend Kingston a hand, but they're set upon immediately by PAC, who's laughing maniacally at the chance at a fight. Reluctantly, Penta follows close behind, whipping his title belt into the stomach of Ortiz and helping PAC kick Santana into the curb. While they fend off P&P, Eddie and Fenix continue to bare knuckle fuck their way up the ramp. This isn't Eddie's first rodeo, and he's pushing back against Fenix just as hard as Fenix is coming at him. No doubt at this point, this thing is no contest.
Rey Fenix and Eddie Kingston draw by way of No Contest
Eventually, after like ten straight minutes of unrepentant battle all throughout the arena, through the crowd and into the backstage area, Fenix and Kingston find themselves back in the ring. Kingston is tired, haggard and worn down. His head is split open like a watermelon. He's stumbling, trying to find his bearings. Fenix catches him with a Roundhouse to put him down once and for all. Except⊠Kingston gets up. Fenix looks confused. Facebreaker. Kingston gets up. Now Fenix looks annoyed. Discus smash. Takes a bit longer, but Kingston, drenched in his own viscera, gets up. PAC and Penta gather around, and Penta looks like he's trying not to watch. Kingston takes another hit and gets up one final time. Fenix sets up for a 450, but before he can Kingston is smashed to the ground from behind by PAC. It's over. Time to end this. Death Triangle circles Eddie, who can't even pull himself up by this point, and it looks like they're about to absolutely kill the guy. Fortunately for him, they are ambushed by a recovered Santana and Ortiz, who manage to fight the three of them off just long enough to pull Eddie out of the ring and help him up the ramp. The seg ends with a bloodied Kingston, bloodied and grinning, held upright by Santana and Ortiz, staring down Death Triangle from the top of the stage.
Continued in comments.
2022.03.25 04:16 The_-Cleansing My former friend and his mom prevented me from getting my things from their apartment that I had been living in since June 2021 to February, 19th 2022. What should I do?
OK. So this is the first time I've had to make any reddit post, bear with me. So I have been my grandmother's home health aide amd living with her since June 2019, she would constantly smoke knowing that it was detrimental to her getting better. Around the first or second of 2021, she passed away in the hospital. There was a funeral for her on the first or second of June.
Our Dramatis personae are;
The main actor is me (Cleansing Mikey) or CM. Caregiver, lover of rice and beans, sushi and all things Elves
Kin of CM Iris- Mother, knitter and musical lover. Loves the violin, yarn and cats. Cajuncrawfisher- Father(officially stepfather but far more of a father than my true father) veteran, and lover of gumbo, jambalaya and crawfish
Brooklyn Taurus or BT (Former best friend and incarnation of Horus)
Katheri- The Arch-Traitors mother and over protection sponge for some of BT's more illegal barbiturates, unwise inebriations and fornicating maidens and bachelors.
Saxonia- BT's girlfriend and Druid of animals
Close friends Francis Michael the 3rd or FM3 the Gardener (very good friend since high school with Chorm), former friend of the Arch-traitor after they got inebriated and BT abandoned him to a hospice with no phone, no purse, a bad case of hangover and no knowledge of the area surrounding the hospice.
Alexandrius of the Ebon Chalice, fellow Tabletop hobbyist and MTG victim of addiction and the taint of meta, close friend, worshipper of Mathlann or AlexECAGM ( Great friend since my Airport days)
Wilhelm Venture or Willy V; Space Marine enthusiasts and lover of Ravens and a good stiff drink (Former friend of BT after BT slept with his Girlfriend while Willy V and her were in 2nd place/3rd base)
Choris the Scholar or Chorm; Ork hobbyist and great friend from high school with FM3 and academian of history. (Has only had minor interactions with BT until very recent.
Vincent Antonius servant of Tzeentch or Antoazur; Sorcerer, Teacher, and scion of compassion. ( Has had only one encounter with BT and it was drinking, left him with the bill and has contempt for BT's selfishness)
So I was not on the lease but I was paying for groceries, internet, cable and so on until she passed away and my income went kaput. So I was forced to move out in the next couple months. My friend let's call him "Brooklyn Taurus" or "BT" offered to let me stay with him and get myself back on my feet. To give you a TDLR backstory of BT I've known him since 2006 and I even went to his veteran father's funeral 4 years later as he passed from Stage 4 Cancer. This is to give an understanding of how long we've known each other along.
My grandmother's was a heavy hoarder and had decades worth of things that should be gone, so I asked the gang for help. FM3, AlexECAGM, Antoazur helped me with the first part of both getting my things and cleaning out the place around June or. Everything went along smoothly, we grabbed most of my things except several things that were too hands on to pick up. So, BT, Willy V and FM3 came a couple weeks later to grab the rest and finish cleaning house.
Willy V and FM3 were being extremely productive and cut time needed to do all of this significant cleansing before we were gone for good. BT on the other hand manipulated Willy V to grab beer with money he was saving for the week and had drank several large canisters of beers, was nearly blackout drunk and abandoned us to depart to acquire his Nintendo switch from another lost soul living in the town of Yonkers. The three of us (FM3, Willy V and I) were reasonably infuriated with both his uselessness and inconsiderable intoxication.
I moved in with BT and his mother in a land by the Bay a few weeks later, unaware of how much of a gullible and naive fool I was. At first things ran efficiently kinda. I was dealing with a fraud case for unemployment. Which had involve thieves and pilfering a secret of social numbers taken out in my name and regaining a new case job my workplace. (I was working as a CDPAP for my grandmother while I was being trained in the art of caregiving) With her no more I had to transfer as an official caregiver. As I was a pauper with no income.
BT and his mother agreed to take me in knowing that payment wouldn't come for 2/3 months later and when I get sufficient mony and sufficient payments for goods and services of sleeping that didn't involve the streets, I was constantly penniless and hungry. A condition of my Graves Disease inherited by my Great Grandmother meant that I needed an apothecary for tonics and solvents to treat my conditions which involved Hyperthyroidism. So I tried getting more forms of employment to meet ends meet.
This was about the time BT met a ginger maiden called Saxonia who needed a pet sitter while she and BT went playing games of luck for wealth. I had to deal with her pet English or French Bulldog we'll call Fang, several fish, and a gerbil plus guinea pigs. I had been occupied with cases when they decided to go on a night on town and was asked to pet sit. They would come back Friday Evening (all of this was during a Tuesday or Wednesday and they left Wednesday evening.)
During the Friday morning around 7am. I had fed the pets and noticing the gerbil cage. For some reason the gerbil cage was completely open with no gerbil inside, just empty empty thick grass like bedding. Unfortunately due to the clustered cages and animals of Saxonia's room, made it impossible for me to get a view or using a step ladders assistance as the gerbils cage is about 7 feet off the ground, the cages length about 4ft tall and the clutter in her room made moving difficult. Realizing that time was of the essence as I have a case with an elderly man at 9:30am and waking up at 6am,(an hour and a half trip from BT'S place to one end of the City that Never Sleeps to another end) I tried leaving nourishment for the food including the empty cage in case my eyes deceived me, walked Fang quickly and barely made it to work on time.
Roughly about 12-14 hours later. After work I walked BT's dog I'll call White Fur both in the morning and evening, I made it to Saxonia's home and witnessed a living room in a hurricane mess of splinted wood, dog feces and pages ripped out. (She keeps him locked in the living room) realizing this was gonna be a arduous task I cleaned up what I could Friday evening and was expecting them that evening. I was informed closer to Saturday morning that'd they would come around 7 in the evening.
I should talk a bit more about BT and his mom's rocky and cracked relationship. BT would do cocaine (I've seen him physically do it a couple times), drink excessively (he's come home black out drunk with a bunch of other people. Doing "cringey" shit like saying to his friends that he wishes his mom died instead of his dad. One time he hit (punched) his 70 year old mom in the face while drunk. Each of the friends except AlexECAGM has gotten screwed over in some way. His siblings have effectively cut contact with him.
Back to Saxonia's pets I tried cleaning up the mess the dog made and fed him, the fish and guinea pigs. I still haven't seen the gerbil so I called Saxonia and it went to voice mail. So I sent a message and was I was called by my friends that they were at the FLGS that they're waiting on me. I unfortunately had to leave
I got called by BT around 12 hours later and it was close to midnight, angry as something terrible happened as the gerbil died. He told me to stay somewhere else for now because he's angry. All of this happened in in February and I paid rent as much as possible and I've been staying somewhere else.
Unfortunately due to my work schedule I haven't been able to get my stuff. I kept calling the house line so I can get my things back and everytime I've gone to voice mail until it was full, I finally have some free time to get my things yesterday (Thursday) with FM3, AlexECAGM, Chorm and his dad (He was driving us from close to 1 end of the City to the other end) and we got to his place. He wasn't there but his mom Katheri wasn't letting us in, she said she's not opening the house door until BT is there.
As of this point my stuff is still in their home for about a month now and I finally found BT's new cell phone number and called him with FM3, AlexECAGM and Chorm in the hallway. He tried convincing his mom to open the door for me as he won't be home until very late. She wasn't going to so my friends just said to just call the cops. I didn't because I had hopes that this would be resolved civilly. But I'm very vexed because it'll take sometime for me to get some help for collecting my things. (my friends don't get out of work until about 6pm and BT is most likely at work at the time ) So we agreeded to that I will come on the 7th of next month, I'll have to call very early in the morning, letting him know that I'm on my way and when I get there he'll drop my things outside his apartment. I'll pick up and leave with my things
I'm also gonna have to cancel work I have that day just to get to do this.
The things he has is a luggage with my clothes in it, my thyroid medication which should be in the bathroom, my gaming computer that my dad got me around 2019. I've since then upgraded it with new parts and it should be in the $2000 range and a couple of bags with personal things inside.
So what should I do?
submitted by The_-Cleansing to legaladvice [link] [comments]
Our Dramatis personae are;
The main actor is me (Cleansing Mikey) or CM. Caregiver, lover of rice and beans, sushi and all things Elves
Kin of CM Iris- Mother, knitter and musical lover. Loves the violin, yarn and cats. Cajuncrawfisher- Father(officially stepfather but far more of a father than my true father) veteran, and lover of gumbo, jambalaya and crawfish
Brooklyn Taurus or BT (Former best friend and incarnation of Horus)
Katheri- The Arch-Traitors mother and over protection sponge for some of BT's more illegal barbiturates, unwise inebriations and fornicating maidens and bachelors.
Saxonia- BT's girlfriend and Druid of animals
Close friends Francis Michael the 3rd or FM3 the Gardener (very good friend since high school with Chorm), former friend of the Arch-traitor after they got inebriated and BT abandoned him to a hospice with no phone, no purse, a bad case of hangover and no knowledge of the area surrounding the hospice.
Alexandrius of the Ebon Chalice, fellow Tabletop hobbyist and MTG victim of addiction and the taint of meta, close friend, worshipper of Mathlann or AlexECAGM ( Great friend since my Airport days)
Wilhelm Venture or Willy V; Space Marine enthusiasts and lover of Ravens and a good stiff drink (Former friend of BT after BT slept with his Girlfriend while Willy V and her were in 2nd place/3rd base)
Choris the Scholar or Chorm; Ork hobbyist and great friend from high school with FM3 and academian of history. (Has only had minor interactions with BT until very recent.
Vincent Antonius servant of Tzeentch or Antoazur; Sorcerer, Teacher, and scion of compassion. ( Has had only one encounter with BT and it was drinking, left him with the bill and has contempt for BT's selfishness)
So I was not on the lease but I was paying for groceries, internet, cable and so on until she passed away and my income went kaput. So I was forced to move out in the next couple months. My friend let's call him "Brooklyn Taurus" or "BT" offered to let me stay with him and get myself back on my feet. To give you a TDLR backstory of BT I've known him since 2006 and I even went to his veteran father's funeral 4 years later as he passed from Stage 4 Cancer. This is to give an understanding of how long we've known each other along.
My grandmother's was a heavy hoarder and had decades worth of things that should be gone, so I asked the gang for help. FM3, AlexECAGM, Antoazur helped me with the first part of both getting my things and cleaning out the place around June or. Everything went along smoothly, we grabbed most of my things except several things that were too hands on to pick up. So, BT, Willy V and FM3 came a couple weeks later to grab the rest and finish cleaning house.
Willy V and FM3 were being extremely productive and cut time needed to do all of this significant cleansing before we were gone for good. BT on the other hand manipulated Willy V to grab beer with money he was saving for the week and had drank several large canisters of beers, was nearly blackout drunk and abandoned us to depart to acquire his Nintendo switch from another lost soul living in the town of Yonkers. The three of us (FM3, Willy V and I) were reasonably infuriated with both his uselessness and inconsiderable intoxication.
I moved in with BT and his mother in a land by the Bay a few weeks later, unaware of how much of a gullible and naive fool I was. At first things ran efficiently kinda. I was dealing with a fraud case for unemployment. Which had involve thieves and pilfering a secret of social numbers taken out in my name and regaining a new case job my workplace. (I was working as a CDPAP for my grandmother while I was being trained in the art of caregiving) With her no more I had to transfer as an official caregiver. As I was a pauper with no income.
BT and his mother agreed to take me in knowing that payment wouldn't come for 2/3 months later and when I get sufficient mony and sufficient payments for goods and services of sleeping that didn't involve the streets, I was constantly penniless and hungry. A condition of my Graves Disease inherited by my Great Grandmother meant that I needed an apothecary for tonics and solvents to treat my conditions which involved Hyperthyroidism. So I tried getting more forms of employment to meet ends meet.
This was about the time BT met a ginger maiden called Saxonia who needed a pet sitter while she and BT went playing games of luck for wealth. I had to deal with her pet English or French Bulldog we'll call Fang, several fish, and a gerbil plus guinea pigs. I had been occupied with cases when they decided to go on a night on town and was asked to pet sit. They would come back Friday Evening (all of this was during a Tuesday or Wednesday and they left Wednesday evening.)
During the Friday morning around 7am. I had fed the pets and noticing the gerbil cage. For some reason the gerbil cage was completely open with no gerbil inside, just empty empty thick grass like bedding. Unfortunately due to the clustered cages and animals of Saxonia's room, made it impossible for me to get a view or using a step ladders assistance as the gerbils cage is about 7 feet off the ground, the cages length about 4ft tall and the clutter in her room made moving difficult. Realizing that time was of the essence as I have a case with an elderly man at 9:30am and waking up at 6am,(an hour and a half trip from BT'S place to one end of the City that Never Sleeps to another end) I tried leaving nourishment for the food including the empty cage in case my eyes deceived me, walked Fang quickly and barely made it to work on time.
Roughly about 12-14 hours later. After work I walked BT's dog I'll call White Fur both in the morning and evening, I made it to Saxonia's home and witnessed a living room in a hurricane mess of splinted wood, dog feces and pages ripped out. (She keeps him locked in the living room) realizing this was gonna be a arduous task I cleaned up what I could Friday evening and was expecting them that evening. I was informed closer to Saturday morning that'd they would come around 7 in the evening.
I should talk a bit more about BT and his mom's rocky and cracked relationship. BT would do cocaine (I've seen him physically do it a couple times), drink excessively (he's come home black out drunk with a bunch of other people. Doing "cringey" shit like saying to his friends that he wishes his mom died instead of his dad. One time he hit (punched) his 70 year old mom in the face while drunk. Each of the friends except AlexECAGM has gotten screwed over in some way. His siblings have effectively cut contact with him.
Back to Saxonia's pets I tried cleaning up the mess the dog made and fed him, the fish and guinea pigs. I still haven't seen the gerbil so I called Saxonia and it went to voice mail. So I sent a message and was I was called by my friends that they were at the FLGS that they're waiting on me. I unfortunately had to leave
I got called by BT around 12 hours later and it was close to midnight, angry as something terrible happened as the gerbil died. He told me to stay somewhere else for now because he's angry. All of this happened in in February and I paid rent as much as possible and I've been staying somewhere else.
Unfortunately due to my work schedule I haven't been able to get my stuff. I kept calling the house line so I can get my things back and everytime I've gone to voice mail until it was full, I finally have some free time to get my things yesterday (Thursday) with FM3, AlexECAGM, Chorm and his dad (He was driving us from close to 1 end of the City to the other end) and we got to his place. He wasn't there but his mom Katheri wasn't letting us in, she said she's not opening the house door until BT is there.
As of this point my stuff is still in their home for about a month now and I finally found BT's new cell phone number and called him with FM3, AlexECAGM and Chorm in the hallway. He tried convincing his mom to open the door for me as he won't be home until very late. She wasn't going to so my friends just said to just call the cops. I didn't because I had hopes that this would be resolved civilly. But I'm very vexed because it'll take sometime for me to get some help for collecting my things. (my friends don't get out of work until about 6pm and BT is most likely at work at the time ) So we agreeded to that I will come on the 7th of next month, I'll have to call very early in the morning, letting him know that I'm on my way and when I get there he'll drop my things outside his apartment. I'll pick up and leave with my things
I'm also gonna have to cancel work I have that day just to get to do this.
The things he has is a luggage with my clothes in it, my thyroid medication which should be in the bathroom, my gaming computer that my dad got me around 2019. I've since then upgraded it with new parts and it should be in the $2000 range and a couple of bags with personal things inside.
So what should I do?
2022.02.12 21:38 Saint_Circa Story from r/writingprompts "A Murder Mystery, But It Becomes Increasingly Obivious The Author Doesn't Know who The Murderer Is."
As Detective Anderson stands over the rigid and blue corpse of a middle- aged woman, he pulls a cigarette out of his pack and strikes it alight.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" a shout from across the dimly lit New York apartment broke the respectful silence of Anderson's ponderings. "Put that out you goddamn idiot! You can't just smoke at a crime scene! What do you think this is? CSI Yonkers?!"
Anderson doesn't pay any mind to the salty agent in the kitchen. Dead men tell no tales, and they don't care about second-hand smoke either." As the agent continued to tirade from the next room the volume of his voice is slowly droned out. Anderson is in another world now. A thousand miles away from the screaming, and the busy night life that could be heard through the budget thin walls.
Someone killed this poor girl This much was obvious. The multiple gunshot wounds and lacerations riddling the corpses body was a good indicator. but who? Who would kill a harmless Karen in cold blood like this? Could someone like this have enemies? There was no sign of forced entry, perhaps it was someone she knew? Perhaps it was someone she thought she could trust?
"Police! Wellness check!" Anderson was brought back from the recesses of his mind by a dull and painful thumping against the side of his head. The Agent who had been screaming at him from the other room was now beside him. Knocking on the side of his head as though it were a locked door. "Put your cigarette out! You're ruining evidence with your cheap Virginia Slim ashes you fuckin dipshit."
Unamused by the agent's childish pranks. Anderson responded
"Someone has killed this woman agent."
the agent guffawed at the comment. Air expelling out of his mouth from his stomach in a deliberate deflation.
"Well Hol-ee-smokes sherlock! Do ya think we oughta call a detective?! Obviously someone killed her she's sitting here with a bunch of. . . . ."
The agents voice faded out once again.
Yes, indeed. Someone killed her . . . Someone who wanted her dead. . . Someone she probably trusted . . . Unless she didn't trust the killer. What if it was someone pretending to be a mailman? or a maintenance worker? Or one of those religious people who ride bikes in office clothes? What if it was someone like that? What if it was someone unassuming? like a small child, or an elderly woman or even . . . A vampire?
"Do you believe in vampires, agent?" Anderson asked as he took a drag of his cigarette and blew his smoke in his direction. Masking him with a thick cloud of nicotine and asbestos.
"What did you just ask me?" The agent replied. "Did you just ask me if I believe in vampires? Do you think a vampire busted in here and inflicted multiple gunshot wounds to this victims head and chest?"
Anderson sighed and took another drag. He was beginning to grow unimpressed by the agents lack of attentiveness.
"Just ruling out the possibilities" Anderson said after several moments of deliberate silence.
"Oh my Jesus H christ on a stick." the agent roared while walking off to the other room "I gotta call my supervisor. This is un-freaking-beli . . . ."
Slipping back into his thoughts Anderson could no longer hear what the agent was saying.
He's right . . . There'd be fang marks, and this woman has a crucifix necklace. I don't think vampires like those . . . Who then? Who would do this? What would be the motive?
It was then that Anderson heard the soft mewing from the bedroom. The victim had apparently owned several cats. Six by Andersons count. As Anderson scratched behind a Himalayan's soft and velvet like ears he slipped back into his thoughts.
This is a lot of cats. Way more than one person should have in a living unit so small and unsustainable for a quantity of cats like this to be staying at for long . . . Unless they weren't.
A feeling similar to that of an epiphany came over Anderson. Like an automation he made his way to the kitchen.
She's selling rare cat breeds on the black market. Someone got ripped off, they came in here. Killed the woman, took her money, and hid the weapon . . . Here!
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" The agent screamed as Anderson violently shook the litterbox that had been resting beside the washing machine. Throwing it's contents all over the laundry room and kitchen. After several more powerful shakes Anderson inspected the contents strewn about the floor, and the empty box that was in his hands. Nothing. No murder weapon. Just several pounds of ammonia smelling sand and feces.
"Send this to forensics for testing." Anderson said as he stretched the litter box out to the agent. A dull thud could be heard as the box made contact with his chest.
"No . . . NO! I'm done with this crap. You are a goddamn psychopath! Are you even a real person? How . . ."
Silence as Anderson's mind wandered away from the kitchen.
Nothing, damnit. It felt like my gut was really trying to tell me something there. . . If not a black market deal gone wrong . . . Then what? Who? Why?
"And I can't believe you still got that cigarette lit!" The unnerved rambling of the agent brought Anderson back to reality for a moment. "You're not even smoking it! You're just trailing that nasty shit around the apartment for every fingerprint to . . . ."
As Anderson watched the agent pace around the house in a crazed manner. A revelation came to him. A horrible, heart dropping noticing of what had been hidden before. . . Right under his nose. Right behind a badge.
Anderson quickly pulled his sidearm out of its holster and aimed it towards the agent!
"Whoa! Okay, okay, okay, Take it easy with that thing. what are you doing?" The agent responded to the gesture, wide eyed and nervous . . . Like an admission of guilt.
"How did you know there was a dead woman in this apartment agent?" Anderson asked with a cool stillness to his voice. Years of training kept his sidearm steady on its target.
"Because Dispatch called me and sent me to this address you fuckin moron! Same as you!"
"Doesn't explain how you knew that it was gunshots that killed her . . ."
The agent threw his hands down in a defeated manner and laughed towards the ceiling in an exasperated admission of failure
"Because there's bullet casings all over the floor! There's entrance and exit wounds are you kidding me right now?"
Anderson shook his head as the agent turned murderer tried desperately to feign his innocence. Anderson felt a strange sense of pity for the man, but the job always came first . . .
Justice always came first.
"I trusted you agent . . ." Anderson replied coldly.
"You are a crazy person, You're a crazy person. You're gonna make me do something I don't want to detective please put your gun down the supervisors on his way."
"Don't do it agent. . . . Don't you goddamn do it."
The agent reached quickly for his holstered weapon, but Anderson was quicker. One shot to the chest and the agent crumpled to the floor. Shouting curses at Anderson as his crimson life force pooled around his fading figure.
As Anderson was about to call for backup. His cellphone rang.
Hi, Detective Anderson. I've got good news. Looks like you're going to get some sleep tonight. The case you're working on has been solved! Turns out it was some guy she got fired from subway because her Italian herb and cheese bread wasn't herby enough. He lost his gourd and killed the poor woman. Anyways, case closed! Rest easy detective!
submitted by Saint_Circa to Saint_Circa_Stories [link] [comments]
"Are you fucking kidding me?" a shout from across the dimly lit New York apartment broke the respectful silence of Anderson's ponderings. "Put that out you goddamn idiot! You can't just smoke at a crime scene! What do you think this is? CSI Yonkers?!"
Anderson doesn't pay any mind to the salty agent in the kitchen. Dead men tell no tales, and they don't care about second-hand smoke either." As the agent continued to tirade from the next room the volume of his voice is slowly droned out. Anderson is in another world now. A thousand miles away from the screaming, and the busy night life that could be heard through the budget thin walls.
Someone killed this poor girl This much was obvious. The multiple gunshot wounds and lacerations riddling the corpses body was a good indicator. but who? Who would kill a harmless Karen in cold blood like this? Could someone like this have enemies? There was no sign of forced entry, perhaps it was someone she knew? Perhaps it was someone she thought she could trust?
"Police! Wellness check!" Anderson was brought back from the recesses of his mind by a dull and painful thumping against the side of his head. The Agent who had been screaming at him from the other room was now beside him. Knocking on the side of his head as though it were a locked door. "Put your cigarette out! You're ruining evidence with your cheap Virginia Slim ashes you fuckin dipshit."
Unamused by the agent's childish pranks. Anderson responded
"Someone has killed this woman agent."
the agent guffawed at the comment. Air expelling out of his mouth from his stomach in a deliberate deflation.
"Well Hol-ee-smokes sherlock! Do ya think we oughta call a detective?! Obviously someone killed her she's sitting here with a bunch of. . . . ."
The agents voice faded out once again.
Yes, indeed. Someone killed her . . . Someone who wanted her dead. . . Someone she probably trusted . . . Unless she didn't trust the killer. What if it was someone pretending to be a mailman? or a maintenance worker? Or one of those religious people who ride bikes in office clothes? What if it was someone like that? What if it was someone unassuming? like a small child, or an elderly woman or even . . . A vampire?
"Do you believe in vampires, agent?" Anderson asked as he took a drag of his cigarette and blew his smoke in his direction. Masking him with a thick cloud of nicotine and asbestos.
"What did you just ask me?" The agent replied. "Did you just ask me if I believe in vampires? Do you think a vampire busted in here and inflicted multiple gunshot wounds to this victims head and chest?"
Anderson sighed and took another drag. He was beginning to grow unimpressed by the agents lack of attentiveness.
"Just ruling out the possibilities" Anderson said after several moments of deliberate silence.
"Oh my Jesus H christ on a stick." the agent roared while walking off to the other room "I gotta call my supervisor. This is un-freaking-beli . . . ."
Slipping back into his thoughts Anderson could no longer hear what the agent was saying.
He's right . . . There'd be fang marks, and this woman has a crucifix necklace. I don't think vampires like those . . . Who then? Who would do this? What would be the motive?
It was then that Anderson heard the soft mewing from the bedroom. The victim had apparently owned several cats. Six by Andersons count. As Anderson scratched behind a Himalayan's soft and velvet like ears he slipped back into his thoughts.
This is a lot of cats. Way more than one person should have in a living unit so small and unsustainable for a quantity of cats like this to be staying at for long . . . Unless they weren't.
A feeling similar to that of an epiphany came over Anderson. Like an automation he made his way to the kitchen.
She's selling rare cat breeds on the black market. Someone got ripped off, they came in here. Killed the woman, took her money, and hid the weapon . . . Here!
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" The agent screamed as Anderson violently shook the litterbox that had been resting beside the washing machine. Throwing it's contents all over the laundry room and kitchen. After several more powerful shakes Anderson inspected the contents strewn about the floor, and the empty box that was in his hands. Nothing. No murder weapon. Just several pounds of ammonia smelling sand and feces.
"Send this to forensics for testing." Anderson said as he stretched the litter box out to the agent. A dull thud could be heard as the box made contact with his chest.
"No . . . NO! I'm done with this crap. You are a goddamn psychopath! Are you even a real person? How . . ."
Silence as Anderson's mind wandered away from the kitchen.
Nothing, damnit. It felt like my gut was really trying to tell me something there. . . If not a black market deal gone wrong . . . Then what? Who? Why?
"And I can't believe you still got that cigarette lit!" The unnerved rambling of the agent brought Anderson back to reality for a moment. "You're not even smoking it! You're just trailing that nasty shit around the apartment for every fingerprint to . . . ."
As Anderson watched the agent pace around the house in a crazed manner. A revelation came to him. A horrible, heart dropping noticing of what had been hidden before. . . Right under his nose. Right behind a badge.
Anderson quickly pulled his sidearm out of its holster and aimed it towards the agent!
"Whoa! Okay, okay, okay, Take it easy with that thing. what are you doing?" The agent responded to the gesture, wide eyed and nervous . . . Like an admission of guilt.
"How did you know there was a dead woman in this apartment agent?" Anderson asked with a cool stillness to his voice. Years of training kept his sidearm steady on its target.
"Because Dispatch called me and sent me to this address you fuckin moron! Same as you!"
"Doesn't explain how you knew that it was gunshots that killed her . . ."
The agent threw his hands down in a defeated manner and laughed towards the ceiling in an exasperated admission of failure
"Because there's bullet casings all over the floor! There's entrance and exit wounds are you kidding me right now?"
Anderson shook his head as the agent turned murderer tried desperately to feign his innocence. Anderson felt a strange sense of pity for the man, but the job always came first . . .
Justice always came first.
"I trusted you agent . . ." Anderson replied coldly.
"You are a crazy person, You're a crazy person. You're gonna make me do something I don't want to detective please put your gun down the supervisors on his way."
"Don't do it agent. . . . Don't you goddamn do it."
The agent reached quickly for his holstered weapon, but Anderson was quicker. One shot to the chest and the agent crumpled to the floor. Shouting curses at Anderson as his crimson life force pooled around his fading figure.
As Anderson was about to call for backup. His cellphone rang.
Hi, Detective Anderson. I've got good news. Looks like you're going to get some sleep tonight. The case you're working on has been solved! Turns out it was some guy she got fired from subway because her Italian herb and cheese bread wasn't herby enough. He lost his gourd and killed the poor woman. Anyways, case closed! Rest easy detective!
2022.01.29 15:51 gm19g The Crisis of 37' Leads to the Start of a 2nd American Civil War! - The President, the King, and the Kaiser
 | The Failing Union: submitted by gm19g to Presidentialpoll [link] [comments] Floyd B. Olson was never supposed to be the President. Yet on January 20th, 1937 he took the podium at the Capitol Building and recited the oath of office. His inauguration had been a somber one. Boycotted by the HCP and SPA, the crowd was full of hopeful and skeptical moderates alike. On the podium he was flanked to one side by his coalition partners. Outgoing President Hoover, Vice President Roosevelt, Speaker Garner, and Senate Leader McNary. To the other side stood, in full military regalia, the iron fist part of his popular slogan âthe iron fist within a velvet gloveâ. Chief of Staff Douglas MacArthur, General Dwight Eisenhower, and Admiral William Leahy looked as stoic and emotionless as possible. âMy fellow Americans,â Olson began, âa nation cannot be preserved which does not preserve its citizens. Industry is reducing wages, lowering the standard of living, reducing buying power, and sending honest Americans into the arms of radical groups that want to tear our beloved nation apart. This cannot be how we solve our economic problems. Each and every American has a duty, a duty to family and home yes, but also a duty to their country. To the ideals our Founders espoused to us, the ideals of democracy, civility, security, and brotherhood. As your President I vow to you that I will restore our national brotherhood, and ensure that the common American can not only survive but prosper under our sacred democracy! I vow to you that as long as I, or any true American with idealism in their heart holds this office, America shall remain as One Nation Indivisible!â Thunderous applause followed Olsonâs speech. With the news that his stomach cancer is in remission, he strode into office reinvigorated amidst protests from syndicalists and hardliners. President Floyd B. Olson Delivers his Inaugural Speech President Olsonâs first priority in office was to end the general strike launched by the SPA that had been going on since his election. He sent an invitation to Senator Haywood to sit down and negotiate. Haywood held a firm grip over the Combined Syndicates of America, the massive union that most laborers in America were apart of. Some in Olsonâs diverse Cabinet were opposed to negotiation or compromise of any kind, but he believed that civil compromise was the only way to save America. Big Bill Haywood accepted the invitation to negotiate and the date was set. Haywood initially wanted the negotiations to take place in the SPA stronghold of Chicago while Olson thought Washington DC was more appropriate. A compromise was reached and the two sides agreed to meet in the middle. The city of St. Louis would host the conference beginning on February 1st. While preparations were being made and security heightened, members of the Cabinet and even General MacArthur expressed their misgivings at the entire endeavor. They worried that Olson was putting his life in jeopardy, but every time Olson answered, âI survived cancer, I can handle this.â The St. Louis Conference: Vice President Roosevelt accompanied Olson on the train ride to St. Louis. Many across the country denied the legitimacy of the NUP victory in the House, especially after Bleeding Texas, so Roosevelt was being sent West to attempt to calm tensions and restore faith in democracy in California and Washington State. First on his agenda was a meeting with assembled longshoreman unions on strike in Seattle. An assembled Marine Corps guard was waiting for the Presidentâs train when it rolled into the station. Of course there had been bomb threats and assassination warnings but Olson shrugged them off. The conference was to take place at the Hotel Statler St. Louis, but before Haywood and the President could meet, telegrams began to be received from top sources in the HCP. Huey Long demanded that he be involved in the negotiations. The presence of Long in the meeting would undoubtedly make negotiation more difficult, maybe even botching them entirely. However, refusing him could incite his supporters across the country and make any gains in St. Louis utterly worthless. Olson believed that if only Long came and not Murray or any Old Democratic Party representative, there was a possibility he could work with the man. He knew Longâs populist stances matched with some of his own and even Haywoodâs. If negotiation was successful he might be able to collapse the entire HCP as the AFP and ODP factions split. It would also show his traditional Democrat coalition partners that their side was not being ignored, maintaining the NUP. So President Olson made the gamble and proposed that Long, and only Long, would be allowed to attend the meeting with Haywood and himself. The Site of the St. Louis Conference. Statler Hotel When Haywood was informed that Olson was going to accept Longâs participation in negotiations, he almost walked out. But after speaking with some of the more moderate members of the SPA he decided to give it a try. If it failed it would show that the SPA had done everything it could to get reform through proper channels, and if it succeeded maybe they could take away the populists power forever. And so the stage was set. On February 1st, the day negotiation was supposed to start, the three parties were stopped outside of the conference room. Long had arrived with a bodyguard of Minutemen, Haywood with his loyal Redguard, and Olson with a contingent of Marines. Immediately the radicals started to yell at each other for turning what was supposed to be peaceful negotiation into a possible brawl. If the conference failed before anyone could even get through the door, Olson knew any chance at peace was done. So he suggested that the three men could be escorted to the conference by their bodyguards, but after that they would be left alone and their escorts would return to their rooms until retrieved by a Marine to escort their boss back. Marines would guard the conference because Olson was the President and assured the radical parties they would act accordingly. Reluctantly they agreed. Finally as the meetings began in earnest, it became clear that Huey Long and Big Bill Haywood were not going to find as much middle ground as Olson had hoped. Both men had contradictory views on almost all subjects, leading to heated arguments. It also became apparent that Long had come with a laundry list of demands that had come straight from Alfalfa Bill Murray and he wasnât budging on any of them. After three days of argument, Olson was finally able to make a little bit of headway on social security. Both parties recognized the need for old age pensions and injury care. Olson tried to milk it as much as he could but soon found that even that had its limits. As the conference went on, Olson became aware that the leaders' control over their own parties was starting to wane. It became explicitly clear when on day five, the Minutemen and Redguard got into a scuffle in the hallway leading away from the conference room causing the Marines to step in. Luckily the three-way brawl ended with no major injury, but tension was as high as ever. By day seven, the three men were exhausted. Long had to keep using the phone to speak with his ODP consultants to make sure he was keeping his party together and with each call it seemed success was getting further away. Haywood privately threatened to leave the negotiating table if Long was not removed entirely. Olson was faced with a nightmare decision. Either have negotiations fall apart all together, or remove the man who he had allowed to come and controlled a third of his country. And so, deciding to go with what he saw as the lesser of two evils, Olson called for Long to be removed from negotiation. That night, a Marine went to the HCPâs suite and informed the delegation that they would no longer be allowed to attend the meetings on threat of physical removal. He conveyed a personal message from Olson asking Long, for the good of America, to wait until negotiation with the SPA could be concluded and then he would receive concessions and compromises both sides could accept. Long exploded. His shouting could be heard throughout the building. The next morning, as Haywood and Olson were sitting down to talk, a commotion could be heard outside the conference room. Long and his Minutemen were demanding entry. President Olson had no choice but to order his Marines to evict the Governor and his men by force. The Marine contingent descended on the HCP delegation and fighting quickly broke out. Hearing the shouts, Redguard stormed down the hallway and, seeing the vulnerable HCP men, hatred and bloodlust took over. They attacked. The Minutemen and Redguard had armed themselves since their previous scuffle three days before and their disdain for each other was enough to turn the fighting brutal and bloody. Brass knuckles, knives, and clubs flew as the Redguard, Minutemen, and United States Marines beat each other to bloody pulps. What would happen next would change history. No one knows who exactly fired the very first shot as many pistols were drawn throughout the fight, but after a volley of shots rang out, Redguardsmen Gus Hall fell to the floor, dead, after a bullet blew out the back of his head. The only one whose smoking gun was pointed towards Gus Hall was Marine Corporal John Basilone. For a moment the shock was enough to stop the fighting. But only for a moment because seconds after that a Minuteman had plunged his Bowie knife deep into Basiloneâs throat, killing him. Then all hell broke loose. More shots were fired and more bodies fell. In the confusion, Huey Long burst through the conference room doors and began to recite anti-capitalist quotes that Olson had made during his tenure as Minnesota Governor. Tempers broke and Haywood, Long, and Olson began to have a screaming match in the conference room. Haywood called Long a two faced opportunist pig, while Long shouted more obscenities at the President, and Olson screamed that both of them were traitors to America who ought to burn in hell. Haywood then turned to Olson and called him a traitor to the working man who had only been elected because he had licked the establishment's boots. Olson replied that Haywood was just a European impostor that only wanted power for himself and didn't care about class struggle at all. After a minute and a half of this, some Marines came to evacuate Olson through a back entrance. Olson ordered that they bring the two men opposing him by force, but as they leveled their pistols, a combined group of Minutemen and Redguards burst through the doors to get their respective leaders. A firefight ensued at close range but eventually each side was able to flee the building. Haywood was whisked away by car to go North to Chicago and Huey Long boarded a car headed South to Baton Rouge. President Olson, defeated in his attempts to negotiate by petty differences and hot tempers, boarded a train for Washington DC. The negotiations ended in disastrous failure and it seemed there was only one option left for America now. The Crisis of 37â: With the failure of compromise America had been broken. On February 10th, 1937, Big Bill Haywood announced over the radio that it was time for the workers of America to unite and stand up against capitalist oppression. Almost immediately, a number of Steel Belt governors declared their support and demanded Olson and the rest of his government resign and for a committee headed by Haywood to oversee the restructuring of the United States âas the Founding Fathers intendedâ. He established the Combined Syndicates of America in Chicago with Jack Reed as his Vice Chairman. The next day, Huey Long declared that the corrupt President Olson and tyrannical Haywood both must be stopped for the good of America and that all true, decent, patriotic Americans should rise up against them. Most of the Southern governors declared support, and while they didnât go so far as to announce secession from the Union, they made it clear that Federal authority was no longer recognized within their borders. They called the land under their control the American Union State. Map of the Crisis of 37' Across America urban and rural uprisings were sparked by the radicals' call to arms. In accordance with War Plan White, MacArthur mobilized the entire National Guard, Army Reserve, and Federal Army. Safely returned to DC, President Olson took to the radio on February 13th to address the torn nation. In his speech he related back to Lincoln and compared America to the state it was in back in 1861. He declared that the rebellious states would have 30-days to stand down or face the wrath of the United States. However this deadline was mostly in place to allow the Government to consolidate its position. MacArthur has warned to expect further violence and state defections prior to the end of the deadline. Most in Washington appear pessimistic that all out-war can be avoided. Violent syndicalist militias struggled to take control in Northeastern states, from New York to Maine, governors had been clamping down on riots hard. The worst of the fighting has been in Boston and Buffalo. In Boston the riots were stopped but Buffalo and its surrounding regions fell to the syndicalists and are moving as quickly as they can on Albany and New York City. Secretly, several New England governors and prominent figures began to question if the Federal Government could win against such odds, and if worse came to worst how they would survive. Quietly, Joseph P. Kennedy Sr was sent to Ottawa with a petition written by Connecticut governor Wilbur Cross and signed by Maine governor Lewis Barrows, Massachusetts Senator David Walsh, and Rhode Island governor Theodore Green, asking the Dominion of Canada to intervene on New Englandâs behalf to save it from syndicalism. King Edward VIII and newly elected Conservative Prime Minister R.B. Bennett sent the petition to the Imperial General Staff for proper planning. West Virginia fell to popular uprising within a week. At first the Federals were able to hold Charleston and the major highways throughout the state but the overwhelming numbers of the syndicalists and the spirit of Blair Mountain quickly routed the Army into Virginia and Maryland. In Olsonâs home state of Minnesota, the city of Minneapolis and the surrounding region fell to the syndicalist uprising. Blockades were erected on roads and the governor, Hjalmar Petersen, was lynched by a mob outside the State House. Minnesota National Guard commander, Brigadier General Ellard Walsh, took emergency command of the state and used his loyal Guard units to beat back the syndicalists on the border and contained them mostly to Minneapolis. Unfortunately for him the same could not be said for Iowa whose governor surrendered to the syndicalists after the police officers guarding the State Capitol building were massacred, leaving the southern front mostly unguarded. Combined Syndicates partisans continued to push into New York state, with General Smedley Butler taking control of the âNew Continental Armyâ. They advanced up to Niagara Falls. Seizing Rochester and Buffalo and scaring the Canadians even more. The bloodiest fighting between the Federalists and Syndicalists was in New York City. It would appear that foreign agitators were active as French and British provocateurs incited NYCs poorer boroughs to revolution. General MacArthur had specifically planned for a battle over NYC in War Plan White but even his most liberal estimates hadnât expected so many to run to the banner of revolution. Army and Guard units were quickly overrun by masses of revolutionaries and panicked units turned their machine guns on the crowds, only inciting them further as they watched comrades of all ages be mowed down mercilessly. Death reigned throughout the city and the use of artillery was authorized by General Eisenhower to cover the withdrawal. Soon every military unit was either retreating or encircled. New York City was at the mercy of the mob. The Federalists set up a loose siege stretching from Newark to Yonkers, preventing the syndicalist militias from leaving the city, and awaited reinforcements. Inside NYC, even CSA-aligned Mayor Norman Thomas was unable to keep the mob under control. Anarchists set fire to buildings, Wall Street was sacked, and many businessmen who were unable to escape the city with the Federalists were left to the mercy of mob violence. In the city's darkest moments since the Draft Riots of 1863, whole platoons of surrendered soldiers were executed and prominent City figures were hunted down. Al Smith, former Democratic presidential candidate, was dragged from his office and in a three minute long kangaroo court, was convicted of class betrayal and sentenced to death. He was then shot in the head at point blank range. Thomas Dewey, the District Attorney, was beaten by the mob and then hung from a light post. It took the combined efforts of disciplined Redguard, Mayor Thomas, and the professional agents from the 3rd International to end the chaos and start organizing the population into defensive positions. In the West, Vice President Roosevelt was shocked at what was happening in the rest of the United States. His meetings in Seattle had been cut short when the CSA aligned militias declared the âFree Seattle Communeâ and began to resist the Guard units sent to put them down. Using his extensive aviation knowledge and Secret Service guard, Roosevelt was able to steal a DC3 and loaded as many Seattle families as he could before taking off and flying South. He was greeted in Sacramento by Governor Frank Merriam who readily accepted the Vice President into the governorâs mansion. War Plan White worked much better in the West than in the East. Local unit commanders in California especially had experience in urban warfare as Governor Merriamâs anti-union stance had led to high pitched fighting before. San Francisco easily fell to a combined land approach and amphibious landing, although it would take almost six months for Alcatraz Island to fall after many of the top revolutionaries retreated to the citadel there. Seattle was a tougher nut to crack so a methodical approach was taken. The harbor was blockaded by the Pacific Squadron while land forces made cautious approaches from all sides. Other mop-up operations in the West were also mostly successful as the SPA didnât have as large a base in the rural areas. The hardest fight was the âMile High Battleâ to retake Denver. Longist rebellions took place around the country but were mostly in the Midwest and rural parts of the North. In the cities of the Midwest, Minutemen clashed with Redguard to secure the cities they had footholds in. Helena and Cheyenne fell to the combined forces of Minutemen and Klansmen, rounding up Federalist and Syndicalist leaders and giving them harsh justice. Long struggled to keep Murray and the ODP civil as they exacted terror across the territory they controlled. The number of lynching's of African-Americans exploded as without Federal authority, such organizations as the Klan and White League were often left as the only law and order. General George S. Patton defected to the American Union State and was given command of the Army. He was tasked with converting the rag tag militias, Minutemen, and chapters into an effective fighting force. As Patton struggled to establish a chain of command and order within the ranks, Federalist forces dispatched from the old Midwest garrisons and Denver marched out to restore their authority to the Midwest. Plains fighting wasnât as difficult as urban warfare and many of the populist uprisings were quickly dispatched by artillery and machine guns. Brigadier General Luscian Truscott was tasked with retaking Wyoming and Montana. The initial battle to secure Cheyenne went well, but after that it became a slog trying to move his forces North while also hunting down guerrilla fighters that seemed to inhabit every single field. Federal Soldiers Under Truscott Retake Cheyenne While the state of Texas firmly declared its allegiance to Long, the forces deployed to end Bleeding Texas were loyal to the Federal Government and were in hot contention for control and battles with Pattonâs militias raged across the southern portion of the state. Colonel Omar Bradley did his best to hold back the tide of the Minutemen but after Governor Allred officially declared his support for Long, they were pushed back to a mere foothold in El Paso. But not before Bradley had ordered his men to ignite as many of the oil wells that spread across Texas as they could, denying the American Union State valuable strategic resources. Bradley also organized as many stay-behind forces as he could. Portions of southern Texas were still loyal to the Government and so âSam Houstonâs Rangersâ were formed. The Rangers rode across the state and harassed the Minutemen and Klan as much as they could. Further East, North Carolina officially declared support for Long but MacArthur had shored up defenses there. Intermittent battles left Raleigh in Federal hands but most of the state south of that went to the AUS. In New Jersey, populist uprisings were crushed by Federalist regiments marching to reinforce New York City but the AUS won a propaganda victory. Senator Charles Lindbergh and Henry Ford had been conferring in Trenton when the crisis began. They tried to solidify New Jerseyâs support for Long but when that failed, the two boarded a plane and escaped to Louisiana where they were met with much fanfare. As the March 15th deadline neared, much of the initial uprisings and riots had stopped or succeeded. Now real formal fighting was beginning to erupt in what became known as the âFederal Corridorâ. The surrounded states of Missouri and Kentucky connected Virginia and DC with the rest of the country and were vital to hold. So General Eisenhower, with MacArthurâs approval, instituted a major doctrinal change. With the federalization of the Guard they needed to restructure the Army and arm as many men as they could, so the numbered armies came to be. The 1st Army âPotomacâ or commonly known as the Army of the Potomac would deploy to the north along the line of the CSA including New York and New Jersey. 2nd Army âJamesâ, or the Army of the James, began to fortify southern Virginia, what was left of North Carolina, and Tennessee. 3rd Army âCumberlandâ was given the difficult job of holding Kentucky and Missouri, their mission would be to hold the Federal Corridor and would be supported in the West by 4th Army âPacificâ. In the chaos encompassing the General Staff, MacArthur called for the creation of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in order to better organize cooperation between the Army and Navy. Olson approved the creation and Admiral Leahy dispatched the Fleet to blockade the South, Philadelphia, and New York City. The Navy had mostly stayed loyal with only small groups of sailors mutinying and one or two individual ship captains making a break for CSA or AUS ports. General Eisenhower resigned the mainly administrative position of Army Chief of Staff to take over command of the Army of the Potomac and he was replaced by General Samuel Sturgis III. President Olson met with General MacArthur on the evening of March 14th to go over his battle plans for the next day. Repeated attempts to contact the rebellious governments had failed and war was on the horizon. Olson expressed some doubts about MacArthurâs high expectations for the first days fighting, as the General expected that the use of full military force would dishearten many of the insurrectionists. President Olson gave a radio address that night. âMy fellow Americans, 29 days ago I set a deadline for the rebellious elements of our country to lay down their arms and return to the authority of their rightful country. This call has gone unheeded and so we are faced with a choice. Allow radical elements to destroy the Union we so love, or stand up in the face of daunting odds and fight. I have chosen to fight. I know that many across our grand Union are afraid, believe me I am afraid as well, but we must be brave. I ask you this, were the men at Lexington and Concord not afraid? Or the men at Gettysburg? No. They had the same fears that any mortal man has and yet they fought for their country, for liberty, and for freedom. I ask you to not let their sacrifice be in vain. Stand for what is right and fight alongside me! For the Union, and for liberty we must and shall not fall!â And so they went to war. War Begins: General MacArthur knew, like Robert E. Lee and Sir William Howe before him, that Philadelphia was the key to the Mid-Atlantic. It was also the only true port that the 3rd International could ship arms through. So at dawn on March 15th, components of the 3rd Infantry Division entered Pennsylvania by way of West Chester, and in coordination with other regiments assembled in Camden and National Guardsmen assembled at Havertown began an assault on downtown Philadelphia. Combined Syndicates soldiers prepared major east-west streets with fallback lines reaching all the way back to Broad Street. They destroyed the bridges over the Delaware and Schuyikill, and alerted General Butlerâs forces in Allentown to coordinate counterattacks. While the initial Federal assault rolled down the Main Line with little resistance, Federal attempts to cross the river near Market Street bridge were greatly disrupted by guerrilla attacks and soon the heavy, long range artillery that General Butler had taken from the Frankford Arsenal were causing havoc in the Federal supply lines. An exasperated General MacArthur eliminated the restrictions on his troops in the region to destroy property and the fighting became increasingly messy as it devolved into house-to-house fighting. Nevertheless, the Federal forces were mostly pushed back over the border and back into Maryland. Reports stated that during the retreat, MacArthur, who had personally led the attack, spit out his famous pipe and shouted towards Philadelphia, âGoddamn you syndicalist bastards! I shall return!â and then withdrew to DC and a furious Olson. The CSA had won a major opening blow while the entire world was watching, it made the US look weak and even worse the International blockade runners had a secure port to ship support. Olson gave MacArthur a dressing down like he hadnât received before and made him promise that he would leave the tactical situations to local commanders and focus on overall strategy. The results of the First Battle of Philadelphia were immediate. Citing the Federal loss, the New England Governors called on Canada to intervene with its forces and restore order. The Royal government sent notification to DC that they intended to cross the border and stressed their only wish was to safeguard the lives of innocents and they would discuss the matter more once the Federal Government restored their authority. While Olson was angered by the development there was little he could do about it and so he responded that continued invasion of America would not be tolerated. The Royal Canadian Army marched across the border and effectively liberated Buffalo. By the 19th, Canadian troops had marched into Boston and were patrolling the border of Pennsylvania and New Jersey from Lake Erie to the Hudson River. Federal troops held New Jersey and maintained the siege of NYC. After a bomb went off in Juneau, Governor Gruening feared a breakdown of order and knew the Government was too busy to deal with Alaska so he made a formal request that the Canadians intervene in Alaska as well. It was the same story in Puerto Rico. Governor Winship had been giving himself emergency powers to deal with the Anti-American riots that had been ongoing since the election. With no more support coming from the mainland and the Caribbean Squadron being sent to assist in the blockades, Winship asked Canada to occupy the island and a troop of Royal Marines from the West Indies Federation had landed on the island by midday. In the Pacific, conservative elements of the Japanese Army conducted a coup against the democratic government and the Restorationist faction of that coup won out. With ultimate power restored to the Emperor, the new government wanted to show their people they could end Western influence in the region. Imperial Japanese Army troops seized Guam. When Hawaii attempted to secede the Japanese supported them instantly and sent a detachment to puppet their government. They installed Queen Lydia LiliÊ»uokalani KawÄnanakoa to rule over the islands but rumors of her loyalty to the United States abounded in court. The Start of the 2nd American Civil War Things were going better for the Federalists in New York. General Eisenhower threw out the property preservation clauses of War Plan White and decided the best way to uproot the syndicalists from the City was through brutal, total war tactics. His artillery opened fire in a never ending creeping barrage through the city, tearing down skyscrapers and destroying the modern streets. Off the coast, he used the massive guns of the naval blockade to drop even more, larger explosives on the city. The USS Indiana and USS Montana, two battleships with huge 16 inch guns, fired for two days straight before the Army began its assault. Eisenhower quickly learned that such destruction in a dense urban environment caused problems of its own. Diehard syndicalists hid in the ruins of once great buildings, shell holes, and among the debris. So Eisenhower employed the use of tear gas to drive the defenders out of their holes before his men cut them down. He also used the Armyâs stock of experimental flamethrowers and perfected the art of small squad house-to-house fighting by using a combination of flames and grenades to negate any cover the defenders had. The horrific fighting only got worse when the Army was able to cut their way through to Manhattan. The syndicalists wanted to make their last stand on the island and so another round of bombardment using high explosives and gas shells turned what was once the center of American wealth to rubble. The Federal assault opened with an amphibious landing off of Wall Street while the main force fought their way south through Harlem. The two forces met fanatic resistance from the Redguard and the Federals became mistrustful of many of the dazed civilians they came across. A blood red haze had settled over New York City by the time the last syndicalists were routed to their positions between West 16th Street to 46th East Street. Mayor Norman Thomas had been mostly sidelined by the soldiers commanding the defense but he still gave the voice of resistance from his headquarters in Madison Square Park. The final battle began on April 30th after a quick artillery barrage and gas attack dropped on the syndicalist lines. Federals stormed from their covers and pushed them back in brutal hand to hand fights down every street and avenue. By the end of the day, bayonets that had been sharp that morning were uselessly dull but the American flag was hoisted from the tallest point in the City. That point being the 9th floor of the famous Flatiron Building, its other stories being blown away. Eisenhower made a point to have his men aware of his presence on the front lines and so at nightfall he was escorted by throngs of cheering soldiers to the top of the Flatiron where he replaced the flag with an even larger one and the men gifted the original flag to him. Elements of the 2nd Infantry Division Involved in the Brutal Battle to Liberate New York City Fight with Gas Masks Lows and Highs: As the Battle of New York City raged on and General Eisenhowerâs focus was there, MacArthur delegated holding the Maryland line to Major General Lloyd Fredendall. Fredendall had successfully consolidated the line on the state border, but had a new plan to put an end to the Combined Syndicates. He believed that if he pushed North to the border with New York and stayed away from Philadelphia, he could trap every Syndicalist division in the region and cut the CSA off from International support. It would shorten the war considerably if it succeeded. And so he made his case to MacArthur who granted him extra reinforcements from the 2nd Army âCumberlandâ. Probing attacks led Fredendall to believe that forces in the area were light and concentrated in Philadelphia, Kentucky, and New Jersey. So he moved the line forward and left little reserves back in Maryland. The Federals pushed over the Syndicalist line and after a few days had liberated Lancaster, York, and Gettysburg. Not wanting to waste the opportunity he recklessly drove his divisions forward even more and met heavier resistance in taking Harrisburg but still were able to take it rather swiftly. Fredendall was ecstatic. Harrisburg was the biggest city he needed to take on his way to the border and they were still ahead schedule. However MacArthur was growing suspicious. Surely his opponent, General Butler, would have started a counterattack by then, and he was worried that the rearguard wasnât strong enough. He ordered Fredendall to hold in Harrisburg until his supply lines could be reinforced. The Major General was high on his success though and pushed on anyway. General Smedley Butlerâs trap had gone perfectly to plan. As soon as the probing attacks began he pulled troops into reserves to let the Federals believe they were weak. He had ordered his local commanders to make Harrisburg seem like a hard fight but still give in to the Federalist Army after a few hours of hard fighting. And now that they had taken the bait and started to push even further North he knew it was time to strike. Using an Army of 150,000 men he pushed at the Federals supply lines from both sides with a focus on taking Hanover. They quickly overwhelmed the rear guards and within a day, Fredendall and half of 1st Army âPotomacâ was encircled in and around Harrisburg. Butler then decided to split his force. He would send 80,000 South to try and take Washington, and the remaining 70,000 would close the pocket and retake Harrisburg. Federal defenses were in disarray back in Maryland with much of the reserves being inexperienced National Guard units or Regular Army regiments whose artillery was requisitioned for the push North. Baltimore quickly fell. In Annapolis, the Naval Academy Midshipmen gave a spirited defense but that fell too. The road to Washington DC lay open. The Capitol was in chaos. Engineers were desperately trying to build up fortifications around the city while MacArthur was trying to move as much artillery and ammunition as he could. The Syndicalists lighting attack had caught the Army off guard and now he was being forced to take even more from the other Armies to try and hold. A shortage of explosives meant that they werenât able to take down every bridge over the Anacostia River, so MacArthur ordered what artillery he did have to try and blow them up. The only defenders left were some battalions of the 1st Infantry Division, the Marineâs from the DC Marine Barracks, and some Maryland State Guard platoons. Defeat looked inevitable. General MacArthur went to President Olson to recommend that he evacuate with the rest of Congress. With Vice President Roosevelt on the West Coast the men in the East needed their President. Olson refused. He had let Congress and the Cabinet leave but he would remain in the White House. General MacArthur insisted but Olson was adamant. The Syndicalists were in artillery range by then and were dropping shells in the city. A furious MacArthur returned to the War Department to oversee the battle. The Syndicalists had stopped on the North bank of the Anacostia River and began massing to attack across the shallow parts and at the only bridge tenable for crossing, the Bladensburg Road Bridge. MacArthur had planned accordingly, the Regulars at the bridge where the thrust would be the strongest. The fighting started after a Syndicalist mortar and artillery barrage. They stormed down Bladensburg time and again only to be mowed down by the Federals machine guns. Syndicalist soldiers wading through the water fared no better as the Guardsmen deployed to oppose them fought with desperation. The Federalist soldiers had no relief forces and so after almost 10 hours of continuous fighting they had exhausted their ammunition, and themselves. Bodies littered the shoreline and bridge, the inexperienced Syndicalist commanders using their strength in numbers the only way they knew how by throwing their men at the foe. A lucky shot by Federal artillery had landed amidst the French and British advisors and command of the Syndicalist attack was left with a young Marine officer named George Cannon. Cannon changed tactics and personally led the final charge over the Bridge as shells fell danger close on the Federal lines. They broke through and into the city. MacArthur had been directing the battle by radio at the War Department, following Olsonâs orders but when the Syndicalists entered DC, he got up and walked out to the street where routing Federal soldiers ran. MacArthur fired his pistol in the air to get the men's attention and began to scream at the running soldiers. He yelled that they were abandoning their country, their families, and everything they hold dear. He yelled that for the rest of their lives they would regret cowering away from the red menace. And finally he yelled that he would lead the counterattack with them. The men rallied. General MacArthur gathered as many men as he could find and charged forwards with them. When they encountered Syndicalists he was the first to open fire. News traveled fast that the General was leading the charge and all over Washington DC, the defenders found new strength and pushed the Syndicalists back towards the Anacostia. In one of the proudest moments of American military history, MacArthur succeeded and led a countercharge that shocked the Syndicalists and forced them back to the Bridge. Cannonâs tactic of dangerously close artillery bit him as when the retreating reds began to go over the bridge again, their own artillery began to fire on them, killing hundreds more. MacArthurâs dive into a foxhole when the artillery corrected itself got him one nickname, âDugout Dougâ, but he preferred the name the press would give him after the fact. The Hero of the Anacostia. General MacArthur Rallying the Retreating Federals Before Launching a Counterattack that Pushed the Syndicalists back to the Anacostia River Olson couldnât be too mad at MacArthur, his suicidal counterattack had saved Washington DC for the time being, but they desperately needed reinforcements. In the days following the Battle of DC, Olson was able to successfully spin it as proof the United States werenât out of the fight. He went looking for allies and found them in the United States of Greater Austria, Brazil, the Central American Republic, and Liberia. As the reality of the 2nd American Civil War sets in on the populace of the United States, people are finding their patriotism again. While battered, they never fell and even though victory appears a far way off, it doesnât seem as impossible as it had in March. The long night is over, and dawn just might be on the horizon. |
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