Split (1)

train · 353k rows

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	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	As I sat in my living room, drinking tea, the angels came to me. They asked me why I shirked my responsibilities. I said "Time kills everything, in the end." They left. Time went on. I sipped my tea.	"I suppose in hindsight I choose a rather sadistic method, but I decided it couldn't end with just one big thing. Does that make any sense? Well.. not like there is anything left that needs to understand. I asked for Improved Immortatily; I won't bore you with the numerous little details. I grabbed a pistol and went out unto the world. Being honest, I started with my ex. Asshole had it coming. Then I killed off humanity one by one. I wanted it to be personal for everyone because people in my day and age were just too damned... fuck I don't know the word. Words dont matter much anymore I suppose Well anyway I killed on sight one at a time slowly outpacing birthrates Thats around when governments tried and failed to do anything People knew the apocalypse was happening ever so slowly when the nukes couldnt stop me They reacted in the ways you would think" I stop talking to look at my cat, the last living thing besides me. She was always such a nice cat. I turn to Michael. "Just her, ey?" "With this death, it is fulfilled. From the most arrogant of your race to the strongest of creatures deep below, you have slain all. Only Fawn remains. Fulfill the Pact." I look back at Fawn. Damn I loved her. She would still purr when these hands touched her; even when all I saw was the blood. Fucking dumbass animals. Fucking cunt angels. Fucking me. For the first time in years, my hands shook as I did it. Funny that. I speak to Michael without turning my head. "fucking do your part now" "You were a dependable servant until the end. With the fulfillment of this Pact, your chosen blessing is bestowed upon you." With that, his holy spear pierced between my eyes. I felt it dig into me, then nothing. "Blessings upon you" Michael said to no one in particular.
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	"Destroy the world?" *If you want to. You can rebuild the rock. But life must be reset.* You sit there, brow furrowed, refusing to meet the eye of the creature before you. "You've done this before?" *Yes. Several times. The last was during the time of the creatures you call dinosaurs.* We have already explained this to you. Every one of our days we vote on whether this world is good enough to continue. Today your advocates were few, your wars many. When you lose, one from among the dominant species is chosen to start the world again. "God was a T-rex?" you laugh at the thought. *A shark, actually. He chose the power to move the sky and threw a rock at the land.* "Kill everything so you can start over?" *So YOU can start over. The shark god started over by causing an extinction event and letting the rest continue on. He thought those form the sea would rule the world. I imagine he'd be disappointed.* "Two more questions." Your brow is still furrowed and you're developing a headache. "Why don't you just do it." *We are bound by our nature. The first god created us, made us powerful. But he did not allow us to create or destroy. We instead give you power. And instruction. Make the world exactly how you wish.* "Last question. Why me?" *No reason at all. To borrow a phrase - we pulled your name from a hat.* The creature lays an arm on your shoulder. At least, what would pass for an arm. *You are not special. Not yet. Remake the world and you will be.* You nod, slowly at first, and for the first time look into the angels eyes. Those beautiful and hypnotic eyes. Now that you're looking you find yourself wishing you had been looking the entire time. "I'll need some time to decide. To plan." *Take your time. When you're ready, pray for Gabriel and I will come* "Gabriel?" Your alarm goes off and though you find yourself in bed you know you weren't sleeping. That was no dream. You don't bother showering, brushing your teeth, you don't even eat breakfast. You can hardly see the point. You make your way to the lounge room and collapse on the couch. Immediately you are accosted by your cat. He purrs and mews and slams his head into yours, demanding attention. "Hey buddy." You offer him a half-hearted scratch behind the ears before your puppy, ever jealous, launches onto your lap, barking. Your cat bolts and, after accepting her own cursory pat, the dog gives chase. They're out the doggy door in a heartbeat and take turns chasing each other down the length of the backyard. You don't even smile at their antics. You turn on the morning news. Though news may be a stretch of the definition. It's always the same. War. Famine. Death. Prejudice. Hate. Bombs. Death. War. Oh, and look, this parakeet can skateboard. You turn off after less than an hour. Then your boss calls. You answer and he's already screaming through the phone. You can't even muster the apathy to hang up. You simply put the phone down, and drop to one knee. "Gabriel." The creature is there before you finish the thought. It looks so close to human it makes your skin crawl and your eyes water at the same time. "What are the limits?" *There are none. We can bestow on you any power you can imagine.* "Very well. I require two. Life is tricky. Miss a single cell of a single creature and it may replicate, destroying my perfect vision. I want to be omnipresent. To be all places at all times." *Done* "Life is tricky. To ensure I miss none I want to be able to rip matter apart at the atomic level. If I can destroy a cell at an atomic level, there will be no hope of survival." *Done* You can feel a change immediately. You feel alive. Powerful. You smile for the first time that day. Your smile is wicked and mirthless and all teeth. You try out your new power by tearing the arm from Gabriel's body. You feel a surge of energy and see real fear in Gabriel's eyes. Those beautiful, hypnotic eyes. Gabriel flees. You follow him with a thought and find yourself surrounded by the creatures. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. You reach out with your new powers and catch every one of them, pulling every atom of their bodies towards you. "You think you can play god!?" Your voice is deeper than you're used to, the air is thicker. "And why? Because you think the world is bad? There is good in the world, despite the bad. Because of the bad." Those creatures closest to you start dying. You choke on the new air. On the energy released from the angels you pull apart. You begin to glow with the power. "You don't get to play god or encourage others to do so. All life destroyed, again and again, on a whim!? Because you're bored!?" The last of the creatures stares at you. Terrified. Accepting. The energy gained from pulling apart the creatures atoms is finally released and the last thing you see is those beautiful, hypnotic eyes.	"I suppose in hindsight I choose a rather sadistic method, but I decided it couldn't end with just one big thing. Does that make any sense? Well.. not like there is anything left that needs to understand. I asked for Improved Immortatily; I won't bore you with the numerous little details. I grabbed a pistol and went out unto the world. Being honest, I started with my ex. Asshole had it coming. Then I killed off humanity one by one. I wanted it to be personal for everyone because people in my day and age were just too damned... fuck I don't know the word. Words dont matter much anymore I suppose Well anyway I killed on sight one at a time slowly outpacing birthrates Thats around when governments tried and failed to do anything People knew the apocalypse was happening ever so slowly when the nukes couldnt stop me They reacted in the ways you would think" I stop talking to look at my cat, the last living thing besides me. She was always such a nice cat. I turn to Michael. "Just her, ey?" "With this death, it is fulfilled. From the most arrogant of your race to the strongest of creatures deep below, you have slain all. Only Fawn remains. Fulfill the Pact." I look back at Fawn. Damn I loved her. She would still purr when these hands touched her; even when all I saw was the blood. Fucking dumbass animals. Fucking cunt angels. Fucking me. For the first time in years, my hands shook as I did it. Funny that. I speak to Michael without turning my head. "fucking do your part now" "You were a dependable servant until the end. With the fulfillment of this Pact, your chosen blessing is bestowed upon you." With that, his holy spear pierced between my eyes. I felt it dig into me, then nothing. "Blessings upon you" Michael said to no one in particular.
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	For a brief moment, she was God sitting in judgment. Her consciousness encircled the planet. She could see into the hearts and minds of every human on Earth. In the darkness around her were glowing green sets of eyes. The beings that came to her had given her the power to change things. They told her that the Earth was corrupted, broken. The best choice was to destroy it all and start over. They said they were angels, but total destruction didn’t sound like something coming from the side of Good. She wanted more time to think, but she could feel the impatience coming from the eyes. The “angels”. “I’ll let them destroy themselves.” She could feel the approval of the angels. Inside, she hoped they would master the power she gave them. Inside the minds of every human on the planet appeared a simple formula. Three interlocking arcs, like footballs with the points merged into each other. In the center of the three arcs was another symbol. It meant “Move”. In addition to the formula, she also gave humans the ability to sense life around them and their own lives. They could tell how long someone had lived, and they could sense how long they would have left. The sense had no range limit, but anything past a few hundred feet faded into a quiet buzz. The first of the humans finished drawing the symbol. They glanced around the room, not sure what they had expected to happen. As soon as “the other side of the room” entered their mind, they vanished and reappeared there. Smoke rose from the symbol. The ink the human had used was evaporating from the paper. The human’s eyes lit up, and they immediately began thinking of applications. They could get rid of their car. They were still clothed, so you could take things with you. Vacations would be amazing - they could walk the black sand beaches of Iceland and sleep in their own bed the same night. They could steal the world’s priceless treasures and never be caught. Greed. She watched in disappointment. All around the world, humans in every language were thinking similar things. They could live anywhere and the costs of commuting would be nonexistent. Teleporting armies would re-invent war. Teleporting terrorists would destroy the idea of safe borders. Some had already launched surprise attacks, seizing the moment. Wrath. As thousands of people tested out their new abilities, the distant buzz of other lives grew softer. The first human to use the spell watched their hair turn gray. Power came with costs. The cost for this power was a single year from someone else’s life with every use. After a few minutes, every human was aware of the costs, and that if they kept going, people would die. Regardless,each of them thought “Just one exception for me. What I’m doing is most important. Pride. Life drained out of them. All of them, slowly enough that they kept ignoring it. Time passed, and new norms settled. The angel’s chosen hung in the void over the world, continuing to watch. Some users were doing important things. Soldiers waited on standby, ready to counter guerilla strikes. Other users teleported massive amounts of food and medicine to disaster areas, saving more life than they spent. Those caught in dangerous situations, lost in the wilderness or in burning buildings, justifiably used the power to save themselves. A few were the opposite, offensively casual with the use of their power. They teleported to the kitchen and back to their room instead of walking downstairs. Sloth. The drain was faster now. Each jump took more energy, and those in power noticed the abuse of power affecting them. Countries signed treaties. Borders meant less now, but the old governments still controlled their territories. By now, years had passed, and humans had grown adept in their use of both powers. When someone teleported, they could track the signature from the blip of life spent in the same moment. Anyone using unauthorized teleportation would be tracked by warlocks and sucked dry to fuel future castings. The largest treaty yet was signed, with every world power in attendance except one. The United States failed to sign the treaty banning teleportation in non-emergencies. Individual cities and states started passing local laws to the same effect, but the rollout was slow. To the rest of the world, they appeared to be a wasteful giant, using destructive energy that the rest of them abstained from. The United States dominated global affairs, as the only ones still using teleportation. Other countries watched in frustration as they abused their advantage, making expensive deals with anyone who still wanted to teleport. The treaty did not apply to U.S. citizens, so draining them dry, even if teleporting in countries where it was illegal, would have been an act of war. It wasn’t fair, that they used the power when everyone else stopped. Envy. The dam broke when sigils other than “Move” were discovered. “Guard”, “Kill”, “Heal”, and the rest of the new powers made it impossible to resist using them. The treaty was broken, and broken so quickly by so many participants that bringing things back into line with force was unfeasible. One by one, each country announced their withdrawal from the treaty. Everyone on the street was gray-haired and walking unsteadily. The average age of the world’s population was over sixty. Occasionally, you would see someone collapse into dust, as a faraway spell stole the last of their energy. They couldn’t stop. Even as it killed them, they couldn’t stop. Gluttony. In the void between worlds, the angel’s chosen clenched her fists, regretting her choice. She should have just sent a flood. At least it would have been quick. A turning point came. Humans knew it was the end, and knew there was nothing they could do to stop it. They settled down in their homes with their loved ones, and waited for the world to end. Lust. From the product of one of these apocalyptic unions, a child was born, to parents old enough to be grandparents. Babies born in that time grew quickly, as the constant drain of life energy aged them. But after reaching adulthood, this one stopped. They stayed young and beautiful as everyone around them withered. Through some irregularity, they became a nexus. Energy flowed around them and inside them as it left everyone else. Each death added to their power, and each time they used their power, more died. The cycle continued without limit. The last of humanity banded together to try and end the monster. A singular outside threat was what it took to unite them. But it was too late. Unlimited use of magic was too powerful to stand against. When the world ended, another pair of green eyes joined the watchers around the angel’s chosen. The young and beautiful ascended. “It was a trick,” she realized. “The world didn’t need to end. This is how you reproduce. But how did you know what I would choose?” One of the watchers responded. “We chose you BECAUSE that was what you would choose. You ran your test, and humanity failed. As fair as can be.” “So what happens to me now?” “You were gifted at destruction. Now build a new world, and we will see if it does better than the last.” Once more she became God, now exalted in creation. ______________________________________________________ 58/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.	A blinding white light jolted me awake. I blinked. For as far as I can see there was only light. I stood up even though there was nothing below me. Suddenly a voice spoke, "hello Jack." I twisted around in surprise and saw a man in a suit. "Where am I?" I asked. His face was expressionless as he responded bluntly, "this is Nowhere." Upon seeing my confusion he elaborated. "This is the place in between the End and the Beginning. Through the process of a lottery, your name as the Greater Scheme would have it, has been chosen." "Chosen? chosen for what?" "To initiate the End Scheme of course," he gestured to his side, where I noticed a desk and monitor. The monitor flickered to life, and on the display was an image of Earth from space. I approached the desk and realized that the image was moving. Upon realizing that the image was a live view of Earth, it zoomed in until the image of my hometown appeared. From a bird's eye view, I watched the busy morning traffic and the occasional plane obstructing the view. "Hey, what the hell is-" I stopped. The man was gone. I turned my attention back to the monitor and noticed glowing white words on the corner of the screen. It read, Menu. Tentatively, I tapped it. Promptly, a translucent window emerged, and on it were hundreds of options. I started reading -Spontaneous Induced Destruction Event, Meteor Impact Event, Ice Age Event , Solar Collapse Event, Alien Invasion Event, Paradoxical End Event- the list was endless. Then I noticed further down the list a few familiar options -Nuclear Fallout Event, Zombie Apocalypse Event. Interesting. Then I noticed another set of options that were highlighted in a different color scheme -rEality Alteration Options. I tapped it and more options appeared -Spawn Eldritch Monster(s) Event, Spawn Demon(s) Event- and so on. The list was nearly endless. I scratched my head, slightly irritated. I simply couldn't decide. "If only there was someone I could discuss this with," I said aloud to no one in particular. "Sure," a voice next to me said. Eyes wide I turned my head to the side abruptly and saw myself. My clone, or duplicate, whatever it was standing next to me smiling. "Whoa what are you?" I asked, then poked him. "You're real?" "How rude," he pouted indignantly, then poked me back. "Not anymore real than you are, if anything." "Ha. I'm actually a funny guy," I remarked amused. "Well? are we going to discuss or not?" he asked. "Discuss what?" "How we're going to end the world ya doofus." "Oh. Right," I said while nodding slowly. "Let us begin," my duplicate sat down on a comfy office-chair with his hands clasped together over his lap. How aptly wicked, I thought. "Okay then," I agreed. "Let's start but first-" I gave my duplicate a stern look, "-Zombie Apocalypse is off the table." My duplicate frowned. "Why not?" "It's too cliche." "Fine. What about this?" he pointed to an option on the display. My eyebrows rose with amusement. "I think I'm starting to like you already." ---------- /r/Em_pathy
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	As I sat in my living room, drinking tea, the angels came to me. They asked me why I shirked my responsibilities. I said "Time kills everything, in the end." They left. Time went on. I sipped my tea.	A blinding white light jolted me awake. I blinked. For as far as I can see there was only light. I stood up even though there was nothing below me. Suddenly a voice spoke, "hello Jack." I twisted around in surprise and saw a man in a suit. "Where am I?" I asked. His face was expressionless as he responded bluntly, "this is Nowhere." Upon seeing my confusion he elaborated. "This is the place in between the End and the Beginning. Through the process of a lottery, your name as the Greater Scheme would have it, has been chosen." "Chosen? chosen for what?" "To initiate the End Scheme of course," he gestured to his side, where I noticed a desk and monitor. The monitor flickered to life, and on the display was an image of Earth from space. I approached the desk and realized that the image was moving. Upon realizing that the image was a live view of Earth, it zoomed in until the image of my hometown appeared. From a bird's eye view, I watched the busy morning traffic and the occasional plane obstructing the view. "Hey, what the hell is-" I stopped. The man was gone. I turned my attention back to the monitor and noticed glowing white words on the corner of the screen. It read, Menu. Tentatively, I tapped it. Promptly, a translucent window emerged, and on it were hundreds of options. I started reading -Spontaneous Induced Destruction Event, Meteor Impact Event, Ice Age Event , Solar Collapse Event, Alien Invasion Event, Paradoxical End Event- the list was endless. Then I noticed further down the list a few familiar options -Nuclear Fallout Event, Zombie Apocalypse Event. Interesting. Then I noticed another set of options that were highlighted in a different color scheme -rEality Alteration Options. I tapped it and more options appeared -Spawn Eldritch Monster(s) Event, Spawn Demon(s) Event- and so on. The list was nearly endless. I scratched my head, slightly irritated. I simply couldn't decide. "If only there was someone I could discuss this with," I said aloud to no one in particular. "Sure," a voice next to me said. Eyes wide I turned my head to the side abruptly and saw myself. My clone, or duplicate, whatever it was standing next to me smiling. "Whoa what are you?" I asked, then poked him. "You're real?" "How rude," he pouted indignantly, then poked me back. "Not anymore real than you are, if anything." "Ha. I'm actually a funny guy," I remarked amused. "Well? are we going to discuss or not?" he asked. "Discuss what?" "How we're going to end the world ya doofus." "Oh. Right," I said while nodding slowly. "Let us begin," my duplicate sat down on a comfy office-chair with his hands clasped together over his lap. How aptly wicked, I thought. "Okay then," I agreed. "Let's start but first-" I gave my duplicate a stern look, "-Zombie Apocalypse is off the table." My duplicate frowned. "Why not?" "It's too cliche." "Fine. What about this?" he pointed to an option on the display. My eyebrows rose with amusement. "I think I'm starting to like you already." ---------- /r/Em_pathy
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	"Destroy the world?" *If you want to. You can rebuild the rock. But life must be reset.* You sit there, brow furrowed, refusing to meet the eye of the creature before you. "You've done this before?" *Yes. Several times. The last was during the time of the creatures you call dinosaurs.* We have already explained this to you. Every one of our days we vote on whether this world is good enough to continue. Today your advocates were few, your wars many. When you lose, one from among the dominant species is chosen to start the world again. "God was a T-rex?" you laugh at the thought. *A shark, actually. He chose the power to move the sky and threw a rock at the land.* "Kill everything so you can start over?" *So YOU can start over. The shark god started over by causing an extinction event and letting the rest continue on. He thought those form the sea would rule the world. I imagine he'd be disappointed.* "Two more questions." Your brow is still furrowed and you're developing a headache. "Why don't you just do it." *We are bound by our nature. The first god created us, made us powerful. But he did not allow us to create or destroy. We instead give you power. And instruction. Make the world exactly how you wish.* "Last question. Why me?" *No reason at all. To borrow a phrase - we pulled your name from a hat.* The creature lays an arm on your shoulder. At least, what would pass for an arm. *You are not special. Not yet. Remake the world and you will be.* You nod, slowly at first, and for the first time look into the angels eyes. Those beautiful and hypnotic eyes. Now that you're looking you find yourself wishing you had been looking the entire time. "I'll need some time to decide. To plan." *Take your time. When you're ready, pray for Gabriel and I will come* "Gabriel?" Your alarm goes off and though you find yourself in bed you know you weren't sleeping. That was no dream. You don't bother showering, brushing your teeth, you don't even eat breakfast. You can hardly see the point. You make your way to the lounge room and collapse on the couch. Immediately you are accosted by your cat. He purrs and mews and slams his head into yours, demanding attention. "Hey buddy." You offer him a half-hearted scratch behind the ears before your puppy, ever jealous, launches onto your lap, barking. Your cat bolts and, after accepting her own cursory pat, the dog gives chase. They're out the doggy door in a heartbeat and take turns chasing each other down the length of the backyard. You don't even smile at their antics. You turn on the morning news. Though news may be a stretch of the definition. It's always the same. War. Famine. Death. Prejudice. Hate. Bombs. Death. War. Oh, and look, this parakeet can skateboard. You turn off after less than an hour. Then your boss calls. You answer and he's already screaming through the phone. You can't even muster the apathy to hang up. You simply put the phone down, and drop to one knee. "Gabriel." The creature is there before you finish the thought. It looks so close to human it makes your skin crawl and your eyes water at the same time. "What are the limits?" *There are none. We can bestow on you any power you can imagine.* "Very well. I require two. Life is tricky. Miss a single cell of a single creature and it may replicate, destroying my perfect vision. I want to be omnipresent. To be all places at all times." *Done* "Life is tricky. To ensure I miss none I want to be able to rip matter apart at the atomic level. If I can destroy a cell at an atomic level, there will be no hope of survival." *Done* You can feel a change immediately. You feel alive. Powerful. You smile for the first time that day. Your smile is wicked and mirthless and all teeth. You try out your new power by tearing the arm from Gabriel's body. You feel a surge of energy and see real fear in Gabriel's eyes. Those beautiful, hypnotic eyes. Gabriel flees. You follow him with a thought and find yourself surrounded by the creatures. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. You reach out with your new powers and catch every one of them, pulling every atom of their bodies towards you. "You think you can play god!?" Your voice is deeper than you're used to, the air is thicker. "And why? Because you think the world is bad? There is good in the world, despite the bad. Because of the bad." Those creatures closest to you start dying. You choke on the new air. On the energy released from the angels you pull apart. You begin to glow with the power. "You don't get to play god or encourage others to do so. All life destroyed, again and again, on a whim!? Because you're bored!?" The last of the creatures stares at you. Terrified. Accepting. The energy gained from pulling apart the creatures atoms is finally released and the last thing you see is those beautiful, hypnotic eyes.	A blinding white light jolted me awake. I blinked. For as far as I can see there was only light. I stood up even though there was nothing below me. Suddenly a voice spoke, "hello Jack." I twisted around in surprise and saw a man in a suit. "Where am I?" I asked. His face was expressionless as he responded bluntly, "this is Nowhere." Upon seeing my confusion he elaborated. "This is the place in between the End and the Beginning. Through the process of a lottery, your name as the Greater Scheme would have it, has been chosen." "Chosen? chosen for what?" "To initiate the End Scheme of course," he gestured to his side, where I noticed a desk and monitor. The monitor flickered to life, and on the display was an image of Earth from space. I approached the desk and realized that the image was moving. Upon realizing that the image was a live view of Earth, it zoomed in until the image of my hometown appeared. From a bird's eye view, I watched the busy morning traffic and the occasional plane obstructing the view. "Hey, what the hell is-" I stopped. The man was gone. I turned my attention back to the monitor and noticed glowing white words on the corner of the screen. It read, Menu. Tentatively, I tapped it. Promptly, a translucent window emerged, and on it were hundreds of options. I started reading -Spontaneous Induced Destruction Event, Meteor Impact Event, Ice Age Event , Solar Collapse Event, Alien Invasion Event, Paradoxical End Event- the list was endless. Then I noticed further down the list a few familiar options -Nuclear Fallout Event, Zombie Apocalypse Event. Interesting. Then I noticed another set of options that were highlighted in a different color scheme -rEality Alteration Options. I tapped it and more options appeared -Spawn Eldritch Monster(s) Event, Spawn Demon(s) Event- and so on. The list was nearly endless. I scratched my head, slightly irritated. I simply couldn't decide. "If only there was someone I could discuss this with," I said aloud to no one in particular. "Sure," a voice next to me said. Eyes wide I turned my head to the side abruptly and saw myself. My clone, or duplicate, whatever it was standing next to me smiling. "Whoa what are you?" I asked, then poked him. "You're real?" "How rude," he pouted indignantly, then poked me back. "Not anymore real than you are, if anything." "Ha. I'm actually a funny guy," I remarked amused. "Well? are we going to discuss or not?" he asked. "Discuss what?" "How we're going to end the world ya doofus." "Oh. Right," I said while nodding slowly. "Let us begin," my duplicate sat down on a comfy office-chair with his hands clasped together over his lap. How aptly wicked, I thought. "Okay then," I agreed. "Let's start but first-" I gave my duplicate a stern look, "-Zombie Apocalypse is off the table." My duplicate frowned. "Why not?" "It's too cliche." "Fine. What about this?" he pointed to an option on the display. My eyebrows rose with amusement. "I think I'm starting to like you already." ---------- /r/Em_pathy
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	As I sat in my living room, drinking tea, the angels came to me. They asked me why I shirked my responsibilities. I said "Time kills everything, in the end." They left. Time went on. I sipped my tea.	Its amazing, the way I feel so completely and utterly not different. I thought, having been given this terribly destructive and all consuming power I'd feel filled with, what, i don't know, something. But there's nothing.. Just the knowledge that what I decide reality Should be becomes what reality Is. So knowing I was the ender of humanity in this plane of existinance, I started small. I added a few microscopic resistances to viruses, making them more immune to antibiotics. I sent war to Damascus, and famine to Venezuela. I sent an orange goon to lead the Americas, and a dictator to frighten the Russians into submission. Small. Little small pushes. Then I nudged north and south Korea into a room where they could give personal offenses, starting a nuclear Holocaust in that region of the world. Fires in wine country. Floods on remote tropical islands. Starvation in the south. This was all play to me. At any moment I could snap my finger and obliterate the earth. Simply wish the molecules to give up being apart of something, of all things, to simply float. ..but I wanted to take my time. I like to believe I was given this power specifically because of who I am, and who I am is someone who won't rush. I'll destroy the earth in due time, but until then, I'll slowly demoralize and hurt my brothers and sisters. falling asleep writing this. Will edit and finish in morning (unless You wanna build on it) Kay thanks bye.
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	"Destroy the world?" *If you want to. You can rebuild the rock. But life must be reset.* You sit there, brow furrowed, refusing to meet the eye of the creature before you. "You've done this before?" *Yes. Several times. The last was during the time of the creatures you call dinosaurs.* We have already explained this to you. Every one of our days we vote on whether this world is good enough to continue. Today your advocates were few, your wars many. When you lose, one from among the dominant species is chosen to start the world again. "God was a T-rex?" you laugh at the thought. *A shark, actually. He chose the power to move the sky and threw a rock at the land.* "Kill everything so you can start over?" *So YOU can start over. The shark god started over by causing an extinction event and letting the rest continue on. He thought those form the sea would rule the world. I imagine he'd be disappointed.* "Two more questions." Your brow is still furrowed and you're developing a headache. "Why don't you just do it." *We are bound by our nature. The first god created us, made us powerful. But he did not allow us to create or destroy. We instead give you power. And instruction. Make the world exactly how you wish.* "Last question. Why me?" *No reason at all. To borrow a phrase - we pulled your name from a hat.* The creature lays an arm on your shoulder. At least, what would pass for an arm. *You are not special. Not yet. Remake the world and you will be.* You nod, slowly at first, and for the first time look into the angels eyes. Those beautiful and hypnotic eyes. Now that you're looking you find yourself wishing you had been looking the entire time. "I'll need some time to decide. To plan." *Take your time. When you're ready, pray for Gabriel and I will come* "Gabriel?" Your alarm goes off and though you find yourself in bed you know you weren't sleeping. That was no dream. You don't bother showering, brushing your teeth, you don't even eat breakfast. You can hardly see the point. You make your way to the lounge room and collapse on the couch. Immediately you are accosted by your cat. He purrs and mews and slams his head into yours, demanding attention. "Hey buddy." You offer him a half-hearted scratch behind the ears before your puppy, ever jealous, launches onto your lap, barking. Your cat bolts and, after accepting her own cursory pat, the dog gives chase. They're out the doggy door in a heartbeat and take turns chasing each other down the length of the backyard. You don't even smile at their antics. You turn on the morning news. Though news may be a stretch of the definition. It's always the same. War. Famine. Death. Prejudice. Hate. Bombs. Death. War. Oh, and look, this parakeet can skateboard. You turn off after less than an hour. Then your boss calls. You answer and he's already screaming through the phone. You can't even muster the apathy to hang up. You simply put the phone down, and drop to one knee. "Gabriel." The creature is there before you finish the thought. It looks so close to human it makes your skin crawl and your eyes water at the same time. "What are the limits?" *There are none. We can bestow on you any power you can imagine.* "Very well. I require two. Life is tricky. Miss a single cell of a single creature and it may replicate, destroying my perfect vision. I want to be omnipresent. To be all places at all times." *Done* "Life is tricky. To ensure I miss none I want to be able to rip matter apart at the atomic level. If I can destroy a cell at an atomic level, there will be no hope of survival." *Done* You can feel a change immediately. You feel alive. Powerful. You smile for the first time that day. Your smile is wicked and mirthless and all teeth. You try out your new power by tearing the arm from Gabriel's body. You feel a surge of energy and see real fear in Gabriel's eyes. Those beautiful, hypnotic eyes. Gabriel flees. You follow him with a thought and find yourself surrounded by the creatures. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. You reach out with your new powers and catch every one of them, pulling every atom of their bodies towards you. "You think you can play god!?" Your voice is deeper than you're used to, the air is thicker. "And why? Because you think the world is bad? There is good in the world, despite the bad. Because of the bad." Those creatures closest to you start dying. You choke on the new air. On the energy released from the angels you pull apart. You begin to glow with the power. "You don't get to play god or encourage others to do so. All life destroyed, again and again, on a whim!? Because you're bored!?" The last of the creatures stares at you. Terrified. Accepting. The energy gained from pulling apart the creatures atoms is finally released and the last thing you see is those beautiful, hypnotic eyes.	Its amazing, the way I feel so completely and utterly not different. I thought, having been given this terribly destructive and all consuming power I'd feel filled with, what, i don't know, something. But there's nothing.. Just the knowledge that what I decide reality Should be becomes what reality Is. So knowing I was the ender of humanity in this plane of existinance, I started small. I added a few microscopic resistances to viruses, making them more immune to antibiotics. I sent war to Damascus, and famine to Venezuela. I sent an orange goon to lead the Americas, and a dictator to frighten the Russians into submission. Small. Little small pushes. Then I nudged north and south Korea into a room where they could give personal offenses, starting a nuclear Holocaust in that region of the world. Fires in wine country. Floods on remote tropical islands. Starvation in the south. This was all play to me. At any moment I could snap my finger and obliterate the earth. Simply wish the molecules to give up being apart of something, of all things, to simply float. ..but I wanted to take my time. I like to believe I was given this power specifically because of who I am, and who I am is someone who won't rush. I'll destroy the earth in due time, but until then, I'll slowly demoralize and hurt my brothers and sisters. falling asleep writing this. Will edit and finish in morning (unless You wanna build on it) Kay thanks bye.
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	"What have you done?" Azreal asked. "Exactly what you asked," I said, "Sterilized the world. There's not a single thing left that could be classified as life, except me. And I'll be gone soon enough." We sat on a slab of translucent purple crystal, jutting out from a craggy collection of pillars of similar material that had once been Manhattan. The clouds drifted by below us, clouds the same wispy purple color. "You asked for nanites. 'Grey goo,' you said. You spent six hundred hours explaining what a 'disassembler' was until I could create them for you. What is all this?" "This, my dear angel, is stasis. I told you very plainly how grey goo works. Did you never stop to wonder why it took three hundred years for me to call you? Exponential disassemblers should've been able to scour this world in a month, tops. Yet here we are." "Stasis." He'd had the same expression on his face practically since he appeared, the pinched look of a man who'd had a lemon shoved in his mouth and left there. "There will be no more humans. There are, currently, no more humans other than me. But their thoughts, their memories, their consciousness, is preserved within these stones. A new race will rise, perhaps, and a world will begin anew. By the time they figure out how to damage these stones, I imagine all of us will be... like Abraham and Job... old and full of days." "This is subversion," he said, "Heresy!" I rose, patting the dust from my trousers and turning to look at the cold purple sarcophagus that would soon add my consciousness to the crystalline choir and finish the unwholesome task I'd been set to. "No, Azrael... this is what we once called... malicious compliance."	Its amazing, the way I feel so completely and utterly not different. I thought, having been given this terribly destructive and all consuming power I'd feel filled with, what, i don't know, something. But there's nothing.. Just the knowledge that what I decide reality Should be becomes what reality Is. So knowing I was the ender of humanity in this plane of existinance, I started small. I added a few microscopic resistances to viruses, making them more immune to antibiotics. I sent war to Damascus, and famine to Venezuela. I sent an orange goon to lead the Americas, and a dictator to frighten the Russians into submission. Small. Little small pushes. Then I nudged north and south Korea into a room where they could give personal offenses, starting a nuclear Holocaust in that region of the world. Fires in wine country. Floods on remote tropical islands. Starvation in the south. This was all play to me. At any moment I could snap my finger and obliterate the earth. Simply wish the molecules to give up being apart of something, of all things, to simply float. ..but I wanted to take my time. I like to believe I was given this power specifically because of who I am, and who I am is someone who won't rush. I'll destroy the earth in due time, but until then, I'll slowly demoralize and hurt my brothers and sisters. falling asleep writing this. Will edit and finish in morning (unless You wanna build on it) Kay thanks bye.
	[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun”	"Destroy the world?" *If you want to. You can rebuild the rock. But life must be reset.* You sit there, brow furrowed, refusing to meet the eye of the creature before you. "You've done this before?" *Yes. Several times. The last was during the time of the creatures you call dinosaurs.* We have already explained this to you. Every one of our days we vote on whether this world is good enough to continue. Today your advocates were few, your wars many. When you lose, one from among the dominant species is chosen to start the world again. "God was a T-rex?" you laugh at the thought. *A shark, actually. He chose the power to move the sky and threw a rock at the land.* "Kill everything so you can start over?" *So YOU can start over. The shark god started over by causing an extinction event and letting the rest continue on. He thought those form the sea would rule the world. I imagine he'd be disappointed.* "Two more questions." Your brow is still furrowed and you're developing a headache. "Why don't you just do it." *We are bound by our nature. The first god created us, made us powerful. But he did not allow us to create or destroy. We instead give you power. And instruction. Make the world exactly how you wish.* "Last question. Why me?" *No reason at all. To borrow a phrase - we pulled your name from a hat.* The creature lays an arm on your shoulder. At least, what would pass for an arm. *You are not special. Not yet. Remake the world and you will be.* You nod, slowly at first, and for the first time look into the angels eyes. Those beautiful and hypnotic eyes. Now that you're looking you find yourself wishing you had been looking the entire time. "I'll need some time to decide. To plan." *Take your time. When you're ready, pray for Gabriel and I will come* "Gabriel?" Your alarm goes off and though you find yourself in bed you know you weren't sleeping. That was no dream. You don't bother showering, brushing your teeth, you don't even eat breakfast. You can hardly see the point. You make your way to the lounge room and collapse on the couch. Immediately you are accosted by your cat. He purrs and mews and slams his head into yours, demanding attention. "Hey buddy." You offer him a half-hearted scratch behind the ears before your puppy, ever jealous, launches onto your lap, barking. Your cat bolts and, after accepting her own cursory pat, the dog gives chase. They're out the doggy door in a heartbeat and take turns chasing each other down the length of the backyard. You don't even smile at their antics. You turn on the morning news. Though news may be a stretch of the definition. It's always the same. War. Famine. Death. Prejudice. Hate. Bombs. Death. War. Oh, and look, this parakeet can skateboard. You turn off after less than an hour. Then your boss calls. You answer and he's already screaming through the phone. You can't even muster the apathy to hang up. You simply put the phone down, and drop to one knee. "Gabriel." The creature is there before you finish the thought. It looks so close to human it makes your skin crawl and your eyes water at the same time. "What are the limits?" *There are none. We can bestow on you any power you can imagine.* "Very well. I require two. Life is tricky. Miss a single cell of a single creature and it may replicate, destroying my perfect vision. I want to be omnipresent. To be all places at all times." *Done* "Life is tricky. To ensure I miss none I want to be able to rip matter apart at the atomic level. If I can destroy a cell at an atomic level, there will be no hope of survival." *Done* You can feel a change immediately. You feel alive. Powerful. You smile for the first time that day. Your smile is wicked and mirthless and all teeth. You try out your new power by tearing the arm from Gabriel's body. You feel a surge of energy and see real fear in Gabriel's eyes. Those beautiful, hypnotic eyes. Gabriel flees. You follow him with a thought and find yourself surrounded by the creatures. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. You reach out with your new powers and catch every one of them, pulling every atom of their bodies towards you. "You think you can play god!?" Your voice is deeper than you're used to, the air is thicker. "And why? Because you think the world is bad? There is good in the world, despite the bad. Because of the bad." Those creatures closest to you start dying. You choke on the new air. On the energy released from the angels you pull apart. You begin to glow with the power. "You don't get to play god or encourage others to do so. All life destroyed, again and again, on a whim!? Because you're bored!?" The last of the creatures stares at you. Terrified. Accepting. The energy gained from pulling apart the creatures atoms is finally released and the last thing you see is those beautiful, hypnotic eyes.	As I sat in my living room, drinking tea, the angels came to me. They asked me why I shirked my responsibilities. I said "Time kills everything, in the end." They left. Time went on. I sipped my tea.
	[WP] You are the author of a best-selling book series. In your last book, you decide to kill off everyone and let the villain win. Years later, a heartbroken fan recognizes you and asks, "Why?"	The cafe was one of my favorites, a tiny one in a small beach town, one of the places I chose to call home. One of the homes that the success of the The Alchemists had bought for me. It was easy to reflect on the books because it was such a large part of my success. The first one sold alright, but the second was where things had really taken off, and by the time the third hit, it was marked for a show. Two books later, and I achieved something very few authors could ever hope to achieve - not just financial independence, but financial success on a wide scale. A half-drunk latte sat on the table before me, and I had a book in my hand. It had been years since The Alchemists had ended, and over a year since I had released my last book. I wasn’t about to used the “R” word, but the money was still flowing in on its own, and it was nice to enjoy someone else’s work for once, especially when it was accompanied by a sunny day and a cool breeze coming off the sea. “Excuse me?” The voice was tiny, timid, almost frightened, like that of a little girl, but when I lowered my book, I found a grown woman standing before me, in her twenties, I guessed, clad in a light dress over a swimsuit, beach bag hanging from her side. I placed my bookmark and closed the book, smiling as warmly as I could muster as I placed the book in my lap. It happens from time to time, getting interrupted in the midst of your day, but it’s rare enough that I never try to hide from it. “What can I do for you?” “You…” She licked her lips and swallowed. She knew me, and she was nervous. This was rarer, but not unheard of. “Are you Chester Nolan?” “Indeed I am,” I said emphatically, maybe a little too much, but I like to at least pretend that I’m excited to talk to them. It wouldn’t be fair to be a grouch to those who made you rich, not that that stopped some from doing so. It was as though a pipe had been broken. “I can’t believe it! I thought it was you, I was certain. Even from the side, it looked like the picture on the back of the books. I just...I don’t think you understand what The Alchemists meant to me as a child. I must have read them a hundred times just in high school.” She took a moment to fish around in her bag and pulled out a book, so worn and tattered, the image faded so that at first glance, it wasn’t obvious what it was. She held it out to me, and I took it, handling it gingerly. It was the first run of The Blessed Forge, the first book of the series. The art was crap in my opinion, a cheap solution from a lesser known publisher - I had a framed print of it somewhere in the attic. The later editions were much cleaner, much more professional. I smiled once more as I handed it back. “I am always happy to meet such a fan.” “I have so many questions,” she said, her voice still a vomit of words, pouring out faster than the poor girl could think, I’m sure. “But I know you’re trying to enjoy your day, so I won’t bother you too much.” “Nonsense,” I said, motioning to the chair. “Sit with me, I have nothing to do today.” I hoped she would refuse, but if not, I’m sure it would make a cool story on Reddit. I made a mental note to be the one to ask her for a picture, maybe offer her something free. Make someone’s day and do a bit more to dispel the crotchety recluse image my agent kept telling me I needed to shake off. She nodded furiously and sat down, placing the beach bag down beside her. “I...I don’t even know where to start. I mean, I always loved your characters. I felt like Chloe in particular spoke right to.” “Ah yes, Chloe,” I said. “A wonderful character, shy yet spunky, quiet yet strong, smart and beautiful in her own special way.” Of course, Chloe spoke to everyone. She was written like a horrorscope in that way if you asked me, a throwaway character that I meant to kill off in the second book, but she resonated with the female audience so much that my publisher sent the first draft right back and told me to rewrite. Once more the girl nodded. “She was so special, and so relatable when I was in high school. And I loved how she ended up with Jared instead of Will. Will never deserved her like Jacob did.” “Of course not,” I said. “The logical choice was Jared, because no one ever thought him good enough.” “And she saw him for what he was,” she said, beaming at me. “I knew that’s how you thought, I knew it.” “Great minds, they always say,” I said with a laugh. It sounded forced to me, but she never gave any indication that she noticed it. This was easy, too easy really. Maybe that hack from the Times was right, maybe I did appeal to a lower breed of reader. “Yes, yes,” she agreed. “Everything made sense to me, perfectly, like you were reaching into the soul and taking the exact right course. Even the twists I never saw coming were right, because when all was said and done, when I went back, everything made perfect sense. Or well, almost everything.” I clenched my teeth behind my lips while trying to hold my smile. I knew exactly what was coming. “What do you mean?” I asked. “The ending of Panaceas,” she said. “The way the series ended, with them dying. It just...it went against everything the series stood for, everything leading up to it. I mean...why?” “Why what?” “Why kill them all? Why let the Charlatan win?” “Tell me…” I trailed off at her name. “Hayley.” “Hayley. Tell me, Hayley, why did it not make sense?” “It was against character,” she said. “Will would never have sacrificed himself for anything, certainly not the rest of them. Jared would never have left Chloe behind. And Francis was more than capable of creating the cure, especially with Laurence helping her. None of it made sense.” I kept my voice calm. “I can tell you that I poured over the possibilities for months. I went through every possible ending conceivable, but the way it ended when it went to market was the only way that made sense.” I smiled once more. “Even my publisher agreed.” She shook her head. “No, that doesn’t seem sincere. There are so many ways the books could have ended. “Hayley,” I said calmly, though something began to throb behind my forehead, a stress headache. “If you go back and read, you will see that there are hints throughout the books, hints of their failures and of their weaknesses.” “Mr. Nolan, I have read the books,” she said. “Dozens of times, each of them. None of it makes sense, and most of your fans agree with me.” “Ah, but does that make them right?” I asked. “Are interpretations chosen by majority vote like a democracy? I leave it up to fans to come to their own conclusions, wrong though they may be.” “But it’s not wrong, Mr. Nolan.” She was talking fast again, looking everywhere but my eyes. “There have been complex analyses, people who have run through pages of books, your books, Mr. Nolan, and have proven out what I’ve just stated.” The tension in my head was growing. I regretted inviting her to sit down, regretted coming to the cafe, regretted coming to the beach town. “Fans with too much time on their hands and too much imagination. It is a book, a work of fiction placed onto paper from the depths of my mind. Nothing more.” “No, Mr. Nolan.” She was close to tears now. “You created a masterpiece, a series that inspired people all over the world. People like me who grew up with the books, who related so deeply with the characters, who found the work, your work, so inspiring. And you threw it away just like that. Just like that, you broke the hearts of millions of fans. Why, Mr. Nolan? Why?” As she spoke, I could feel the tension growing, the pressure in my skull threatening to burst. Then, it did, as though someone had turned a release valve and the contents emerged as words through my mouth. “Because the world is not all sunshine and roses. Because sometimes the bad guys win, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Because after five books and countless spinoffs, I was so sick and tired of writing those kids, Chloe in particular, that I wanted to be damn sure that I would never have to write another word about them. So I killed them, and I made sure that there was no chance of them returning.” The words poured out louder and faster than I would have liked. I felt the relief in my mind, and as my vision cleared, I saw a distraught girl before me, looking about ten years younger as tears began to flow. I felt a twinge of guilt, but only a little. There was a reason I shunned book signings and convention appearances like the plague. Hayley stood from her seat slowly. I watched her remove the book from her bag and lay it gently on the table. She sniffed, staring down at the ratty book. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Nolan. And to have wasted mine.” She turned away and walked quickly from the cafe. From the corner of my eye, I could see a few people casting sidelong glances at me, but I ignored them. I was at peace once more, just me, the ocean breeze, and the little cafe a block from the beach. I took a sip of coffee, then picked up my book and resumed my reading. --- Like what you read? Check out more at /r/drewmontgomery	"Because." I said bluntly. "Because what?, people loved your books, we were invested in them, attached to them! How can you just say 'Because' like its nothing?" Her eyes started to glisten, she looked as if she could shatter at any second, fragile like glass. I looked at her dead in the eyes and I tried damn it, I tried to tell her that I was sorry and that I was selfish and didn't want to try anymore, that I was on edge, bored and lonely, surrounded by these mainstream illusions that I had spawned of my own naive volition but no. The breath that formed those words did not muster in my throat, nor pass through my waking mind as I muttered through jaded teeth, "Because life doesn't always flow straight. It bends and curves like a wounded viper, bleeding misfortune onto that hallowed ground of times gone past. Their death was uncalled for, yes but needed, maybe?" God, I could ramble. Spouting pretentious garbage was easy to do, in fact it made up most of my autobiography. All about 'writing from the heart' and 'not lying to yourself'. What a load of bullshit. Yeah I could lie to them. I always could, but now was too far, she deserved to know. Hell, they all did. "Really?" she sighed. "Don't kid yourself." What did she just say? 'Don't kid yourself'? That makes sense but not from her mouth. Not from the one that seemed so hurt to be told these skewed truths. "Yeah, that makes sense, huh." "What?" I said that out loud didn't I. You moron. Yeah, don't kid yourself. Tell her the truth. Do it.
	[WP] You've been an angel doing you job for over half a millennium. It's only now that someone tells you that you've been doing your job wrong the entire time.	“Mrs. Adams, you have lived a good life. You have done well in helping your fellow man.” I began my conclusion. “Hurry up Peter, Metatron is doing an impression of God and it is hilarious, he’s telling blind people to come towards the light... just finish this one up and we can go watch!” Gabriel impatiently stood behind me, as I judged this soul. “Okay, Okay, you’re good.” I raised my left arm and moved it from right to left to send Mrs Adams to the afterlife, and she was gone with a flash. “Uh, dude... did you just swipe left?” Gabriel suddenly lost his impatience. “Uh, yeah, she was a good soul.” I said defensively. Gabriel looked horrified as he hurried his face in his hands. “Left is ‘no’, right is ‘yes’...” “No it’s not... don’t joke about something like that!” Just then I saw an impartial second opinion walk by. “Michael, swipe left is heaven and right is hell, right?” “This isn’t funny Peter, don’t play around.” Came the stern reply. “No really, you guys stop joking... this isn’t funny”. Panic set in as I frantically pleaded with them to stop the joke. “Hey, Raphael, get a load of this: Peter thought swiping left was ‘yes’!” Gabriel had somehow begun to find he humour in it. “Oh my God, how long have you been doing his for? This is hilarious!” “500 years now...” my face went pale as the blood drained. “I have been doing this wrong for 500 years...” The others burst out laughing. I felt someone slap my back. “Well, you’re fucked.”	I was heading back with a freshly reaped soul to heaven when I met an acquaintance from hell. It was Pride, one of the Seven Sins, and he seemed to be quite agitated for some reason. "Hey Pride. What's up?" " Oh hey there, Gabes. Nothing much. Just trying to figure out why more than a trillion souls which were supposed to end up in hell are not there." "A trillion. How did you not notice that so many souls were not ending up in hell?" "Yeah, yeah. I know but we anyway had so many souls coming in and..." Suddenly he froze, staring at the soul in my hand. "Gabriel, what is that in your hand?" "Oh this, just one of them which I picked up now." "Would you care to explain to me, why the HELL are you taking a soul clearly marked for hell, to heaven!?" "Wh-what? But I thought I was supposed to take all those marked with the star to heaven? That's what I have been doing for almost half an aeon." Pride takes a look at the symbol I'm pointing towards on the back of the soul. He raises an eyebrow. "Gabriel, that's the cursed symbol of Satan you're pointing to right there..."
	[WP] One day everyone wakes up with a tally count of how many people they have killed above their head. The day goes by with murderers being constantly convicted. When you get home, your significant other has 2 tallies.	“Cally, you’ll never guess what” Pete called out as he came through the front door. Fumbling to lock the latch with one hand while carrying a briefcase and pizza box in the other he continued; “you know Simon, ginger Simon from work?” With the door locked he stood on his heels one at a time, slipped off his shoes, flicked them in to the pile of unorganised footwear by the coat rack and continued toward the kitchen. “Well he had one of those lines above his head this morning but didn’t know what it meant so he came in to work. Turns out he had a fi..” Pete stepped in to the kitchen and when he saw his girlfriend of three years a gut punch of shock knocked the pizza box and briefcase out of his hand and a wave of fear pulsed through his body. Cally was sat at the kitchen island wearing a dressing gown, tendrils of cigarette smoke hung in the air around her; forty or fifty butt ends were stubbed out in a make shift ash tray on the marble counter top. She had only moved in to his a few months ago and Pete had strictly banned smoking inside the house. The skin around her eyes throbbed and burned red from rubbing, makeup was streaked down her face and she was trembling. Above her head were two small white lines. “Pete please, please don’t call the police, let me explain, I can explain” Cally’s voice cracked as she pleaded and tears began to well in her eyes. “Cally” Pete said softly as he walked towards her, completely ignoring the carcinogenic fog. The way he said her voice and reached to hold her make up stained hand told her that he wouldn’t be calling the police. Pete pulled her head in to his chest and began to stroke her hair. “What’s happened” the moment he began to speak his jaw quivered and he tried to swat the lines away. “Has there been a mistake, why have you got two lines, it can’t be for the same reason as all the others?” “I HAVE KILLED, PETE” she interrupted sharply pulling her head away from his chest. Their eyes connected through a wall of tears and she held his confused gaze. “I have killed” she repeated, this time in a softer tone, “twice.” “I’ve wracked my brain all day and all I can think of is that it has to be from when I was a health care assistant living in Truro before I moved up here. I was only 19. I’d been working at the hospital for about 5 months and a newly qualified nurse, Amy, started working on the ward. We got on really well and mostly worked the same shifts. One time We were looking after a patient together and she asked me to give him a newly prescribed antibiotic, but five minutes after he took it I went back in to the room and he was struggling to breathe, went in to anaphylactic shock and died. The same thing happened a month later to an old lady. Amy was sacked and was struck off of the register for drug error. I was a HCA so was acting solely under her instruction, nothing happened to me but I had to leave the hospital for personal reasons.” Pete listened the story and it seemed to settle both their nerves. The tears had stopped and the shaking had calmed down. “Well that’s not murder” his words came out relieved and breathy. “You were just doing as you were told, I’ll find the number for the hospital and get records, and I’ll call my lawyer, Sam.” As Pete reached for his phone Cally snatched it from his hand, “NO,” she yelled “not yet. I want to grab a few bits from my storage unit. I kept a diary the whole time I worked at the hospital. And all my old certificates, pay slips, performance reviews and all that stuff are in boxes in storage. I just want to have all that ready to give to Sam. Please Pete.” He gave half a smile and nodded, “if you think it will help. Let me get changed out of my work clothes and we can drive to the storage unit.” He put one hand on the bannister and went to climb the stairs but she grabbed his forearm and squeezed. “We haven’t got time” the urgency in Cally’s voice made him forget he also needed to pee. The only sound on the car journey was the gentle hum of the engine. Cally was staring out of the window, Pete kept flicking his eyes to look at the two white lines above her head; in the dark stretches between the streetlights one line seemed to glow brighter than the other. He couldn’t take the silence anymore and needed to break it. “When I helped you write your CV you didn’t mention anything about being a HCA in Truro.” The sentence was a statement but the tone it was said in demanded an answer. Cally paused, then said “Well I didn’t think it was relevant for a secretary job. Plus I try and forget about it because of the deaths.” “Yeah I suppose” Pete replied. Then came another 10 minute silence. He was trying to watch the road but his eyes were drawn to the white lines above her head, especially the brighter of the two. “Did my brother come over to fix the bathroom extractor fan?” He asked trying once again to coax her in to a conversation. Not that it would have provided much to talk about. “No he didn’t” Cally said sharply while still keeping her gaze fixed out of the window. “Weird, he definitely had the day off because he told me he..” Cally cut in, “He didn’t come over, Pete, and I haven’t heard from him so just call him tomorrow” her voice was irritated. ‘Must be her nerves. Poor thing’ He thought. They reached the storage unit, and began to search the cardboard boxes for supporting documents, Pete searched the left and Cally took the right. “I love you, Pete.” “I love you too, Cally.” Pete was searching frantically, scanning every piece of paper for key words. “You can’t move on when I go to prison, I couldn’t live with that” Cally said, her voice stern and serious. “You aren’t going to prison, once we find these documents and I call Sam we can build a defence ca..” “You don’t understand,” her voice was just as serious, but this time it sounded closer. He stopped suddenly, still on his knees, and sensed someone was stood behind him. “You can’t move on when I go to prison.” As panic set in Pete turned his body to see Cally stood over him with a blade in her hand. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING” Pete barked, but as he went to stand she swung the knife wildly, tears streaming down her face. The blade went straight through his left forearm when he tried to block it from going in to his neck. She pulled the knife out and he fell to the ground clutching his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry Pete, I didn’t want this.” She was crying hysterically now, blood flicked off of the blade from her shaking. “Whatever put these marks on my head caused this, it was an accident, my old landlord tried to attack me but I pushed him down the stairs. When he was knocked out I strangled him and buried him in the garden, I don’t know what came over me.” Pete was still on the floor and had his left arm pressed tight against his chest to stem the bleeding. She moved towards him slowly, still crying and shaking. “B-but..the the hospital” Pete stuttered. “Then when the line turned up on my head and I found out what it was I knew I was marked for prison and a life without you. While I planned what to do about it Dan came round to fix the fan. He threatened to call the police and I would have been arrested before I got to see you so I chased him upstairs with a knife and dealt with him.” “My brother” Pete sobbed, “you killed Dan.” “I had to Pete, I didn’t want to, just like I don’t want to do this but if I have to spend the next 40 years in prison while you live your life and start a family I’d go insane.” “I fucking hate you, you bitch.” Pete had started to turn pale from blood loss and scuffed his feet in an attempt to move away from her, but she walked around him and knelt behind him. With one arm around his chest she rested her face on the back of his head. “I’m sorry Pete, I love you” she whispered and kissed his head; then the knife kissed his throat. Cally stood, dropped the knife and walked out of the storage unit. —————————————- Thank you for reading, that was my first attempt at writing anything and I’d really appreciate any feedback you might have :)	It is ridiculous to think that one day we could all wake up with our own personal secrets floating atop our heads. Well, like in most cases, I am wrong – again. Ever since the invention of ‘World Lens’ by Franklin Howard Barkley, everything in our modern day society keeps proving my accusations of what is now possible entirely wrong. Let me begin with what happened today. This morning, just like any other day, I woke up and immediately pushed myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I never even looked at my wife. I always had a system every morning. That system came to a halt when I realized that my wife was not even in the house. I basically made this discovery upon running down the stairs to grab my breakfast before my briefcase. Except, there was no breakfast. There was nothing in the kitchen but a note lying on the table. I picked up the note and read, ‘Morning Sleepy-head! Tammy and I went out to the market today. Harold and Tammy are planning on joining us for dinner tonight to celebrate your birthday! Love, Your Wifey!’ I sat the letter down and became disgusted. It wasn’t because of Harold or Tammy joining us for dinner, it wasn’t even because I didn’t have my usual breakfast, it was the fact that I forgot today was my birthday. Rolling my eyes, I noticed that World Lens had an icon of balloons and celebration art placed above my head. But let’s not get off topic. This story isn’t about my birthday. It is about what World Lens had done. With the new DNA research along with heavy investigation through their system, World Lens activated something that slammed our city to a stopping point. I didn’t notice anything until I was riding the morning bus to work and someone next to me had three lines above their head. I leaned over and asked, “What do those lines mean?” The gentleman’s eyes grew wide. He shoved me out of my seat while yelling at the bus driver, “Let me outta’ here now!” Everyone around me panicked. I didn’t understand what was happening until an elderly lady yelled behind me, “He’s a murderer!” The bus became a chaotic disarray of people trying to get off. I noticed more lines were popping up above certain individuals once we all ran out onto the sidewalk before the usual stop. Tally marks. I thought to myself. They must be tally marks. “Stop right there!” A whistle blew. Police swarmed all over the streets. A man from behind me knocked my briefcase out of my hand scattering all of my work material on the pavement below. I stood there watching as police arrested anyone with tally marks above their head. Drones swarmed down to cover every intersection in the city. I looked up towards the tall buildings stretching high into the clouds before noticing more drones circling all the businesses. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I didn’t quite understand how World Lens did what they did. I took in a deep breath before raising my eyes above my brow. “Whew,” I sighed aloud. I still had the stupid birthday balloons above my head. I quickly tried calling my wife but she didn’t answer. I didn’t even bother to pick my stuff up off the ground. Guns were going off down the street in front of the main city bank. Fire started to break out from the drones shooting back. I couldn’t understand how there were so many murderers out there. Unless, I started tightening up, World Lens somehow got it all wrong and their numbers were off. I mean, what if they were hunting people that never even murdered anyone? What if they were hunting soldiers that fought in our war? It all became too much. I knew better than to go into work. There was no work anywhere today. I turned around before noticing no one was going anywhere. All of the traffic was piled with cars people stranded. My wife still wouldn’t pick up her phone. I started to do the only thing that I could do, walk back home. It was a few hours of watching chaos take over the city. I just slipped by everyone with my birthday balloons icon trying not to make myself too noticeable for any reason. It took all day for me to finally get back to the neighborhood where I lived. I only had a few tears in my suit by the time I was at my front door. I slowly opened the door. I heard my wife singing in the kitchen. The dining table had already been set up for a nice candle-lit dinner. “Uh,” I paused with the door wide open behind me. “Do you not know what is going on?” “Everything is fine dear! Sit down and sample the meatloaf.” My wife continued humming from the kitchen. “No seriously, do you not know what is going on out there? What is all of this?” I pressed. I moved towards the kitchen. “Just sit down! It’s your birthday!” She yelled back. I could hear her chopping something up on the kitchen counter. She hid herself to where I couldn’t see her from the dining table. The entrance to the kitchen had sheets hanging down so I couldn't even see inside the kitchen itself. I didn’t want to spoil any surprises she may have had for me but I couldn’t take my mind off of the chaos happening in our own city. “Honey, we need to talk about what is happening out there.” I sat down taking a bite out of the meatloaf positioned in the center of our table. Before I continued my next statement. I noticed there were only placements made for two people. “Honey, I thought Harold and Tammy were joining us?” I heard a giggling sound from my wife. “They are joining us silly!” She finally came into the dining room with red smears all over her apron. “Did you have a problem opening the wine again?” I tilted my head up. It took a second before I felt my jaw drop wide open. I noticed my wife had two tally marks above her head. I saw her knuckles turn to white over the knife she was holding. I felt my back pressed up against the chair. “So, where is Harold and Tammy?” I asked hesitantly. My wife smiled and pointed before responding with, “Did you like the taste of the meatloaf I made you?” *** To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/)
	[WP] One day everyone wakes up with a tally count of how many people they have killed above their head. The day goes by with murderers being constantly convicted. When you get home, your significant other has 2 tallies.	"Hey, honey. I'm home. I swear, Bill is out to get me. Today, he criticized me in a group email. Fucker sends it to everyone in the department." I wrestled the tie off my neck, tore down my button-up, and collapsed on the couch. "I'm sorry to hear that, honey," my wife called from the bathroom. "No, I'm sorry for ranting to you. You deserve better." I cracked a beer from the mini-fridge and flipped on the TV, losing myself in the cheap sitcoms. Half an hour later, my wife joined me in nothing but a bathrobe and a towel over her head. "Have a nice bath?" I draped my arm around her and pulled her close. "Yeah..." Her smiled dropped as she cast a sideways glance. Then, it returned as quickly as it'd gone, as if nothing had ever happened. Probably just a trick of the light. "Been a while since we've had some time to ourselves. Months, if I recall." I stroked her leg and she shied away. "Not tonight?" "I'm sorry, just not in the mood. But I do have dinner for my hard working businessman." I noticed the aroma of barbecue ribs drifting from the kitchen. "You now what? Ribs are good too." As we walked over, she removed her towel and shook her hair dry. A soft green glow emanated from atop her head. Tally marks. Two of them. I'd seen them before, in the news or in magazines. "Deranged Murderer kills fifteen worshippers in shooting spree." Never had I thought I'd seen them on my wife. Suddenly, the ribs on my plate seemed a lot more suspicious. "Honey?" I asked, pretending to slice away at my food. "Yes?" She ate normally, but something seemed off in her eyes. "Don't you shower in the morning?" Her gaze shifted again, I was sure of it. "I had a bit of a workout so I thought I'd clean myself up for you." She mumbled. I felt bad for pressing her, but lives, potentially mine, were on the line. If she had killed someone, there's no way the bathroom would be entirely clean. "I just gotta take a leak before I eat." I rose from my seat, and she grabbed my arm. "Wait. The downstairs bathroom is kinda messy. I kind of... had a spa day. Use the upstairs bathroom." A chill ran down my back. Her smile had vanished. "Sure thing, honey." Her grip on my arm relaxed and I left the kitchen, walking slowly towards the stairs. When I was sure she wasn't looking, I crept into the downstairs bathroom and silently closed the door. I braced myself for a bathtub full of blood. For a garbage bag with a body in it. For a sink full of murder weapons. But what shook me the most was that the bathroom was immaculately clean. My heartbeat slowed. Nothing at all was out of place, save for the unwound coathanger in the trash. [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)	It is ridiculous to think that one day we could all wake up with our own personal secrets floating atop our heads. Well, like in most cases, I am wrong – again. Ever since the invention of ‘World Lens’ by Franklin Howard Barkley, everything in our modern day society keeps proving my accusations of what is now possible entirely wrong. Let me begin with what happened today. This morning, just like any other day, I woke up and immediately pushed myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I never even looked at my wife. I always had a system every morning. That system came to a halt when I realized that my wife was not even in the house. I basically made this discovery upon running down the stairs to grab my breakfast before my briefcase. Except, there was no breakfast. There was nothing in the kitchen but a note lying on the table. I picked up the note and read, ‘Morning Sleepy-head! Tammy and I went out to the market today. Harold and Tammy are planning on joining us for dinner tonight to celebrate your birthday! Love, Your Wifey!’ I sat the letter down and became disgusted. It wasn’t because of Harold or Tammy joining us for dinner, it wasn’t even because I didn’t have my usual breakfast, it was the fact that I forgot today was my birthday. Rolling my eyes, I noticed that World Lens had an icon of balloons and celebration art placed above my head. But let’s not get off topic. This story isn’t about my birthday. It is about what World Lens had done. With the new DNA research along with heavy investigation through their system, World Lens activated something that slammed our city to a stopping point. I didn’t notice anything until I was riding the morning bus to work and someone next to me had three lines above their head. I leaned over and asked, “What do those lines mean?” The gentleman’s eyes grew wide. He shoved me out of my seat while yelling at the bus driver, “Let me outta’ here now!” Everyone around me panicked. I didn’t understand what was happening until an elderly lady yelled behind me, “He’s a murderer!” The bus became a chaotic disarray of people trying to get off. I noticed more lines were popping up above certain individuals once we all ran out onto the sidewalk before the usual stop. Tally marks. I thought to myself. They must be tally marks. “Stop right there!” A whistle blew. Police swarmed all over the streets. A man from behind me knocked my briefcase out of my hand scattering all of my work material on the pavement below. I stood there watching as police arrested anyone with tally marks above their head. Drones swarmed down to cover every intersection in the city. I looked up towards the tall buildings stretching high into the clouds before noticing more drones circling all the businesses. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I didn’t quite understand how World Lens did what they did. I took in a deep breath before raising my eyes above my brow. “Whew,” I sighed aloud. I still had the stupid birthday balloons above my head. I quickly tried calling my wife but she didn’t answer. I didn’t even bother to pick my stuff up off the ground. Guns were going off down the street in front of the main city bank. Fire started to break out from the drones shooting back. I couldn’t understand how there were so many murderers out there. Unless, I started tightening up, World Lens somehow got it all wrong and their numbers were off. I mean, what if they were hunting people that never even murdered anyone? What if they were hunting soldiers that fought in our war? It all became too much. I knew better than to go into work. There was no work anywhere today. I turned around before noticing no one was going anywhere. All of the traffic was piled with cars people stranded. My wife still wouldn’t pick up her phone. I started to do the only thing that I could do, walk back home. It was a few hours of watching chaos take over the city. I just slipped by everyone with my birthday balloons icon trying not to make myself too noticeable for any reason. It took all day for me to finally get back to the neighborhood where I lived. I only had a few tears in my suit by the time I was at my front door. I slowly opened the door. I heard my wife singing in the kitchen. The dining table had already been set up for a nice candle-lit dinner. “Uh,” I paused with the door wide open behind me. “Do you not know what is going on?” “Everything is fine dear! Sit down and sample the meatloaf.” My wife continued humming from the kitchen. “No seriously, do you not know what is going on out there? What is all of this?” I pressed. I moved towards the kitchen. “Just sit down! It’s your birthday!” She yelled back. I could hear her chopping something up on the kitchen counter. She hid herself to where I couldn’t see her from the dining table. The entrance to the kitchen had sheets hanging down so I couldn't even see inside the kitchen itself. I didn’t want to spoil any surprises she may have had for me but I couldn’t take my mind off of the chaos happening in our own city. “Honey, we need to talk about what is happening out there.” I sat down taking a bite out of the meatloaf positioned in the center of our table. Before I continued my next statement. I noticed there were only placements made for two people. “Honey, I thought Harold and Tammy were joining us?” I heard a giggling sound from my wife. “They are joining us silly!” She finally came into the dining room with red smears all over her apron. “Did you have a problem opening the wine again?” I tilted my head up. It took a second before I felt my jaw drop wide open. I noticed my wife had two tally marks above her head. I saw her knuckles turn to white over the knife she was holding. I felt my back pressed up against the chair. “So, where is Harold and Tammy?” I asked hesitantly. My wife smiled and pointed before responding with, “Did you like the taste of the meatloaf I made you?” *** To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/)
	[WP] Unable to see herself in a mirror it falls to you to convince your self-conscious vampire daughter she looks just fine.	"But you have an Instagram account full of selfies," said a vampire most baffled. "Yeah, but, like, I feel like the photo apps are doing something to make me look better," said his agitated vampiric daughter, "And yesterday, Agatha told me I looked fatter in person, and that I just look skinnier in my selfies because of the lighting. It's not my fault I can't use natural light for my selfies!" "I am telling you: you look fine." "'Fine' is not a word used to describe someone who actually looks fine." "Then what word was I supposed to use?" "I don't know. At this point, anything you say will sound insincere. I can totally tell you don't want to be here." "That's not really fair. I am trying to make you feel better." "See? You are just trying to make me feel better and get this 'feeling' thing over with. I really wish mom was here." The father was quite sure that her mother would have simply brutalized her with words to bring about a quick and bloody end to this sort of conversation. 'What would she have said? "You DO look fatter in person. Maybe you should switch to low fat blood. How about a holy water detox? My friend Beatrice lost a ton of weight before the last sabbath that way." The woman was the death of me. She still is,' thought the reverse-Twilighted schmuck. "You know, Coco, vampiric life is all about being sanguine. Would you consider caring less about superficial things? We live in this big castle, and we don't need to worry about money, aging, or death," said the owner of the twelve thousand square feet floor space castle. "Don't call me that. My name is Astrid, and I wish you could try this perpetual teenager un-life. I may not have to worry about material things, and I don't age, but immortality comes with its price. What I am to do with this never-ending existential crisis? Why am I here? Shouldn't dead things lie dead?" retorted the girl. She took a deep breath and sighed while looking at a mirror. There was no reflection of her on the mirror. "Anyway, I don't want to get into that. I just feel like I don't matter, and I need to feel not ugly. Make me feel better!" "I am telling you: you look fine." "You already said that!" Flabbergasted, the father yet again tried to come up with something nice to say about the girl, but he only got flashes of visions of himself throwing his only daughter into a dry well full of bats, and nailing it shut. 'That way she just might become a heroine Gotham deserves,' he thought. The idea that his daughter would stay a teenage forever doing nothing but drinking blood and finger-drumming her smartphone was driving him a little mad. "I don't know what to tell you. Just come down for dinner when you are ready." "Another week-old transfusion bag. You should learn how to cook." "Maybe you should learn how to cook. Beggars can't be choosers." Walking down a spiral staircase, the father vampire thought: 'Maybe I should've turn her into a teenage zombie instead of a teenage vampire. It would've been much less trouble.' It was altogether too late for that.	"Daaaaaaaaaaad." There is no orthography yet created which can properly capture the disdain, vocal fry, and, in seeming violation of the Second Law of Thermodynamics, conjuration out of thin air of extra syllables, both infixed and suffixed, that an annoyed 16-year-old can infuse into a word that should have only one syllable. Karmilla was extra vexed today, with only a few hours before her first date with "the cutest guy in school" (I am told) and my wife, her usual co-conspirator in affairs of the heart, unavailable for consultation this particular evening. "Honey, Karm, relax. You look beautiful and I'm sure whatshisface will be stunned." The violation of laws of nature, however, was nothing new to my very unique offspring: I had known from the beginning her mother was special. And not the lock-eyes-from-across-the room-and-smash-cut-to-wedding kind of special, but more the oh-by-the-way-I'm-an-immortal-undead-bloodsucker kind of way. That's right. I was enthralled like a cut-rate Renfield before my dark-mistress-cum-fiancee Nina decided she actually did love me, and we decided to make a go at... well, whatever you'd call us now. A little bit of blood magic, supernatural fertility rites, carry the two, and her she was, my little vampire girl, fussing with three tubes of thirty dollar glitter pastes and gesticulating angrily at me and a Google Image search of some overdid teen starlet. "It's not any WHATSHISFACE, Dad, it is the absolutest coolest guy ever and I don't want to mess this up! So tell me if my hair" - she stabbed a hot hair straightener dangerously close to the tablet I was holding - "looks like this!" Now, to be candid, I did think she look beautiful - my little girl and all, darkly powerful though she may be, - but for the life of me I could even begin to compare or contrast any of the identical looking hairdo's tiled out before me. "Yes, my little batgirl, would you relax? You have successfully and unoriginally made your hair look exactly like Kylie Jenner's." Another eye roll. "That's not even Kylie Jenner, Dad." And she continued fussing and dabbing and straightening and restraightening. I love her mom dearly. She was off on vampire business for the local coven meetings - apparently the werewolves two towns over had embroiled the council in a spirited disagreement over animal rights, parking permits, and, um, lawncare. But from her Mom, she had inherited not a little bit of vanity. Vanity is especially bad for teenagers, and it is even worse when that teenager will never have the chance to admire her own reflection - let alone all other wonderful hours of teenhood that are spent in deep self-doubt in front of highly polished reflective surfaces. But one might argue that is part of growing up. I could have sworn I had it right, Kylie over Kendall, but now that I looked better I realized maybe it wasn't even a Kardashian? "Ugh, I can see my split ends from HERE." "Yes, but you have the eyesight of a literal wolf and no one else will ever notice." She was really nervous, and I felt bad for my inner chuckling. I could tell her nerves were really up because her human-like facade, which she was really good at keeping up, was slipping. Her eyes glowed a bit red, her canines had started to grow our and sharpen, and her movements took on an otherwordly quality: too fast to be completely human, and with a blurry quality, like a slo-mo dove in an old kung fu movie. On second thought, maybe my human puberty wasn't so bad at all. I continued offering reassurances but eventually she got so frustrated she slammed a fragile looking hand down on her solid oak dresser - and splintered off a large corner. She looked up at me as ice cold tears welled-up in her arctic blue and red eyes. And in that moment, regardless of whether or not she was learning to fly or turn into mist from her Mom; regardless of whether she could easily disable a large man; and regardless of how she had already aced two AP exams, learned the viola, and made varsity softball, in that moment she looked for a world like what she was, deep down inside: a scared little girl who needed a hug from her dad.
	[WP] You knew the adoption agency was a little shady, but when they said "special needs" you thought "autism" or "ms" - not "ork" or "vampire." Still, you're a family now, and you'll find a way to make it work	"Ms. Poe," barked a rather stout woman with a plastic look that no surgeon worth his college degree would claim to have done for any ampunt money. She was wearing a cross between the medias definition of a strong independant woman and sunday church dress. Behind her was a band of similarly dressed, dare I say, village people whom I could only assume were some sort of committee. "Hi Linda. How are you?" I replied in a chipper tone. In stark contast to the sunday mass mob, i was wearing baggy jeans, a football jersey, and a pair of aviators. In all honesty, I looked more appropriate on the bleachers during my kids practice than they did. Linda attended the pta meetings and, in my own opinion, liked to stir the cesspool therein. I like to think there are helicopter parents out there whom can be agreeable even if they smother and bubble their kids up in eco-friendly plastic wrap; but then there's Linda here, who is apparently the Apache helicopter among them. "We have come an agreement, Ms. Poe," she said with the kind of tone that made you really want to never be a parent. "We have decided that it'd be best to have your... your..." I swear, you could see the foam at the mouth right now. Wouldn't be surprised. She's an anti-vaccination. "Daughter." I said idly, assuming she forgot the word. "We want it off the football team." She stated with all the restraint of a rabid beaver. "Fuck you," i replied in a quick slip. "What?" She said, taken aback. "I said no thank you." I turned my attention back to the field as the coach blew the whistle. "You can't stop this, ms. Poe-" "Mrs. Poe, and you better remember it this time Linda." "We have already sigened a petition," she continued. She showed me the clipboard with, I wanna say, twenty signatures on a piece of paper. "We are all in agreement that it is a shameful and brutish-" "She." "Hellion on the football field and has resulted in multiple injuries to our children. We are bringing this to the schoolboard and principal McDowell. Ms. Poe-" "Shut your fucking shithole mouth before you leave a brown stain on your church clothes Linda. For Christ's sake..." i sigh and shake my head. "Y'know what? I do not care Linda. Ever since your little shit-spawn got kicked off the team to make room for my little girl you have had your head shoved up your ass so far that i bet you could tell me how your appendix tastes. You have been attacking my wife at the pta meetings, you have been attacking me, and you have been attacking my daughter. So you know what? I really do not care. This is her last year at this highschool. Senior year. She's done so damn well on the football team that she can pretty much pick out her college right now." Linda huffed and led her little posse down the bleachers in a huddled mass of husbands stuffed into khakis and wives puckering their lips because in anger. Can't say i never saw it coming though. The coach blee the whistle again, and I made my way down the bleachers. He was one of tjose old-school coaches who didn't really bitch about the things that made the game safer. "Alright, Hit the showers. Good hustle today. I like it." He yelled to the group ad tjey cleared the field. "Hey Barnes, don't forget to stretch. I don't need my runner to tumble halfway down the field-" "Hey coach!" I yelled down. I made my way down the bleachers. "Ey! Mrs. Poe! You here to pick up my star player?" I gave a nod and looked out over the group on armoured boys. "Where she at?" "Cassidy? She's hauling the practice equipment off the field." He said pointing her out. "Seemed a little distracted." "Damnit. Alright." My little girl was indeed hauling off heavy equipment off to the little shed. I had to run to catch up. "Hey stinky," i call to her. "You okay?" She grunted and shut the door. It was always a littl unnerbing to see an eight foot tall wall of muscle emerge from the doorway. "Ma... Am I in trouble again?" She asked in that deep tone of hers. Raising an ork was a bit of a challenge if i am honest. She was always strong, even when she was a baby. Had to pay for a custom childpen and padlocks. Always broke the babyproof locks. I can still remeber when she was first brought to us. Broke my finger. We were scared at first. We knew our little girl would be special in the not-good kind of way, but we both agreed that we would love her anyways. "Depends. Did you break the screen door this morning?" I asked sarcastically. "Thats not what I mean. I saw you with Tom's mom in the bleachers!" "Cassi..." I look at her through her football helmet. "They are just jealous." "You're lying." She grunted while throwing off her helmet. She dried her tears and slumped onto the green grass. I stood there, watching her black hair wave in the breeze. I took a seat next to her. We sat on the field for a few moments. "Tom's mom wants you off the team. Do you know why?" I asked calmly. "Cus 'm a Monster..."she mumbled. "Ah-ah! No using that word." I tutted softly. "Wrong by the way. She is jealous that her benchwarmer got kicked off the team. Can't handle your mad football skills!" I said in a very 90's commercial tone. She chuckled. "What's so funny yo! I'm jus' a chill dude. Harambe! Lol." "Ma. Stop. You are the worst." She groaned. "Got you to smile though." I smirk. "Ughhhhh." She groaned some more. "So. You pick a college...?" She groaned for another moment. "I... i don't want to go to college...?" "Talking to that recruiter?" I ask with a knowing smile. "Yeah." "Atta girl..." (((Sorry for the typos. Doing this on a phone.)))	These damn vampire orcs have been a problem ever since the Creators decided to start mixing genres. We could take being bit-players in your standard monster story, but you assholes broke the fourth wall when you started splicing genres and we didn't really think it was necessary to rebuild it just to make you more comfortable. That's right, fuck you OP, and the chaos you've sewn. You killed my mother. You killed my fiance. If we ever meet I'll slit your goddamn throat without a second thought. You made me this. And you deserve everything you have coming. The vampires at least needed to infect a living host in order to reproduce. The Orcs are made of fucking earth. THE VAMPIRE ORCS ARE FUCKING UP THE EARTH IN ORDER TO REPRODUCE. There are more and more of them every day. They are sucking out the core of the planet in order to make more of themselves. Eventually, the planet will collapse into a horde of writhing orc-bodies. Every human being will fall into the crushing horde of orcs and decay and sublimate into the orbiting orb of rotting flesh that your perverted mind has created. Fuck you OP, and the eternity of hell to which you have doomed my descendants.
	[WP] You knew the adoption agency was a little shady, but when they said "special needs" you thought "autism" or "ms" - not "ork" or "vampire." Still, you're a family now, and you'll find a way to make it work	David frowned as the one horned girl was brought to his door by an exhausted looking social worker. When he'd heard the rumors his wife Isabella and he had found connections to get blood and made a room with perfect black-out curtains that'd still look bright from the inside. "I...to be honest I heard that you had youths of the erm... Vamperic persuasion." The girl frowned, she'd heard this sort of thing before. She didn't actually expect to be here for long. "Well, yes." The social worker, Johnathan said "about ten percent of the time. But the rest need homes too and to be honest I'm sick of having parents like you turning children like Seriphina away because you have some fantasy in your head." The horned girl, seriphina smirked, standing up for something he believed in, even if it wasn't likely to get him what he wanted was something she'd thought him. To be honest, she kinda hoped she was never adopted, so he would still visit... But she knew it had to end some time. David swallowed softly, cowwed by Jonathan's short rant. "W-well I suppose I shouldn't be a foster father if I'm not ready for the unexpected... Come in." Thankfully, his wife was more accepting of her nature. Though she tended to blame her motherly instincts she took seriphina into the other room and introduced herself "I'm Catherine, what's your name?" "Seriphina." She put on the sweetest smile she could, something Johnathan had thought her to do. "What's your favorite game to play?" Catherine asked sweetly, she'd stocked up on all sorts of board games to entertain the home-bound child she thought she was getting. "Tag!" Seriphina got excited at the notion of physical activity. "Oh...well I'm sure we can russle up some of the neighborhood kids to get a game going." Catherine sounded sad the same accident that had left her unable to bear children of her own left her with a bum leg. "Many people think orcs aren't socially adept." Johnithan was explaining to David in the other room. "But they're pack animals just as much as humans. Maybe even more so. Be honest with her, she'll know when something's up." David was hurriedly taking notes so he could familerize himself with everything his child would need. "She will probably end up in one of the 'special' classes. Orcs have a lot of energy and if you don't help her burn it off there's a good chance it will manifest as ADHD. Talk to her teachers, see if they'll let her bring some weights or descrete excersize equipment into class to keep herself occupied. She'll eat you out of house and home if you let her, orcs don't have that same 'full' feeling we get and their stomachs can digest much more much faster then we can. That said she will need to eat four to five times a day, so don't underfeed her either or I promise I'll be back here in less then a month. Questions?" David looked up from his notes "wh-what's her favorite food?" John smiled, a twinkle in his eye. He'd never gotten this far with a foster parent for Seriphina. Maybe he finally found a home for her after all... "She really likes anything over rice." Catherine walked into the room with Seriphina again. "Honey, Seriphina and I are going for a little jog, we'll be back in a bit." She promised. "But your leg-" "Won't get any better if I never put weight on it." Catherine interrupted her husband before giving him the loving smile he was more used to seeing from her. "Don't worry, seriphina's coming with me, I'll be fine." David smiled softly. He was worried for his wife and his new daughter, but he knew he was a nervous wreck anyway. "alright, you go on ahead, I'll see to the paper work back here. Wanna meet up at the park?"	These damn vampire orcs have been a problem ever since the Creators decided to start mixing genres. We could take being bit-players in your standard monster story, but you assholes broke the fourth wall when you started splicing genres and we didn't really think it was necessary to rebuild it just to make you more comfortable. That's right, fuck you OP, and the chaos you've sewn. You killed my mother. You killed my fiance. If we ever meet I'll slit your goddamn throat without a second thought. You made me this. And you deserve everything you have coming. The vampires at least needed to infect a living host in order to reproduce. The Orcs are made of fucking earth. THE VAMPIRE ORCS ARE FUCKING UP THE EARTH IN ORDER TO REPRODUCE. There are more and more of them every day. They are sucking out the core of the planet in order to make more of themselves. Eventually, the planet will collapse into a horde of writhing orc-bodies. Every human being will fall into the crushing horde of orcs and decay and sublimate into the orbiting orb of rotting flesh that your perverted mind has created. Fuck you OP, and the eternity of hell to which you have doomed my descendants.
	[WP] You knew the adoption agency was a little shady, but when they said "special needs" you thought "autism" or "ms" - not "ork" or "vampire." Still, you're a family now, and you'll find a way to make it work	Interviewee: No, the Foundation's been really great, a Godsend- (baby crying in the background) Interviewee: Shit, I'm sorry. I'm gonna hafta go walk her around the house and spit on the ground. (video halts, resumes) Interviewee: OK, so yeah, the Foundation's been great. Really supportive. I've called the hotline, gosh, 3, 4 am, and then there's live support on the webpage where I can message with experts, doctors, pediatricians, theologans... And the book was great, too. We filled in the margins taking notes on one of them, so we had to get a second copy, a later edition. Let's see, where is it?... We always keep it within arm's reach, and there, right on the coffee table, and I swear, it would have been there if y'all were coming or not...There. 'Fantastical Parenting'. This here's our first copy, you can see the highlighter and the dog-eared pages. The new copy we got in hardback and has an actual Van Helsing signature, we were just so excited when we saw it... Foundation Rep: Would you say the book has been the most helpful resource the Foundation has provided? Interviewee: God, no! (sound of baby crying) Interviewee: Shit. Sorry. Be right back. (video halts, resumes) Interviewee: I'm sorry, what was the last question? Foundation Rep: What have you found to be the most helpful aspect of the Foundation? Interviewee: Definitely our agent, Slytongue. He's been great from day one since before little WidowTears arrived, he was very open about the process, super helpful with the paperwork, and there's always much more paperwork than you'd imagine, and he was there when baby Widow showed up. And honestly, for a trickster Orc God, Slytongue broke the news about the curse and the demon baby and all the rest very gently in retrospect. Of course, going through it, you still weep for days, and stop sleeping, and lure some poor bright-eyed exorcists into your home to untimely demises, but... I'm sorry, we don't get much sleep these days, what was the question again? Foundation Rep: Just one more question. Would you recommend Foundation Adoption to prospective parents? Interviewee: What? Are you kidding me? Foundation Rep: It can be a simple yes or no, but it would be helpful if you expanded a little to give us a blurb. Interviewee: Well...No. Fuck no. Abso-fucking-lutely not. That's your blurb. Or how about this: It's a curse. A literal curse. You're magically bound to this Hellspawn and have to completely shift your sense of right and wrong. You know what little widow eats? Tears of pain. That's all he'll eat. And we got off easy. The Johnsons down the street adopted a faceless death faerie who only consumes the blood of the widowed seventh sons. It's that specific. So get the fuck out of here with your recommendation crap. Fuck off. My yelp review would be to drink gasoline, piss on the keyboard, and light fire to it. Zero stars. (end of video)	"I just want to hug her! Why must it be so hard?" I stand shaking on the porch, sneaking a hand into my coat to pull the flask from the inner pocket. I carefully twist the cap with twitching fingers, but the tips keep slipping. They're slick with sweat but they feel dry as paper. On the fourth try it comes open and I nearly spill it down the front of my shirt. "Get your shit together, Ron." I whisper. "If she sees you, she's going to break completely." I tip the flask back again, careful to get a seal on the opening. The bourbon burns against the cuts on the inside of my lip, from where I bit down in panic. It raised that familiar iron taste in my mouth. I knew better. You never bite down. You go loose, you tumble, you roll end over end, but you don't seize up. Seizing up was how things break. Going all limp, the master trick of alcoholics everywhere, was why so many drunk drivers survive. The people with sense of mind in the other car seize up in fear. The drunk doesn't even know until it's over. "Gotta get back in there." I beat my head lightly back against the cheap plastic siding, feeling it bounce. "Got to get back in there and support Alex. You're a social worker, Ron. You're supposed to be able to do this stuff, but if you bail on your own wife, what does that say? She's counting on you." But I don't want to. Every time I try to turn my feet to go back inside, I lock up. The joints refuse. I'm an animal that's been burned too many times getting close to fire, so when it feels like I'll be walking back into an inferno, I just can't do it. "But I have to." I grit my teeth together. The shakes are starting to subside finally. I screw the cap of the flask back on and tip it, feeling its weight. Half full. It's going to be a damn long night, isn't it? They say the first two weeks after a parent has a child are the worst. I've seen that first hand... Nobody ever sleeps. Social worker only sees the worst of it--shaken babies that die of fractured necks, neglected toddlers lost for days before being reported, and so much worse. The worst is when you're standing in the room with a mother who is trying to hard to be a good mother, but something in her is broken. Way back in her childhood something happened that she won't talk about and she's fighting it. That dark, dismal part of her nature set in stone by other people, that she's trying to put down and carry on from. The worst cases are where you can tell its not her fault at all. Alex was barren when we met. She told me. Also told me that all she wanted was to adopt, have a stable life, and maybe pass on some of her best parts. So we went through the process. My background helped, it smoothed the way a bit, but in the end we had to go through a fringe adoption agency. The kind where you can't ask a lot of questions in case a court inquiry puts you on the stand in ten years. Children that need homes, but can't necessarily go back to the one they were born into. Alex pushed and pushed until I gave in and signed the papers. "This isn't on Alex." I say. "Gotta remember that. She's trying her best, she just wasn't ready for this. You weren't ready for this. WHO could be ready for this?" I turn to grab the handle of the front door and a healthy spark of static archs off, snapping so loud it lights the porch at one in the morning. I yank my hand back to stare down at the black spot it left. "Should have grounded myself. Learned that yesterday. Where is my mind? Get in the game, Ron." I take the knob again, hand shaking a little, but there's less static. I only feel the hair on my arm rise. I open the door and walk inside. The livingroom is mostly dark aside of flickering white and blue. It's just like I left it, scattered with toys. I skirt the coffee table that is still flipped over for some reason, one of its heavy metal legs twisted and rehardened after melting. I pass the lamp that won't flick on anymore, and the TV that won't turn off, it just flickers forever. Even after I unplugged it. I take the steps, the singed tiny footprints leading the way. At the landing I see Alex's handbag, discarded and thrown aside. The remnants of her smartphone are still smeared on the little table in the corner where the broken vase is laying like a crime scene victim. The little framed picture of a polar bear on the wall above it is tilted off-center, but I don't stop to fix it. No point. It'll just move later. When I approach the bedroom, I can hear Alex sobbing again. I wince, clenching my teeth and feeling all of the hair on my neck go up. That doorway is right in front of me and once I turn it, four eyes will be on me. Four expectant eyes, looking for answers I don't have. I shake out the anxiety, pull on my work face, and turn the corner. It's another seizure. I guessed before I entered, but it's hard to explain how it looks. It's hard to even frame it in my own mind. I have no idea what I would write down in a report to someone else about it. If I saw it at work, I might not even report it. People would think I was crazy. Kayla. Two years old, five months, three days. A shock of red hair that never stays down and the small, careful smile of a child unsure when she's allowed to be happy. Her paperwork described her as prone to epileptic seizures controllable via medicine. It didn't describe the fact that her seizures levitate her two feet above the ground. Or the fact that she thrashes in incredible pain, even on the medication. Or that every nearby metal object will magnetize, throwing itself across the room to smash into her frail little body. Or that a nearby smartphone will explode in a flare of lithium rage. Or that if it lasts long enough, literal bolts of electricity will arch from her like a tesla coil. No, the paperwork didn't say that. The paperwork also didn't warn about what it would do to Alex. Alex, my beautiful, sad wife, knelt on the floor just inside the field of hissing, arching bolts, clutching her sobbing face and watching Kayla suffer. Somewhere in the house another bulb bursts in its socket. Something falls down. But neither of us move to look, we aren't surprised anymore. It's only been a week and we've become numb to the damages. Alex turns to look at me, in so much pain of her own, stolen from the child she can't touch. "Why must this be so hard?" ---- If you enjoyed this, I post a history of my work in r/ChristopherDrake.
	[WP] You knew the adoption agency was a little shady, but when they said "special needs" you thought "autism" or "ms" - not "ork" or "vampire." Still, you're a family now, and you'll find a way to make it work	Not quite with the prompt Sarah laid staring at the ceiling of the NICU parent room, her baby was dying. There was no argument, she'd been dying since the day she was born. Luck was about to run out for Skylar, her little body had seen so much pain and Sarah could do nothing to protect her little girl, born see-through and too early to live. Six long months they had fought, but now her kidneys were shutting down, making her blood acidic and no matter how much pure oxygen was pumped through her ventilator, her blood couldn't hold it long enough to feed her organs. Scarlett cooed quietly, the luckier of the twins, she had avoided most of the complications afflicting her twin. Sarah wasn't ready to only have one child, she was a mother of twins dammit! Skylar and Scarlett deserved to grow up and have secrets and play dolls. Sarah fingered the business card, "Adoption Agency" really creative, handed to her by a strange woman who had approached her at her car weeks ago. She had known about Skylar, offered a way out, one where Skylar could live on, just not with Sarah. "We have clients" she'd said "waiting for children, a particular couple specifically request a baby girl. She'll have to be fed something to make her turn, it will take a week before it takes full effect and she is pronounced dead. Sarah had agreed to think about it. She knew this was the only way to save Skylar. That was more important than anything else, too long had she been helpless while watching her child fight for every second of life. "Just let me see her once, without the tubes, and wires, and ventilator. I just want to see her okay once in my life." The woman begrudgingly agreed when Sarah called with her answer. She appeared in the parking lot the same day, as if walking from thin air. Holding a small vial with around an ounce of white fluid. "You'll have to feed her this." Sarah nodded sadly. She had pumped Skylar's first feed of the day and slipped the potion inside before coming to Skylar's room to prepare her feeding tube. That was a week ago tomorrow, Sarah had made arrangements already to have someone babysit while she went to visit Skylar. She knew tomorrow would be busy with arrangements. She hadn't even told her husband, Henry, he'd be so sad tomorrow, Skylar was supposed to be his little football star someday, running laps around any boys that stood in her way, he'd joke. When Sarah opened her eyes her phone was going off, the hospital was calling, Skylar was being constantly revived, she was needed there now. Sarah cried in grief as she held her daughter's limp body as the monitor alarmed at the steadily declining heart rate. A kind nurse unplugged it, but Sarah found that even scarier, she needed to know when it hit zero, when Skylar was truly gone. In her anguish she'd forgotten about the lady, the vial, the deal she had made, all there was was her baby, her light, her little shining star. When all the paperwork was signed and the funeral home Sarah had been told by the adoption agency to request had been called, she was allowed to transport Skylar herself, she held her to her chest all the way there, kissing her little upturned nose and round cheeks, absorbing every single detail, it would have to last the rest of her life. Henry pulled into the funeral home and broke down, begging to stay in the car, unable to say goodbye to Skylar, Sarah cried with him and kissed him, knowing it was better this way, it would hurt him too much to know someone else would have her. Sarah was met at the door by a friendly middle aged man who introduced himself as Gene before leading them to a comfy office. Without hesitation he gently took the tiny corpse from Sarah and breathed into her little mouth, jumping a bit when he heard the air squeal from her tracheostomy hole. He laughed "I'll have to fix that" licked a finger and brought it to her throat. Sarah watched in amazement as the hole closed and scar tissue faded to reveal her perfect cream skin unblemished. He breathed into her once again and Sarah heard a tiny cough before an ear piercing shriek as little chubby arms and legs flailed about in outrage. Sarah cried in joy, it was the first time she'd heard her daughter's voice and it was beautiful. Gene smiled as he returned Skylar, now fussing with a vengeance. "I'll go get her a bottle, Mrs Patterson will be in momentarily. Sarah couldn't stop to the tears as she cuddled her wonderfully alive child. A dream, a fantasy come true. Mrs. Patterson walked in with the bottle. "I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news, the adoptive parents have changed their minds. They have decided a boy would suit them better, I'm sorry but our deal is off. I'll leave you some basic instructions and a number for emergencies but you'll have to take her with you. Best of luck."	"I just want to hug her! Why must it be so hard?" I stand shaking on the porch, sneaking a hand into my coat to pull the flask from the inner pocket. I carefully twist the cap with twitching fingers, but the tips keep slipping. They're slick with sweat but they feel dry as paper. On the fourth try it comes open and I nearly spill it down the front of my shirt. "Get your shit together, Ron." I whisper. "If she sees you, she's going to break completely." I tip the flask back again, careful to get a seal on the opening. The bourbon burns against the cuts on the inside of my lip, from where I bit down in panic. It raised that familiar iron taste in my mouth. I knew better. You never bite down. You go loose, you tumble, you roll end over end, but you don't seize up. Seizing up was how things break. Going all limp, the master trick of alcoholics everywhere, was why so many drunk drivers survive. The people with sense of mind in the other car seize up in fear. The drunk doesn't even know until it's over. "Gotta get back in there." I beat my head lightly back against the cheap plastic siding, feeling it bounce. "Got to get back in there and support Alex. You're a social worker, Ron. You're supposed to be able to do this stuff, but if you bail on your own wife, what does that say? She's counting on you." But I don't want to. Every time I try to turn my feet to go back inside, I lock up. The joints refuse. I'm an animal that's been burned too many times getting close to fire, so when it feels like I'll be walking back into an inferno, I just can't do it. "But I have to." I grit my teeth together. The shakes are starting to subside finally. I screw the cap of the flask back on and tip it, feeling its weight. Half full. It's going to be a damn long night, isn't it? They say the first two weeks after a parent has a child are the worst. I've seen that first hand... Nobody ever sleeps. Social worker only sees the worst of it--shaken babies that die of fractured necks, neglected toddlers lost for days before being reported, and so much worse. The worst is when you're standing in the room with a mother who is trying to hard to be a good mother, but something in her is broken. Way back in her childhood something happened that she won't talk about and she's fighting it. That dark, dismal part of her nature set in stone by other people, that she's trying to put down and carry on from. The worst cases are where you can tell its not her fault at all. Alex was barren when we met. She told me. Also told me that all she wanted was to adopt, have a stable life, and maybe pass on some of her best parts. So we went through the process. My background helped, it smoothed the way a bit, but in the end we had to go through a fringe adoption agency. The kind where you can't ask a lot of questions in case a court inquiry puts you on the stand in ten years. Children that need homes, but can't necessarily go back to the one they were born into. Alex pushed and pushed until I gave in and signed the papers. "This isn't on Alex." I say. "Gotta remember that. She's trying her best, she just wasn't ready for this. You weren't ready for this. WHO could be ready for this?" I turn to grab the handle of the front door and a healthy spark of static archs off, snapping so loud it lights the porch at one in the morning. I yank my hand back to stare down at the black spot it left. "Should have grounded myself. Learned that yesterday. Where is my mind? Get in the game, Ron." I take the knob again, hand shaking a little, but there's less static. I only feel the hair on my arm rise. I open the door and walk inside. The livingroom is mostly dark aside of flickering white and blue. It's just like I left it, scattered with toys. I skirt the coffee table that is still flipped over for some reason, one of its heavy metal legs twisted and rehardened after melting. I pass the lamp that won't flick on anymore, and the TV that won't turn off, it just flickers forever. Even after I unplugged it. I take the steps, the singed tiny footprints leading the way. At the landing I see Alex's handbag, discarded and thrown aside. The remnants of her smartphone are still smeared on the little table in the corner where the broken vase is laying like a crime scene victim. The little framed picture of a polar bear on the wall above it is tilted off-center, but I don't stop to fix it. No point. It'll just move later. When I approach the bedroom, I can hear Alex sobbing again. I wince, clenching my teeth and feeling all of the hair on my neck go up. That doorway is right in front of me and once I turn it, four eyes will be on me. Four expectant eyes, looking for answers I don't have. I shake out the anxiety, pull on my work face, and turn the corner. It's another seizure. I guessed before I entered, but it's hard to explain how it looks. It's hard to even frame it in my own mind. I have no idea what I would write down in a report to someone else about it. If I saw it at work, I might not even report it. People would think I was crazy. Kayla. Two years old, five months, three days. A shock of red hair that never stays down and the small, careful smile of a child unsure when she's allowed to be happy. Her paperwork described her as prone to epileptic seizures controllable via medicine. It didn't describe the fact that her seizures levitate her two feet above the ground. Or the fact that she thrashes in incredible pain, even on the medication. Or that every nearby metal object will magnetize, throwing itself across the room to smash into her frail little body. Or that a nearby smartphone will explode in a flare of lithium rage. Or that if it lasts long enough, literal bolts of electricity will arch from her like a tesla coil. No, the paperwork didn't say that. The paperwork also didn't warn about what it would do to Alex. Alex, my beautiful, sad wife, knelt on the floor just inside the field of hissing, arching bolts, clutching her sobbing face and watching Kayla suffer. Somewhere in the house another bulb bursts in its socket. Something falls down. But neither of us move to look, we aren't surprised anymore. It's only been a week and we've become numb to the damages. Alex turns to look at me, in so much pain of her own, stolen from the child she can't touch. "Why must this be so hard?" ---- If you enjoyed this, I post a history of my work in r/ChristopherDrake.
	[WP] You knew the adoption agency was a little shady, but when they said "special needs" you thought "autism" or "ms" - not "ork" or "vampire." Still, you're a family now, and you'll find a way to make it work	Not quite with the prompt Sarah laid staring at the ceiling of the NICU parent room, her baby was dying. There was no argument, she'd been dying since the day she was born. Luck was about to run out for Skylar, her little body had seen so much pain and Sarah could do nothing to protect her little girl, born see-through and too early to live. Six long months they had fought, but now her kidneys were shutting down, making her blood acidic and no matter how much pure oxygen was pumped through her ventilator, her blood couldn't hold it long enough to feed her organs. Scarlett cooed quietly, the luckier of the twins, she had avoided most of the complications afflicting her twin. Sarah wasn't ready to only have one child, she was a mother of twins dammit! Skylar and Scarlett deserved to grow up and have secrets and play dolls. Sarah fingered the business card, "Adoption Agency" really creative, handed to her by a strange woman who had approached her at her car weeks ago. She had known about Skylar, offered a way out, one where Skylar could live on, just not with Sarah. "We have clients" she'd said "waiting for children, a particular couple specifically request a baby girl. She'll have to be fed something to make her turn, it will take a week before it takes full effect and she is pronounced dead. Sarah had agreed to think about it. She knew this was the only way to save Skylar. That was more important than anything else, too long had she been helpless while watching her child fight for every second of life. "Just let me see her once, without the tubes, and wires, and ventilator. I just want to see her okay once in my life." The woman begrudgingly agreed when Sarah called with her answer. She appeared in the parking lot the same day, as if walking from thin air. Holding a small vial with around an ounce of white fluid. "You'll have to feed her this." Sarah nodded sadly. She had pumped Skylar's first feed of the day and slipped the potion inside before coming to Skylar's room to prepare her feeding tube. That was a week ago tomorrow, Sarah had made arrangements already to have someone babysit while she went to visit Skylar. She knew tomorrow would be busy with arrangements. She hadn't even told her husband, Henry, he'd be so sad tomorrow, Skylar was supposed to be his little football star someday, running laps around any boys that stood in her way, he'd joke. When Sarah opened her eyes her phone was going off, the hospital was calling, Skylar was being constantly revived, she was needed there now. Sarah cried in grief as she held her daughter's limp body as the monitor alarmed at the steadily declining heart rate. A kind nurse unplugged it, but Sarah found that even scarier, she needed to know when it hit zero, when Skylar was truly gone. In her anguish she'd forgotten about the lady, the vial, the deal she had made, all there was was her baby, her light, her little shining star. When all the paperwork was signed and the funeral home Sarah had been told by the adoption agency to request had been called, she was allowed to transport Skylar herself, she held her to her chest all the way there, kissing her little upturned nose and round cheeks, absorbing every single detail, it would have to last the rest of her life. Henry pulled into the funeral home and broke down, begging to stay in the car, unable to say goodbye to Skylar, Sarah cried with him and kissed him, knowing it was better this way, it would hurt him too much to know someone else would have her. Sarah was met at the door by a friendly middle aged man who introduced himself as Gene before leading them to a comfy office. Without hesitation he gently took the tiny corpse from Sarah and breathed into her little mouth, jumping a bit when he heard the air squeal from her tracheostomy hole. He laughed "I'll have to fix that" licked a finger and brought it to her throat. Sarah watched in amazement as the hole closed and scar tissue faded to reveal her perfect cream skin unblemished. He breathed into her once again and Sarah heard a tiny cough before an ear piercing shriek as little chubby arms and legs flailed about in outrage. Sarah cried in joy, it was the first time she'd heard her daughter's voice and it was beautiful. Gene smiled as he returned Skylar, now fussing with a vengeance. "I'll go get her a bottle, Mrs Patterson will be in momentarily. Sarah couldn't stop to the tears as she cuddled her wonderfully alive child. A dream, a fantasy come true. Mrs. Patterson walked in with the bottle. "I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news, the adoptive parents have changed their minds. They have decided a boy would suit them better, I'm sorry but our deal is off. I'll leave you some basic instructions and a number for emergencies but you'll have to take her with you. Best of luck."	Interviewee: No, the Foundation's been really great, a Godsend- (baby crying in the background) Interviewee: Shit, I'm sorry. I'm gonna hafta go walk her around the house and spit on the ground. (video halts, resumes) Interviewee: OK, so yeah, the Foundation's been great. Really supportive. I've called the hotline, gosh, 3, 4 am, and then there's live support on the webpage where I can message with experts, doctors, pediatricians, theologans... And the book was great, too. We filled in the margins taking notes on one of them, so we had to get a second copy, a later edition. Let's see, where is it?... We always keep it within arm's reach, and there, right on the coffee table, and I swear, it would have been there if y'all were coming or not...There. 'Fantastical Parenting'. This here's our first copy, you can see the highlighter and the dog-eared pages. The new copy we got in hardback and has an actual Van Helsing signature, we were just so excited when we saw it... Foundation Rep: Would you say the book has been the most helpful resource the Foundation has provided? Interviewee: God, no! (sound of baby crying) Interviewee: Shit. Sorry. Be right back. (video halts, resumes) Interviewee: I'm sorry, what was the last question? Foundation Rep: What have you found to be the most helpful aspect of the Foundation? Interviewee: Definitely our agent, Slytongue. He's been great from day one since before little WidowTears arrived, he was very open about the process, super helpful with the paperwork, and there's always much more paperwork than you'd imagine, and he was there when baby Widow showed up. And honestly, for a trickster Orc God, Slytongue broke the news about the curse and the demon baby and all the rest very gently in retrospect. Of course, going through it, you still weep for days, and stop sleeping, and lure some poor bright-eyed exorcists into your home to untimely demises, but... I'm sorry, we don't get much sleep these days, what was the question again? Foundation Rep: Just one more question. Would you recommend Foundation Adoption to prospective parents? Interviewee: What? Are you kidding me? Foundation Rep: It can be a simple yes or no, but it would be helpful if you expanded a little to give us a blurb. Interviewee: Well...No. Fuck no. Abso-fucking-lutely not. That's your blurb. Or how about this: It's a curse. A literal curse. You're magically bound to this Hellspawn and have to completely shift your sense of right and wrong. You know what little widow eats? Tears of pain. That's all he'll eat. And we got off easy. The Johnsons down the street adopted a faceless death faerie who only consumes the blood of the widowed seventh sons. It's that specific. So get the fuck out of here with your recommendation crap. Fuck off. My yelp review would be to drink gasoline, piss on the keyboard, and light fire to it. Zero stars. (end of video)
	[WP] The year is 2245. Humans now live in a colony on Mars because Earth is too polluted for survival. One day, you fly back to Earth and realize it's not polluted anymore and a new species has risen to the top.	The cool blue and green of the Earth below seemed so foreign as my spacecraft slowly began its descent. For ten years I had been stuck on Mars, and as awful as if had been, I spent most of my childhood growing up there. It was practically all I knew, and yet it wasn’t home. On Mars, as I grew older, I climbed the ranks quickly. What was more surprising was the fact that I was a female, that they had even thought to let me participate in activities once deemed “too difficult.” Eventually, I would come to know the colony’s commander. The man who send me off of Mars to check Earth. I looked around my empty ship as it hurtled towards the earth, the soft whir of electronic machines a slight hum in the background. Running my temples, I slowly approached the seat that I would take as I began my descent towards Earth. I was maybe eight or nine when we were forced to leave the Earth. At the time, I didn’t know why some of my friends weren’t allowed to come with us on the ship, I didn’t know what social ranks were, or what money and influence had to do with anything. Oh, the things that I’ve come to know now. As my descent began, I thought of everything that could’ve gone wrong. I knew there was no chance of human life, but could any life remain? I let my mind wander through talk of the possibilities as I soared down through the atmosphere, eventually reaching my landing place on Earth. My heart was beating out of my chest as I shaking stood up, heading over to the door. I looked around as if I had an audience, as if I wasn’t sent here alone. As if I wasn’t on a fool’s errand. I took in a deep breath as I turned open the door, for some reason expecting to dissolve into nothing the moment the air hit my nose. When I opened my eyes, when I saw what I hadn’t expected to see, I nearly fainted. Earth was more beautiful than we left it, more beautiful than it had ever been. All signs of pollution, were gone. I looked around as the crystal lake before me, at the luscious ferns and plants and evergreen trees soaring high above. The fresh, crisp air entering my lungs. I... I was home. I quickly turned back to the ship to grab my gear. I wouldn’t be here for long, so I obviously needed to make the most out of the time that I had. I had a satchel with a couple days worth of dried food, some water and a gun with me as I began my hike towards the unknown. Not even thirty minutes into my trip did I come across signs of intelligent life. Footprints in the still damp dirt, little peelings and mounds here and there. People still lived here, I was sure of it. Walking on, I finally approached what seemed to be a still-functioning camp site. I watched from the bushes as figured hustlers in and out of tents, some working a fire, some tending to crops. Deciding to meet them, I took a couple steps from the bushes, and ended up dropping everything due to what I saw. They, weren’t human. Extraterrestrial life, aliens, whatever you want to call them. They were here, staring at me. “I’m not going to hurt you,” one said as it stepped towards me. I just stood, mouth agape, letting it and it’s group approach me, observe me. “I supposed you humans are coming to explore again. To take this planet. I won’t hold you here against you’re will, won’t command you what to do, but please listen to us for just one second at least. This Earth, this place, is special, and what humans did to t took years for us to reverse. Now, you can go home and tell your people that it’s fine here, that it’s normal and you can return, or you can allow us to live here in peace, to preserve the Earth as it is.” I swallowed the lump in my throat before replying. “I... I, um, I don’t want to ruin the earth. I don’t want to go home, because Mars, that coming, isn’t my home. This is. I’m home now.” —————————————————————————————————— Ugh sorry it’s not the best and there’s a lot of typos but enjoy lol if u even wanna read it. <3	Those damn owls. 2 hours before Earth is just in view. And from up here, it looks pretty nice. I decide to fire up the old planetary scanner to find the best landing site. After some careful piloting, I land on an old farm field. Looking around, it’s gorgeous. Nothing seems bad: It’s like paradise. Then a looming shadow fills my vision I look behind me and I see a floating mounting, except it’s not a big ass rock It’s the biggest owl I’ve ever seen. Easily the size of a football field, it swoops over head, uttering a deafening caw of death and owl-ness. I jump back into the shuttle, slam the pod shut, and start up the ignition. But no, it can’t be that simple, there has to be more slightly manufactured conflict, and so a bunch of tiny owl spiders start crawling out of the main panel. As the horror of this sinks in, I think “What get’s rid of spiders?” 15 minutes later, my copy of the Daily Sun in now covered in owl spider corpses. The purr of the plasma manifolds signifies the engine starting, and I’m outta here. But that mountain owl is back and wants my ship. Owl never get out of this alive
	[WP] Just write something fucking happy. Maybe with a science fiction element	It’s ridiculous to think how much we used to worry about aliens. Trapped back on our little crib called Earth, our ancestors created media about aliens, fearing them, fighting them, being crushed by them. Even a ‘good’ alien would be balanced out by a ‘bad’ one – There was always a threat out there, somewhere. I sometimes wish I could go back and tell them that there was nothing to fear. There’s no great evil lurking beyond the edge of the solar system, no sinister intelligence hatching plots to destroy us. No, beyond the stars, we met no other life larger than a blade of grass. Do you think that’s sad? That we’re alone? I guess it is, in a way. But out here, far away from the sheltered climes of our ancestral planet, we met something better than another lifeform; We met ourselves. Each and every solar day saw humanity seeing its best version of itself. Heroes built utopias under shining new suns. Our new golden age has been built not on the back of cheap labour, or of slaves; it has been built by all of us, working as one. Each person is an equal in the eyes of another, and all work for the common good. If I did go back, I’d tell them something else. I’d tell them that there are three hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone. In light of all those new suns, our future looks bright.	It was done at last. the Happiness Plague had been finished. It was an airborne pathogen, and its only symptom was to make people happy. all of the time. it was placed in the flu vaccines, and it quickly spread from there. soon, most people around the world were happy. those with chronic depression were normal instead. and the world changed. Grandma died? happy. caught your wife cheating on you? happy. some went mad. some even died happy. as the plague passed, for someone had found a cure, the world sank into a depression for a time. and afterwards... sometimes you could buy happiness on the black market.
	[WP] Just write something fucking happy. Maybe with a science fiction element	"You are the biggest fool I've ever met," she sighed shaking her head. "This was the single stupidest thing you could have done, it was the single stupidest thing anyone could have done. I think you are actually the stupidest person in the entire universe." She continued before taking a breath and running at the other girl, wrapping her arms around her. "But I'm so glad you're here". "Well, I couldn't let the day pass without something, could I?" Smiled the other girl. "It is your birthday, and I want to spend it with you, and no force in the universe was going to stop me." "Captain Amalie," smiled the girl, looking up at her paramour with tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. "You are the most wonderful creature under the stars". "That title belongs to you alone Da'Ria," smiled Amalie as she squeezed the girl before backing off a moment. "But, what is a birthday without gifts," she said as she reached into her docked ship and pulled out a crate. "For me?" gasped Da'Ria, moving closer, her tears shimmering under the artificial light of the research station. "You really shouldn't have, it is more than enough having you here." "I insist, open it," smiled Amaile as Da'Ria moved her hand over the crate, slowly lifting its lid. Her eyes went wider as she reached in and pulled out a long bottle. "Galrazian wine, how did you get this, no one has been able to export this since they blockaded," started Da'Ria before she looked up at Amaile. "You didn't". "It was really nothing, their defense grid is nowhere near as fast as I am," she smiled, a hint of smugness in her voice. "Usually anyway," she added before pointing to a scorch mark on the bottom of her ship. "Oh gosh, so much food in here," gasped Da'Ria, pulling out box after box. "While I am happy to see you, I will admit the sight of fresh food after months on dried rations fills me with a very different kind of desire, how far did you fly to get all of this?" "Oh you know, here and there," grinned Amaile, waving her hand dismissively. "You did always like picnics". "I love picnics," smiled Da'Ria, opening a box of fruit and sniffing it. "I will take you to my dig site. There is a ridge that overlooks the entire ruined city." She exclaimed, hugging Amaile close once more. "It sounds beautiful," nodded Amaile, her hand running through Da'Ria's hair. "It is," continued Da'Ria, her voice filling with excitement. "And at dawn you can see the twin suns rise, casting their light over the ruins, it is truly stunning." "I doubt it holds a candle to you," smiled Amaile, leaning down and kissing Da'Ria on the forehead, making the girl blush a deep crimson. "The only issue is, it can get quite cold, so we would need to huddle close if we wanted to see the suns," giggled Da'Ria coyly. "Oh?" Chuckled Amaile. "How close?" "As close as two atoms bonding," winked Da'Ria before burying her head back into Amalie's chest. "Oh look at me, I'm like a school girl." "Nothing wrong with that," smiled Amaile. Da'Ria pulled herself from Amaile's arms and took a deep breath. "Right, I'll need to get you an archeologist pass and uniform if we want to sneak you into the ruins. I think I know someone who might lend me theirs, it should fit you," mumbled Da'Ria, running her eyes up and down Amaile's body. "I don't think that will be needed," grinned Amaile, causing Da'Ria to blink and shake her head. "No, no, they won't let anyone without a pass go to the ruins. Only archaeologists are allowed near them, security is tight!" Insisted Da'Ria. "There is something else in the box, right at the bottom," replied Amaile, tilting her head towards the open crate. "What do you have planned?" Asked Da'Ria with confusion, walking over to the box and reaching in, running her hands along the bottom until she found a large brown envelope. "What is this?" "Open it," smiled Amaile. Da'Ria didn't hesitate, slowly pulling the flap of the envelope open, watching as a small bundle of papers slid out. Da'Ria's eyes scanned the paper as she started to read it. "This is to certify that Keltraze Amaile has completed the requisite education and field work to obtain the title of Galatic Historical Association Certified Archeologist," she read, her eyes going wide as she did. "Really?" She gasped, looking up at Amaile. "Check the next page," nodded Amaile, a few tears coming to her eyes. "Dear Ms. Amaile," started Da'Ria. "I have approved your transfer to the Historical Association's archeology department. Upon reading your letter I could not help but agree with you. Working under Da'Ria Mazina is both the logical extension of your thesis work and the best way to further hone your field skills. You will find your transfer notice and the required paperwork attached, please report to Ms. Mazina as soon as is possible." Amaile stood at attention and saluted. "Captain Mazina," she beamed. "Assistant Amaile ready for duty!" Da'Ria stood looking for a moment, tears rolling down her cheek. "You beautiful fool," she sniffed. "You wonderful, beautiful, amazing fool". She said taking a deep breath. She reached into the envelope and pulled out a badge, walking over and clipping it to Amaile's chest. "Your first task," smiled Da'Ria. "Is to collect the picnic into a pack while I go get a blanket. I shall then take you to the site so you can have an overview and we can see the suns rise." "Yes, Ma'am." Smiled Amaile. However, before she could move Da'Ria pulled her close and kissed her deeply, making Amaile's cheeks turn bright red.	It was done at last. the Happiness Plague had been finished. It was an airborne pathogen, and its only symptom was to make people happy. all of the time. it was placed in the flu vaccines, and it quickly spread from there. soon, most people around the world were happy. those with chronic depression were normal instead. and the world changed. Grandma died? happy. caught your wife cheating on you? happy. some went mad. some even died happy. as the plague passed, for someone had found a cure, the world sank into a depression for a time. and afterwards... sometimes you could buy happiness on the black market.
	[WP] Just write something fucking happy. Maybe with a science fiction element	"It's beautiful, John." As two of the triplet suns of the Centauri system blazed in the skies above Hawking the fierce red light of Proxima's sunrise bled into the atmosphere and painted the city of Heinlein in a fierce rust. Governor Jonathon Tsin never tired of the strange alien beauty of Proxima's sunrise, as the triplet suns beat down on humanities most ambitious and successful expedition in the stars. Sunrise on earth happened only once, and outside of his brief military career with space force he had slept through most of them. He'd yet to miss a sunrise on Hawking, and that fact had only a little to do with his workload. But if all of the triplets were in the sky, the governor could no longer stand idly by. "I'm not sure I'll ever get tired of seeing it myself," John answered as he slowly turned away from the window and smiled at his wife, "reminds me of you." The slightest blush covered the governess Tsin's cheeks, John's only hint he'd caught Melissa off guard - a favorite hobby of his. He swooped in to peck her lightly on the cheek, and trailed a finger through her hair before sighing lightly into her ear, "alas, I fear the Unionist Miners will knock down the door with a battering ram if I'm not in my office soon. I'll see you tonight, honey." Melissa playfully shoved him away while calling him any number of names for his 'indecent behavior'. A smile plastered to his lips that not even the Unionists could budge, John stepped out of his private living quarters and into the Governor's office wing. No beating his commute on Earth, that was for sure. The clock on his wall chimed 8am Earth time, specifically London - since that time zone tended to correspond relatively well with Proxima's rise. On a planet with three suns there wasn't really any time that was truly night, but the other legs of the trinary were far enough away as to be only aggravatingly bright, whereas Proxima was a true sun to the budding planetary population. One hundred twenty seven thousand, give or take a few handfuls for births, deaths, arrivals, and departures. Humanity had come for the stars at long last, and they'd come in impressive force. The spaceport alone could number a few thousand on a busy day, and its relay at Centurion Station in orbit on Hawking's moon could add another few hundred even without an interstellar vessel in dock. Heinlein City may have been named after a titan of science fiction, but other than its rather obsessive focus on elaborate recycling and robust spaceport facilities it was little differentiated from any city of half a hundred thousand souls on Earth. The rest of Hawking's newest alien species was dispersed across the globe in lower concentrations extracting valuable resources or surveying for future development. John had nearly fifty-seven proposed city locations to go through and rate before the next colony ship departed Earth, and only six years to prepare for the reception of another six digits of colonists. It should have been plenty of time, and maybe without the Mining Unionists it would have been. But, for all the paper pushing, it was tough to complain. For a man who grew up in the projects of new York to be stretching his back preparing to push papers on an alien planet four light years from Earth, humanity couldn't be doing too badly.	It was done at last. the Happiness Plague had been finished. It was an airborne pathogen, and its only symptom was to make people happy. all of the time. it was placed in the flu vaccines, and it quickly spread from there. soon, most people around the world were happy. those with chronic depression were normal instead. and the world changed. Grandma died? happy. caught your wife cheating on you? happy. some went mad. some even died happy. as the plague passed, for someone had found a cure, the world sank into a depression for a time. and afterwards... sometimes you could buy happiness on the black market.
	[WP] Just write something fucking happy. Maybe with a science fiction element	It’s ridiculous to think how much we used to worry about aliens. Trapped back on our little crib called Earth, our ancestors created media about aliens, fearing them, fighting them, being crushed by them. Even a ‘good’ alien would be balanced out by a ‘bad’ one – There was always a threat out there, somewhere. I sometimes wish I could go back and tell them that there was nothing to fear. There’s no great evil lurking beyond the edge of the solar system, no sinister intelligence hatching plots to destroy us. No, beyond the stars, we met no other life larger than a blade of grass. Do you think that’s sad? That we’re alone? I guess it is, in a way. But out here, far away from the sheltered climes of our ancestral planet, we met something better than another lifeform; We met ourselves. Each and every solar day saw humanity seeing its best version of itself. Heroes built utopias under shining new suns. Our new golden age has been built not on the back of cheap labour, or of slaves; it has been built by all of us, working as one. Each person is an equal in the eyes of another, and all work for the common good. If I did go back, I’d tell them something else. I’d tell them that there are three hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone. In light of all those new suns, our future looks bright.	2000 years passed by, and it was a mere blip in the lifetime of the universe. In this blip humanity had expanded across the stars, conquered new horizons, settled them, and moved even further. Humanity had a thousand chances to die out, but each time, there was something in the spirit of the species that held them together. They got tired of their wars, the further they got, the more they realised the pointlessness of it all. They realized that the only purpose in life was the one they gave to themselves. They realized that no (wo)man was above any other. They ended their wars, they made their peace. They became something greater themselves. Through the centuries they ended hunger, they ended suffering, they purged the barbaric needs of their ancestors from within. They took all that was good within them, and strengthened it a thousandfold. They expanded across the skies, a mere blip in time. They covered galaxies, they lived and they died when they were content to do so. A civilization rose from ashes, learned to love itself and everything around it, and it all happened in a mere blip. Humanity knew how small it was. It knew how insignificant it was in the face of the infinity lying all around it in all directions. It did not pull them down. It only made them take pride in what they had accomplished, as a blip on a blip. They explored the cosmos, and never found another. They did not let this bring them down. Instead, they took the species of their world, and used them to build the garden of life on barren worlds all around them. They knew it would take aeons before the seeds flourished and grew into something wonderful, a companion to share with the stars, but humanity had now also learned patience, and while it waited it worked towards its next adventure.
	[WP] Just write something fucking happy. Maybe with a science fiction element	It’s ridiculous to think how much we used to worry about aliens. Trapped back on our little crib called Earth, our ancestors created media about aliens, fearing them, fighting them, being crushed by them. Even a ‘good’ alien would be balanced out by a ‘bad’ one – There was always a threat out there, somewhere. I sometimes wish I could go back and tell them that there was nothing to fear. There’s no great evil lurking beyond the edge of the solar system, no sinister intelligence hatching plots to destroy us. No, beyond the stars, we met no other life larger than a blade of grass. Do you think that’s sad? That we’re alone? I guess it is, in a way. But out here, far away from the sheltered climes of our ancestral planet, we met something better than another lifeform; We met ourselves. Each and every solar day saw humanity seeing its best version of itself. Heroes built utopias under shining new suns. Our new golden age has been built not on the back of cheap labour, or of slaves; it has been built by all of us, working as one. Each person is an equal in the eyes of another, and all work for the common good. If I did go back, I’d tell them something else. I’d tell them that there are three hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone. In light of all those new suns, our future looks bright.	Sarah loved this planet. It was at the rim of her galactic center and relatively unknown. She had needed to request a shuttle to take her there as no teleportation pod orbited the system yet. But it was so worth it. Without hesistating, she jumped out of the shuttle parked in the upper atmosphere. The fall was a rush. She hammered through the colorful clouds, opening the view to the ground. Beautiful lines of lava crisscrossed the surface in mesmerizing patterns. She had once tried to study Geology to figure out how this was possible but had stopped when she realized it did not matter that much to her. What mattered was the heat rising up. She opened her arms and translucent wings opened between them and her body, catching the rising air currents. Sarah flew. The wings were a relatively new invention. They were invented in the Andromeda Cluster as part of a collaboration of enthusiasts. In her opinion they were heroes. Sarah dived down, picking up speed and flew a loop followed by a few drills before picking up altitude again. She was free. A sencilion appeared before her. She was still amazed that life had developed on the planet but felt a kinship to all beings here. Like her they were fliers. The sencilion flew a small loop followed by a drill. This was.. was it imitating her? Sarah performed a quick somersault and watched the winged animal. It did the same. "Let's see if you can keep up, little one", Sarah said and dived. She twirled through the air like a leaf, swam through the currents like a fish, twirled, spun and looped. The animal followed and kept up with her without any problems. Sarah sped up and sped up again. The sencilion got even faster until they flew side by side. They danced. After a while, the animal seemed to get impatient and increased speed again. Sarah could only laugh, exhausted, and fell back. The sencilion was simply too quick, too good, too... She held her breath. The animal flew and danced through the air like a ghost. It was a dance she could have never managed, a thing of supreme beauty. Tears streamed from her face. "One day, little one", she whispered to herself, "One day we will dance your dance together." She spread her arms and let the currents carry her.
	[WP] You are visiting your grandmother in a nursing home when another old woman comes in with a samurai sword. "Gladys" she says. "Mildred" your grandmother says, eyes narrowing. "I believe we have a score to settle."	My grandmother turned her attention to me. She called me the other day, asking if I was free on Wednesday. I said I was, and now here I am, between a sword swinging lunatic and my beloved Nana. “I love you dear, now could you do this one favour for me?” Nana said, holding my face in her wrinkly old hands. “Of course Nana” I said warmly, attempting to ignore Mildred as she shuffled towards us. “That’s a cheap move Gladys!” Mildred said from the door. “Your grandmother is a cheater, after all these years!” “You’re a coward!” She said, her voice uncharacteristically proud. “Bendy” She said, calling my nickname. “After all these years, could you help put me at ease?” “Of course I will”, I said, ignoring that the decrepit Mildred that was halfway at the room at this point. “Then help me kill this bitch!” She said, her voice furious. She pulled out a rapier, the most expensive I’ve ever seen and passed it to me. “I didn’t pay for your fencing lessons for nothing!” “This rivalry has been 70-years in the making! Out of my way! Let me kill Gladys!” “No!” I said, stressed at the idea of someone killing my sweet grandmother. “Help me kill Mildred, Bendy, and I won’t tell Rose about this” Nana said, bringing my mum into this. I raised my rapier defensively. “I’ll even buy you that new Nintendo!” Mildred took a swing, which I parried extremely easily. I sighed. I guess if I had to make a choice between my grandma and a stranger, I had to take my grandma. Mildred took another swing, which I blocked, leaving her completely open. “YES! KILL HER” I heard Nana said behind me, extraordinarily happy. She even stood up, fists waving victoriously in the air. I sighed. I flicked the glinting rapier at Mildred, sending it whistling at her throat. - Still new to this. Writing is fun wahoo	Don't do this to me MILDRED! NOT IN FRONT OF MY CHILD! This is what you get you home wrecking, husband snatching, raisin looking scum. The time has come. Get ready to be pierced by my sword and hang on it like your role-playing as a kebab. Don't worry about getting rid of the body kid. I've already scheduled for a university nearby to pick it up for examination. Finally I'll get my revenge as I lead the class on how not to take apart a body. I'll get to have my own human head to use as a jewelry container after some vacuuming and spring cleaning.
	[WP] You are visiting your grandmother in a nursing home when another old woman comes in with a samurai sword. "Gladys" she says. "Mildred" your grandmother says, eyes narrowing. "I believe we have a score to settle."	Gladys shakily pushed herself to her feet, leaning on her grandson's arm for a moment before she settled her weight on a cheap cane that never left her side. "Come on Mildred, don't be silly. Neither of us have been able to swing a sword for years and while I used to be able to dance circles around you, my hips hurt most of the time now". She gestured towards the alcove set up with a coffee maker, some stale desserts, and bits of plasticware. "Do you still take your coffee black with sugar?" Mildred held the sword up for a few tense moments, eyes darting back and forth from Gladys and her grandson. Finally she dropped the sword with a clang as it tumbled to the linoleum floor. "My hands don't stop shaking anymore and I think I haven't been able to finish the Shadow Dance since I took the bunch of shrapnel to my legs. I can still feel the steel bits digging around in there. No sugar please, my doctor says I'm pre-diabetic." Bobby gawked as two old women went from kill-mode to afternoon social call as if nothing had happened. "What the fuck is going on grammy?! Who is this? Why does she have a sword?!?!" A soft hand was suddenly on his cheek and Mildred seemed to just be there, with a small grin on her wrinkled face. "Watch your mouth son, I don't like cursing. Sit down while the grown-ups talk." He found himself sitting on the green-red floral patterned couch that every old person seemed to have in their home. Mildred patted his cheek again and shuffled past to sit in one of the hard plastic chairs sitting empty next to the coffee table. "He seems like a nice boy Gladys, a little slow but they don't make them like they used to do they?" "Oh Mildred you have no idea. This one couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag with a hose and a machine gun, but he's a good boy." Gladys set the small mugs down on the table and joined Mildred at the table. "But you know, he visits me every week and calls me on every holiday. Not like that good for nothing son of mine. He tried the dance and fell short." She pointed with her spoon, as if jabbing at the air with a small sword, "I called in every favor just to send him away and save some of my reputation." A small sigh slipped from her lips, "Nobody cares to dance anymore, but that might be for the best. We did some shady things Mildred." Her nemesis sipped at the hot coffee and closed her eyes and savored the rich taste. "You always did make the best coffee. And yes I agree, dancing is an old thing, not for youngsters like your grandson. Send them off to college, they can be doctors or dentists or something. It's a darn sight easier than cleaning blood off of new sheets or setting your own broken bonesh." Mildred sipped her coffee again, a deeper gulp this time and her eyelids drooped a bit. "Shay Gladysh, what a great cup of coffay. Wha whut wut dih ju see wash en eet?" Gladys sipped her own cup of coffee and smiled, almost to herself as Mildred fell unconscious and dropped face first on to the coffee table. "You always were a gullible bitch Mildred."	Don't do this to me MILDRED! NOT IN FRONT OF MY CHILD! This is what you get you home wrecking, husband snatching, raisin looking scum. The time has come. Get ready to be pierced by my sword and hang on it like your role-playing as a kebab. Don't worry about getting rid of the body kid. I've already scheduled for a university nearby to pick it up for examination. Finally I'll get my revenge as I lead the class on how not to take apart a body. I'll get to have my own human head to use as a jewelry container after some vacuuming and spring cleaning.
Came from my handwriting practice whilst half daydreaming - just writing nonsense. I'll have a go first! : === "Whaddya mean she's angry? How'd ya piss off the literal embodiment of PEACE?!" "Look," Demeter sighed, "I needed someone to look after little Plutus while I did some work..." Themis sighed, too. "He wasn't wearing a nappy, was he?" Demeter shook her head grimly, grabbing a nearby bucket. "It'll be great, though. I've got a whole country that needs the fertilizer." ===	[WP] "Whaddya mean she's angry? How'd ya piss off the literal embodiment of PEACE?!"	"MERLIN HOLY FUCK I NEED YOUR HELP" "What? What is it?" "Okay, promise you won't get angry and yell at me" "I will do no such thing" "Alright, well I'll tell you anyway... So you know how when I go outside for more than a couple of days people tend to really want me dead?" "...Well considering your face was on several wanted posters, I'd say that's pretty accurate... Oh my gods who is it this time. You can't possibly get more in trouble than angering the crime syndicate." "Right, well, you see, it kind of is?" "Who is it?" "...Eirene" "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU PISSED OFF LADY EIRENE. SHE'S LITERALLY THE EMBODIMENT OF PEACE" "So I don't really have much time, she'll be here literally any minute now" thud "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "So, I was at the shrine the other day, offering my peace offerings, praying for the war to be over," "As one does" "And to my surprise, Eirene appeared, and she was thankful for the offerings I gave, and then I started thinking" "Uh oh" "We began discussing philosophy, things got heated, one thing led to another end I ended up telling her 'Goddess Eirene, you're kind of a really shitty goddess' to which she responded less than well, wishing for an explanation. I said 'Well, there hasn't really been a lot of peace lately' 'How is that my fault' 'I mean, you are the goddess of peace, you're kind of blowing it on this one' 'Okay smart ass, what would you do differently?' 'Just kill the emperor!' 'That's a terrible idea!' 'I mean, he's clearly the one at fault for starting all of this.' 'He was recommended to go to war by several people' 'Kill them too!' 'No! That's going to lead to a lot of people dying' 'A lot of people have already died. thud "Okay okay I'll hurry up" 'All I'm saying is that if you just kill the people responsible for war, you won't have war' 'THAT'S LITERALLY THE REASON PEOPLE GO TO WAR' And then my smart-ass said the worst possible thing I could have, 'Yeah, no reason people like Aphrodite more. At least she does shit'" "Oh no" Merlin said thud "Yeah, saying that the shrine got burned down is putting it lightly" "Well why are you coming to me?" "Okay yeah that's the other thing, I might have accidentally told her I'm Merlin" THUD "Oh my lord" Merlin sighed, "Must be a Monday" First time posting here, so let me know what you liked/didn't like!	Grugnar shrugged his colossal shoulders. Even by Orcish standads he was gargantuan. 8 ft tall, 3 1/2ft wide. His Fore arm probably weighed more than Eldyne did. "Well Bozz, i dunno. One minute i wuz carving my way thru da armiez. Like we all wuz t' save da kindum." "Yes yes, i understand Grug. But what im asking is how you specifically pissed off Alissya, the god of peace and love." Grugnar shuffled like a child being told off. "Well bozz..." he began. "Come on then, spit it out." "'member dat area in da woosz just south of da stone house." "The Garden of sancturary south of the kingdom. Yes...oh...you dumb fuck." "Im sorry bozz i real amz. But i wuz fightin'. Y'know how i git. Breathin' foiah, Choppin' hackin' breakin shit. Y' know. Da usual Orky stuff."
Came from my handwriting practice whilst half daydreaming - just writing nonsense. I'll have a go first! : === "Whaddya mean she's angry? How'd ya piss off the literal embodiment of PEACE?!" "Look," Demeter sighed, "I needed someone to look after little Plutus while I did some work..." Themis sighed, too. "He wasn't wearing a nappy, was he?" Demeter shook her head grimly, grabbing a nearby bucket. "It'll be great, though. I've got a whole country that needs the fertilizer." ===	[WP] "Whaddya mean she's angry? How'd ya piss off the literal embodiment of PEACE?!"	[I had already written this up, and it's actually the backstory for my fantasy world's pantheon. But it fits perfectly so here it is again.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7j526n/wp_have_you_ever_wondered_why_theres_nothing/dr3xyad/) >Gather round children, and hear the tale of Tyranica, the Peacemaker. >Long ago, before the founding of our great people, there where many gods. Gods of the skies, gods of commerce, gods of war. For every concept you could imagine, there was a god controlling it. >These gods weren't content with their own domains however, they where always trying to infringe on each other's spaces. And this lead to war among the gods and their followers. >This weighed heavily on Tyranica, the Goddess of Peace. She watched as her followers where dragged into conflicts started by the gods, their death and suffering made her weep for years on end. Finally she had enough. If the gods where going to bicker like children, then the only way to have peace would be to kill the gods. >She started with the Caeldoria, the All Mother and Ruler of the Gods. With a single blow from her own mighty gavel, Tyranica stuck her down. >Soon other gods sought to fill Caeldoria's seat, and the resulting war brought more suffering than any previous skirmish ever had. As they fought amongst themselves Tyranica picked them off one by one using the All Mother's gavel, as it was the only tool that could ever permanently kill a god. >By the time the gods realized their folly it was too late, Tyranica's conquest was nearly complete. They banded together to stop her, but she simply used their unity to slay them all in one mighty battle. >Once her grim task was done Tyranica wept for her fallen brethren. But when she looked upon the world and saw that the suffering they had brought was but a distant memory she knew it was worth it. With a heavy heart she began to attend to her sibling's previous tasks, working so the world may continue to turn without them. >There was but one god who escaped her wrath. Amoreth, the Goddess of Love had been banished to earth to live as a mortal after the all mother declared that she did not understand love, only lust. There she learned what it was to truly love another, but when the time came for her to be taken back to the havens, Tyranica was the only one left to bring her back. >Rather than restore her sister's power, Amoreth remained mortal and lived the rest of her life with the man she loved. And though she never regained her godhood, it is said that Tyranica took extra care that she could remain with her husband after they passed on.	Grugnar shrugged his colossal shoulders. Even by Orcish standads he was gargantuan. 8 ft tall, 3 1/2ft wide. His Fore arm probably weighed more than Eldyne did. "Well Bozz, i dunno. One minute i wuz carving my way thru da armiez. Like we all wuz t' save da kindum." "Yes yes, i understand Grug. But what im asking is how you specifically pissed off Alissya, the god of peace and love." Grugnar shuffled like a child being told off. "Well bozz..." he began. "Come on then, spit it out." "'member dat area in da woosz just south of da stone house." "The Garden of sancturary south of the kingdom. Yes...oh...you dumb fuck." "Im sorry bozz i real amz. But i wuz fightin'. Y'know how i git. Breathin' foiah, Choppin' hackin' breakin shit. Y' know. Da usual Orky stuff."
	[WP] You are a thief and pickpocket who manages to save the world, after doing so you return to your life of crime but begin to think people may be letting you commit crimes because of who you are	"So let's begin with the obvious. Is it true that you saved the world?" "Sure, I 'saved the world'. That glorified phrase they parrot when something threatens their egotistical way of life. I didn't save 'the world', it didn't need saving. When that horrible thing claimed it's 'Penance of Adulation' it was going to slip away and move on to somewhere and somewhen else. In time, we would have forgotten, healed, and moved on. Or, if it had to consume everyone last one of us, then we'd all be gone and still 'the world' would be fine. Maybe even better off. But I suppose at this point I'm just waxing philosophical to avoid telling the truth. Yes, I'm the one that saved us. And I've got to tell you, the fame and fortune has made it incredibly difficult to go back to doing what I do." "You mean thieving?" "Of course, what else? The entire world knows who I am. Makes it mighty hard to sneak about." "But you just said it yourself, you've got a fortune now. What could you possibly need to steal?" "That's the thing. This fortune gave me everything. Everything except for the things that I needed, the things that I stole. People seem to think I have this need for ordinary objects. Like some kind of kleptomaniac. They didn't know that the artifacts I searched for weren't normal things. And worst of all, if I slip up? Nothing happens. No alarm is raised, no armed guards, no mad dash into the safety of the night... Don't get me wrong, what I do is necessary, but there was this... thrill to it. That evaporates pretty quickly when as soon as you're recognized your aggressors drop to a knee with an, 'Our thanks to you, Savior'. You know how infuriating that is for a thief? Feels like I'm a child playing pretend and everyone else is just playing along." "You could disguise yourself." "Tried that. Turns out people can recognize even the smallest things when you're greatest act is played over endlessly on the murals." "Ah, the murals. They're quite beautiful- and they appear to have gotten your likeness down perfectly. Even they way you move. It's remarkable." "Mhm... but it's disturbing, too. Do you know what it's like to climb out from the gutters of a desecrated palace, covered in gore, and deliriously exhausted- only to see yourself still fighting that monstrosity? Along the entire length of the city walls? I know they're not depicted, but I can still see- and hear - it's wretched servants dragging all those screaming people into the palace... I can barely look out my window at night." "I can't say I know the feeling." "That was incredibly rhetorical." "You said, before, 'the artifacts you searched for weren't normal things'. What did you mean by that? Were they things related to the creature? Did you know of this nightmare beforehand?" "Gods no. I don't know what that thing was, no more than any of us do. I know that it came from someplace else, and I know that it demanded us to pay penance. Once it got what it wanted, it left. I did what I had to do. The artifacts I search for may be related to where it went, maybe not. Maybe they lead to somewhere else entirely. All I know is that they point to proof of places beyond ours." "It's hard to remain a skeptic after what we've seen. But it concerns me that you would meddle with these artifacts after what just happened to us. Which leads me to wonder about what role you may have played in it happening to begin with. Has this been your doing?" "No. I do not tamper with the artifacts. I collect them, and I research them. I know very well what harm can come from treating them without respect. The truth is, I have opposition. There's a reason why I must still sneak and steal when the world would seemingly give me the skin off their backs- if I so asked. It's better the world not know of the things I seek." "Then why agree to speak with me?" "Because I know who you are. I know your virtues. You claim to be the voice of truth to the people, but I believe you'll agree when I say that this interview is a hell of a lot more for my sanity than for theirs. You'll tell them what you need to." "Well, I've got to say you haven't given me much to go with. What kind of story is one of 'a tormented hero who struggles with the monstrosities we've witnessed, countless losses we've endured, and perhaps, a small bout of kleptomania?'" "It sounds like exactly the sort of story they'd like to hear." "Ha, well, I suppose I'll just have to do my best, then. Thank you for this interview, Savior, that'll just about do it for me. I have just one last question; What was it that you had to do? How did you 'save the world'?" "... Maybe one day I'll be ready to answer that. I did what I had to, believe me, and I'm dealing with that the best I can. I just hope that one day I can be forgiven." --- ( Figured I'd actually finish a prompt for once! Let me know what's good and what's pure turd, also how many unnecessary commas I used. )	How could I go back to doing what got me in this mess in the first place? I was never a hero. That was never who I was. But everyone else seemed to have better things to say. The cool aluminum of the laptop sent shivers down my spine as I remembered the first headline I saw: 'Patrick Green Lifts Key to Safe, Steals Humanity Back From Annihilation'. All I did was take what I thought was a car key. If I had known that key would unlock the antidote we needed... Well, at least we would have all gone down together. Humanity lost all meaning after all it did to me. For a year, I thought that incident would be the end of my old ways. I tried to see the good in people; I tried to help people with the little skill and expertise I had. The honest life didn't keep food on the table though; it didn't pay the rent. People were soon to forget about the Outbreak and the Cure, and I was all but forgotten. As I looked around my flat, the walls seem even more yellow and lifeless than usual. My bed groaned as I propped the laptop on my chest. Too bad I didn't also grab the power cable, this thing will be useless in a few hours, I thought to myself. Oh well, once this damn thing gets fenced I should have enough for this month's bills. Maybe even a little extra for Debbie. There was still an essay left open in Microsoft Word. This must have been a student's laptop: 'The Anatomy of Hell: A Study of Dante's Inferno'. Sorry kid, the world is a cruel place; this is your first lesson. He and I did meet eyes right after I lifted it. He greeted me with kind eyes, and then looked down at his feet sheepishly. It was as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. There was no way he knew... Have I really lost my touch? It was a crowded subway, he couldn't have felt it with the normal raucous. I was feeling pretty good about my light touch after a week of getting back into it. But I've had much more eye contact after the lift than I've ever had before, nearly every time in the last week. I hated that; it wasn't the guilt that killed me, it was the fact that the one thing I seemed to be good at... People acknowledged it and moved on. They couldn't be just letting me do this to them, could they? Surely no sane person would allow a pickpocket to get away, no matter what service they had done previously. The iPhone slid out of my pants and onto the dusty hardwood floor of my flat. I picked it up, and saw a picture of the kid with his grinning German Shepherd on the lock screen. What is this kid going to do now? Is any of this worth it? Turns out the handgun I lifted off the cop came in handy. I cocked it, and pressed it against my temple. There was no use in living a lie, and yet not getting help for any of my problems. As I was about to squeeze the trigger, I heard a sharp rap on the door. "Patrick, are you awake? It's me, Sara. I thought about what you said, and I think you need to see a therapist... You know, there's good in you, and you deserve the help. You're still a hero, if not to the world anymore than to your little girl whose world you are." It was at that moment Sara and Debbie heard a thunderous bang, and then dead silence. "Was that from inside Daddy's room?" inquired Debbie.
	[WP] You are a thief and pickpocket who manages to save the world, after doing so you return to your life of crime but begin to think people may be letting you commit crimes because of who you are	Oh no. Busted. As I lock eyes with the store owner, my future flashes before my eyes. The truth about me would come out. The crowd that lauded my heroism would turn to their pitchforks. I'd go to jail, my name dragged through the mud. A fallen hero. Defeated, I close my eyes and wait for him to confront me. To my surprise, that moment never comes. As I open my eyes again, he has returned to stocking the shelves. It's like he didn't even see me. But he did see me. The moment we locked eyes is seared in my brain like a photograph. That leaves one explanation. He did notice me, and chose to ignore my crime. He must have recognized me. Know what I did. And decided to give me a pass because of it. Tears well up in my eyes in spite of myself. I needed to eat, that was true. But so did he. It was only a small store. Family owned. They needed money as much as I did. I look at the man again. He's the only staff currently present in the store. He must make long hours. Year in, year out, putting all his effort and energy into this small grocery store. All the while his clientele diminished every year due to the competition from large chain stores. He's a better man than I. I look at the item in my hand and resolutely put it back on the shelves. This will not do. I search for a piece of paper in my pockets and quickly scribble something down. As I walk out of the store, I discreetly slip it into the store owner's hand. ----------------------------------------------------- Your days of scarcity are over. Open the doors at 3 o'clock sharp tonight, and you''ll never have to worry about money again. Do not ask questions, just do as I asked. Signed, Robin H. --------------------------------------------------------------- /r/StoriesOfSerenity	I looked across the street at the pub, yearning to be inside next to the artificial hearth soaking in the heat rather than swaddled in rags ducking into an alley to enjoy a break from the wind. It got cold here on Fairhaven, and the planetary governors had long ago decided not to terraform the seasons out of the planet's capital. I would survive though, I always had. Besides, I didn't need to wait here too much longer. ------------------------------------------ "Monroe!" The voice crackled over the near-fold comms, "The bridge is showing total power loss, you've got to bring that battery back on line or we're sitting ducks out here!" "Aye, sir." I replied while flicking over to crew channels, "You heard the nice lady boys, we need this battery back online yesterday. Ramirez, where are we at?" "Main board is fried sarge, and I'm not sold on the primary relay." I heard a grunt from behind me as someone unloaded a spare board from the maintenance stack, "One shot's all we're going to have time for anyway Ramirez, give me a cycle warning when you ge tthe spare load-" the ship shuddered under another missile barrage, and the lighting dropped out of the chamber to immediately be replaced by emergency strips. Great, we were officially off life support, and I had about half a canister of air in my pack. Fifteen minutes at most. "Everyone alive out there?" I spoke out over crew comms as I bypassed a dozen priority flag messages. If we survived I'd probably end up court martialed, but survival came first. "We're still kicking sarge. Battery cycle in seven clicks." I pulled up targeting, but apparently combat support was offline too. Good thing the damned Xeroastrians were well within optical range. As the ready light flipped over to standby and live I exhaled slowly, only one chance. Through the wailing of every emergency system in the fleet trying to scream into my ear, I cycled the main batteries of the NSS Hercules and prayed the Xeroastrians were in as bad a place as we were. ----------------- Gods but it was cold. I had my hands tucked deep into my armpits, and had crouched down as low as I could into my rags, but still the chill wind blew. I waited. The military could teach a man to hurry up and wait as well as anywhere, and crouching in an alley sure beat standing at attention in your skivvies. Of course, I'd eaten better back then. But that was sort of the point of this operation. Finally the door across the street slid open, and my mark stepped out into the alley opposite me. I palmed the heaviest object I still carried with me, and set about tailing him - I bet Ramirez would've been proud. --------- Admiral Tsien was a bull of a man, nearly seven feet tall and probably tipping in closer to half a ton than not. It made it funny to watch prime minister Yellen step up to the podium in front of him. The little woman might not have reached his elbow, but she had steel in her for a civilian. I couldn't have been the only one in the hall cracking a smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think we all owe the admiral great thanks. Both for his incredible service to our federation, but also for his willingness to deliver a speech," She winked at the crowd, "No matter how terse, or how many teeth we had to pull to make it happen." The crowd laughed, there had been a lot of laughing in the Federation these days. We had fought off the Xeroastrians, who had surrendered shortly after the Hercules got off its last improbable shot and took their battleship off the board. The Hercules had limped back to Fairhaven driven by spare parts and prayers, but she had made it. The party hadn't stopped since. The prime minister took a moment to revel in the joy of her people, then took on a more somber attitude. "We shall never forget those who lost their lives defending Fairhaven, but we can honor them. As well as those who fought beside them." The rest of her speech passed by in a blur of memories for me, until I was wrenched out of my thoughts by her addressing me, "as well, Gunnery Seargent Alexander Monroe, who not only led his team in bringing online the main battery through total system failure, but who fired the decisive shot heard round the galaxy on optical targeting. For his distinguished service in combat, he is awarded the Fairhaven Cross." ------------------- We were treated like heroes on our return to Fairhaven proper, or presumably on the other planets of the Federation. But I had never desired life anywhere else. I'd grown up on Fairhaven, and I had enlisted to fight for it. No one was going to kick me off. Not the Fairhaven Shipyards, when they eliminated my maintenance detail and left me without a job. Not my landlord, when he'd thrown me and my wife out of our flat. Not my wife, who'd divorced me when I couldn't provide for her. Not the drug dealers who controlled so many of the shadows in Fairhaven. Certainly not a bartender who always had one of his cashiers run the day's take to the banking outlet. This was a good neighborhood after all. A good neighborhood for me at least, as I brought that fucking Cross down on the back of the boy's head. Heroes had to eat too.
	[WP] You are a thief and pickpocket who manages to save the world, after doing so you return to your life of crime but begin to think people may be letting you commit crimes because of who you are	Joseph took pride in his work. He never had any skills to be proud of in school. He wasn’t athletically gifted, he wasn’t smart, he didn’t have musical talent; all in all, Joseph was an average joe. Which is why, when he discovered his knack for pickpocketing, he began to steal, not for the monetary value, but the feeling of accomplishment one gets from succeeding at their area of expertise. His targets grew more and more challenging, more and more difficult, more and more dangerous as he sought to prove himself. What began as casual “bumps” with oblivious businessman in the crowded buses in the after work rush hours steadily built up to daring thefts from millionaires surrounded by burly bodyguards. Joseph tried not to take anything too valuable. He had a boring office job at some global corporation that paid well enough he didn’t really need to worry about paying his bills. The adrenaline rush from the thefts themselves were enough of a reward for Joseph. He never thought that he would lose his thrill when he stole the bioweapon from the shady suit he overheard planning to ransom the UN. It was such a small vial, he couldn’t believe that it was powerful enough to wipe all life on the planet. But alas, Joseph couldn’t ignore the chance what the stranger he overheard was telling the truth. He picked the vial from the man’s pocket and turned it in to the police. As it turned out, the vial was some sort of super virus developed by a nefarious genius straight out of a spy movie that did have the capability to cause humankind’s extinction. It was an overblown affair, with Joseph’s face plastered over every newspaper, magazine, tv screen and website. He even got invited by the president for lunch at the White House; he had to hold back his urge to grab the wooden statuette next to the front door. It was just plain impolite to steal something from a house one was invited in, and Joseph was anything but an impolite man. The problems came the first time Joseph tried to pickpocket someone after the incident. It was a standard move: bump into someone walking on the street, spill their bags, help them pick it up, and in the meanwhile swipe a thing or two. Except this, as he stood back up, his eyes met the victim’s, and he knew that the other man saw him pocket the ballpoint pen (it was some sort of cheap souvenir). They held each other’s gaze for several long seconds. Then, the man forced out a smile. “Thank you,” he said, and left with his bag. It was the same with the next few attempts. Joseph even deliberately made mistakes to make sure he wasn’t just imagining it. He wasn’t. Even when he was obviously stealing from them, every man and woman he stole from would just smile in that frustratingly placating manner he was beginning to hate, and say, “Thank you.” There was no more danger of being caught, and with it went the thrill. With this realization, Joseph spiraled down into depression. He turned to alcohol to lament the loss of his passion for the only thing he was ever good at. Life became grey, miserable, boring. One day, as he, drunk out of his mind, sobbed out his story to nobody at the local bar, a man approached. “You’re that pickpocket who saved the world, right?” he asked. “Yeah, what of it? Haven’t you guys thanked me enough yet, taken enough from me?” “No, I’m not here to thank you. I just thought, since you’re a pickpocket and all, you must have some pretty deft hands right? Wanna be an apprentice to a magician?” And so began a friendship of a lifetime, and Joseph Mavillo’s journey to become the greatest magician the world has ever known. (This is my first try at a WP, so please don’t judge too much. Hope you enjoy!)	I looked across the street at the pub, yearning to be inside next to the artificial hearth soaking in the heat rather than swaddled in rags ducking into an alley to enjoy a break from the wind. It got cold here on Fairhaven, and the planetary governors had long ago decided not to terraform the seasons out of the planet's capital. I would survive though, I always had. Besides, I didn't need to wait here too much longer. ------------------------------------------ "Monroe!" The voice crackled over the near-fold comms, "The bridge is showing total power loss, you've got to bring that battery back on line or we're sitting ducks out here!" "Aye, sir." I replied while flicking over to crew channels, "You heard the nice lady boys, we need this battery back online yesterday. Ramirez, where are we at?" "Main board is fried sarge, and I'm not sold on the primary relay." I heard a grunt from behind me as someone unloaded a spare board from the maintenance stack, "One shot's all we're going to have time for anyway Ramirez, give me a cycle warning when you ge tthe spare load-" the ship shuddered under another missile barrage, and the lighting dropped out of the chamber to immediately be replaced by emergency strips. Great, we were officially off life support, and I had about half a canister of air in my pack. Fifteen minutes at most. "Everyone alive out there?" I spoke out over crew comms as I bypassed a dozen priority flag messages. If we survived I'd probably end up court martialed, but survival came first. "We're still kicking sarge. Battery cycle in seven clicks." I pulled up targeting, but apparently combat support was offline too. Good thing the damned Xeroastrians were well within optical range. As the ready light flipped over to standby and live I exhaled slowly, only one chance. Through the wailing of every emergency system in the fleet trying to scream into my ear, I cycled the main batteries of the NSS Hercules and prayed the Xeroastrians were in as bad a place as we were. ----------------- Gods but it was cold. I had my hands tucked deep into my armpits, and had crouched down as low as I could into my rags, but still the chill wind blew. I waited. The military could teach a man to hurry up and wait as well as anywhere, and crouching in an alley sure beat standing at attention in your skivvies. Of course, I'd eaten better back then. But that was sort of the point of this operation. Finally the door across the street slid open, and my mark stepped out into the alley opposite me. I palmed the heaviest object I still carried with me, and set about tailing him - I bet Ramirez would've been proud. --------- Admiral Tsien was a bull of a man, nearly seven feet tall and probably tipping in closer to half a ton than not. It made it funny to watch prime minister Yellen step up to the podium in front of him. The little woman might not have reached his elbow, but she had steel in her for a civilian. I couldn't have been the only one in the hall cracking a smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think we all owe the admiral great thanks. Both for his incredible service to our federation, but also for his willingness to deliver a speech," She winked at the crowd, "No matter how terse, or how many teeth we had to pull to make it happen." The crowd laughed, there had been a lot of laughing in the Federation these days. We had fought off the Xeroastrians, who had surrendered shortly after the Hercules got off its last improbable shot and took their battleship off the board. The Hercules had limped back to Fairhaven driven by spare parts and prayers, but she had made it. The party hadn't stopped since. The prime minister took a moment to revel in the joy of her people, then took on a more somber attitude. "We shall never forget those who lost their lives defending Fairhaven, but we can honor them. As well as those who fought beside them." The rest of her speech passed by in a blur of memories for me, until I was wrenched out of my thoughts by her addressing me, "as well, Gunnery Seargent Alexander Monroe, who not only led his team in bringing online the main battery through total system failure, but who fired the decisive shot heard round the galaxy on optical targeting. For his distinguished service in combat, he is awarded the Fairhaven Cross." ------------------- We were treated like heroes on our return to Fairhaven proper, or presumably on the other planets of the Federation. But I had never desired life anywhere else. I'd grown up on Fairhaven, and I had enlisted to fight for it. No one was going to kick me off. Not the Fairhaven Shipyards, when they eliminated my maintenance detail and left me without a job. Not my landlord, when he'd thrown me and my wife out of our flat. Not my wife, who'd divorced me when I couldn't provide for her. Not the drug dealers who controlled so many of the shadows in Fairhaven. Certainly not a bartender who always had one of his cashiers run the day's take to the banking outlet. This was a good neighborhood after all. A good neighborhood for me at least, as I brought that fucking Cross down on the back of the boy's head. Heroes had to eat too.
	[WP] The pitchfork-wielding mob approaches your home, demanding to see the abomination.	Seeing as Catherine lived in an abandoned copse of dead trees off the edge of the village, it was odd that it was so bright near her home at this time of night. Curious, the middle aged housewife drew back the curtains of her window and looked outside to see something that really shouldn't be so commonplace to her anymore. "Will ye daft cunts stop showin' up at me door?" The man at the front of the mob held his torch higher. In response, the many people behind him held theirs up as well. In their other hands, the lot of them held pitchforks as well. Maybe one of them were farmers. Catherine had no idea why they had so many pitchforks. "We are here for the abomination, Catherine. It would do ye well to comply." Catherine simply placed her hands on her hips. Her face scrunched into a scowl as she regarded the mob before her. "I'm not complyin' to shiet, ye bunch a cornwhacking ninnies." She then moved to slam her door, but then came back to tower over the people on her front lawn. "And for the last time, me daughter isn't a damn abomination!" The crowd didn't seem impressed. "You lie, witch!" "I'm as much a witch as you are good in bed, Fred!" Fred promptly shut up. "Then explain her grotesque figure!" another man in the back screamed. "She's just a little ugly, ye daft cunt!" Catherine yelled. "You should know all about it, ye married an ugly one!" That man in the back shut up as well. "Any one else?" No one responded. "Good. Now get yer asses off me lawn!" Catherine then made to close her door. Just as it was fully closed, she hesitated, then turned back to the mob. "And fer the last time, stop gathering before me damn house in the middle of the night! It's facking 2018."	He’d known they’d come, eventually. It had started as a dark whisper amongst the trees, a feverish shuffling of unnatural echoes growing steadily louder. Soon enough, the crackling lights of torches came into view. Looking out from his bedroom window, Mike was dimly reminded of fireflies and peaceful childhood nights out with his father. The thought made him laugh, for his father was long dead, and the mob’s torches were certainly no fireflies. He also knew what they’d come for. They’d come for her. His pride and joy, his love of loves, his everything. They wanted to take her away. They wanted to kill her. They called her “The Abomination” simply because her skin was of a different hue. They had spat at her in the streets, had refused to serve her in their stores; in short, over the past two years, they had served upon her every possible indignity within the capacity of their small minds to produce. But that was evidently not enough. For here they were, at night, outside his farm, torches blazing, pitchforks gleaming, intent upon the kill, primal, base, and… doomed. Reaching down to his right, he felt through the darkness for something cool and reassuring, something that would be the undoing of his assailants. Unable to find it immediately, he whispered under his breath. Whoosh! His wand darted silently through the air from where it had fallen on the floor, coming to rest in the palm of his hand. Massaging it through his fingers, he felt his worries melt away. “Let’s make this quick” he thought to himself. Pointing his wand towards the window, he whispered again, whereupon the window was thrown open with a violent yet noiseless jerk. Summoning the requisite inner clarity, he walked towards the open portal. The moon was full that night, and as he reached the window ledge his eyes momentarily reflected it’s light, and, exactly then, as if on cue, he took flight. Soon enough, the mob completed its progress through the trees, across the field, and up to the house. From his vantage point far above, their torches seemed to trace a flickering, fiery halo around the house. And then they called for her. “We want The Abomination. Bring us The Abomination! Hand her over now, or we’ll burn both of you alive!” The moment was critical, and yet he hesitated, hoping that they might find it within themselves to stop at the eleventh hour. But stop they did not. The first torch went flying through the air, and landed upon the roof with a dull thud amongst a scatter of sparks. But then, everything stopped. Everything and everyone, that is, except for the wizard watching from above. Most humans are victims of time, struggling against its passage until finally, age necessitates death. But the wizard was no ordinary human, and had learnt long ago that time is fluid thing that could be, at least temporarily, dammed. And so it was that he descended from the heights, alighting before the foremost villains. He gazed at their faces contorted in grimaces of thoughtless rage, sweat beading from the wrinkles in their dirty brows. And as he looked, he began to cry… Of course, he could have killed them all. In his younger, more energetic, and less experienced days, their demise would have been instant and painless. But now, wizened by the passage of years and the rising and setting of suns and moons, he merely turned his back to them, and walked inside the house. Ascending the stairs and entering the bedroom, he looked to the bed, and there she was. “The Abomination” herself, surely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, lying peacefully asleep. Stooping down beside her, he placed a delicate kiss upon her forehead, and they both disappeared. Their house did burn down that night, and the murderous villagers returned, at length, to their homes, satisfied in a job well done. But something strange happened the next morning. A small sparrow happened to spot the burnt hulk of their home from his roost in the forest, and flew over for a closer look. It was hot and sooty, and the sparrow was sad, for the owners had given him seeds every winter. And then, just as he was preparing to fly away, he spotted something quite alarming out of the corner of his eye: a single, clawed and hairy hand feeling its way out of the charred rubble, followed by the rest of its unnatural and awful body. It was all to much for the sparrow, who rapidly lost consciousness, and descended to the ground in an uncontrolled feathery spiral. He wouldn’t wake up for at least a day and a half, but when he did, the word was out: an Abomination was on the loose, with a taste for Human flesh!
	[WP] The pitchfork-wielding mob approaches your home, demanding to see the abomination.	"Now, fellas, I know Miriam ain't lookin' as good as she used to, but callin' her an abomination is just mean." "She's dead, Jeb." The man at the front of the mob said. It was the corner store owner, Owen. "She ain't never been more alive. I ain't seen her run around the yard like this in years." "No, I mean, she died last week. Now she's an undead corpse walkin' the Earth. It ain't right, Jeb. Look at her. She's eating a chicken." Owen pointed behind Jeb. A woman with rotting flesh in a sundress, was eating a live hen. The chicken was furiously pecking at her face. "Well, who in the Hell don't like themselves some good chicken?!" Jeb declared. "Not when it's still peckin'!" A voice from the back yelled. "Well...it's our chickens! What we doin' with them is our business. It ain't like we hurtin' any of y'all." "She ain't the Henley's dog yesterday." Owen said. "Now, you can't prove that." Jeb heard Miriam heave. He turned toward her in time to see a red collar fall out of her mouth. "...um." Owen eyed him condescendingly. "Look, Jeb, we get it. When Miriam passed you got upset and consulted with evil powers to bring her back. We let you greave in your own way. Sure, we thought it was weird when all of a sudden you started reading a bunch of books bound in human flesh-" "I didn't even know you COULD read, Jeb," old woman Annette said, while cradling her ax. "The point is," Owen continued. "This isn't really your wife. It's just her body with some evil kinda spirit in it. It's terrorizing the town. It's just animals now, but how long until she attacks a person?" "She done ate paster Dave!" Loretta shouted , waving a rolling pin. Owen glared at her. "Loretta," Owen said in a harsh tone. "Don't you think you should have told someone that? Had I known she'd ate the preacher, I probably could've LED with that?!" "I don't have to listen to this! I'm leavin'!" Loretta said and stormed. Just as she had left the crowd the rain opened up on the small town folk. The torches went out, and the crowd's feet started to sink into mud. "Hey, Owen," the local mailman said. "I...I think I'mma gonna call it quits. I see ya tomorrow." As he started to walk away the crowd started to murmur and shamble back to their homes. Owen took one last flabbergasted look at Jeb, before walking off. Jeb turns to look at Miriam. "All right now honey. Let's get you inside. 'Sides, the wheel is on." Together they walked into their home.	He’d known they’d come, eventually. It had started as a dark whisper amongst the trees, a feverish shuffling of unnatural echoes growing steadily louder. Soon enough, the crackling lights of torches came into view. Looking out from his bedroom window, Mike was dimly reminded of fireflies and peaceful childhood nights out with his father. The thought made him laugh, for his father was long dead, and the mob’s torches were certainly no fireflies. He also knew what they’d come for. They’d come for her. His pride and joy, his love of loves, his everything. They wanted to take her away. They wanted to kill her. They called her “The Abomination” simply because her skin was of a different hue. They had spat at her in the streets, had refused to serve her in their stores; in short, over the past two years, they had served upon her every possible indignity within the capacity of their small minds to produce. But that was evidently not enough. For here they were, at night, outside his farm, torches blazing, pitchforks gleaming, intent upon the kill, primal, base, and… doomed. Reaching down to his right, he felt through the darkness for something cool and reassuring, something that would be the undoing of his assailants. Unable to find it immediately, he whispered under his breath. Whoosh! His wand darted silently through the air from where it had fallen on the floor, coming to rest in the palm of his hand. Massaging it through his fingers, he felt his worries melt away. “Let’s make this quick” he thought to himself. Pointing his wand towards the window, he whispered again, whereupon the window was thrown open with a violent yet noiseless jerk. Summoning the requisite inner clarity, he walked towards the open portal. The moon was full that night, and as he reached the window ledge his eyes momentarily reflected it’s light, and, exactly then, as if on cue, he took flight. Soon enough, the mob completed its progress through the trees, across the field, and up to the house. From his vantage point far above, their torches seemed to trace a flickering, fiery halo around the house. And then they called for her. “We want The Abomination. Bring us The Abomination! Hand her over now, or we’ll burn both of you alive!” The moment was critical, and yet he hesitated, hoping that they might find it within themselves to stop at the eleventh hour. But stop they did not. The first torch went flying through the air, and landed upon the roof with a dull thud amongst a scatter of sparks. But then, everything stopped. Everything and everyone, that is, except for the wizard watching from above. Most humans are victims of time, struggling against its passage until finally, age necessitates death. But the wizard was no ordinary human, and had learnt long ago that time is fluid thing that could be, at least temporarily, dammed. And so it was that he descended from the heights, alighting before the foremost villains. He gazed at their faces contorted in grimaces of thoughtless rage, sweat beading from the wrinkles in their dirty brows. And as he looked, he began to cry… Of course, he could have killed them all. In his younger, more energetic, and less experienced days, their demise would have been instant and painless. But now, wizened by the passage of years and the rising and setting of suns and moons, he merely turned his back to them, and walked inside the house. Ascending the stairs and entering the bedroom, he looked to the bed, and there she was. “The Abomination” herself, surely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, lying peacefully asleep. Stooping down beside her, he placed a delicate kiss upon her forehead, and they both disappeared. Their house did burn down that night, and the murderous villagers returned, at length, to their homes, satisfied in a job well done. But something strange happened the next morning. A small sparrow happened to spot the burnt hulk of their home from his roost in the forest, and flew over for a closer look. It was hot and sooty, and the sparrow was sad, for the owners had given him seeds every winter. And then, just as he was preparing to fly away, he spotted something quite alarming out of the corner of his eye: a single, clawed and hairy hand feeling its way out of the charred rubble, followed by the rest of its unnatural and awful body. It was all to much for the sparrow, who rapidly lost consciousness, and descended to the ground in an uncontrolled feathery spiral. He wouldn’t wake up for at least a day and a half, but when he did, the word was out: an Abomination was on the loose, with a taste for Human flesh!
Basically you're the inventor of firearms/guns/cannons in a fantasy world. I thought about writing this idea myself elsewhere but I want to see your take on it.	[WP] You are in a fantasy world with swords and magic. You are the one who comes up with the idea of cutting a hollow pipe, pouring an explosive material in the back, and using the pressure to send a metallic projectile out from the front. Explain your invention to your kingdom's military.	I hadn't even produced the sample but already Inquisitor Edric had the sickening sneer of a man who was ready to be unimpressed, and even more ready to dole out the punishment one could expect for wasting his time. "A powder you say? Made of metals?" His finger lazily tracked across the page of scrawled notes before him. The movement hand paused its arc at the end of a sentence, his eyes rising to meet mine only long enough to offer another look of delighted contempt as he continued. "...and an unenchanted powder at that. As could be prepared by any plough-bearing farmer with not even a day's study in the College of the Divines. You say the Gods would deign to bury such power in the mountains where any heathen could well take advantage? Leif, my son, you are straying dreadfully close to heresy." I wasn't quite able to hold the Inquisitor's burrrowing gaze but I'd recited my ideas often enough to put them forth now, even with the old man's threat hanging over my head. "No, my lord I wouldn't say any man could prepare this substance - it is quite a dangerous and exacting process - and with due respect to your counsel it takes a considerable effort even with the powder to create a pipe strong enough to stand the blast and small enough to carry with you. Furthermore, with respect to your reading of the Divine's will, perhaps it is your piety that has delivered my idea to you now. Perhaps-" "You'd do yourself good not to ramble any further of things you don't know, tinker," Edric snarled. "I don't care for your sycophantic attempts to coddle my ego, I care for results. Your letters said the weapon could equip men of no study with a great and powerful fire, so how is this to work then if they cannot create the powder or pipes themselves? I fail to see how this will do anything other than lead more hapless lambs to the White One's slaughter and if we are speaking freely, tinker, I grow increasingly wary of sending men to their deaths with little else but a prayer to protect them." "Ah, yessir, I..." I took a breath. No need to be courtly. The weapon was good. Edric clearly had a need. "Tinker Leif?" "Sorry, my lord, as you say - if we are speaking freely - I think you're missing the point. Yes, admitted, manufacturing the powder and pipes would take expertise but no more than could be easily requisitioned from the smiths' and alchemists' guilds. The potential is in the ability for anyone to use the weapon. No years of divination training. Not even a summer learning to use a bow - give a man or woman this pipe and they can kill anyone in front of them in a second. Provided they have one good eye and hands to grip it." "I have an example, do you have a pageboy?" The Inquisitor looked bemused, "Yes, but he's barely into his tenth winter I don't see how you're going to ready him for the field. It's the men on the front-" "My lord, please, this is an extreme example but I believe necessary." Edric sighed, for the briefest moment the condecension in his wrinkled face lifted and I saw the face of a man who was beyond the end of his tether. Tired. Old. Too old for another war. "Fetch the boy then Tismut," he waved a hand at an attending guard. In the few minutes I had before the boy arrived I pulled the pipe out of my bag and began explaining to the Inquisitor how it all worked. Powder in, projectile in (it had to be metal, a wooden shaft wouldn't do and ideally as wide as the pipe), then a bit of fire into a small hole at the base (which was a simple charm for most veteran soldiers, and torches could help those without). He continued to doubt the power of an unenchanted alchemical substance, but got lost enough in the technical details that I was able to dodge his harsher critiques. The Inquisitor took a great deal more interest when I offered he cast a ward on the plate-armoured manequin the guards had fetched to assist with the demonstration. He accepted the offer without a second thought, and immediately began pulling thick strands of viscous white out of the Liminal, weaving them into a bubble around the practice dummy. By the time the pageboy arrived Inquisitor Edric was ready to see the weapon in action. I approached the boy, who seemed confused and intimidated by the whole affair. "Hey son, what's your name there?" The child looked up at me, eyes wide. "It's alright boy, I'm a tinker not a soldier - you don't have to impress me. Leif was what my mother called me. How about you?" "Uh, Darus, sir. Darus of Ridgetown." "That's a good name, a strong name," I smiled at him and handed him the pipe, pointing its open end towards the practice dummy. "I'm not going to lie to you Darus, this is probably going to hurt and at the very least it will be mighty unpleasant, but it's important you don't close your eyes and aim only at the mannequin." "Sir, it's not going to kill me is it?" "No, no Darus. You'll be fine. Just a bit of a jolt is all." "Father told me not to trust a tinker's new inventions." He looked away from the mannequin for a half second before I pointed his head back in the right direction and raised his arms back to the correct firing position. "Well, that's true in most cases, but this time the Inquisitor needs to see if it works, and we can't really let him down just because your father was being overprotective now, can we?" "I guess not." "No, great. We're on the same page then. Ready?" "For what?" I sparked a small flame between my forefinger and thumb and put it against the back of the pipe. "FIRE!" The child was immediately knocked back to the ground and most of the guards and onlookers threw their hands to their eyes and ears in shock as the explosion ripped through the previously quiet hall. Only myself and Edric watched as the clump of metal screeched through the air and contacted the ward Edric had created. The mass barely halted as it met the white strands of energy, snapping them like a knife onto fiddle strings - causing them to lash out in all directions before rippling into non-existence. The plate provided even less of a challenge - the ball rending a gaping hole in the chestpeice. Everyone stood silent in shock, some looking to the projectile now embedded in the hall's stone wall and a couple running to the pageboy dust him off and bring him back to his feet. I grabbed a hold of myself again. "And this is the prototype." I felt relief, for perhaps the first time that whole day, as I saw Edric's face contort in a mixture of confusion and excitement. "How many can you have ready to distribute by Spring?" "Give me a month with Her Majesty's scholars to perfect the design, and another month for production and I should be able to have 200 units ready for the frontlines." "You have six weeks and I need 500 units with whatever resources you require. I don't need perfection, you can work on that when the Divines bless us with time we don't have at present. I'll see you in a cart to Centrus as soon as you can pack your things." I wasn't in a position to argue. "Yes my lord. As you ask." "I don't ask Leif, I command. There's four thousand men and their families resting on this. Don't fuck it up." I was taken aback by the Inquisitor's bluntness. "Uh, um, yessir." I quickly began packing my things and walked up to the throne to retrieve my notes from the Inquisitor's side table. As I came close he grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me close, so that only I could hear his anxious whisper. "Tinker, don't think I've ignored the fact you've created something which could arm a battallion of children. Have you even considered what you've brought upon us?" I stopped breathing. I didn't have a response. I wanted to say if not me then one of our enemies would have eventually uncovered this path. I wanted to say that we would not stoop to those levels, we would never endanger children like that. I wanted to say this was always only for our protection. I didn't say any of those things. "We'll see each other in Hell tinker. Let's hope your invention prolongs that meeting as far as possible." I took my notes and tried not to run as I exited the hall.	Magic was for the gifted. Nobles attuned to the spirits, or elements... Whatever they called it. I was not that lucky. I was a child of a soldier and a seamstress. Days were harsh but we were happy. We were fortunate enough to get by on the quilts sewn by my mother and meagre salary my father obtained from the nobles. I was not a good child, always curious. Always asking and wondering. Why? Why do things fall? Why is the sun so bright? Why do ants always move in a line. Why is it only nobles can cast magic. Why can't I cast magic. I remember the spankings, the indignation,the sorrow. The library by the town hall was my sanctuary. It was only accessible to the upper echelon of society but thankfully Mr Alfred took pity on the soot covered boy with eyes that sparkled curiosity. I spent my youth aiding my parents gathering firewood, spending nights secretly stashing spare firewood just to obtain more time in the library. As the head librarian Mr Alfred was in charge of the ins-and-outs of the facility. In return for helping him arrange and keeping the place clean he taught me how to read and write. This allowed me to earn money as a scribe, which allowed me to purchase firewood which then granted me even more time in the library to learn. He too was a commoner but was determined to plunge into the world of magic. The tomes surrounding spells were of little interest to me, for I had long given up on that pursuit. However, I never forgot his lessons on history and the world. That this land actually revolved around the sun. And that you could measure distance using the difference of the length of shadows. Arithmetic, geometry and alchemy were his forte, but sadly he squandered his days attempting to understand magic. He believed that magic was found in the soul. Or blood, or maybe both. He bemoaned on his chances to understand it. Maybe one day he would be able to observe the inner workings of a noble. Perhaps I would have the chance. The nobles did nothing when the beasts came. Men granted power and grace from the gods. Yet, they were the first to flee when the Beastmen attacked. The town I loved was razed together with everything I loved and cared for. What use is magic when you cannot even protect your own damn city. No. I will have my revenge. And I have found a way.
	[WP] A powerful demon has been pursuing a relationship with you, and you finally sit them down to set some boundaries.	Another day, another incessant banging at the front door. The neighbours must have thought i was in with the wrong crowd at this point. It was still early, incredibly so, in the morning. She always did this. To dutifully act as an alarm clock for her love or out of a strange demonic sense of sadism, i didn't know. I had tried to ignore her plenty of times, I even reinforced the door to dampen the noise but the demonic presence had an endless wellspring of strength to use to pound it into submission. ....Maybe if i put a booby trap on it? I shook my head, dismissing the thought as i tried to goad myself out of the bed. This had to end, before the sleep deprivation cost me my job. My apartment was hardly the most luxurious and it was unlikely i'd be able to find a place cheaper if i tried. With each step i took towards the door, the violent noise began to die down. Right, supernatural demon, can sense people. Out of groggy, ill-conceived spite, i simply stood in front of the door, letting her wait for just a while longer. Big mistake. The poor oak wood was suddenly pierced by a burning arm, the sudden light causing me to cringe. When my gaze returned to the door....well doorway, my only barrier was gone, absentmindedly thrown out of the complex. Instead, i met eyes with her. Lilim. "Do you always have to be like this?" Most young men who imagine a demoness imagine a more...human demonic lover. Sure, she had the general figure and maybe face of an attractive, curvy woman but that was were similarities ended. The normal, soft skin of a human was replaced by a grey, hard, almost decayed material. I hadn't touched it but it looked like rock. Two large horns, make of the same rock-like material curved around the side of her scalp, slowly rising until it got out of the way of her crimson hair. Her hair was an interesting oddity. It was long, flowed the same way a human's would however there were flickers of ember everywhere, occasionally leaving her hair to die out, causing little pockets of smoke to always surround her. She smelled like a burning building, quite literally. It had thrown me into a panic the first time i'd met her. Her eyes, instead of white, had black sclera. Her iris, yellow, had a subtle glow to it, an almost piercing gaze directed to anything that caught her attention. Her forehead was adorned with a singed four-pointed diamond, seemingly always looking as if it was freshly burnt on. Lilim's tail, similar to her skin in colour was almost reptilian, the strange trident-like tip always present to remind me not to piss her off. Of course, she wore no clothing. No demon did apparently but in it's place, her long, charred hair seemed to hug her frame, covering anything she might not want to show. However, her lack of coverings showed a multitude of burns, scars and even a bruise or two. According to Lilim at least, she was a warrior not to be trifled with, advice i had been trying to take for weeks, not matter how much she insisted on clinging to me. "Answer me already! You kids are all the same, i swear..." "I'm twenty three." I deadpanned, i always enjoyed this part of the routine. "And i'm five hundred and sixty four." She sighed, annoyance clear on her face. "Doesn't that make you..." I'd somehow managed a playful smile at this point, my annoyance slowly subsiding. Fire burst to life in Lilim's extended hand but i wasn't worried. She'd not once harmed me before. "Something akin to a paedophile by your human standards yes but not according to a demon's. We've been over this!" "And you keep making it entertaining." I must have had the most shit-eating grin on my face because instead of pouting like a child as usual, Lilim somehow conjured another door into existence and slammed it shut behind her. Her eyes were literally ablaze, promising righteous fury if i didn't make it up to her, quick. I promptly backed up all the way to the sofa in the back of the small apartment and timidly offered this demon a seat. . . . We sat there in silence for a good five or so minutes. Lilim hated it like this, which was always why she tried to keep things loud an chaotic. Why the silence today? I could almost feel her deflate, the usually bravado and gleeful clingyness gone. Against my instincts, i began to worry. "What's wrong?" She flinched but the sound of my voice guided her gaze to meet mine. For the first time in...ever, Lilim seemed resigned. "...I'm..sorry...for being such a hindrance all the time...I know you've never wanted me here and i've probably scared any girls you might have liked off...That Jessica seemed nice...I just wanted to come here one last time, to tell you i'll leave you alone now." Her frame shifted, away from my shoulder, to get up. My first emotion wasn't relief. In fact, i could feel an ache growing within my chest. Lilim, despite her demonic nature, had been remarkably good to me these past few weeks. There was always a gleefully evil spin to it, like when she conjured up a coffee machine for me, only for it to blow up in my face after one cup, but whenever i needed something, be it a favour or much needed support Lilim was always there. I grabbed her by the wrist, halting her in her tracks. The demon slowly turned to face me, a blush visible even under her strange skin. There was hope in those amber eyes, hope i didn't have the heart to destroy. "I...I guess we could give it a shot." Already, Lilim was moving to pounce but i raised a hand in front of her face, the serious expression on my face just enough to make her stop. "But! We're setting some rules first." "But that's no fair! You love my pranks!" She pushed herself up against me, both to tease me and retaliate against this supposed injustice. "You blew up my TV last week! The replacement for the one you blew up the week before because you tried and failed at cooking!" "But that cake was delicious!" Lilim cheered. She was far too gleeful for that catastrophe. I could easily recall that day. Never again. "It was literally just chunks of flavoured charcoal..." She playfully giggled. "Exactly! I'm used to just charcoal." "Rule number one: I cook. Rule number two: No fireblasts. Rule Number Three: Keep your demon duties of torturing, stealing babies, bartering for souls and anything else related to being a demon, out of this house." "Bu-" "Would you rather sleep on the sofa?" I gave her a firm, disciplinary stare. "I-WaitIGetToStayInBedWithYou?!" . . . "Yes. If you follow the rules." Lilim's head softly landed on my shoulder, her firm arms wrapping around my frame. "...Thank you." She buried her head in my chest, a content sigh escaping her lips. I smiled. She may have been the most outlandish choice of woman one could make but...well, she deserved a chance. I returned her embrace slowly. Perhaps, this could work out.	I Never thought I'd find myself in a situation like this. Sitting here at the park with a beautiful...something. It started weeks ago when I first bumped into her, literally of course.it was at the local mall near our college, I wasn't paying attention and we knocked each other over. I helped her pick up her things and when I looked at her, for a split second everything in my body screamed, then I blinked and it was just this girl I didn't know that fell somewhere on the border between hot and cute. Even now looking at her she seems like a normal girl with long dark hair and a body most guys would fight over, but when I focus I see past the illusion. deep purple to black skin, her head and tors were mostly the same save for her eyes and the thick black leathery flesh dress she seemed to naturally wear. her arms and legs were like coiled goopy black tentacles that moved and shifted all the time and ended with hands and feet that could easily be used sharp, chitinous weapons. "As much as I like that you're staring, didn't you say you wanted to talk?" she chuckled in a way that seemed all too innocent for what she was. "R-right." I stammered, I blinked and she was back to being a cute girl for the moment. "Look I get that for whatever reason you've been chasing after me. but this shit has got to stop." The look of hurt that spread across her face, both faces even, were like a spike to my heart. "what do you mean?" she asked, I could tell she was trying to act innocent. "Well...over the last month or so every girl I ever thought about talking to has had some kind of psychological break or an accident that put them in the hospital. I've been mysteriously receiving gifts related to my interests even things I know are impossible to get. I almost killed myself with that functional lightsaber by the way. And-" "Stop," she growled angrily, immediately looking guilty when she noticed my frightened stare. "I get it." "Alright...well. Do you have a name?" I asked slowly. "Nata-" "Real name." She looked around for a moment before saying in a voice that was surprisingly regal, "I am Norixiarel Princess of the abyss." "Ok, Can I call you Nori?" "S-sure, so long as there are no other demons around," she said quietly as she as a family passed us by. "Great, so why are you so hung up on me anyway? hell, why are you even here?" I asked once the family was out of earshot." "Things in the hells are...changing. The demon lords have all sent their children to earth to both hones whatever skills they might need for corrupting souls while they were at war. But the war has long since ended so now they've simply decided to let us stay as long as we want while treaty terms are made. Earth isn't a horrible place and the sun..." Nori paused to look at the sky, and again I found myself thinking who she was didn't suit what she was. "Having to hide my true form anytime I am not alone makes me miserable. I noticed you saw through my disguise when we first met and when you hardly reacted I felt I had to have you." "You know you sound like an anime character right now right?" I chuckled. "One of my classmates got me hooked on the kind with demon princesses in them a few years ago." "Well, I can't say I don't like those too. So if it'll keep you from mentally breaking random girls I guess we could give it a try." I sighed, "That'll be my first rule, no hurting people to get my attention. Second, no surprise gifts that shouldn't exist. Third, I get to add rules as needed just in case something weird happens. Deal?" "If my father knew a mortal was telling me what to do he'd have you killed." Nori said with a smile, "I guess I'll have to make sure he doesn't find out." "Great," I said smiling back, then I remembered what she mentioned earlier, "Did you say there were other demons around?"
	[WP] It spreads in the silence.	#### V-LOG ENTRY - 11/23/2019 > Classical music plays quietly in the background. I've got the whole facility to myself. Electricity, water, food - this place was meant to be entirely self-sufficient, able to withstand a nuclear attack, to house a thousand people for upwards of 2 years. At my current rate of consumption, the facility will still be running and habitable centuries after I die of old age. Eventually, the food will go bad I guess... > He takes a can of spaghetti and holds it up to the camera. But most of its canned and stored in nitrogen, so I think I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, oh, I don't know, 35 years from now. No, this was a lucky break, for sure. If they'd had time to change the password I would have been fucked. My ipad only had a few more hours of battery life, and it only take a minute. Luckily, I have everything hooked up to the internal speaker system now. The whole facility is on a 24/7 loop of classical music - which I downloaded from Piratebay. Eventually, of course, their servers are gonna go down like everyone else. But, not yet. It's still doesn't feel safe, you know? I just have this fear of the music going off while I sleep. I guess that would be for the best, I probably wouldn't even know what happened. But still, it's a pretty terrifying prospect. Anyway, I'll check in, now and again I guess. Nice to have someone to talk to. Later. ********* #### V-LOG ENTRY - 11/29/2019 > He is wearing a different T-shirt, eating chicken curry out of an aluminum can. Classical music can be heard. Hey hey hey, welcome back to the greatest show on Earth. Music's held out, as you can see. Still here. Still kickin'. Not much to do in here, I'll be honest. They don't really have any books, and so I've been spending most of the time on what's left of the internet. It's like playing digital Russian Roulette, except most of the chambers are filled with bullets. Every day more websites go down, and most of the ones that are still up haven't had new content in weeks. The Guardian's servers are still going strong, but there hasn't been a new article since the outbreak. The front page still has that shadow of a man's head pictured with a yellow question mark in its center, and a headline here, I'll turn the camera. > The camera turns to a computer screen, a website is visible but obscured by the screen refresh rate. That doesn't look great - OK, I'll give it my most dramatic reading. "W.H.O. On Shadow Virus: An Existential Threat To Humanity." How about that - just like one those movie announcer types. "An Existential Threat To Humanity!" Ooooweee, they got that right... > He looks away from the camera for over a minute Yeah...they got that right. ****** #### V-LOG ENTRY - 12/31/2019 > Dance music can be heard playing in the background. The room is covered in party decorations. He wears a cone hat with "Happy New Year" written on it sparkly letters. He stumbles and slurs his words. Hey, welcome back! Didn't want to bring in the new year all alone! Sorry about the music, maybe a little too loud, but it's a celebration! I even set up a countdown clock. > Camera pans to display a digital alarm clock counting down from 19 seconds, and then spins back around shakily landing on a table. We are just seconds away from the New Year, 2020! Can you believe it? I for one am exhilarated at what the new year may bring! Oh, Ohhhh, here we go. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, FIVE, FOUR, come on say it with me, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR!! > He blows on a small plastic horn and dances around in the camera frame, accidentally bumping into the camera. It falls to the ground and goes black when it reaches the floor. ******** #### V-LOG ENTRY - 6/14/2020 > First his eye, and then the rest of his face is displayed up close. Heavy metal music can be heard playing fairly loudly in the background. Oh, you work huh? You work? Are you working? ********* #### V-LOG ENTRY - 6/15/2020 > He is sitting center frame, with a fairly robust beard and red rimmed eyes. Death metal plays in the background. Hi. I uh, it's nice to see you again. I broke the other camera, and thought that was it. Only found this one when I was searching through some of the storage rooms. This place is gigantic. Still has secrets, I'm sure of it. Anyway, I've uh... I've... I have ...uh switched, my music. This is a little aggressive I guess... > He gestures up at the ceiling ...all the better to keep it at bay. Had a little scare a couple of weeks ago. Some Mahler piece, one of his symphonies ends real weird. Usually it's a crescendo and then straight to the next piece of music. But, Mahler, that fuck, had to go and be all artsy and whatnot. The symphony ended in almost complete silence. It's funny, you can feel it in your head, the second it senses an opening. That last note played - thank christ this was middle of the day by the way - but that last note played, and immediately, in the half second before I started humming, the burning starts, right in here. > He points his finger firmly at his temple. He holds his finger so hard against his skin that the fingertip turns white. Right there - just like a tiny drill bit, straight into my fucking brain. So, I switched up the music to something a little more lively - a lot less likely to have unexpected lulls. > He is silent for several seconds. It's fucking crazy that it's still there, after all this time. You almost trick yourself into thinking your not infected, right? A few months pass, and sure, you're lonely, but you're alive too, and you haven't felt that burning in forever. "Maybe" you think, "maybe it's not there anymore. Maybe my immune system beat it, right? Maybe I'm the special one." But then something like this happens, and there it is again, just waiting, quiet, certain...inevitable... > He stares at the far wall while the death metal plays for another couple of minutes. ********* #### V-LOG ENTRY - 9/29/2020 > Rock and Roll music can be heard playing in the background. He looks terrible. His skin is sickly white, his hair long and tangled, filled with grease. His clothes are stained and beginning to fray. He stares into the camera for a long time before speaking. ... I, uh... You just don't... you can't know where you gonna end up, you know? I...never thought it would be here, like this, do you know what I mean? > He leans into the camera, looking closely into the lens. Do you know what I mean? You're just a camera. No one will ever see this. You're just a camera. ************ #### V-LOG ENTRY - 11/2/2020 > Classical music plays again. He looks much better than before. He has shaved and showered. He even appears to have some color in his skin. His eyes are still very tired, but a certain optimism shines in them again. His voice is steady. Hey guys. Sorry, I kind of fell apart there for awhile, but I found something that's given me a new sense of purpose. I spend a lot of time on the internet, just writing in random URLs, doing searches, looking for anything that might still be up and running. I, uh, don't really have anything else to do. A few days ago, I was doing my rundown of government websites - EPA, DOD, CDC - and would you fucking believe it, the CDC was up! They had an announcement on their front page - a cure. Actually, well, not a cure - but kind of a ...a work around. The virus apparently... I got this from the website... it infects the Cochlear nerve and sends it into a death spiral, complete meltdown. Weirdly, it's the sound, I guess, of silence - sorry, that's dumb, but I don't know how else to say - the sound of silence causes an overreaction, that spreads, starting in the Cochlear nerve, and stretching out to the rest of your brain. That... fucking... burning sensation ... it's just the start of a chain of self destructing neurons - and if you don't stimulate the Cochlear nerve with something - that's, like, noise, right? - then the electrical activity, I guess, moves into the brain, like a seizure that you don't come out of. Anyway - I know all this now because the CDC posted it on their website - which might seem weird, cause everyone's dead, right? Wrong. Everyone is infected. Most people who had a functioning Cochlear nerve are dead. But apparently some deaf people were never affected at all. Which leads me to the CDC's instructions. > He bends over slightly and brings a long, large gauge needle into the camera's view. Apparently, there are a number of tools you could use to complete the operation, although an extra length syringe would be ideal, and I happen to have a shit ton of those laying around. Um, the instructions are pretty straight forward, they even have a diagram, although it really doesn't need much explanation. The idea is to sever the Cochlear nerve, like they do for tinnitus patients sometimes. The problem... > He coughs nervously and pauses The problem is you can't really do it yourself with any degree of accuracy, which, our government ... in its infinite wisdom...has planned for. They recommend, a kind of, well, making an ear smoothie essentially. You just take the needle, > He grabs the needle between two fingers. Pull off the ole cap there > He pulls off the cap Then you stick it into your ear and rotate it... > He bends forward to read the instructions off a laptop screen. ..."holding the needle at a 30 degree angle relative to the center of the ear." > He looks at the screen, deadpan. So. Good news, bad news I guess. Good news, there's a cure. Bad news... well...yeah. > He looks around the room. The classical music continues to play in the background. He puts his head in his hands and appears to cry for awhile before reaching out to shut off the camera, his face resolute. ********** ##### For More Legends From The Multiverse ##### r/LFTM	I felt its presence in the room. In truth, I was responsible for it. I sat frozen in my chair, not knowing how to deal with it. And what about Matt? He was prone to bouts of panic. I dreaded to think what he'll do if he notices it. I had to do something. I had to stop the spread. Keep talking. Don't acknowledge it. "So, Matt. Got much planned for the weekend?" I could feel it behind me, I sensed it passing over my shoulder towards him. Keep him talking. Keep him distracted. "Yeah I do actually," he replied, smiling up at me. "I'm going on holiday with my parents. We're going to - ..." He froze. Fuck. I need to distract him. There's no telling what he'll do otherwise. "Where, Matt? Where are you going?" He looked at me, face twitching. Fear in his eyes. I knew he knew. "Dude..." "Shh," I say to him. "Shh, Matt. Don't feed it. Ignore it. Keep talking." "Dude..." he repeated, his voice reserved and still. "Matt, please. Keep talking. It's the only way we'll get past it." "Dude... did you fart?" "Shh, Matt please. Shhh"
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	March 31, 9:24 am She bit into the chocolate. "By the way, are you sure you should be here? Isn't Danny getting married today?" "I already let him know I'm not coming, and he's totally cool with it. Plus, he's still mad about last week." "Well, I would be too if you crushed me at my lifelong hobby. I've never even seen you touch a chess piece before." "I got lucky, that's all. He managed to play into the one line I glanced at in his book. Anyways, it wasn't even my idea. He got me drunk just so I'd play a game with him. You know I have a rule against games." "Well, I can understand how he feels. You're already soooo fantastic at everything else." "Nah, just math, science, history, speaking foreign languages, dodging oncoming cars, mind reading..." She smiled. "Well, there's still some time this evening. You should make sure to go see him again before he leaves for his honeymoon. It's not every day your best friend gets married." "Yeah, I'll go see him tonight." March 31, 9:24 am "Hey, you're taking that business trip to New York again soon right?" "Uh, yeah, in June." "Make sure to eat extra for me." "I'll eat tons." "And I know you say you're the luckiest man in the world, but try to be safe. That car actually did almost hit us the last time. Luck doesn't last forever." "I know." March 31, 9:24 am She gazed out the window. "It's cherry blossom season again... it's a shame we can't go there again this year." She sighed, "Nothing lasts forever, just like those blossoms, right?" "No. You'll remember them. And I'll remember them." I held her hand tighter. "Those moments will last forever." March 31, 9:01 am As I walked through the hospital room's door, I heard a yell, "You're late!" "Only by a minute. I had to pick this up on my way here," I replied as I presented some chocolates. "You know, I never know how you do that. That's exactly what I was craving." As soon as those words left her lips, she started sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm not ready yet. I'm dying and I'm not ready." "I know." "I wish... I wish I could stay here. I wish I could just stay here forever with you."	>Most people think time is like a river that flows swift and sure in one direction. But I have seen the face of time, and I can tell you: they are wrong. Time is an ocean in a storm. You may wonder who I am or why I say this. Sit down and I will tell you a tale like none you have ever heard... I am the Prince of Persia, and the King of Blades! Not griefing or trolling, but I've already seen/played the perfect story using this concept, and I doubt anyone can top such an epic tale.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	Isaac watched the horrifying images being transmitted across his TV. Panic, screaming, explosions, guns, a coup d'etat in the night. He stood there, holding an open thank you note in his hands. It had just been a simple challenge, an afterthought, a joke. There was a group of fuzzy figures, dressed in elegant formal attire. It had been one of those formal charity events, the kind where the wealthy compare dick sizes by spending absurd amounts of money on African safaris or Antarctic cruises. "You can do anything Isaac," one of the shadowy nameless faces had said to him. He was schmoozing, looking for Isaac to invest in his latest cyber security venture. "I'll tell you what," the figure said, "if you solve this puzzle, I'll never bother you again. If you can't solve it, then you have to invest in my company." The small crowd gathered around them laughed at the challenge. Isaac wanted to put the man in his place. At the time, Isaac had done everything correctly, at least once. He got his start winning the lottery. Though it took him a while to find one that had a 10 minute window from lock out to draw time. Then played around in some stocks, making quick purchases and sales. When cryptocurrencies became popular, he made a fortune. Doctors had called him to assist in surgery. He'd been known walk into a tragic fire and save every life. Physicists asked him to review their models for inaccuracies. Speed chess? He was the reigning world champion, he even beat one of those AI computers after rewinding 4 or 6 thousand times. He could do anything, he could win anything. That's what they all told him. And they were right, if he failed, he could just turn back the clock 10 minutes and try again. He always got it right, there was no mistake he couldn't rewind and redo. Of course, he hadn't considered the consequence of success. That other people had noticed how he always got it right. It hadn't occurred to him that he might one day regret it. He solved the puzzle to the amazement of the crowd around him. It was a complicated formula, Isaac still might invest in the company even after he solved the puzzle. It could easily be sold as military grade encryption. It took him the better part of a million rewinds, but he solved it. The women wood, the men were wowed. He left the party with three individuals, comforted in his own ego. When he woke up the next day, the strangers who had been in his bed that night were gone already. The simple thank you note sat on the night stand next to a copy of the puzzle he solved and a bottle of iced champagne: Isaac, As always, you got it right. Thank you for your help in ushering in this new era.	>Most people think time is like a river that flows swift and sure in one direction. But I have seen the face of time, and I can tell you: they are wrong. Time is an ocean in a storm. You may wonder who I am or why I say this. Sit down and I will tell you a tale like none you have ever heard... I am the Prince of Persia, and the King of Blades! Not griefing or trolling, but I've already seen/played the perfect story using this concept, and I doubt anyone can top such an epic tale.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	There was this one kid in my school called Alexander. Now Alexander was a transfer student, he was handsome, flirty, and above all the most intelligent person I’ve had the pleasure to meet. I talked with him the first day since he was in 5 of my classes and familiarized him with the building and the other students. The first week passes and he is a fucking celebrity in the school. He was the star player in basketball, despite not being that fit or athletic, he still manages to score 50 points each game. He was popular with all the girls as he was silver tongued, never seemed to say a single wrong word or stutter. He was also in the debate team, he won every single debate even one where he was advocating for slavery and hangings! He could predict everything that is going to happen in the next 10 minutes with incredible accuracy. When I asked him about it, he would chuckle and say “fortune favors the bold, and I’m the boldest person on this planet.” One fateful day there was a school shooting.... nobody died that day.... Alexander ran straight at the school shooter like Snake from metal-fucking-gear, disarmed him with sleight of hand the likes of which were never seen on the planet, then proceeded to batista bomb the fucker. Alexander got suspended for the next 2 weeks for “violence on the school campus”	>Most people think time is like a river that flows swift and sure in one direction. But I have seen the face of time, and I can tell you: they are wrong. Time is an ocean in a storm. You may wonder who I am or why I say this. Sit down and I will tell you a tale like none you have ever heard... I am the Prince of Persia, and the King of Blades! Not griefing or trolling, but I've already seen/played the perfect story using this concept, and I doubt anyone can top such an epic tale.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	You bet I am the sweetest girl you have ever met. I wouldn't hurt a fly! I will always get you the right present, say the right thing, and do the right thing. That time you thought you got away with sleeping with my best friend. That time you thought you got away by winking at that waitress, and that time when I smiled at you warmly when you insulted me with in front of all your friends. I wish I could tell you why I stay. No everyone has the privilege to stab the shit out of the person they hate the most in the world, every single day. Every.Day!	>Most people think time is like a river that flows swift and sure in one direction. But I have seen the face of time, and I can tell you: they are wrong. Time is an ocean in a storm. You may wonder who I am or why I say this. Sit down and I will tell you a tale like none you have ever heard... I am the Prince of Persia, and the King of Blades! Not griefing or trolling, but I've already seen/played the perfect story using this concept, and I doubt anyone can top such an epic tale.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	It can be hard to imagine, because of human design, that by a small margin you can control the time. I would love, my dear reader, to teach you to control, but only the creator knows the special word. Even if I wrote it, I would have to write again, even if I told it, I would have to tell again. So behold! my dear reader, I will show you how a tide can make you a new creator, one, who feels the time. I was standing near the ocean, enjoying summer breeze, when a tide, without caution, has swallowed me in a caprice. In the water, there were many, combining in a work of art, shining specks ― but not like fairies! ― like the stars in cloudless night. (That distinction is important: magic, as you know, has no interest for art, only nature, mathematics can tell disorder: "No! There's patterns, here's the list!") Time is beauty, time is right, time can only be controlled by one, who has the sight that recognizes the reward of living in a loop that happens only once, for it would be a pain to see the order go... You cannot be ideal, but time still finds the way, it can remove the seal and wash away the pain. Once seal is removed, you will find the order, with every single movement it destroys disorder. Now I, my dear reader, can remove your doubt: the scene in the beginning was at an ocean, without flow, there is no time, but it was not at the Pacific, not Atlantic, not in sight were Arctic and Antarctic, Indian was far away. The ocean that remains unheard, it has a lovely name, but only the creator knows this special word.	Jim was the best, ever, period. He made sure everyone knew it, too. Any time there was a writing assignment during class, he’d stalk from desk to desk, paper to paper, until he found what he was looking for. With a few slashes and strokes of his red pen, he’d write in spelling, grammar, and punctuation suggestions as they were writing it. He’d find sore spots in the plot, add character development suggestions, you name it. Jim spent probably more than an hour doing the good work for every two minutes of class. Jim didn’t take aging into account and, by the end of the year, was middle aged, balding, paunchy, and alcoholic. Jim was a dick, the biggest ever, period, and he deserved what he got.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	There was this one kid in my school called Alexander. Now Alexander was a transfer student, he was handsome, flirty, and above all the most intelligent person I’ve had the pleasure to meet. I talked with him the first day since he was in 5 of my classes and familiarized him with the building and the other students. The first week passes and he is a fucking celebrity in the school. He was the star player in basketball, despite not being that fit or athletic, he still manages to score 50 points each game. He was popular with all the girls as he was silver tongued, never seemed to say a single wrong word or stutter. He was also in the debate team, he won every single debate even one where he was advocating for slavery and hangings! He could predict everything that is going to happen in the next 10 minutes with incredible accuracy. When I asked him about it, he would chuckle and say “fortune favors the bold, and I’m the boldest person on this planet.” One fateful day there was a school shooting.... nobody died that day.... Alexander ran straight at the school shooter like Snake from metal-fucking-gear, disarmed him with sleight of hand the likes of which were never seen on the planet, then proceeded to batista bomb the fucker. Alexander got suspended for the next 2 weeks for “violence on the school campus”	Jim was the best, ever, period. He made sure everyone knew it, too. Any time there was a writing assignment during class, he’d stalk from desk to desk, paper to paper, until he found what he was looking for. With a few slashes and strokes of his red pen, he’d write in spelling, grammar, and punctuation suggestions as they were writing it. He’d find sore spots in the plot, add character development suggestions, you name it. Jim spent probably more than an hour doing the good work for every two minutes of class. Jim didn’t take aging into account and, by the end of the year, was middle aged, balding, paunchy, and alcoholic. Jim was a dick, the biggest ever, period, and he deserved what he got.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	You bet I am the sweetest girl you have ever met. I wouldn't hurt a fly! I will always get you the right present, say the right thing, and do the right thing. That time you thought you got away with sleeping with my best friend. That time you thought you got away by winking at that waitress, and that time when I smiled at you warmly when you insulted me with in front of all your friends. I wish I could tell you why I stay. No everyone has the privilege to stab the shit out of the person they hate the most in the world, every single day. Every.Day!	Jim was the best, ever, period. He made sure everyone knew it, too. Any time there was a writing assignment during class, he’d stalk from desk to desk, paper to paper, until he found what he was looking for. With a few slashes and strokes of his red pen, he’d write in spelling, grammar, and punctuation suggestions as they were writing it. He’d find sore spots in the plot, add character development suggestions, you name it. Jim spent probably more than an hour doing the good work for every two minutes of class. Jim didn’t take aging into account and, by the end of the year, was middle aged, balding, paunchy, and alcoholic. Jim was a dick, the biggest ever, period, and he deserved what he got.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	There was this one kid in my school called Alexander. Now Alexander was a transfer student, he was handsome, flirty, and above all the most intelligent person I’ve had the pleasure to meet. I talked with him the first day since he was in 5 of my classes and familiarized him with the building and the other students. The first week passes and he is a fucking celebrity in the school. He was the star player in basketball, despite not being that fit or athletic, he still manages to score 50 points each game. He was popular with all the girls as he was silver tongued, never seemed to say a single wrong word or stutter. He was also in the debate team, he won every single debate even one where he was advocating for slavery and hangings! He could predict everything that is going to happen in the next 10 minutes with incredible accuracy. When I asked him about it, he would chuckle and say “fortune favors the bold, and I’m the boldest person on this planet.” One fateful day there was a school shooting.... nobody died that day.... Alexander ran straight at the school shooter like Snake from metal-fucking-gear, disarmed him with sleight of hand the likes of which were never seen on the planet, then proceeded to batista bomb the fucker. Alexander got suspended for the next 2 weeks for “violence on the school campus”	It can be hard to imagine, because of human design, that by a small margin you can control the time. I would love, my dear reader, to teach you to control, but only the creator knows the special word. Even if I wrote it, I would have to write again, even if I told it, I would have to tell again. So behold! my dear reader, I will show you how a tide can make you a new creator, one, who feels the time. I was standing near the ocean, enjoying summer breeze, when a tide, without caution, has swallowed me in a caprice. In the water, there were many, combining in a work of art, shining specks ― but not like fairies! ― like the stars in cloudless night. (That distinction is important: magic, as you know, has no interest for art, only nature, mathematics can tell disorder: "No! There's patterns, here's the list!") Time is beauty, time is right, time can only be controlled by one, who has the sight that recognizes the reward of living in a loop that happens only once, for it would be a pain to see the order go... You cannot be ideal, but time still finds the way, it can remove the seal and wash away the pain. Once seal is removed, you will find the order, with every single movement it destroys disorder. Now I, my dear reader, can remove your doubt: the scene in the beginning was at an ocean, without flow, there is no time, but it was not at the Pacific, not Atlantic, not in sight were Arctic and Antarctic, Indian was far away. The ocean that remains unheard, it has a lovely name, but only the creator knows this special word.
	[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.	You bet I am the sweetest girl you have ever met. I wouldn't hurt a fly! I will always get you the right present, say the right thing, and do the right thing. That time you thought you got away with sleeping with my best friend. That time you thought you got away by winking at that waitress, and that time when I smiled at you warmly when you insulted me with in front of all your friends. I wish I could tell you why I stay. No everyone has the privilege to stab the shit out of the person they hate the most in the world, every single day. Every.Day!	It can be hard to imagine, because of human design, that by a small margin you can control the time. I would love, my dear reader, to teach you to control, but only the creator knows the special word. Even if I wrote it, I would have to write again, even if I told it, I would have to tell again. So behold! my dear reader, I will show you how a tide can make you a new creator, one, who feels the time. I was standing near the ocean, enjoying summer breeze, when a tide, without caution, has swallowed me in a caprice. In the water, there were many, combining in a work of art, shining specks ― but not like fairies! ― like the stars in cloudless night. (That distinction is important: magic, as you know, has no interest for art, only nature, mathematics can tell disorder: "No! There's patterns, here's the list!") Time is beauty, time is right, time can only be controlled by one, who has the sight that recognizes the reward of living in a loop that happens only once, for it would be a pain to see the order go... You cannot be ideal, but time still finds the way, it can remove the seal and wash away the pain. Once seal is removed, you will find the order, with every single movement it destroys disorder. Now I, my dear reader, can remove your doubt: the scene in the beginning was at an ocean, without flow, there is no time, but it was not at the Pacific, not Atlantic, not in sight were Arctic and Antarctic, Indian was far away. The ocean that remains unheard, it has a lovely name, but only the creator knows this special word.
	[WP] You fall asleep Wednesday. You wake up, arrive to work, and your co-workers begin to talk about their weekend plans. You look at your computer and the calendar reads Friday. You have no idea where Thursday went.	''You guys...'' My coworkers halt their conversation and turn towards me. ''Yeah?'' ''I was here yesterday, right?'' Dana shot me a confused look. ''Yeah'', she finally responded. ''Is something wrong, Dale?'' ''Well, it's just, you're all talking about your weekend plans, right?'' Now she looked even more bewildered. ''...yes. As is usual, on Fridays.'' ''That's the whole point! Yesterday was only Wednesday!'' Dana breathed a sigh of relief. ''Oh thank goodness, I was starting to believe something was up with you.'' Now it was my turn to be confused. ''But...where did Thursday go?'' She laughed. ''Oh Dale, always forgetful! It's Daylight Saving Time, remember?'' ''What?!'' She sighed. ''Don't play stupid with me. You know, Daylight Saving Time. Where once a year we skip a day in order to save daylight?'' ''That doesn't make any sense!'' ''Yeah, I think so too. Especially since they just re-add the day in six months. But oh well, what can we do? At least we have an early weekend now.'' ''But that's not how-'' ''Oh, it's 5 o'clock already! Gotta go pick up the kids. See you on Monday!'' ''But...'' ''Bye Dale!''	Another long night, another refreshing, but short shower, maybe it’s time for some laundry, no not tonight. You just want sleep. You wake up and roll out of bed after the five minutes. You sniff yesterday's uniform, then you look at the time. You wonder if you have enough time to eat, then you "think well maybe I can sneak something at work". Finishing up your morning routine, you get going. You arrive at work, and you keep sitting down in your car. You don't even notice the dirt, the trash, and the clothes inside. You take a minute to get yourself mentally prepared to walk in and clock in. Then finally with a groan you start walking, you wonder what and who you have to deal with today. You get clocked in, and you start your job. After the greetings and the usual, you hear your coworkers talking about getting shitfaced tomorrow on Saturday for their lucky day off. You realize it can't be Friday! Where did Thursday go? You ask your coworkers it is actually Friday today and they have to remind yes it is and what you did yesterday. You laugh it off by saying "yeah the days are just rolling into each other."
	[WP] A teen becomes a super villain as an act of rebellion against their super hero parent. They didn't expect their full support to make their own life choices.	"Terry, we need to talk." I knew that voice. Any other human being would be overjoyed to hear that voice. I heard it every single day of my lamentable persistence. It was the voice of Commander Justice, the red and blue patriot. There was no hero quite like him, no human came even close. The paragon of integrity, the pinnacle of truth. And my father. I dumped my bag by the door as he sat there, ominously framed by the entryway to the family dining room. Our house was never a striking one- it had two floor, a spacious basement, and an underground lair that I was repeatedly told never to enter. Of course, I have my own lair. Its... a fixer upper. In the shed. Behind the house. I trudged through the hall, my mouth pursed to a slanted pout as I dragged my feet across the tiled floor. This was not my first pow wow with the worst dad in all the 84 multiverses. And after my long weekend, I would not be surprised if this became a daily thing. For over the weekend, the SuperHacker TabLord had taken his name and plastered it on every atm in the United States... at least the ones that were operated by a specific credit agency that had a surreptitious backdoor that just BEGGED me to tear it open. Wait, is that gay? Shit, I don't wanna sound gay- I'm not gay. I swear. My closet is full of porn. Not even my dad's x-ray vision could pierce the cavalcade of and T & A in my closet. ANYWAYS, I fell upon my chair, adopting my patented "fuck off dad" face. Each of my friends had one. We practiced with each other quite a bit inbetween classes we rarely attended. It was good for report card days, and had served me well all through middle school. My dad crossed his arms, his arms of steel resting against that billboard of a chest. "Terry, how much did you make last night?" I did not respond. Of course I wouldn't respond. I had no earthly clue what he was talking about. "Terry, come on. Talk to me here." "I made uh... 30? Off Adrien..." "I don't care how much you extorted off that jock. I want to kno-" the man paused. He looked to my right. Right to his true love, his one real lady. The Bourbon on the counter sat there, glistening beneath the light. Oh how intimate their relationship. "Ok, fine, fine," the man said. "Tablord," he said, staring me down. Finally, I could experience it- the terror that filled any villain to confront Commander Justice, conqueror of all evils. "How much did you make from hacking TotalFax last night?" I began to laugh, an evil, terrible laugh. For it was I, Tablord that- I devolved into a coughing fit. Evil laughs are hard. And they actually sound awful with your voice cracking. My dad poured me a cup of water, and patted my back as I hacked my way through it. "Deeper breaths son, you gotta laugh from the gut," he advised me as I gulped it all down. He resumed his seat. After a minute, I twisted to him, and resumed my EPIC monologue! "YES, COMMANDER JUS-"' I looked to the clock. Ok it was seven- nobody could complain about the noise. "YES, COMMANDER JUSTICE, IT IS I, TABLORD! RULER OF CYBERSPACE!" "Terry, look, I get that you're a villain, but is the monologue necessary?" "I mean," I paused. WAS this necessary? "I can give you the CliffNotes." I mean, he knew what CliffNotes were, right? Oh good, he's nodding. He's not as ancient as I feared. "Alright, I'll just skip through the notes," I pulled out the cue card I had practiced during my bus ride home. "Ok, so... I am Tablord I robbed the United Bank To do this, I used the VPN an rerouted all traffic through a server in Bosnia I had to obscure this IP several times to through off Dad's computer-savvy partner, Dendrite. I used that confusion to access a back door in a Credit Agency You'll never find the money *Its in fifty different accounts "You get all that?" My dad stared back at me, completely lost. Dendrite would get it- she kept with these things. She was a blast to have over for dinner, though her kids were... less keen on the cool things. They were into League of Justice. "Um... so... how much did YOU make exactly?" "Dad, I have fifty different accounts under 50 different names, and I funneled nearly 75 million dollars into them." "Ok, but... how do you... get... the money?" I groaned. I walked up to the fridge and took out the expo marker off the side, quickly drawing a chart on the aluminium door. "Ok, so, I have a fake name, that I used to open an account in sweden," I started drawing circles. "I can access that account via wire transfer- that's how I got the money," I draw arrows to communicate the money going in and out. I turned to find my dad sitting there with his smartphone in hand. "Are you recording this?" I asked him. "... Maybe?" the Commander said. "Dad, what the f-" "Terrrryyyyy?" I fished my hand into my pocket and fed the swear jar a single fuck. "Ok, dad, what the HIFL are you doing?" "... I'm curious," the man said. I'm very glad I did not learn how to lie from him, because his enter face scrunches when he spits out a blatant misrepresentation of the facts. "Dad." "Look," the man said, putting down his phone. "How much did you make last night?" "... 75 million dollars." "And who did you steal it from?" "I mean... I just still a thousand from a bunch of accounts, and a million from the CEO's personal checking account. Made it seem like a purchase in their internal systems." "... I want in." "... What?"	High school. I had always envisioned high school as this meat grinder. A freeze-dried "coming of age" scenario ripped straight out of every teen drama or made-for-tv movie that I'd ever seen. However, despite my wildest preconceptions, high school wasn't bad at all. No one ever bothered me, I never made enemies with the cheerleading captain, I never had to deal with bullies, or annoying creeps, and I always had a steady supply of friends. Everyone wanted to be my friend. Why? Certainly not because they were interested in me. More likely, because they were interested in who I was. You might have heard of Captain Positive. By the time that you'd be reading this, the name "Captain Positive" will have been known across every country throughout the entire world. He was known as "the optimist." He was first recognized for being an excellent police negotiator. He's talked people out of committing suicide, then he negotiated with terrorists and was able to free an entire boatload of hostages, and things finally became serious when he was able to broker the complete peace between the soon-to-be warring nations, the US and Russia. People don't know if his methods are natural, or if he uses some kind of magic, or some strange psychological ability that scientists haven't pin pointed yet. He speaks normally and uses words than anyone else can use. There isn't anything special about his mannerisms or the way he presents himself. But when he talks, people listen. Period. Every culture on this planet knows him as a savior. The truth of the matter is that he's the closest thing to a superhero that planet earth has. and he's also my father. Mom loves him, Toby loves him. My boyfriend even loves him, but how couldn't they? It's not like they had a choice. He's the most optimistic person you'll ever meet and if his personality doesn't win you over, then his "abilities" will. And that's where my problem comes in. Who REALLY is he? What is he?! Is he a supportive father? A loving guardian? or is he a freak who mind controls people. Has he managed to get everyone to sing to his tune, has he effectively taken control of the human race? Everyone except for me, his own daughter. I've never found myself to be compelled by what he says. I've always found him to be narcissistic and embarrassing. Like he's this guy who understand's everyone's problem, and is capable of helping EVERYONE. How pretentious. I open up Youtube and I see a video of him shaking the hand of the Russian president and smiling, like he's just saved the world from some nuclear holocaust. Please. Call me negative. Go ahead. Even he noticed the way that I was acting. He noticed that I didn't dance to his tune like everyone else. But what's even worse about all of this. The straw that reaaaally broke the camel's back for me, was that he had the heart to encourage me to be my own person, to live by my own ideals and beliefs, regardless of what everyone else thought of him. If I hated him, then so be it. He was my father and he accepted it. I still remember that day, the day that I decided to kill Captain Positive. He politely asked if he could drop Toby and I off at school. I knew immediately that he and I were going to have one of our little "chats", the kind that no other human being can have with him. The kind where both people in the conversation actually have free-will. "Nancy, I know that you don't... enjoy what i do for a living. I know you think i'm fake or perhaps, you dislike the way that people treat us now because of who i am. But just look around us. Look at how life has changed since people started listening to me. Crime, murders, war... these things no longer exist. How can that be a bad thing. Look, I'm not asking you be like everyone else. You can hate me, it's okay. You're still young. At the end of the day, I have an obligation to take care of these people. If I can keep them from hurting themselves, or from doing things that might hurt others, then I have no choice but to lead them. I love you Nancy, you know that. However you feel, just know, that I'm here for you. I'll always be in your corner, cupcake." - Nancy 4/9/2018
	[WP] A teen becomes a super villain as an act of rebellion against their super hero parent. They didn't expect their full support to make their own life choices.	5 buildings have gone down in my name. The news outlets have named me 'Firestarter' but I think its lame. I'd like to say they went down with people in them, but I still don't think I can bring myself to actually kill anyone. I guess at the core, I'm only just trying to get back at my mum. She's got this idea in her head that I'm going to follow her footsteps and become the city's greatest hero. I don't want to. Hero work is shit. I can't count the number of PTA meetings she's missed, or the plays she's been invited too and she didn't show. I mean, the constant embarrassment of having a parent that is never there is something I can't live down because some douchebag in class will bring it up just to be mean. At first, I had defended with "she's a lawyer so she's always busy" but that never worked. Even went as far as using the truth but it only made ridicule worse. I mean, why would a class of stupid highschoolers believe the goth looking chubby chick with slight BO have the greatest superhero the city has ever known as a mother. I know I wouldn't believe it. But here I am. I remember when I got my powers. I had gotten into an argument with my mum and in the midst of a shouting match with her, my hands lit up. Fire. She was immediately estactic. I wasn't. All my weekends of staying home or going to some darkhouse party stopped and everything became "superhero" practice. Gosh, I hate it. The fact that she thinks I want to be what she is. A slave to the people. An absentee person to everyone else in real life. The more she pushed for it, the more I pushed away. So much so, I decided I'd spite her and become a villain. But I still can't kill anyone. She figured it out after the 6th building went up in flames. It was the highschool. Someone had filled my locked with fish guts as a joke and I think I lost it. I don't know. I ran to the toilets to cry. And in the tears, my hands went up in flames and I think I just lashed out and burnt everything. Didn't even have time to put on the false make up I usually use along with the black hoodie I usually would wear. Still, ashes and lots of ashes later, I hear the sirens of the police coming. I think that's when I came out of my trance and hastily coloured my face with the ashes. Not that it made a difference. She recognised me as she hovered in the air above the burnt building. I had expected extreme disappointment followed by whatever beating I was going to get. Instead she flies in, pushes me out of sight into the shadows. Then she smiled and said the words I would never have expected, with tears in her eyes as her voice trembled with emotion... "I am so proud of you, baby." --- I've got more stuff on here /r/EvenAsIWrite :) Criticisms are forever welcome.	High school. I had always envisioned high school as this meat grinder. A freeze-dried "coming of age" scenario ripped straight out of every teen drama or made-for-tv movie that I'd ever seen. However, despite my wildest preconceptions, high school wasn't bad at all. No one ever bothered me, I never made enemies with the cheerleading captain, I never had to deal with bullies, or annoying creeps, and I always had a steady supply of friends. Everyone wanted to be my friend. Why? Certainly not because they were interested in me. More likely, because they were interested in who I was. You might have heard of Captain Positive. By the time that you'd be reading this, the name "Captain Positive" will have been known across every country throughout the entire world. He was known as "the optimist." He was first recognized for being an excellent police negotiator. He's talked people out of committing suicide, then he negotiated with terrorists and was able to free an entire boatload of hostages, and things finally became serious when he was able to broker the complete peace between the soon-to-be warring nations, the US and Russia. People don't know if his methods are natural, or if he uses some kind of magic, or some strange psychological ability that scientists haven't pin pointed yet. He speaks normally and uses words than anyone else can use. There isn't anything special about his mannerisms or the way he presents himself. But when he talks, people listen. Period. Every culture on this planet knows him as a savior. The truth of the matter is that he's the closest thing to a superhero that planet earth has. and he's also my father. Mom loves him, Toby loves him. My boyfriend even loves him, but how couldn't they? It's not like they had a choice. He's the most optimistic person you'll ever meet and if his personality doesn't win you over, then his "abilities" will. And that's where my problem comes in. Who REALLY is he? What is he?! Is he a supportive father? A loving guardian? or is he a freak who mind controls people. Has he managed to get everyone to sing to his tune, has he effectively taken control of the human race? Everyone except for me, his own daughter. I've never found myself to be compelled by what he says. I've always found him to be narcissistic and embarrassing. Like he's this guy who understand's everyone's problem, and is capable of helping EVERYONE. How pretentious. I open up Youtube and I see a video of him shaking the hand of the Russian president and smiling, like he's just saved the world from some nuclear holocaust. Please. Call me negative. Go ahead. Even he noticed the way that I was acting. He noticed that I didn't dance to his tune like everyone else. But what's even worse about all of this. The straw that reaaaally broke the camel's back for me, was that he had the heart to encourage me to be my own person, to live by my own ideals and beliefs, regardless of what everyone else thought of him. If I hated him, then so be it. He was my father and he accepted it. I still remember that day, the day that I decided to kill Captain Positive. He politely asked if he could drop Toby and I off at school. I knew immediately that he and I were going to have one of our little "chats", the kind that no other human being can have with him. The kind where both people in the conversation actually have free-will. "Nancy, I know that you don't... enjoy what i do for a living. I know you think i'm fake or perhaps, you dislike the way that people treat us now because of who i am. But just look around us. Look at how life has changed since people started listening to me. Crime, murders, war... these things no longer exist. How can that be a bad thing. Look, I'm not asking you be like everyone else. You can hate me, it's okay. You're still young. At the end of the day, I have an obligation to take care of these people. If I can keep them from hurting themselves, or from doing things that might hurt others, then I have no choice but to lead them. I love you Nancy, you know that. However you feel, just know, that I'm here for you. I'll always be in your corner, cupcake." - Nancy 4/9/2018
	[WP] A teen becomes a super villain as an act of rebellion against their super hero parent. They didn't expect their full support to make their own life choices.	“We support you.” “What?” Nightshade asked in numbed disbelief. His decision to reveal his evil nature to his parents was a war that he had prepared himself for both mentally and physically. He had prepared for a fight and had gone over the conversation and ensuing battle in his head a thousand times; what he would say, what they would say and how he would be forced to destroy them both giving him not only the satisfaction in knowing that his decision was the right one, but a truly kick ass origin story to boot. The only thing that he hadn’t considered or readied himself for was…their acceptance. “I said that we support you Champ.” His father, Captain Nitro repeated as he pulled his wife Lady Luck closer to him in a show of solidarity. “You’re almost a man now, and it’s high time that we started treating you like one.” “I’m serious.” Nightshade growled, clenching his hands into fists. Blackened crackles of raw energy rippled across his gloves and arced across his body. His suit was new, a purple and ebony mesh of spikes and pads that reflected his true persona, designed not only to withstand the occasional discharge of power, but to strike fear into the hearts of those who would dare stand against him. “We know.” His mother smiled patiently. “And we still love you. In fact, because we love you, we’ve decided…should we?” She paused as she looked to her husband, unsure as to how she should proceed. Captain Nitro smiled and winked playfully before turning back to his son. “What your mother is trying to say is, well, we’re going to go evil as well.” “What?” Nightshade blinked, taken aback. “Well Brian-“ “It’s NIGHTSHADE now.” He corrected, raising a crackling fist towards the kitchen ceiling in emphasis of his evil. “Oh! I love it!” Lady Luck cooed. “That’s so good. Isn’t that good honey?” She asked excitedly. “I could change my name too! How about Belladonna? Belladonna and Nightshade! Oh honey!” She bounced. “And I’ll become Lord Hemlock! We’re keeping it poisonous plant based right? We’ll need new outfits of course.” The superhero formerly known as Captain Nitro pointed out. “Something dark.” Belladonna agreed. “We could keep the purple and black as a theme and – leather. And a corset. I mean, I’ve got the girls, and if we’re going to be evil, I can be sexy evil right?” She asked, pushing her breasts up to mimic a corset’s lift. “MOM!” Nightshade objected, horrified. “Belladonna.” She corrected. “The dark seductress. Maybe I should get a whip?” She asked tentatively. “I think a whip would be amazing. And something slinky, that you could wear later.” Lord Hemlock grinned playfully. “DAD!” Nightshade objected. “Sorry son, but the thought of your mom in form fitting leather? Me-ow.” He laughed. “This is going to be great. I think that this shake up is just what this family needs.” “We should have done this sooner.” Belladonna agreed. “Oh! We could corrupt the Jeffersons. I bet Lilly would look amazing in spandex.” “And her name is already Lilly so-“ “You know what? Forget it.” Nightshade sighed as the lightning that surrounded his body died in a fizzle of dejected sparks.” Removing the black skull half-mask that obscured the upper half of his face, his body slumped in disappointment. “Forget it?” His father frowned. “But what about our plans to become a family of super villains?” “You guys…you just. Guh. Just forget I said anything, okay?” “Nightshade-“ Belladonna started, only to be cut off by a half-hearted wave of a black gloved hand. “Electroboy. Just…call me Electroboy, okay?” He asked, turning away. “So we’re not going to turn evil then?” Lady Luck asked somewhat disappointed. “No. It…I was going to…no. Okay? Gods, you guys are so lame. I’m going back to my room.” “You sure Champ?” Captain Nitro asked. “We’re here for you if you change your mind again. I’ve got a leather guy, we can have your mother in high heels and tight pants by supper.” “Ugh.” Electroboy groaned as he stomped away. “Nightshade? Nightshade?” Lady Luck called after him, but the only response was the trail of heavy footfalls that ended in a slamming door. The super parents turned to each other, their faces splitting in shared amusement. “Nightshade?” Captain Nitro asked. “Oh be nice.” Lady Luck chided. “Or do you not remember when you spent that summer as “Super Evil McDastardly?” “Okay, okay.” He conceded. “But I still say that you should look into the corset. And maybe the whip.” “Behave.” “And you know…corrupting Lilly might spice things up-“ “You’re pushing your Luck.” Lady Luck warned, causing her husband to raise his hands in innocent surrender. And once again, the world was safe.	High school. I had always envisioned high school as this meat grinder. A freeze-dried "coming of age" scenario ripped straight out of every teen drama or made-for-tv movie that I'd ever seen. However, despite my wildest preconceptions, high school wasn't bad at all. No one ever bothered me, I never made enemies with the cheerleading captain, I never had to deal with bullies, or annoying creeps, and I always had a steady supply of friends. Everyone wanted to be my friend. Why? Certainly not because they were interested in me. More likely, because they were interested in who I was. You might have heard of Captain Positive. By the time that you'd be reading this, the name "Captain Positive" will have been known across every country throughout the entire world. He was known as "the optimist." He was first recognized for being an excellent police negotiator. He's talked people out of committing suicide, then he negotiated with terrorists and was able to free an entire boatload of hostages, and things finally became serious when he was able to broker the complete peace between the soon-to-be warring nations, the US and Russia. People don't know if his methods are natural, or if he uses some kind of magic, or some strange psychological ability that scientists haven't pin pointed yet. He speaks normally and uses words than anyone else can use. There isn't anything special about his mannerisms or the way he presents himself. But when he talks, people listen. Period. Every culture on this planet knows him as a savior. The truth of the matter is that he's the closest thing to a superhero that planet earth has. and he's also my father. Mom loves him, Toby loves him. My boyfriend even loves him, but how couldn't they? It's not like they had a choice. He's the most optimistic person you'll ever meet and if his personality doesn't win you over, then his "abilities" will. And that's where my problem comes in. Who REALLY is he? What is he?! Is he a supportive father? A loving guardian? or is he a freak who mind controls people. Has he managed to get everyone to sing to his tune, has he effectively taken control of the human race? Everyone except for me, his own daughter. I've never found myself to be compelled by what he says. I've always found him to be narcissistic and embarrassing. Like he's this guy who understand's everyone's problem, and is capable of helping EVERYONE. How pretentious. I open up Youtube and I see a video of him shaking the hand of the Russian president and smiling, like he's just saved the world from some nuclear holocaust. Please. Call me negative. Go ahead. Even he noticed the way that I was acting. He noticed that I didn't dance to his tune like everyone else. But what's even worse about all of this. The straw that reaaaally broke the camel's back for me, was that he had the heart to encourage me to be my own person, to live by my own ideals and beliefs, regardless of what everyone else thought of him. If I hated him, then so be it. He was my father and he accepted it. I still remember that day, the day that I decided to kill Captain Positive. He politely asked if he could drop Toby and I off at school. I knew immediately that he and I were going to have one of our little "chats", the kind that no other human being can have with him. The kind where both people in the conversation actually have free-will. "Nancy, I know that you don't... enjoy what i do for a living. I know you think i'm fake or perhaps, you dislike the way that people treat us now because of who i am. But just look around us. Look at how life has changed since people started listening to me. Crime, murders, war... these things no longer exist. How can that be a bad thing. Look, I'm not asking you be like everyone else. You can hate me, it's okay. You're still young. At the end of the day, I have an obligation to take care of these people. If I can keep them from hurting themselves, or from doing things that might hurt others, then I have no choice but to lead them. I love you Nancy, you know that. However you feel, just know, that I'm here for you. I'll always be in your corner, cupcake." - Nancy 4/9/2018
	[WP] A teen becomes a super villain as an act of rebellion against their super hero parent. They didn't expect their full support to make their own life choices.	“We support you.” “What?” Nightshade asked in numbed disbelief. His decision to reveal his evil nature to his parents was a war that he had prepared himself for both mentally and physically. He had prepared for a fight and had gone over the conversation and ensuing battle in his head a thousand times; what he would say, what they would say and how he would be forced to destroy them both giving him not only the satisfaction in knowing that his decision was the right one, but a truly kick ass origin story to boot. The only thing that he hadn’t considered or readied himself for was…their acceptance. “I said that we support you Champ.” His father, Captain Nitro repeated as he pulled his wife Lady Luck closer to him in a show of solidarity. “You’re almost a man now, and it’s high time that we started treating you like one.” “I’m serious.” Nightshade growled, clenching his hands into fists. Blackened crackles of raw energy rippled across his gloves and arced across his body. His suit was new, a purple and ebony mesh of spikes and pads that reflected his true persona, designed not only to withstand the occasional discharge of power, but to strike fear into the hearts of those who would dare stand against him. “We know.” His mother smiled patiently. “And we still love you. In fact, because we love you, we’ve decided…should we?” She paused as she looked to her husband, unsure as to how she should proceed. Captain Nitro smiled and winked playfully before turning back to his son. “What your mother is trying to say is, well, we’re going to go evil as well.” “What?” Nightshade blinked, taken aback. “Well Brian-“ “It’s NIGHTSHADE now.” He corrected, raising a crackling fist towards the kitchen ceiling in emphasis of his evil. “Oh! I love it!” Lady Luck cooed. “That’s so good. Isn’t that good honey?” She asked excitedly. “I could change my name too! How about Belladonna? Belladonna and Nightshade! Oh honey!” She bounced. “And I’ll become Lord Hemlock! We’re keeping it poisonous plant based right? We’ll need new outfits of course.” The superhero formerly known as Captain Nitro pointed out. “Something dark.” Belladonna agreed. “We could keep the purple and black as a theme and – leather. And a corset. I mean, I’ve got the girls, and if we’re going to be evil, I can be sexy evil right?” She asked, pushing her breasts up to mimic a corset’s lift. “MOM!” Nightshade objected, horrified. “Belladonna.” She corrected. “The dark seductress. Maybe I should get a whip?” She asked tentatively. “I think a whip would be amazing. And something slinky, that you could wear later.” Lord Hemlock grinned playfully. “DAD!” Nightshade objected. “Sorry son, but the thought of your mom in form fitting leather? Me-ow.” He laughed. “This is going to be great. I think that this shake up is just what this family needs.” “We should have done this sooner.” Belladonna agreed. “Oh! We could corrupt the Jeffersons. I bet Lilly would look amazing in spandex.” “And her name is already Lilly so-“ “You know what? Forget it.” Nightshade sighed as the lightning that surrounded his body died in a fizzle of dejected sparks.” Removing the black skull half-mask that obscured the upper half of his face, his body slumped in disappointment. “Forget it?” His father frowned. “But what about our plans to become a family of super villains?” “You guys…you just. Guh. Just forget I said anything, okay?” “Nightshade-“ Belladonna started, only to be cut off by a half-hearted wave of a black gloved hand. “Electroboy. Just…call me Electroboy, okay?” He asked, turning away. “So we’re not going to turn evil then?” Lady Luck asked somewhat disappointed. “No. It…I was going to…no. Okay? Gods, you guys are so lame. I’m going back to my room.” “You sure Champ?” Captain Nitro asked. “We’re here for you if you change your mind again. I’ve got a leather guy, we can have your mother in high heels and tight pants by supper.” “Ugh.” Electroboy groaned as he stomped away. “Nightshade? Nightshade?” Lady Luck called after him, but the only response was the trail of heavy footfalls that ended in a slamming door. The super parents turned to each other, their faces splitting in shared amusement. “Nightshade?” Captain Nitro asked. “Oh be nice.” Lady Luck chided. “Or do you not remember when you spent that summer as “Super Evil McDastardly?” “Okay, okay.” He conceded. “But I still say that you should look into the corset. And maybe the whip.” “Behave.” “And you know…corrupting Lilly might spice things up-“ “You’re pushing your Luck.” Lady Luck warned, causing her husband to raise his hands in innocent surrender. And once again, the world was safe.	"Terry, we need to talk." I knew that voice. Any other human being would be overjoyed to hear that voice. I heard it every single day of my lamentable persistence. It was the voice of Commander Justice, the red and blue patriot. There was no hero quite like him, no human came even close. The paragon of integrity, the pinnacle of truth. And my father. I dumped my bag by the door as he sat there, ominously framed by the entryway to the family dining room. Our house was never a striking one- it had two floor, a spacious basement, and an underground lair that I was repeatedly told never to enter. Of course, I have my own lair. Its... a fixer upper. In the shed. Behind the house. I trudged through the hall, my mouth pursed to a slanted pout as I dragged my feet across the tiled floor. This was not my first pow wow with the worst dad in all the 84 multiverses. And after my long weekend, I would not be surprised if this became a daily thing. For over the weekend, the SuperHacker TabLord had taken his name and plastered it on every atm in the United States... at least the ones that were operated by a specific credit agency that had a surreptitious backdoor that just BEGGED me to tear it open. Wait, is that gay? Shit, I don't wanna sound gay- I'm not gay. I swear. My closet is full of porn. Not even my dad's x-ray vision could pierce the cavalcade of and T & A in my closet. ANYWAYS, I fell upon my chair, adopting my patented "fuck off dad" face. Each of my friends had one. We practiced with each other quite a bit inbetween classes we rarely attended. It was good for report card days, and had served me well all through middle school. My dad crossed his arms, his arms of steel resting against that billboard of a chest. "Terry, how much did you make last night?" I did not respond. Of course I wouldn't respond. I had no earthly clue what he was talking about. "Terry, come on. Talk to me here." "I made uh... 30? Off Adrien..." "I don't care how much you extorted off that jock. I want to kno-" the man paused. He looked to my right. Right to his true love, his one real lady. The Bourbon on the counter sat there, glistening beneath the light. Oh how intimate their relationship. "Ok, fine, fine," the man said. "Tablord," he said, staring me down. Finally, I could experience it- the terror that filled any villain to confront Commander Justice, conqueror of all evils. "How much did you make from hacking TotalFax last night?" I began to laugh, an evil, terrible laugh. For it was I, Tablord that- I devolved into a coughing fit. Evil laughs are hard. And they actually sound awful with your voice cracking. My dad poured me a cup of water, and patted my back as I hacked my way through it. "Deeper breaths son, you gotta laugh from the gut," he advised me as I gulped it all down. He resumed his seat. After a minute, I twisted to him, and resumed my EPIC monologue! "YES, COMMANDER JUS-"' I looked to the clock. Ok it was seven- nobody could complain about the noise. "YES, COMMANDER JUSTICE, IT IS I, TABLORD! RULER OF CYBERSPACE!" "Terry, look, I get that you're a villain, but is the monologue necessary?" "I mean," I paused. WAS this necessary? "I can give you the CliffNotes." I mean, he knew what CliffNotes were, right? Oh good, he's nodding. He's not as ancient as I feared. "Alright, I'll just skip through the notes," I pulled out the cue card I had practiced during my bus ride home. "Ok, so... I am Tablord I robbed the United Bank To do this, I used the VPN an rerouted all traffic through a server in Bosnia I had to obscure this IP several times to through off Dad's computer-savvy partner, Dendrite. I used that confusion to access a back door in a Credit Agency You'll never find the money *Its in fifty different accounts "You get all that?" My dad stared back at me, completely lost. Dendrite would get it- she kept with these things. She was a blast to have over for dinner, though her kids were... less keen on the cool things. They were into League of Justice. "Um... so... how much did YOU make exactly?" "Dad, I have fifty different accounts under 50 different names, and I funneled nearly 75 million dollars into them." "Ok, but... how do you... get... the money?" I groaned. I walked up to the fridge and took out the expo marker off the side, quickly drawing a chart on the aluminium door. "Ok, so, I have a fake name, that I used to open an account in sweden," I started drawing circles. "I can access that account via wire transfer- that's how I got the money," I draw arrows to communicate the money going in and out. I turned to find my dad sitting there with his smartphone in hand. "Are you recording this?" I asked him. "... Maybe?" the Commander said. "Dad, what the f-" "Terrrryyyyy?" I fished my hand into my pocket and fed the swear jar a single fuck. "Ok, dad, what the HIFL are you doing?" "... I'm curious," the man said. I'm very glad I did not learn how to lie from him, because his enter face scrunches when he spits out a blatant misrepresentation of the facts. "Dad." "Look," the man said, putting down his phone. "How much did you make last night?" "... 75 million dollars." "And who did you steal it from?" "I mean... I just still a thousand from a bunch of accounts, and a million from the CEO's personal checking account. Made it seem like a purchase in their internal systems." "... I want in." "... What?"
	[WP] A teen becomes a super villain as an act of rebellion against their super hero parent. They didn't expect their full support to make their own life choices.	“We support you.” “What?” Nightshade asked in numbed disbelief. His decision to reveal his evil nature to his parents was a war that he had prepared himself for both mentally and physically. He had prepared for a fight and had gone over the conversation and ensuing battle in his head a thousand times; what he would say, what they would say and how he would be forced to destroy them both giving him not only the satisfaction in knowing that his decision was the right one, but a truly kick ass origin story to boot. The only thing that he hadn’t considered or readied himself for was…their acceptance. “I said that we support you Champ.” His father, Captain Nitro repeated as he pulled his wife Lady Luck closer to him in a show of solidarity. “You’re almost a man now, and it’s high time that we started treating you like one.” “I’m serious.” Nightshade growled, clenching his hands into fists. Blackened crackles of raw energy rippled across his gloves and arced across his body. His suit was new, a purple and ebony mesh of spikes and pads that reflected his true persona, designed not only to withstand the occasional discharge of power, but to strike fear into the hearts of those who would dare stand against him. “We know.” His mother smiled patiently. “And we still love you. In fact, because we love you, we’ve decided…should we?” She paused as she looked to her husband, unsure as to how she should proceed. Captain Nitro smiled and winked playfully before turning back to his son. “What your mother is trying to say is, well, we’re going to go evil as well.” “What?” Nightshade blinked, taken aback. “Well Brian-“ “It’s NIGHTSHADE now.” He corrected, raising a crackling fist towards the kitchen ceiling in emphasis of his evil. “Oh! I love it!” Lady Luck cooed. “That’s so good. Isn’t that good honey?” She asked excitedly. “I could change my name too! How about Belladonna? Belladonna and Nightshade! Oh honey!” She bounced. “And I’ll become Lord Hemlock! We’re keeping it poisonous plant based right? We’ll need new outfits of course.” The superhero formerly known as Captain Nitro pointed out. “Something dark.” Belladonna agreed. “We could keep the purple and black as a theme and – leather. And a corset. I mean, I’ve got the girls, and if we’re going to be evil, I can be sexy evil right?” She asked, pushing her breasts up to mimic a corset’s lift. “MOM!” Nightshade objected, horrified. “Belladonna.” She corrected. “The dark seductress. Maybe I should get a whip?” She asked tentatively. “I think a whip would be amazing. And something slinky, that you could wear later.” Lord Hemlock grinned playfully. “DAD!” Nightshade objected. “Sorry son, but the thought of your mom in form fitting leather? Me-ow.” He laughed. “This is going to be great. I think that this shake up is just what this family needs.” “We should have done this sooner.” Belladonna agreed. “Oh! We could corrupt the Jeffersons. I bet Lilly would look amazing in spandex.” “And her name is already Lilly so-“ “You know what? Forget it.” Nightshade sighed as the lightning that surrounded his body died in a fizzle of dejected sparks.” Removing the black skull half-mask that obscured the upper half of his face, his body slumped in disappointment. “Forget it?” His father frowned. “But what about our plans to become a family of super villains?” “You guys…you just. Guh. Just forget I said anything, okay?” “Nightshade-“ Belladonna started, only to be cut off by a half-hearted wave of a black gloved hand. “Electroboy. Just…call me Electroboy, okay?” He asked, turning away. “So we’re not going to turn evil then?” Lady Luck asked somewhat disappointed. “No. It…I was going to…no. Okay? Gods, you guys are so lame. I’m going back to my room.” “You sure Champ?” Captain Nitro asked. “We’re here for you if you change your mind again. I’ve got a leather guy, we can have your mother in high heels and tight pants by supper.” “Ugh.” Electroboy groaned as he stomped away. “Nightshade? Nightshade?” Lady Luck called after him, but the only response was the trail of heavy footfalls that ended in a slamming door. The super parents turned to each other, their faces splitting in shared amusement. “Nightshade?” Captain Nitro asked. “Oh be nice.” Lady Luck chided. “Or do you not remember when you spent that summer as “Super Evil McDastardly?” “Okay, okay.” He conceded. “But I still say that you should look into the corset. And maybe the whip.” “Behave.” “And you know…corrupting Lilly might spice things up-“ “You’re pushing your Luck.” Lady Luck warned, causing her husband to raise his hands in innocent surrender. And once again, the world was safe.	5 buildings have gone down in my name. The news outlets have named me 'Firestarter' but I think its lame. I'd like to say they went down with people in them, but I still don't think I can bring myself to actually kill anyone. I guess at the core, I'm only just trying to get back at my mum. She's got this idea in her head that I'm going to follow her footsteps and become the city's greatest hero. I don't want to. Hero work is shit. I can't count the number of PTA meetings she's missed, or the plays she's been invited too and she didn't show. I mean, the constant embarrassment of having a parent that is never there is something I can't live down because some douchebag in class will bring it up just to be mean. At first, I had defended with "she's a lawyer so she's always busy" but that never worked. Even went as far as using the truth but it only made ridicule worse. I mean, why would a class of stupid highschoolers believe the goth looking chubby chick with slight BO have the greatest superhero the city has ever known as a mother. I know I wouldn't believe it. But here I am. I remember when I got my powers. I had gotten into an argument with my mum and in the midst of a shouting match with her, my hands lit up. Fire. She was immediately estactic. I wasn't. All my weekends of staying home or going to some darkhouse party stopped and everything became "superhero" practice. Gosh, I hate it. The fact that she thinks I want to be what she is. A slave to the people. An absentee person to everyone else in real life. The more she pushed for it, the more I pushed away. So much so, I decided I'd spite her and become a villain. But I still can't kill anyone. She figured it out after the 6th building went up in flames. It was the highschool. Someone had filled my locked with fish guts as a joke and I think I lost it. I don't know. I ran to the toilets to cry. And in the tears, my hands went up in flames and I think I just lashed out and burnt everything. Didn't even have time to put on the false make up I usually use along with the black hoodie I usually would wear. Still, ashes and lots of ashes later, I hear the sirens of the police coming. I think that's when I came out of my trance and hastily coloured my face with the ashes. Not that it made a difference. She recognised me as she hovered in the air above the burnt building. I had expected extreme disappointment followed by whatever beating I was going to get. Instead she flies in, pushes me out of sight into the shadows. Then she smiled and said the words I would never have expected, with tears in her eyes as her voice trembled with emotion... "I am so proud of you, baby." --- I've got more stuff on here /r/EvenAsIWrite :) Criticisms are forever welcome.
	[WP] There's a serial killer loose in town, you decide it is the perfect opportunity to kill your own enemies and let the killer take the blame.	“Come on babe, you’ll look so hot...er classy. So classy” Ben said, holding out the box of hair dye up to my head. Mentally comparing me to the air brushed model on the box. “Brown? Do you know what it would take to lighten my hair back if I decided to go brunette?” I swat at his bulky hand. “But don’t you want to compare, see who really has more fun?” He cocks his head to the left, batting his eyelashes and jutting his lower lip out in what I’m sure would have been an adorable pout had it not come from a 6’5” man-beast. “Just try it. For me?” I think for a second, roll my eyes and grab the box out of his hand. As we head to the checkout Ben takes a little detour. I don’t notice where he is headed. The two elderly women in front of me are talking in eager, hushed tones, pointing to the copy of the town’s newspaper. I try to subtlety lean in closer to get a better listen. “...this week alone Rose. Two . This used to be such a quiet town.” One woman shakes her head. “I’ve been telling Nat that she needs to be minding the curfew. You know she went to school with this last one here.” The other woman replies. She points at the girl on the cover. I look at the face of Sadie Warner. Sadie is one of our towns latest victims. Pretty girl. The newspaper had printed her senior photo. Her big eyes glare at the camera. She has a big smile plastered on her pale face. A thin arm wraps around long legs. Her curly hair is being blown off her face by a light breeze and the black and white effect hides it’s rich, chestnut color. Sadie was only a year behind me in school. She would be graduating in a month, along with many of the other victims. It seems like the number of people who will be crossing the stage gets smaller, as the memorial slideshow gets hideously long. “God what’s taking so long” Ben whines, suddenly appearing beside me, making me gasp. “Jeez what’s up jumpy?” He laughs. “I was just spacing out. Where’d you go?” I ask. “I was looking for something, but they didn’t have it.” I decide not to get to the bottom of this vague response. More than likely they were out of gummy worms and he knows I disapprove of his sugar habits. I try to listen back to the women, but they’ve moved on to some type of hot button garden debate. We pull up to our apartment building only 15 minutes later. I step out of the car and feel the beginning of summer winds. It’s only May, but the weather gets warmer and warmer each day. I hear children playing in the distance. The sun will set soon and the police will begin their street patrol. No one else will be on the street, except the occasional rebellious teens whose sense of invincibility outweighs their common sense. The lucky ones are picked up by the police and detained for the evening. Ben holds the front door open. Luckily we live on the first floor so we only have to walk up 26 stairs and walk 12 steps to get to our door marked 104. Ben takes off his coat, and flicks on the tv for noise without the intention of watching it. It drives me a little nuts that he always has to have sound playing in the background of his life. I’ve always enjoyed some peace and quiet. But it’s the price you pay to live with the love of your life I suppose. “I’m going to lay down for a bit babe. Might meet up with Jack and Nick later.” He yells to me from our bedroom. I don’t bother responding. I instead walk into the bathroom with my box of hair dye. I read the instructions and try to follow along. As I let the dye sink in I go and sit in the living room. A stern faced reporter walks around and empty street. “I’m here on Landsdowne Boulevard where latest victims of the West Breaker Killer, Sadie Warner and Alec Ryan, were last seen alive. The screen flashes to two couples, likely in their mid-forties, stand. The women are fighting tears and one of the men is speaking into a microphone. “Sadie and Alec were great kids. They were both going to college next year and had incredibly bright futures. Our Sadie was so happy to be with Alec for the past few months. We liked him so much. The monster who did this- who stole the lives of these wonderful kids- I don’t understand how this continues to happen. Keep an eye on your kids, please.” He chokes up at the end. Back to the reporter. “Chief Michaels of the WBPD spoke at a press conference earlier today, and reminded parents to keep their children in the home from sundown to sunrise, per the town’s curfew. Most of these murders have happened within yards of the victim’s home. With channel 8 news, this is Susan Rhett.” Some commercial for shower cleaner comes on and I start wondering how much time is left until I can wash out the dye. My eyes are starting to burn. I hear a phone ringing. It’s coming from Ben’s jacket so I check it for him in case it’s Jack telling him where and when to meet up tonight. The screen lights up “Becca Office”. I open it and met with a nude photo of a girl I’ve never seen before. Her long brown hair draped over her breasts, very tastefully. In the bathroom a timer goes off. I quickly stash Ben’s phone back in his coat pocket and take a shower to rinse the dye. ———————————————————————— “Ben wake up sweetie.” I whisper in his ear. “I think I hear something outside.” “Huh what-what time is it?” Ben groans, still half asleep and groggy. “7 I think. It’s dark, I thought I saw someone outside looking at our window. I’m scared Benny please do something. Can we go see?” Ben gets out of bed and throws on a shirt. “I don’t think you should come...” he starts. “I’m not letting you go out alone. It’s not safe.” I say. As we walk outside I look at Ben. He is huge. Two average sized men would have a hard time picking a fight with him. I always felt very safe having a guy like that on my arm. It’s dark outside. The police already did their first sweep of the night. They won’t be by our street for another 90 minutes or so. “I think it came from the alley” I tell Ben. He goes toward the side alley next to the abandoned store, out of view of our apartment. “I don’t think there’s anyone here, babe.” He says as he wanders further into the darkness. “I think this murderer has everyone in town all paranoid. It was probably just some kind of anima-ah!” He is stopped mid-sentence by my knife entering his left thigh. I pull it out and he drops to the ground. He is a little shorter than me now. I look down at him and give him a little grin. He looks up in terror. “Why?” He chokes out through gritted teeth. “Did you really think I would never find out about your little skank? God you’re dumber than you look. You really are.” “She means nothing babe please” “Shut up!” I hiss at him. I run the knife along his throat, gently, not even drawing blood. Then I quickly slash myself along the torso. He looks confused. “He always attacks couples.” I explain with a grin. I take turns with the slicing. One for me, a deeper one for him. Mine sting, but I don’t mind it so much. Anytime he tries to scream I put my knife back to his throat. “Shh baby,” I say. “Let’s enjoy our last night together.” After a few more minutes I give him deeper and deeper cuts. He’s starting to get a little dizzy from the blood loss. I need to finish up here. I give myself a deep gash where the shoulder meets the neck. Ben’s eyes get wide. “For all your stupidity, Benny darling, you were right about one thing.” I press the knife up against his throat, ready to end it. “Brunettes do have more fun.”	"For those of you who are tuning in right now, 15 people have been killed in the latest mass stabbing by the serial killer dubbed 'The Protector'. The images are graphic so viewer discretion is advised. The bodies have been strung up and symbo-", I flicked off the TV. That blonde reporter has always been eye candy but something was even more appealing. A single thought, an idea that traveled to the forefront of my brain, even in front of the imagined scenes of eroticism that involved Mrs. Blondy. The Protector, it had a nice ring to it. Inspired a bit of fear. It made you think that this guy had just the right amount of crazy in him. I liked it. I could use it. Abuse it. Cultivate it to be the answer to this endearing issue I have been struggling with. I rolled out of bed and picked up the half burnt cigar from last night. I stumbled over to my laptop in the corner of the room. I opened it up and turned it on and for just a half-second I saw my reflection. I needed a shave. I got to the home screen and navigated myself to Google. Ah Google, the best thing mankind has ever dreamed up, the ultimate tool to find pornography beyond anyone's imagination. But today I had a different reason than having my eyes partake in the glory of "beautiful busty red heads". I had to know something. Something of urgency, of importance. How did The Protector kill? 896,000 results in .49 seconds. Ok Google, I thought as I clicked on the images tab, show me this guy's style. If I was going to be a copycat I had to at least know how this guy did the deed. Google answered me with hundreds of images of bloody scenes with bodies strewn about. Well this guy was not neat that's for sure. I began to peruse down the gory collage when I noticed something. I couldn't believe that I was so blind to have needed 10 images to see something so obvious. In every single scene the words "Miserere Nobis" were spelled out in blood on the wall along with some satanic demon circle that looked like it had some writing in it. This is exactly what I was looking for. Now I could kill that slimy bastard and go on scott-free afterwords. I sat still in my chair for a few moments as I thought. Then I decided that I would do it today, what the hell. After a quick shower and some eggs I put on my boots and grabbed my switchblade. I examined it and thought, I knew I would have a use for this someday. I got in my car and punched in the address in my GPS. 60185 Willow Dr. That's where that fucking bastard lived. I sped through the freeway and finally arrived at his house after a 15 minute drive. It was Sunday so I knew the fucker would be at home with her. First he took my job, then he took the only love I ever had. They would both pay for it. Atone for their sins. I pulled up into the driveway as quietly as I could. It was 8 am so I was hoping that they were still asleep. We used to be friends me and him, really good friends. I still knew where he kept the spare key. Sliding the key in the front door had a special feeling to it. Click, the sound was orgasmic. I entered the house and tiptoed past the welcome mat. I peeped a pair of black dress shoes next to a red pair of heels. She only wears those when shes really feeling wild. I felt that inner caveman rage welling up inside me. It grew more and more as I creeper up the stairs until suddenly it was gone. Entirely replaced with happiness. I get to kill them today. A wide grin spread across my face. I could hear him snore. Each step I took towards that brown door let off a quit creak of the wooden floor. Music to my ears. As I turned the knob and pushed forward I heard a quiet squeak. Just loud enough to barely register to my ears above the screaming chorus in my head. Door wide open I stand before them. Asleep and happy. Smiles on both of their faces. Snuggled so close together it almost warmed my heart. But something was going to make my heart even warmer. The shiny piece of steel in my hand. The blade that was just begging to taste their warm blood. With one quick flip I unsheathed it to witness its meal. I guess we should start with the appetizer. I crawled up on the bed, right over him. My shadow blocked out the sun that peaked out of the curtains. I drew my knife up to the left edge of his neck and with one slice I painted the bed red. Blood spewed up into my face. It was, euphoric. The sound of spurting blood must not have fit her narrative because when she opened her eyes it was followed by a ear piercing shriek. My focus immediately turned to the source of the shriek. It's time for the main course. I plunged my blade right down into that whore's heart. I brought it up and down for another wound. They say practice makes perfect and after stabbing that sluts body 20 times I feel like an expert. Now all that was left was for me to cover my tracks. Miserere Nobis and something else. That's what I needed to draw. My heart was racing as I dipped my fingers in their blood. As I drew the s in Nobis I realized that I forgot what the symbol looked like. I guess taking the lives of the people you hate the most interferes with your memory. I grabbed my phone and looked up "evil symbols" and looked for one that looked like the one The Protector drew. After finding one and marking up the walls, I sat back to admire my work. Suddenly I heard him. I knew who he was. The Protector. Something in my body screamed his identity to me. His voice rang out as clear as if he was near me. I whipped around and saw no one. I was alone. Then what he was yelling finally registered. "YOU FOOL. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?". I was confused, I had no idea what he was talking about. I said, "What are you talking about?". He only whispered back, "miserere nobis". I started to yell out for him. What did I do? How could I hear him? I needed to know. As I got up a blinding light flashed behind me. I turned around to see the wall where I drew the symbol to be glowing. The symbol specifically was shimmering a deep blue. I fell to my knees. I heard its voice. I knew what I had done. It was old. Tears streamed down my face. May he have mercy.
	[WP] There's a serial killer loose in town, you decide it is the perfect opportunity to kill your own enemies and let the killer take the blame.	"The Hammer has been sighted in parts of the town," The local reporter had announced with a frown, "We have reports that seventeen are dead, downtown" It was then I thought to myself, what goes around must come around. &nbsp; So I picked up the hammer, and broke down his door, I think he heard me coming, or my footsteps on the floor, Looked back at me with a twinkle in his eyes, the same smug grin he wore, Asked me with a drawl "You lookin' for that whore?" &nbsp; I stared at him with rage in my eyes, Moved quickly, gave him a surprise, A hammer in his head, almost half his size, And thus with a cry, a rapist dies. &nbsp; "The hammer claimed another victim," "Came to the house at night, we don't know why he picked him," I wondered if it was that easy to cheat the system, And began to name those who had done this to her, began to list 'em. &nbsp; Picked up the hammer, and took revenge against those that wronged her, I was unstoppable, even as an amateur saboteur, But I knew that they had to die, because they had silenced her, And I knew to take them out, I needed to be the Silencer. ---------- Still new at this and pretty bad, but this is good practice! Thank you for the prompt. :)	"For those of you who are tuning in right now, 15 people have been killed in the latest mass stabbing by the serial killer dubbed 'The Protector'. The images are graphic so viewer discretion is advised. The bodies have been strung up and symbo-", I flicked off the TV. That blonde reporter has always been eye candy but something was even more appealing. A single thought, an idea that traveled to the forefront of my brain, even in front of the imagined scenes of eroticism that involved Mrs. Blondy. The Protector, it had a nice ring to it. Inspired a bit of fear. It made you think that this guy had just the right amount of crazy in him. I liked it. I could use it. Abuse it. Cultivate it to be the answer to this endearing issue I have been struggling with. I rolled out of bed and picked up the half burnt cigar from last night. I stumbled over to my laptop in the corner of the room. I opened it up and turned it on and for just a half-second I saw my reflection. I needed a shave. I got to the home screen and navigated myself to Google. Ah Google, the best thing mankind has ever dreamed up, the ultimate tool to find pornography beyond anyone's imagination. But today I had a different reason than having my eyes partake in the glory of "beautiful busty red heads". I had to know something. Something of urgency, of importance. How did The Protector kill? 896,000 results in .49 seconds. Ok Google, I thought as I clicked on the images tab, show me this guy's style. If I was going to be a copycat I had to at least know how this guy did the deed. Google answered me with hundreds of images of bloody scenes with bodies strewn about. Well this guy was not neat that's for sure. I began to peruse down the gory collage when I noticed something. I couldn't believe that I was so blind to have needed 10 images to see something so obvious. In every single scene the words "Miserere Nobis" were spelled out in blood on the wall along with some satanic demon circle that looked like it had some writing in it. This is exactly what I was looking for. Now I could kill that slimy bastard and go on scott-free afterwords. I sat still in my chair for a few moments as I thought. Then I decided that I would do it today, what the hell. After a quick shower and some eggs I put on my boots and grabbed my switchblade. I examined it and thought, I knew I would have a use for this someday. I got in my car and punched in the address in my GPS. 60185 Willow Dr. That's where that fucking bastard lived. I sped through the freeway and finally arrived at his house after a 15 minute drive. It was Sunday so I knew the fucker would be at home with her. First he took my job, then he took the only love I ever had. They would both pay for it. Atone for their sins. I pulled up into the driveway as quietly as I could. It was 8 am so I was hoping that they were still asleep. We used to be friends me and him, really good friends. I still knew where he kept the spare key. Sliding the key in the front door had a special feeling to it. Click, the sound was orgasmic. I entered the house and tiptoed past the welcome mat. I peeped a pair of black dress shoes next to a red pair of heels. She only wears those when shes really feeling wild. I felt that inner caveman rage welling up inside me. It grew more and more as I creeper up the stairs until suddenly it was gone. Entirely replaced with happiness. I get to kill them today. A wide grin spread across my face. I could hear him snore. Each step I took towards that brown door let off a quit creak of the wooden floor. Music to my ears. As I turned the knob and pushed forward I heard a quiet squeak. Just loud enough to barely register to my ears above the screaming chorus in my head. Door wide open I stand before them. Asleep and happy. Smiles on both of their faces. Snuggled so close together it almost warmed my heart. But something was going to make my heart even warmer. The shiny piece of steel in my hand. The blade that was just begging to taste their warm blood. With one quick flip I unsheathed it to witness its meal. I guess we should start with the appetizer. I crawled up on the bed, right over him. My shadow blocked out the sun that peaked out of the curtains. I drew my knife up to the left edge of his neck and with one slice I painted the bed red. Blood spewed up into my face. It was, euphoric. The sound of spurting blood must not have fit her narrative because when she opened her eyes it was followed by a ear piercing shriek. My focus immediately turned to the source of the shriek. It's time for the main course. I plunged my blade right down into that whore's heart. I brought it up and down for another wound. They say practice makes perfect and after stabbing that sluts body 20 times I feel like an expert. Now all that was left was for me to cover my tracks. Miserere Nobis and something else. That's what I needed to draw. My heart was racing as I dipped my fingers in their blood. As I drew the s in Nobis I realized that I forgot what the symbol looked like. I guess taking the lives of the people you hate the most interferes with your memory. I grabbed my phone and looked up "evil symbols" and looked for one that looked like the one The Protector drew. After finding one and marking up the walls, I sat back to admire my work. Suddenly I heard him. I knew who he was. The Protector. Something in my body screamed his identity to me. His voice rang out as clear as if he was near me. I whipped around and saw no one. I was alone. Then what he was yelling finally registered. "YOU FOOL. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?". I was confused, I had no idea what he was talking about. I said, "What are you talking about?". He only whispered back, "miserere nobis". I started to yell out for him. What did I do? How could I hear him? I needed to know. As I got up a blinding light flashed behind me. I turned around to see the wall where I drew the symbol to be glowing. The symbol specifically was shimmering a deep blue. I fell to my knees. I heard its voice. I knew what I had done. It was old. Tears streamed down my face. May he have mercy.
	[WP] There's a serial killer loose in town, you decide it is the perfect opportunity to kill your own enemies and let the killer take the blame.	I guess a part of me knew this was coming. Years of bullying and name calling mustve caught up with me, or maybe I left my conscience in the janitor's closet the last time I was locked there- yesterday, that is. Maybe if I had more time to think about this I wouldve talked myself out, but whats done is done. It only took 24 hours to make a predator out of the prey, and a killer out of me. Such a monumental thing in life, but it wasnt even remotely difficult. After all, bullies arent worth much without their gaggle of groupies. I knew his schedule by heart so that I could avoid him anyway I could, so I knew immidiately to wait hidden in the bushes behind the busstop Gus gets off at after his boxing lessons. A telling fact about the kind of person Gus is, is that he initially started taking this lessons for bragging rights. And boy, can he punch. He throws his entire weight of 5 foot 6 of protein shake and stollen lunch into it, and doesnt stop until he's exhausted. Good thing that I know how to take punches without falling down. Thanks for that, buddy. In the end, all I have to do is to let him punch me a few times, then provoke him enough that he chases me into the nearby park thats all but abandoned this time of night. Easy to say, easy to do - there was something about my face that always pissed off Gus and its not like he needed encouragement to let it show. Once we were in the thick of the park, far from the jogging trails and surrounded by foliage from all sides, it was a matter of seconds. Who can throw punches against a hidden knife anyway? Not Gus, thats who. I will confess that I panicked once the fresh blood spilled on my hands. I fell to my knees right next to Gus, and did my best to suck breaths into my lungs around the invisible ball of guilt wedged in my throat. There were spots in my vission and sweat on my back, and when I came to, I was curled in on myself , smearing my face with drying blood. I grit my teeth and slapped sense into myself "Get yourself together, Sam. C'mon, man, you know what to do" . And I did. I pulled the knife from Gus's chest with a squelch and set to work. First, I sliced the corners of his mouth, elongating them into a grotesque smile, and reminding myself of every disgusting name that mouth has ever called me. Then I sliced off his left pinky and took his shoes off so I could slice the tendons behind his ankles. The killer did this so the victims wouldnt escape , but then again, he mutilated them before he killed them, and I had neither the heart, nor the time to do something like that. In the end, Gus's elongated smile was a bit crooked, and the knife snagged at the bone when I was cutting the back of his foot, but noone in the town would mistake the Slicer's signature. Of course, I was careful to make sure Gus fitted the MO in the first place. Maybe me and him, whoever he is, are kinded souls I thought. Every victim up to now, every one out of previous 12 victims, was aged from late teen to young adult and had a history of violence - Im still surprised I had 5o kill Gus myself. I hoped there was enough circumstancial evidence to shift the blame entirely on the Slicer, and left him there to rot, throwing my knife into a trash can on the way home. Neither my parents nor my sister questioned my appearance. They knew I was being bullied, so when I stepped in with a wince and a blooming mark on my collarbone, Mom made a heartbroken sound and came to give me a hug, while my sister busied herself with getting me an ice-pack. I endured an evening of coddling with growing anxiety, and if anyone was annoyed by me tapping my foot, then they chose to not say anything. Just before sleep, Dad pulled me aside to shoot me stern looks to convince me to tell him who did this to me, but I remained tightlipped as ever. 'Don't worry, Dad. He's not going to hurt me anymore' I thought, as I brushed my teeth. My collarbone itched where my sister spread that weird plant based cream that she kept in stock these days and my hands shook as I pulled the duvet over my head. I slept well that night. I woke up to Mom hovering in the doorway. "Good morning, Sweetheart" is what I though she would say, but what she actually said was " There are some people here that want to talk to you". It took 24 hours to make a killer out of me. It took even less for the authorities to find the one responsible. When I arrived downstairs, gripping the stairs so that my shaking knees wont betray me, the cops were talking to Dad. There were two of them, in matching uniforms, taking turns to bombard Dad with questions. Dad's voice was as calm it could be, but there was a vein jumping in his neck and his hands were twitching like he would like nothing more than to wrap them around someone's neck. On the little coffe table behind them, just barely visible from were I stand half-hidden, are photographs. Spread so each of them is visible, they take up the entire table - way too many to be just Gus. Againt the shine of the glossy surfaces, I catch a collage of bleached blonde hair, tattos, piercings, leather jackets, and gruesome, bloody smiles. In the corner closest to me is Gus. His crooked grin is mocking me beyond the grave, but I cant find it in myself to feel anything but horror. 13 people -13 victims. 'If they know that Im the one who killed Gus, then they must think I killed all those other people, too. They must think Im the Slicer' passes through my mind as I lock my knees to keep from tumbling down the last few stairs. My mind is a jumble of fear, half-formed thoughts and 'congradulations, you played yourself' and I can feel beads of sweat rolling down my face , but my hands feel too heavy to wipe them off. Through my panic, I hear the soft pit-pat of my sister tiptoeing down with socked feet. She takes one look at me than the cops, and I think it clicks for her, because she pales and yanks at my arm. "Whats going on?" She hisses under my ear, barely tall enough to reach it despite being 2 years older than me. I open my mouth to tell her to "Shut up, Jessie" but one of the cops must hear us, because she looks up and spots us lurking in the shadows. "There you are, Mr. Helsey. We'd like to have a word with you" She says with false civility, as Dad bristles and her partner steps in front of him to posture. I shake off Jessie's death grip on my arm and approach them, letting them shove their badges in my face and trying not to bolt in fear. I look guilty, I know I do ; im pale and sweaty, with a bruised cheek and banged up collarbones, like I just came out of a fight, and on top of everything im sure im shaking too hard for them not to notice. Like a good, well-mannered boy, I say "Good morning" and "no problem" and "yes, of course I can answer some questions". " I was at home" I say, and Dad tenses but doesnt rebuke me. "I knew Gus, but none of the other victims, ma'am." I answer truthfuly. "Im being bullied in school,sir" I say, as the male cop points at my cheek. They trade glances, and pull a small, plastic bag. "Its just a common kitchen knife" I answer, peering inside with unfocused eyes, when they ask if I know what it is. I am arrested. 13 counts of first degree murder. My lawyer tells me to confess, and I do - I tell them how I killed Gus, but also about how I didnt kill anyone else. "The knife wounds on all 13 victims are a match to the kitchen knife that with your fingerprints. The evidence is conclusive." the prosecutor presses. "I am innocent" I insist. I am convicted. A life in prison without the possibility of parole. If I thought the beatings I endured from the hands of high schoolers were harsh, they were nothing compared to what the inmates put me through. I beg and I beg and my parents, desperate to believe that their son is not a murderer, fight until they get a second hearing for my case. I allow myself to be hopeful. On the day of the hearing, they tell me I have a visitor. Its Jessie. I havent seen Jessie in months. She avoids me like the plague, and my parents dont seem inclined to force her to visit me. I cant blame them, and I cant blame her either, but I still feel bitter over how she seemingly gave up on me. "You're really dumb, you know that?" Is the first thing she says once were left alone in the hearing room. "How could you do that to yourself? To Mom and Dad?" I open my mouth to say something, anything to shut her up, but she cuts me off with a hand, and Im alarmed to see that she is second away from bursting into tears. "No. I'm here for a reason - dont interrupt". I shrug to show her that Im listening, and keep my mouth dutifuly shut as she launches into a retelling of our childhood. I guess she came here to rant and rave, and I let her get things of her chest, hoping that she wont be so distant after this - shes my big sister after all, ive known her my whole life. That day, I stand before the court. I dont look back to see my parents' faces, looking stubbornly ahead. Next to me, my lawyer is trying to grab my attention, but I have something I need to do. I confess to the murder of Gus Smith, as well as 12 others. I confess that I am the Slicer and draw on every horror movie ive seen to recount 13 brutal deaths. What choice do I have when the real Slicer is sitting right there behind me? What else can I do when all the Slicer did was to take out a few horrible bullies to protect the ones too weak to fight back? She's my big sister, and she was just trying to help.	"For those of you who are tuning in right now, 15 people have been killed in the latest mass stabbing by the serial killer dubbed 'The Protector'. The images are graphic so viewer discretion is advised. The bodies have been strung up and symbo-", I flicked off the TV. That blonde reporter has always been eye candy but something was even more appealing. A single thought, an idea that traveled to the forefront of my brain, even in front of the imagined scenes of eroticism that involved Mrs. Blondy. The Protector, it had a nice ring to it. Inspired a bit of fear. It made you think that this guy had just the right amount of crazy in him. I liked it. I could use it. Abuse it. Cultivate it to be the answer to this endearing issue I have been struggling with. I rolled out of bed and picked up the half burnt cigar from last night. I stumbled over to my laptop in the corner of the room. I opened it up and turned it on and for just a half-second I saw my reflection. I needed a shave. I got to the home screen and navigated myself to Google. Ah Google, the best thing mankind has ever dreamed up, the ultimate tool to find pornography beyond anyone's imagination. But today I had a different reason than having my eyes partake in the glory of "beautiful busty red heads". I had to know something. Something of urgency, of importance. How did The Protector kill? 896,000 results in .49 seconds. Ok Google, I thought as I clicked on the images tab, show me this guy's style. If I was going to be a copycat I had to at least know how this guy did the deed. Google answered me with hundreds of images of bloody scenes with bodies strewn about. Well this guy was not neat that's for sure. I began to peruse down the gory collage when I noticed something. I couldn't believe that I was so blind to have needed 10 images to see something so obvious. In every single scene the words "Miserere Nobis" were spelled out in blood on the wall along with some satanic demon circle that looked like it had some writing in it. This is exactly what I was looking for. Now I could kill that slimy bastard and go on scott-free afterwords. I sat still in my chair for a few moments as I thought. Then I decided that I would do it today, what the hell. After a quick shower and some eggs I put on my boots and grabbed my switchblade. I examined it and thought, I knew I would have a use for this someday. I got in my car and punched in the address in my GPS. 60185 Willow Dr. That's where that fucking bastard lived. I sped through the freeway and finally arrived at his house after a 15 minute drive. It was Sunday so I knew the fucker would be at home with her. First he took my job, then he took the only love I ever had. They would both pay for it. Atone for their sins. I pulled up into the driveway as quietly as I could. It was 8 am so I was hoping that they were still asleep. We used to be friends me and him, really good friends. I still knew where he kept the spare key. Sliding the key in the front door had a special feeling to it. Click, the sound was orgasmic. I entered the house and tiptoed past the welcome mat. I peeped a pair of black dress shoes next to a red pair of heels. She only wears those when shes really feeling wild. I felt that inner caveman rage welling up inside me. It grew more and more as I creeper up the stairs until suddenly it was gone. Entirely replaced with happiness. I get to kill them today. A wide grin spread across my face. I could hear him snore. Each step I took towards that brown door let off a quit creak of the wooden floor. Music to my ears. As I turned the knob and pushed forward I heard a quiet squeak. Just loud enough to barely register to my ears above the screaming chorus in my head. Door wide open I stand before them. Asleep and happy. Smiles on both of their faces. Snuggled so close together it almost warmed my heart. But something was going to make my heart even warmer. The shiny piece of steel in my hand. The blade that was just begging to taste their warm blood. With one quick flip I unsheathed it to witness its meal. I guess we should start with the appetizer. I crawled up on the bed, right over him. My shadow blocked out the sun that peaked out of the curtains. I drew my knife up to the left edge of his neck and with one slice I painted the bed red. Blood spewed up into my face. It was, euphoric. The sound of spurting blood must not have fit her narrative because when she opened her eyes it was followed by a ear piercing shriek. My focus immediately turned to the source of the shriek. It's time for the main course. I plunged my blade right down into that whore's heart. I brought it up and down for another wound. They say practice makes perfect and after stabbing that sluts body 20 times I feel like an expert. Now all that was left was for me to cover my tracks. Miserere Nobis and something else. That's what I needed to draw. My heart was racing as I dipped my fingers in their blood. As I drew the s in Nobis I realized that I forgot what the symbol looked like. I guess taking the lives of the people you hate the most interferes with your memory. I grabbed my phone and looked up "evil symbols" and looked for one that looked like the one The Protector drew. After finding one and marking up the walls, I sat back to admire my work. Suddenly I heard him. I knew who he was. The Protector. Something in my body screamed his identity to me. His voice rang out as clear as if he was near me. I whipped around and saw no one. I was alone. Then what he was yelling finally registered. "YOU FOOL. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?". I was confused, I had no idea what he was talking about. I said, "What are you talking about?". He only whispered back, "miserere nobis". I started to yell out for him. What did I do? How could I hear him? I needed to know. As I got up a blinding light flashed behind me. I turned around to see the wall where I drew the symbol to be glowing. The symbol specifically was shimmering a deep blue. I fell to my knees. I heard its voice. I knew what I had done. It was old. Tears streamed down my face. May he have mercy.
	[WP] There's a serial killer loose in town, you decide it is the perfect opportunity to kill your own enemies and let the killer take the blame.	It was just another day in the life of Matthew Moreno. Wake up. Snooze. Wake up again. Snooze once more. Wake up again, and it's time to go. As I rolled out of bed, channel 4 was covering the same god damned shit it'd been covering for 2 months. Serial killer, loose in Smithtown. *SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN* This dude should just hurry up and get caught already, or find his way to me and put me out of my damn misery. As I got ready for work, dread passed over me as I was going to be spending another day desperately trying to pass the time on Reddit while the world and my friends went on enjoying their lives. I had to make a choice, get a coffee and be late, or rush straight into work. I chose coffee. Call me a masochist, I could really care less about this dead-end job though. I'm too young to be settling for something like this anyway, I could use the kick in the ass. Turns out, I'd made the right choice. Nobody noticed me strolling in 15 minutes late because apparently The Smithtown Slasher's latest victim was my boss. I couldn't believe it. "They found his body late last night after his wife called in a missing persons report. He was floating on a pallet in the same river the killer leaves all his victims. His body was opened up apparently." Marcy said, wincing at the thought. Marcy was Jack's secretary, and my cubicle neighbor. She was a sweet 50 something year old lady with a daughter I've had my eye on. "That's disgusting. I can't even believe this, who's going to be running the show around here now?" I asked, trying to seem like I cared more than I did. Don't get me wrong, Jack didn't really deserve to DIE. He just, shouldn't have been in charge here. The guy was a huge asshole. Racist too. "Not sure yet, I'm surprised they are keeping us all here today given the news." Marcy responded quietly. "I'm not." I said, not taking my eyes off my screen. "So, how was your weekend? You do anything fun?" Marcy asked, she was always making conversation in the mornings. I thought about it, and I couldn't really think of anything interesting that I'd done. Probably because I haven't been doing anything lately besides smoking weed and eating pizza thanks to Victoria, My slut ex-girlfriend who sent me spiraling into depression. "Same ol' nothing, how about you?" I ask politely, turning my head to presumably hear some tale about her crazy mother or her daughter stressing her out. She let me off easy by saying she didn't do much either, and we went on with our days. Six came around especially slow today, since I typically have to work way harder on doing nothing when Jack is around. Alas, I made it, though. On my traffic-filled drive home, I spent a lot of time thinking about where my life is at. Heavy shit, but I definitely needed a change. Maybe I should get back on those meds after all, they seemed to keep my mind regulated if nothing else. Even if I WAS misdiagnosed. They helped. I can't keep up with this cycle of nothingness. Where did I put those things anyway? When I got back home, I decided to look for them so I could take one before bed. Wasn't long before I found them. Sertraline - Dissociative Personality Disorder - Take once a day I should really tell my parents about this, and see what they think. I probably should seek a second opinion while I'm at it. These pills do make me feel pretty good, though. I decided to start the cycle up again and see what happens. I'd definitely seek a second opinion before dropping that bombshell on the rents. We'll see. I popped open my phone and began to scroll social media endlessly before coming across a few posts regarding my ex. I went to her page and snooped around, apparently she's missing? I got up, and called our mutual friend. "Uhh, yeah. She's been missing since Saturday night. Have you heard from her, Matt?" Alice said distantly. "Missing since Saturday night?" I repeated, slowly. I sat up, the hair on my arms had received a jolt of electricity. Was it the Smithtown Slasher? I felt terrified for a moment, and then I remembered I was still on the phone. "Hello? Are you there?" Alice sounded annoyed. "Uhh, yeah I gotta go. If you hear from her please let me know." click It wasn't even 30 seconds later I heard knocks at my door. Unless it's grubhub, there is never knocks at my door. I definitely didn't order food, either. "Who is it?" I shout as I walk towards the front. "It's Smithtown PD. Open the door, please." I heard from a stern voice through the door. Momentary fear crept up on me, but I assured myself I was going to be fine as I was busy doing... what? What was I doing on Saturday night? ... Fuck. Where was I? I began to rack my brain but for the life of me could not produce an alibi for the inevitable questions I was about to be asked. I couldn't stall, that would look even more suspicious. I'd have to make something up. BANG BANG BANG "Hello? Open this door now please." the voice continued. "I'm coming, I'm coming." I responded while reached for the doorknob. .... I awoke in a cell. Not a cell, a box. Am I in prison? My thoughts went back to the countless movies I'd seen where the characters are placed in solitary confinement. What the fuck happened? How did-- I got up and started banging on the door. It wasn't long before two men in white coats showed up outside, and opened the square window. I calmly explained to them that I had no idea why I was there, and needed to speak with somebody in charge. They just looked at each other, then back at me. "He really doesn't know." the first one said. "He most definitely knows, he's just a sociopath. Look at him. These people are professional liars." the second one said. "Excuse me? Who do you think you are speaking to like that? I am not a sociopath and I can assure you that I DON'T know what the hell is going on right now. I've got to be dreaming." I respond with. I began pinching my own arms and screaming to be let out. Being claustrophobic and locked away in a small place you don't belong with no way out is a really bad combination. They just closed the window and left. An image of that Sertraline bottle flashed back across my mind, it was almost completely full when I'd found it. Another image of my psychiatrist telling me that it is absolutely crucial I take the pill every single day. "You could have episodes where the part of your personality that you don't want getting out, gets out. You might not even remember it happening. You can lose all control, son. I really hope you are understanding me. This medicine must be taken every day." he slowly explained to me, emphasizing the final line. Jack... Victoria... A wave of horror washed over me and was replaced by absolute panic. I couldn't sit still. My heart began racing. I couldn't take the thoughts going through my head and I eventually passed out. Needless to say, that place became my new home. I wasn't in prison, I was in a psychiatric ward, and I'd likely be there for the remainder of my life. They proved it was me. I was the Smithtown Slasher. They caught me when I began killing those I had personal relationships with. To this day, I don't fully believe it. I can't. I have no memories of killing anybody, I couldn't even kill a cat if you paid me to. It isn't in me. This is wrong. I shouldn't be here. What has become of my life? And with tears rolling down my face, I whispered... "I'm so, so sorry, Victoria"	"For those of you who are tuning in right now, 15 people have been killed in the latest mass stabbing by the serial killer dubbed 'The Protector'. The images are graphic so viewer discretion is advised. The bodies have been strung up and symbo-", I flicked off the TV. That blonde reporter has always been eye candy but something was even more appealing. A single thought, an idea that traveled to the forefront of my brain, even in front of the imagined scenes of eroticism that involved Mrs. Blondy. The Protector, it had a nice ring to it. Inspired a bit of fear. It made you think that this guy had just the right amount of crazy in him. I liked it. I could use it. Abuse it. Cultivate it to be the answer to this endearing issue I have been struggling with. I rolled out of bed and picked up the half burnt cigar from last night. I stumbled over to my laptop in the corner of the room. I opened it up and turned it on and for just a half-second I saw my reflection. I needed a shave. I got to the home screen and navigated myself to Google. Ah Google, the best thing mankind has ever dreamed up, the ultimate tool to find pornography beyond anyone's imagination. But today I had a different reason than having my eyes partake in the glory of "beautiful busty red heads". I had to know something. Something of urgency, of importance. How did The Protector kill? 896,000 results in .49 seconds. Ok Google, I thought as I clicked on the images tab, show me this guy's style. If I was going to be a copycat I had to at least know how this guy did the deed. Google answered me with hundreds of images of bloody scenes with bodies strewn about. Well this guy was not neat that's for sure. I began to peruse down the gory collage when I noticed something. I couldn't believe that I was so blind to have needed 10 images to see something so obvious. In every single scene the words "Miserere Nobis" were spelled out in blood on the wall along with some satanic demon circle that looked like it had some writing in it. This is exactly what I was looking for. Now I could kill that slimy bastard and go on scott-free afterwords. I sat still in my chair for a few moments as I thought. Then I decided that I would do it today, what the hell. After a quick shower and some eggs I put on my boots and grabbed my switchblade. I examined it and thought, I knew I would have a use for this someday. I got in my car and punched in the address in my GPS. 60185 Willow Dr. That's where that fucking bastard lived. I sped through the freeway and finally arrived at his house after a 15 minute drive. It was Sunday so I knew the fucker would be at home with her. First he took my job, then he took the only love I ever had. They would both pay for it. Atone for their sins. I pulled up into the driveway as quietly as I could. It was 8 am so I was hoping that they were still asleep. We used to be friends me and him, really good friends. I still knew where he kept the spare key. Sliding the key in the front door had a special feeling to it. Click, the sound was orgasmic. I entered the house and tiptoed past the welcome mat. I peeped a pair of black dress shoes next to a red pair of heels. She only wears those when shes really feeling wild. I felt that inner caveman rage welling up inside me. It grew more and more as I creeper up the stairs until suddenly it was gone. Entirely replaced with happiness. I get to kill them today. A wide grin spread across my face. I could hear him snore. Each step I took towards that brown door let off a quit creak of the wooden floor. Music to my ears. As I turned the knob and pushed forward I heard a quiet squeak. Just loud enough to barely register to my ears above the screaming chorus in my head. Door wide open I stand before them. Asleep and happy. Smiles on both of their faces. Snuggled so close together it almost warmed my heart. But something was going to make my heart even warmer. The shiny piece of steel in my hand. The blade that was just begging to taste their warm blood. With one quick flip I unsheathed it to witness its meal. I guess we should start with the appetizer. I crawled up on the bed, right over him. My shadow blocked out the sun that peaked out of the curtains. I drew my knife up to the left edge of his neck and with one slice I painted the bed red. Blood spewed up into my face. It was, euphoric. The sound of spurting blood must not have fit her narrative because when she opened her eyes it was followed by a ear piercing shriek. My focus immediately turned to the source of the shriek. It's time for the main course. I plunged my blade right down into that whore's heart. I brought it up and down for another wound. They say practice makes perfect and after stabbing that sluts body 20 times I feel like an expert. Now all that was left was for me to cover my tracks. Miserere Nobis and something else. That's what I needed to draw. My heart was racing as I dipped my fingers in their blood. As I drew the s in Nobis I realized that I forgot what the symbol looked like. I guess taking the lives of the people you hate the most interferes with your memory. I grabbed my phone and looked up "evil symbols" and looked for one that looked like the one The Protector drew. After finding one and marking up the walls, I sat back to admire my work. Suddenly I heard him. I knew who he was. The Protector. Something in my body screamed his identity to me. His voice rang out as clear as if he was near me. I whipped around and saw no one. I was alone. Then what he was yelling finally registered. "YOU FOOL. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?". I was confused, I had no idea what he was talking about. I said, "What are you talking about?". He only whispered back, "miserere nobis". I started to yell out for him. What did I do? How could I hear him? I needed to know. As I got up a blinding light flashed behind me. I turned around to see the wall where I drew the symbol to be glowing. The symbol specifically was shimmering a deep blue. I fell to my knees. I heard its voice. I knew what I had done. It was old. Tears streamed down my face. May he have mercy.
	[WP] There's a serial killer loose in town, you decide it is the perfect opportunity to kill your own enemies and let the killer take the blame.	I guess a part of me knew this was coming. Years of bullying and name calling mustve caught up with me, or maybe I left my conscience in the janitor's closet the last time I was locked there- yesterday, that is. Maybe if I had more time to think about this I wouldve talked myself out, but whats done is done. It only took 24 hours to make a predator out of the prey, and a killer out of me. Such a monumental thing in life, but it wasnt even remotely difficult. After all, bullies arent worth much without their gaggle of groupies. I knew his schedule by heart so that I could avoid him anyway I could, so I knew immidiately to wait hidden in the bushes behind the busstop Gus gets off at after his boxing lessons. A telling fact about the kind of person Gus is, is that he initially started taking this lessons for bragging rights. And boy, can he punch. He throws his entire weight of 5 foot 6 of protein shake and stollen lunch into it, and doesnt stop until he's exhausted. Good thing that I know how to take punches without falling down. Thanks for that, buddy. In the end, all I have to do is to let him punch me a few times, then provoke him enough that he chases me into the nearby park thats all but abandoned this time of night. Easy to say, easy to do - there was something about my face that always pissed off Gus and its not like he needed encouragement to let it show. Once we were in the thick of the park, far from the jogging trails and surrounded by foliage from all sides, it was a matter of seconds. Who can throw punches against a hidden knife anyway? Not Gus, thats who. I will confess that I panicked once the fresh blood spilled on my hands. I fell to my knees right next to Gus, and did my best to suck breaths into my lungs around the invisible ball of guilt wedged in my throat. There were spots in my vission and sweat on my back, and when I came to, I was curled in on myself , smearing my face with drying blood. I grit my teeth and slapped sense into myself "Get yourself together, Sam. C'mon, man, you know what to do" . And I did. I pulled the knife from Gus's chest with a squelch and set to work. First, I sliced the corners of his mouth, elongating them into a grotesque smile, and reminding myself of every disgusting name that mouth has ever called me. Then I sliced off his left pinky and took his shoes off so I could slice the tendons behind his ankles. The killer did this so the victims wouldnt escape , but then again, he mutilated them before he killed them, and I had neither the heart, nor the time to do something like that. In the end, Gus's elongated smile was a bit crooked, and the knife snagged at the bone when I was cutting the back of his foot, but noone in the town would mistake the Slicer's signature. Of course, I was careful to make sure Gus fitted the MO in the first place. Maybe me and him, whoever he is, are kinded souls I thought. Every victim up to now, every one out of previous 12 victims, was aged from late teen to young adult and had a history of violence - Im still surprised I had 5o kill Gus myself. I hoped there was enough circumstancial evidence to shift the blame entirely on the Slicer, and left him there to rot, throwing my knife into a trash can on the way home. Neither my parents nor my sister questioned my appearance. They knew I was being bullied, so when I stepped in with a wince and a blooming mark on my collarbone, Mom made a heartbroken sound and came to give me a hug, while my sister busied herself with getting me an ice-pack. I endured an evening of coddling with growing anxiety, and if anyone was annoyed by me tapping my foot, then they chose to not say anything. Just before sleep, Dad pulled me aside to shoot me stern looks to convince me to tell him who did this to me, but I remained tightlipped as ever. 'Don't worry, Dad. He's not going to hurt me anymore' I thought, as I brushed my teeth. My collarbone itched where my sister spread that weird plant based cream that she kept in stock these days and my hands shook as I pulled the duvet over my head. I slept well that night. I woke up to Mom hovering in the doorway. "Good morning, Sweetheart" is what I though she would say, but what she actually said was " There are some people here that want to talk to you". It took 24 hours to make a killer out of me. It took even less for the authorities to find the one responsible. When I arrived downstairs, gripping the stairs so that my shaking knees wont betray me, the cops were talking to Dad. There were two of them, in matching uniforms, taking turns to bombard Dad with questions. Dad's voice was as calm it could be, but there was a vein jumping in his neck and his hands were twitching like he would like nothing more than to wrap them around someone's neck. On the little coffe table behind them, just barely visible from were I stand half-hidden, are photographs. Spread so each of them is visible, they take up the entire table - way too many to be just Gus. Againt the shine of the glossy surfaces, I catch a collage of bleached blonde hair, tattos, piercings, leather jackets, and gruesome, bloody smiles. In the corner closest to me is Gus. His crooked grin is mocking me beyond the grave, but I cant find it in myself to feel anything but horror. 13 people -13 victims. 'If they know that Im the one who killed Gus, then they must think I killed all those other people, too. They must think Im the Slicer' passes through my mind as I lock my knees to keep from tumbling down the last few stairs. My mind is a jumble of fear, half-formed thoughts and 'congradulations, you played yourself' and I can feel beads of sweat rolling down my face , but my hands feel too heavy to wipe them off. Through my panic, I hear the soft pit-pat of my sister tiptoeing down with socked feet. She takes one look at me than the cops, and I think it clicks for her, because she pales and yanks at my arm. "Whats going on?" She hisses under my ear, barely tall enough to reach it despite being 2 years older than me. I open my mouth to tell her to "Shut up, Jessie" but one of the cops must hear us, because she looks up and spots us lurking in the shadows. "There you are, Mr. Helsey. We'd like to have a word with you" She says with false civility, as Dad bristles and her partner steps in front of him to posture. I shake off Jessie's death grip on my arm and approach them, letting them shove their badges in my face and trying not to bolt in fear. I look guilty, I know I do ; im pale and sweaty, with a bruised cheek and banged up collarbones, like I just came out of a fight, and on top of everything im sure im shaking too hard for them not to notice. Like a good, well-mannered boy, I say "Good morning" and "no problem" and "yes, of course I can answer some questions". " I was at home" I say, and Dad tenses but doesnt rebuke me. "I knew Gus, but none of the other victims, ma'am." I answer truthfuly. "Im being bullied in school,sir" I say, as the male cop points at my cheek. They trade glances, and pull a small, plastic bag. "Its just a common kitchen knife" I answer, peering inside with unfocused eyes, when they ask if I know what it is. I am arrested. 13 counts of first degree murder. My lawyer tells me to confess, and I do - I tell them how I killed Gus, but also about how I didnt kill anyone else. "The knife wounds on all 13 victims are a match to the kitchen knife that with your fingerprints. The evidence is conclusive." the prosecutor presses. "I am innocent" I insist. I am convicted. A life in prison without the possibility of parole. If I thought the beatings I endured from the hands of high schoolers were harsh, they were nothing compared to what the inmates put me through. I beg and I beg and my parents, desperate to believe that their son is not a murderer, fight until they get a second hearing for my case. I allow myself to be hopeful. On the day of the hearing, they tell me I have a visitor. Its Jessie. I havent seen Jessie in months. She avoids me like the plague, and my parents dont seem inclined to force her to visit me. I cant blame them, and I cant blame her either, but I still feel bitter over how she seemingly gave up on me. "You're really dumb, you know that?" Is the first thing she says once were left alone in the hearing room. "How could you do that to yourself? To Mom and Dad?" I open my mouth to say something, anything to shut her up, but she cuts me off with a hand, and Im alarmed to see that she is second away from bursting into tears. "No. I'm here for a reason - dont interrupt". I shrug to show her that Im listening, and keep my mouth dutifuly shut as she launches into a retelling of our childhood. I guess she came here to rant and rave, and I let her get things of her chest, hoping that she wont be so distant after this - shes my big sister after all, ive known her my whole life. That day, I stand before the court. I dont look back to see my parents' faces, looking stubbornly ahead. Next to me, my lawyer is trying to grab my attention, but I have something I need to do. I confess to the murder of Gus Smith, as well as 12 others. I confess that I am the Slicer and draw on every horror movie ive seen to recount 13 brutal deaths. What choice do I have when the real Slicer is sitting right there behind me? What else can I do when all the Slicer did was to take out a few horrible bullies to protect the ones too weak to fight back? She's my big sister, and she was just trying to help.	"The Hammer has been sighted in parts of the town," The local reporter had announced with a frown, "We have reports that seventeen are dead, downtown" It was then I thought to myself, what goes around must come around. &nbsp; So I picked up the hammer, and broke down his door, I think he heard me coming, or my footsteps on the floor, Looked back at me with a twinkle in his eyes, the same smug grin he wore, Asked me with a drawl "You lookin' for that whore?" &nbsp; I stared at him with rage in my eyes, Moved quickly, gave him a surprise, A hammer in his head, almost half his size, And thus with a cry, a rapist dies. &nbsp; "The hammer claimed another victim," "Came to the house at night, we don't know why he picked him," I wondered if it was that easy to cheat the system, And began to name those who had done this to her, began to list 'em. &nbsp; Picked up the hammer, and took revenge against those that wronged her, I was unstoppable, even as an amateur saboteur, But I knew that they had to die, because they had silenced her, And I knew to take them out, I needed to be the Silencer. ---------- Still new at this and pretty bad, but this is good practice! Thank you for the prompt. :)
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	Note: This is broken into multiple parts. See the Replies for the entiretly of the story. The Spectre of Wyrmhaven Rex Igneous Seth Stone sat in the booth at the far corner of Wünderdorf’s most popular cantina, Trunkenheit, twiddling his thumbs. His contact was already two minutes late. He eyed the patrons as they entered to exchange any foodstuffs they happened to pick up from bandits on the road, happy to receive whatever meager amount of gold the NPC bartender decided to give them. “Casuals...” Stone scoffed as he rested his arm on the table, drumming his fingers. He knew none of these players would recognize him. Not only did he have his gamer tag concealed, but he wore clothing that he looted from a highwayman NPC he shanked near Rothengaard. He kept his signature light armor, mask and cloak in his inventory. Ever since Stone took the title of World Champion at the Wyrmhaven Wizard Duel Royale for the third straight year, he couldn’t take care of business in any town or city in the higher-level zones without being mobbed by fans who wanted a screenshot. “Rex Igneous?” said a deep voice to his right. Stone jerked his head to see an Orc in heavy armor, a golden great sword strapped to his back. His hideously scarred face sported tribal tattoos, his protruding tusks adorned with jewelry. “Rothgar96?” The orc warrior smiled and nodded. “How did you find me? I’m impressed.” The orc let out a deep, guttural laugh. “Please. It’s obvious you’re a player. And what player just sits in a place like Trunkenheit, doing nothing? You’re clearly the blood elf waiting for me, although nobody I know has ever seen your avatar’s face. It’s badass.” Stone brushed back his pitch-black hair to reveal a pointed ear and a cheek coated in dark green war paint. “Why thank you. I’m proud of it. Now, fill me in on this rogue looter you’re looking for.” The orc sat down awkwardly, his armor scraping the seat. “Oh, right. Thank you for responding to my Bounty Board post. I’m honored.” He opened the palm of his hand and his inventory screen popped up. In seconds, Rothgar clicked through it, selected a satchel, filled it with 100,000 gold, and placed it onto the table. Seth Stone reached out and touched it, sending it to his inventory in a dissipating cloud of pixels. “Thanks a bunch, man.” “You’ll receive the rest upon completion of this mission.” Rothgar closed his inventory screen and crossed his arms. “You shouldn’t have too much trouble.” Stone raised an eyebrow. “How strong is he?” Rothgar scratched his head. “He’s only level 50.” “Then why are you paying me so much?” “He fights with the skill of a max level Archwizard. Dozens of other people, and not just players in my guild, claim that he’s swiped loot from raids.” Rothgar leaned in. “But he doesn’t steal the whole crate every time. On most occasions, he’ll just swipe a few invulnerability scrolls and maximum elixirs but leave the rest. When he does steal the crate in its entirety, the other raiders will find it half an hour away, its contents untouched.” Stone grimaced. “He’s toying with them.” “Exactly! And he doesn’t even take out any legendary gear that may be in there, gear that a level 50 elf druid would desperately need,” Rothgar growled. “Some noob with zero raid experience could just waltz by and take them.” “Don’t worry, my friend,” Stone grinned. “I’ll fry him so fast he won’t see it coming.” Rothgar’s frown didn’t change. “I’ve seen you fight, Igneous, but there’s something about this guy that doesn’t sit well with me. He’s a level 50 elf druid that’s managed to, on multiple occasions, successfully escape from more than a dozen players of equal level simultaneously. Some swear that he’s hacking but have no proof. He’s just that good.” Stone laughed. “You forget that I’m not level 50. I’m at 80. Max level.” At last Rothgar grinned. “You’re right, what am I talking about? You’ll crush his ass.” “So, where is he?” Rothgar opened his palm and his map screen appeared. “My connections believe he may be in the max level zones far to the north, in the mountains bordering Xiao Long. The last raid he crashed was in the Makba’ah desert just to the south, with the raid before just south of that near Kalara. He’s an elusive little bastard.” Seth nodded and rose from the table. “Leave him to me. He’ll be dealt with soon enough.” Rothgar chuckled. “Good luck!” “I won’t need it!” Seth Stone changed his avatar’s attire, donning his sleek elven light armor and scarlet cloak, his avian mask concealing his sharp face. From his palms came a green glow and he vanished in a sparkling cloud.	I always wondered what life would be like to actually be in a video game. Why did it have to be this game? I forgot that it wasn't like playing on a console and crouch wasn't a toggle feature. I can't believe I fell off the edge of that ravine and landed in lava. I don't really know how long I've been in game since the days in this cube hell go by so fast. It probably wouldn't even be so bad if after I died I wasn't stuck in creative mode. I don't get hungry. I don't get hot or cold. I don't have to work for any materials to build. It's so boring. The players I interacted with used to call me herobrine but after my a while they just called me the phantom. I was an urban legend whispered about in game. A while ago I met with some of the developers of the game and they seemed nice but scared. I think they're worried about this happening again and I don't blame them for being scared. After that meeting I haven't been able to world hop like I used to. I think they isolated me to try to hide my existence. Man I an so alone. Of all the games why did I have to die and get trapped in this one?
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It had been about a year since I died. My husband came to see me almost every night and would tell me all about his adventures and misadventures. We'd play the game for a bit, complete quests and level up, before he would get tired and had to leave. I always got sad when he left, since I didn't have to sleep. I also didn't really play the game anymore since I only leveled up with him. So I wandered. Round and round the not-so-open world map. It got pretty boring when I had seen every inch of it. Sometimes I even liked to troll the "high-rollers" when I got bored. Tonight was the first night, however, that I decided to go big; It was time to troll the game developers. I had noticed that patch releases had been more and more frequent, and the player count was up again. There was a really big update about to drop, and I was ready. When the update hit, I was going to take over the admin account that always logged in first to test the update. They thought they were being sneaky, but l knew TrailBlazer420 was the admin; they had every single admin permission. Admin permissions could get me anything in the game that I wanted. Sure enough, 2:00 am rolled around and the update started. I hated updates, it had always felt like I was being scrambled then reassembled. About 2 hours later and there it was, TrailBlazer420 logged in on schedule. I threw my conciseness at the account with all of the force I had in me and everything went dark. I tried to open the characters eyes and couldn't. Something didn't feel right, it was as if I was caged. I couldn't move, couldn't hear anything, there was nothing. An endless darkness. I thought I was really finally dead until I heard a loud screeching sound like nails on a chalkboard board. I tried to open my eyes again and found that I could, and I could see the in-game sky. I tried to sit up but I hit my head on an invisible wall. I reached out and could feel the wall, running my hands over the smooth surface. Then I froze, realization sweeping over me. I opened my mouth and whispered "Logout". The game screen closed with a blink. I opened my eyes, to see the inside of the VR chamber. Staring back at me was the refection of the lead game developer... My husband.	I always wondered what life would be like to actually be in a video game. Why did it have to be this game? I forgot that it wasn't like playing on a console and crouch wasn't a toggle feature. I can't believe I fell off the edge of that ravine and landed in lava. I don't really know how long I've been in game since the days in this cube hell go by so fast. It probably wouldn't even be so bad if after I died I wasn't stuck in creative mode. I don't get hungry. I don't get hot or cold. I don't have to work for any materials to build. It's so boring. The players I interacted with used to call me herobrine but after my a while they just called me the phantom. I was an urban legend whispered about in game. A while ago I met with some of the developers of the game and they seemed nice but scared. I think they're worried about this happening again and I don't blame them for being scared. After that meeting I haven't been able to world hop like I used to. I think they isolated me to try to hide my existence. Man I an so alone. Of all the games why did I have to die and get trapped in this one?
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	Note: This is broken into multiple parts. See the Replies for the entiretly of the story. The Spectre of Wyrmhaven Rex Igneous Seth Stone sat in the booth at the far corner of Wünderdorf’s most popular cantina, Trunkenheit, twiddling his thumbs. His contact was already two minutes late. He eyed the patrons as they entered to exchange any foodstuffs they happened to pick up from bandits on the road, happy to receive whatever meager amount of gold the NPC bartender decided to give them. “Casuals...” Stone scoffed as he rested his arm on the table, drumming his fingers. He knew none of these players would recognize him. Not only did he have his gamer tag concealed, but he wore clothing that he looted from a highwayman NPC he shanked near Rothengaard. He kept his signature light armor, mask and cloak in his inventory. Ever since Stone took the title of World Champion at the Wyrmhaven Wizard Duel Royale for the third straight year, he couldn’t take care of business in any town or city in the higher-level zones without being mobbed by fans who wanted a screenshot. “Rex Igneous?” said a deep voice to his right. Stone jerked his head to see an Orc in heavy armor, a golden great sword strapped to his back. His hideously scarred face sported tribal tattoos, his protruding tusks adorned with jewelry. “Rothgar96?” The orc warrior smiled and nodded. “How did you find me? I’m impressed.” The orc let out a deep, guttural laugh. “Please. It’s obvious you’re a player. And what player just sits in a place like Trunkenheit, doing nothing? You’re clearly the blood elf waiting for me, although nobody I know has ever seen your avatar’s face. It’s badass.” Stone brushed back his pitch-black hair to reveal a pointed ear and a cheek coated in dark green war paint. “Why thank you. I’m proud of it. Now, fill me in on this rogue looter you’re looking for.” The orc sat down awkwardly, his armor scraping the seat. “Oh, right. Thank you for responding to my Bounty Board post. I’m honored.” He opened the palm of his hand and his inventory screen popped up. In seconds, Rothgar clicked through it, selected a satchel, filled it with 100,000 gold, and placed it onto the table. Seth Stone reached out and touched it, sending it to his inventory in a dissipating cloud of pixels. “Thanks a bunch, man.” “You’ll receive the rest upon completion of this mission.” Rothgar closed his inventory screen and crossed his arms. “You shouldn’t have too much trouble.” Stone raised an eyebrow. “How strong is he?” Rothgar scratched his head. “He’s only level 50.” “Then why are you paying me so much?” “He fights with the skill of a max level Archwizard. Dozens of other people, and not just players in my guild, claim that he’s swiped loot from raids.” Rothgar leaned in. “But he doesn’t steal the whole crate every time. On most occasions, he’ll just swipe a few invulnerability scrolls and maximum elixirs but leave the rest. When he does steal the crate in its entirety, the other raiders will find it half an hour away, its contents untouched.” Stone grimaced. “He’s toying with them.” “Exactly! And he doesn’t even take out any legendary gear that may be in there, gear that a level 50 elf druid would desperately need,” Rothgar growled. “Some noob with zero raid experience could just waltz by and take them.” “Don’t worry, my friend,” Stone grinned. “I’ll fry him so fast he won’t see it coming.” Rothgar’s frown didn’t change. “I’ve seen you fight, Igneous, but there’s something about this guy that doesn’t sit well with me. He’s a level 50 elf druid that’s managed to, on multiple occasions, successfully escape from more than a dozen players of equal level simultaneously. Some swear that he’s hacking but have no proof. He’s just that good.” Stone laughed. “You forget that I’m not level 50. I’m at 80. Max level.” At last Rothgar grinned. “You’re right, what am I talking about? You’ll crush his ass.” “So, where is he?” Rothgar opened his palm and his map screen appeared. “My connections believe he may be in the max level zones far to the north, in the mountains bordering Xiao Long. The last raid he crashed was in the Makba’ah desert just to the south, with the raid before just south of that near Kalara. He’s an elusive little bastard.” Seth nodded and rose from the table. “Leave him to me. He’ll be dealt with soon enough.” Rothgar chuckled. “Good luck!” “I won’t need it!” Seth Stone changed his avatar’s attire, donning his sleek elven light armor and scarlet cloak, his avian mask concealing his sharp face. From his palms came a green glow and he vanished in a sparkling cloud.	"Are you done?" I've been locked in a battle with some big-shot gamer for about three hours now. For those wondering, this is some sort of FPS game. While it's not entirely similar to others, but there's definitely guns and grenades and all that. Not the worst game to be eternally stuck in, to be honest. Anyway, this guy's been pummelling me with rocket launchers, napalm grenades, flame spells and death-rays for three full hours. Normally, if someone were to die in this game, they'd be booted out and would wake up in their Stimpod. That's just how it works. However, since I physically CAN'T wake up in my Stimpod, I basically can't die. I dunno why this guy's attacking me, I guess he just thought he'd try to be the one to take down the infamous Digital Phantom. I've just been taking it, since I can't really do anything else. Well, that's not true, but it's fun seeing him get frustrated. "JUST...DIE ALREADY!" With that, he pulls out a weapon that I recognise all too well: The Sunset Cannon. It's the most powerful gun in the whole game. Grinning, he takes aim and pulls the trigger. A beam of energy nearly as big as the whole damn room explodes outwards, engulfing me in searing hot energy. He keeps it up for 20 seconds before releasing the trigger. Once the smoke clears, I yawn and walk towards him. He looks utterly bewildered. "...But...h-how did-" Before he can finish his question, I calmly take his pistol out of its holster and press it against his forehead, pulling the trigger. Blood splatters out of his head and his avatar fades away into nothingness. Of course, I get to keep the pistol. Then, something weird happens. Every nearby player avatar vanishes. They just disappear. No death animation, nothing. Just gone. Confused, I open up the menu and check the player list. [Active Players: 0] There's no way every single person playing the game would quit at once. While I was fighting that guy, there were something like 15,684 people playing, give or take. They can't have all simultaneously left. A revelation hits me and I close the player list, checking the patch notes. [Version 1.06] - Fixed a bug in which the battle with Drakthiel would softlock after his fireball attack. - Fixed a bug that caused cars to hit an invisible ramp on road 56. - Removed the invincible player model in Gemini Base Alpha. ...They removed me. They patched the game and removed me. Everyone's playing the newest version now. I'm the only one left. I don't wanna go insane. Complete and total isolation tends to turn a person crazy after a while and I don't want that to happen to me. No one'll come back to fight me anyway, so why should I stick around? I glance down at the pistol and shrug, before raising it up to my head and pulling the trigger. I reach up and brush my fingers over the open wound. I dig into my head and remove the bullet, dropping it to the floor. After staring at it for a while, I simply sit down and hug my knees. I forgot I couldn't die.
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It had been about a year since I died. My husband came to see me almost every night and would tell me all about his adventures and misadventures. We'd play the game for a bit, complete quests and level up, before he would get tired and had to leave. I always got sad when he left, since I didn't have to sleep. I also didn't really play the game anymore since I only leveled up with him. So I wandered. Round and round the not-so-open world map. It got pretty boring when I had seen every inch of it. Sometimes I even liked to troll the "high-rollers" when I got bored. Tonight was the first night, however, that I decided to go big; It was time to troll the game developers. I had noticed that patch releases had been more and more frequent, and the player count was up again. There was a really big update about to drop, and I was ready. When the update hit, I was going to take over the admin account that always logged in first to test the update. They thought they were being sneaky, but l knew TrailBlazer420 was the admin; they had every single admin permission. Admin permissions could get me anything in the game that I wanted. Sure enough, 2:00 am rolled around and the update started. I hated updates, it had always felt like I was being scrambled then reassembled. About 2 hours later and there it was, TrailBlazer420 logged in on schedule. I threw my conciseness at the account with all of the force I had in me and everything went dark. I tried to open the characters eyes and couldn't. Something didn't feel right, it was as if I was caged. I couldn't move, couldn't hear anything, there was nothing. An endless darkness. I thought I was really finally dead until I heard a loud screeching sound like nails on a chalkboard board. I tried to open my eyes again and found that I could, and I could see the in-game sky. I tried to sit up but I hit my head on an invisible wall. I reached out and could feel the wall, running my hands over the smooth surface. Then I froze, realization sweeping over me. I opened my mouth and whispered "Logout". The game screen closed with a blink. I opened my eyes, to see the inside of the VR chamber. Staring back at me was the refection of the lead game developer... My husband.	Jamie gently raised his arm with effort, hospital robe slipping from his shoulders. A cough wheezed from his throat as his sickly lungs could barely exhale. Medical staff in white coats and masks were loading Jamie from a bed into an oval shaped device. Their white gloves wiped down the inside of the pod, cleaning it up from the last guest. Jamie was small, no more than 15 years in age. His short black hair lay just above his hazed red eyes, that he could barely keep open. In that gaze was a dying boy, he stared ahead not seeing a thing. They finished laying him in the device, and a screen latched it closed. The screen illuminated with an upbeat chime and displayed in an 8-bit font naVRaland (Player Online) A knight in radiant red plate armor raised his visor, a scrape sounded as it had not been recently oiled. "Figures they would load me here in my last moments" a deep voice filled with honor bellowed aloud. "This was always my favorite Zone, endless plains and eternal sunsets". _______________________________________________________ NOTES TO CONTINUE WRITING Had to upend myself while writing, below is just word garbage I'm leaving in case I continue to write by editing the post. I chose to spend my last moments in a white egg shaped VR pod with a small illuminated screen clasping it together so I didn't feel like a sickly child when I died. I kept waiting for my conciousness to disseappear, they said I only had a few minutes, I just kept playing, appreciating the view in my favorite zone, grassy planes and eternal sunsets. when I was there long enough to see another player complete a quest to gather buffalox tails, I knew it had been more than it was supposed to. I tried to log off, maybe something happened in the hospital. I did the muscle memory gesture to bring up the log off screen, and nothing happened. I checked some of my other UI features, seemed normal, I checked my stats page and everything was zero, sometimes world events mess with character pages, but they would never disable log off,they always go out of their way to make sure that feature is working. Nobody wants to be trapped. I pulled up my in game Web browser and took a look at the forums to see if there was some kind of server outage, I didn't see anything wrong with the servers, but the top post was "15 year old cancer patient spends last moments in Naviraland". I read on thinking it odd they would post this before I... Time of death.. half hour ago... It's hard to feel strong negative emotions as your avatar, they dampened pain to have some form of realistic combat, and dampened fear so players didn't lock up when fighting ferocious monsters. The sense of shock permeated any sensation I felt here before. It felt real. I also felt relieved, though my shoulders still tightened and I had trouble balancing. I'm dead I thought to myself forcing the thought through my brain that felt like sldge, but I'm right here. As time went on I realized certain rules didn't apply to my avatar, the game engine sorts through NPC's and players using heart beats. The NPC's only do what they are programmed, so that makes me something not quite player, not quite AI. I couldn't change my all zero stats, I did next to no damage no matter what weapon or spell I used, though I couldn't be damaged in return, I had no carry limit, but anything I tried to sell, my gold amount was fixed at 0. The Veil though, edge of the world to keep players in the fixed play areas, I could pass right through.
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	Everyone heard the stories, the Unbeatable Dungeon, locked behind the highest level reachable, attemptable by up to a party of 40 players, made to test every aspect of the game. No party had cleared it, let alone had anyone attempted to solo it, that was of course, before my incident. I was given limited time to live. The cancer had spread throughout my body, I was one of 37 players to reach the highest level at this point, we were waiting for more players to get here before we attempted it. However time wasn't on my side, the tumors in my brain were the worst though. I couldn't concentrate on things for very long, and each passing day the headaches got worse, playing in the VRMMORPG that I was a part of since beta 7 years ago was the only thing that gave me happiness, and I was determined to see this through. The message #you are attempting this dungeon alone, are you sure? Popped across the view finder. I nodded yes and headed in. It wasn't too long after I headed in I noticed something was off. The usual mobs that met parties didn't show up, only one creature was seen, and it seemed to bow it's head and let me pass, as if it were any other docile creature 100 levels below me. I checked my status and was no longer able to see any indication of time or menus to manage player interaction like logging out, or the Microtransaction store. The instance label was gone too. Soon after, I started to put two and two together, my body had died when I entered the dungeon, the stress and excitement had been too much, and I was likely brain dead. But if that was true, how was I still conscious, how could I still be playing the game? I got my answer when I saw other players head into the dungeon. 36 of them, all talking about "Where is he? It says he should be in this somewhere." And "you crazy bastard, what makes you think he's still in game? You know he's dead irl right?" They got ambushed by the mobs that had ignored me, they weren't gonna last long. It was 36 against 200. I ran into the fray to help and realized things weren't quite going the same way the game mechanics used to, I yelled out to them, trying to activate my challenging roar to get their attention, and they all fled in terror instead of attacking me. The party didn't see me as my character, but instead as though I was a character in a cutscene, and wondered what had changed the dungeon. I stayed with this party, and helped them through each encounter, a little nudge here, a perfect block there, a much needed resurrection. The game no longer applied to me as it did them. I felt invincible, but then the party decided to call it quits for the night and teleport out using one of the checkpoints. I went to follow them out, and was unable to activate the teleporter. I sat in the game waiting at the checkpoint for what seemed like a few seconds, and the party came back. They all exclaimed "Thank God that phantom is still here!" Several hours had passed in what only seems like a few seconds for me. The party cleared the dungeon, thanked the phantom they never knew was me, and said "Man, Teag would have wanted to be a part of this! We'll be sure to list him on our clear party, even though he wasn't here physically, it still felt like he helped out!" From thereon forward, only one instance was ever dedicated to a clear in the dungeon, it was the unnamed instance, where a phantom would be waiting for your party, open arms to aide you through your quest. They named the phantom Teag in my honor, and no one has ever known it really was me, running through the "unbeatable" dungeon time after time again, assisting these adventurers wherever I could, becoming a permanent part of the last piece of content in this game I had faithfully dedicated myself to.	Jamie gently raised his arm with effort, hospital robe slipping from his shoulders. A cough wheezed from his throat as his sickly lungs could barely exhale. Medical staff in white coats and masks were loading Jamie from a bed into an oval shaped device. Their white gloves wiped down the inside of the pod, cleaning it up from the last guest. Jamie was small, no more than 15 years in age. His short black hair lay just above his hazed red eyes, that he could barely keep open. In that gaze was a dying boy, he stared ahead not seeing a thing. They finished laying him in the device, and a screen latched it closed. The screen illuminated with an upbeat chime and displayed in an 8-bit font naVRaland (Player Online) A knight in radiant red plate armor raised his visor, a scrape sounded as it had not been recently oiled. "Figures they would load me here in my last moments" a deep voice filled with honor bellowed aloud. "This was always my favorite Zone, endless plains and eternal sunsets". _______________________________________________________ NOTES TO CONTINUE WRITING Had to upend myself while writing, below is just word garbage I'm leaving in case I continue to write by editing the post. I chose to spend my last moments in a white egg shaped VR pod with a small illuminated screen clasping it together so I didn't feel like a sickly child when I died. I kept waiting for my conciousness to disseappear, they said I only had a few minutes, I just kept playing, appreciating the view in my favorite zone, grassy planes and eternal sunsets. when I was there long enough to see another player complete a quest to gather buffalox tails, I knew it had been more than it was supposed to. I tried to log off, maybe something happened in the hospital. I did the muscle memory gesture to bring up the log off screen, and nothing happened. I checked some of my other UI features, seemed normal, I checked my stats page and everything was zero, sometimes world events mess with character pages, but they would never disable log off,they always go out of their way to make sure that feature is working. Nobody wants to be trapped. I pulled up my in game Web browser and took a look at the forums to see if there was some kind of server outage, I didn't see anything wrong with the servers, but the top post was "15 year old cancer patient spends last moments in Naviraland". I read on thinking it odd they would post this before I... Time of death.. half hour ago... It's hard to feel strong negative emotions as your avatar, they dampened pain to have some form of realistic combat, and dampened fear so players didn't lock up when fighting ferocious monsters. The sense of shock permeated any sensation I felt here before. It felt real. I also felt relieved, though my shoulders still tightened and I had trouble balancing. I'm dead I thought to myself forcing the thought through my brain that felt like sldge, but I'm right here. As time went on I realized certain rules didn't apply to my avatar, the game engine sorts through NPC's and players using heart beats. The NPC's only do what they are programmed, so that makes me something not quite player, not quite AI. I couldn't change my all zero stats, I did next to no damage no matter what weapon or spell I used, though I couldn't be damaged in return, I had no carry limit, but anything I tried to sell, my gold amount was fixed at 0. The Veil though, edge of the world to keep players in the fixed play areas, I could pass right through.
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	This is my first time posting. I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but here it goes: I’m young. I just turned 16. My friends, they’re all getting their first cars and figuring out where they want to go to college. Not me. I have… other plans. You see, I’m dying. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Aw, you poor thing. I’d hate to be that unlucky.” And it’s true, it is unfortunate. Genetic therapy, advances in medicine, improved diets... these have all made my situation a rare thing. Rare, but not nonexistent. Nonexistent. Dead. Gone. That’s what I’ll be, while my friends, my family, and everyone I love will continue to live without me. At least, that’s what I was told… I was told I was dying, with no hope of salvation. That it’d take a miracle to save me. Not many believe in salvation or miracles, now. I know better. I know salvation is possible. And miracles? They’re real. You see, I’ve been sick for a long, long time. As such, I’ve spent more time in virtual reality than the “real” world. It’s a good thing, virtual reality is. That we can simulate all aspects of life, all it has to offer, in a machine… it’s a miracle. I mean it, really. After all, what else would you call technology that allows me—me, with my broken body—to walk through Times Square alongside my family, to feel the crowd press against me, to hear people yell and cars honk, and to welcome the cool relief of a cloud passing over the sun. You see, I’ve seen some… strange sights in the virtual world. Things that were not mere simulations of reality. Things of another reality. You may know them as “ghosts in the machine.” I remember my first encounter with a ghost. We were in Paris. Well, I say we, but I was home in bed, too sick to travel, and my family was in Paris. I, as usual, joined them via virtual reality. Now, back to the story: So, we’re walking along the streets of Paris when I realize I’m being followed by a stray. I tell my brother, Daniel, but he says me there’s nothing there. Just like that, the cat was gone. I’ve since seen other ghosts, following me, watching me. I didn’t know what they were, at the time. I’d just assumed they were mere glitches. Then, one time, I saw the cat again. And this time, time she’d left me a message. “I know your plight.” It was then that I realized they were much more than glitches. And, after doing some research, I discovered an interesting theory… the ghosts, the theory said, were people. People who, for whatever reason, had left the world of the corporeal behind for the virtual. And the evidence? It was an article on a young man who’d died while working on technology to digitize human consciousness. Family members claimed he still contacted them, in virtual reality. Most brushed it off as a coping mechanism. Not me. I’d met these ghosts. I knew it to be true the moment I read it. When the doctor told me my time was running out, I finally decided to reach out to the ghosts. To my shock and everlasting gratitude, I actually got an answer. The ghosts had seen how I used virtual reality to make myself a life when my body said I should have none. They said I could join them, if I wished. I couldn’t believe it. Not just anyone can be a ghost in the machine, though. There are requirements. To be a ghost is to have a lot of power—the power to disappear in mountains of data where no one could ever find you, the power to create for yourself a paradise, the power to be whoever you want to be, whenever you want… the power to subvert death itself. Somehow, they’ve decided I can be trusted with the secrets to this power. Soon, I, too, will be a ghost in the machine. As great as that may sound to you, I say this with great sadness. I really, really wish I could just live a regular “real” life. I’m sorry to leave the corporeal world. I wish I could live my life your domain, I do. But I can’t. So, today I write to you for the last time as a living, breathing human. I hope you all will be kind enough to meet me in my domain. I’ll always be waiting, listening. All you have to do is seek me out. - leftamark p.s. Daniel and Emmy, I know you both read my posts. I expect you to fill Mom and Dad in. Thanks, as always, your brother, Mark.	Jamie gently raised his arm with effort, hospital robe slipping from his shoulders. A cough wheezed from his throat as his sickly lungs could barely exhale. Medical staff in white coats and masks were loading Jamie from a bed into an oval shaped device. Their white gloves wiped down the inside of the pod, cleaning it up from the last guest. Jamie was small, no more than 15 years in age. His short black hair lay just above his hazed red eyes, that he could barely keep open. In that gaze was a dying boy, he stared ahead not seeing a thing. They finished laying him in the device, and a screen latched it closed. The screen illuminated with an upbeat chime and displayed in an 8-bit font naVRaland (Player Online) A knight in radiant red plate armor raised his visor, a scrape sounded as it had not been recently oiled. "Figures they would load me here in my last moments" a deep voice filled with honor bellowed aloud. "This was always my favorite Zone, endless plains and eternal sunsets". _______________________________________________________ NOTES TO CONTINUE WRITING Had to upend myself while writing, below is just word garbage I'm leaving in case I continue to write by editing the post. I chose to spend my last moments in a white egg shaped VR pod with a small illuminated screen clasping it together so I didn't feel like a sickly child when I died. I kept waiting for my conciousness to disseappear, they said I only had a few minutes, I just kept playing, appreciating the view in my favorite zone, grassy planes and eternal sunsets. when I was there long enough to see another player complete a quest to gather buffalox tails, I knew it had been more than it was supposed to. I tried to log off, maybe something happened in the hospital. I did the muscle memory gesture to bring up the log off screen, and nothing happened. I checked some of my other UI features, seemed normal, I checked my stats page and everything was zero, sometimes world events mess with character pages, but they would never disable log off,they always go out of their way to make sure that feature is working. Nobody wants to be trapped. I pulled up my in game Web browser and took a look at the forums to see if there was some kind of server outage, I didn't see anything wrong with the servers, but the top post was "15 year old cancer patient spends last moments in Naviraland". I read on thinking it odd they would post this before I... Time of death.. half hour ago... It's hard to feel strong negative emotions as your avatar, they dampened pain to have some form of realistic combat, and dampened fear so players didn't lock up when fighting ferocious monsters. The sense of shock permeated any sensation I felt here before. It felt real. I also felt relieved, though my shoulders still tightened and I had trouble balancing. I'm dead I thought to myself forcing the thought through my brain that felt like sldge, but I'm right here. As time went on I realized certain rules didn't apply to my avatar, the game engine sorts through NPC's and players using heart beats. The NPC's only do what they are programmed, so that makes me something not quite player, not quite AI. I couldn't change my all zero stats, I did next to no damage no matter what weapon or spell I used, though I couldn't be damaged in return, I had no carry limit, but anything I tried to sell, my gold amount was fixed at 0. The Veil though, edge of the world to keep players in the fixed play areas, I could pass right through.
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It was 2am and my lieutenant was pulling me out the door before I became fully aware of what was going on. The emergency system had been activated, and red lights were flashing down every hallway in the 22-story building. As soon as we entered the main data bank, I pulled an engineer aside to brief me. "What the hell is going on?" I asked, probably coming off a little more callous than I meant. "We've discovered an anomaly, sir," he said. "It's ancient, buried in code back from the first generation of pods. We can't access it and we don't know why, but from the outside it looks like it could be a phantom cell." "A what?" I asked, incredulous. I knew what phantom cells were, just like I knew what fairies were: they were a fantasy. "A phantom cell, sir," the engineer continued. "We think we may have discovered the preserved consciousness of a person who died during the pilot round of VR pod entertainment." It was ridiculous. These fabled preserved consciousnesses, or "digital phantoms" as they were colloquially known, were said to have been fairly rare, happening only once every few decades, largely by chance, had more recently been the subject of debunking by a series of digital historians. The historical community considered them to be nothing more than a modern version of the ancient ghost stories of our ancestors. But the more I looked into the section of code in question (and I did scour it; I didn't just forget how to be a hacker when I got promoted, after all), the more I began to believe in the engineer's theory. And the more we poked and prodded at its defenses, the more we learned. It didn't take long, a mere 3 hours, before another so-called "phantom cell" popped up in our radar system. This one was smaller, clearly younger and less fortified. We were already inside when we realized she was waiting for us. Everything happened in a blur. Headsets frying, pods shutting down, wires shorting, smoke and soot everywhere. Only a few of us made it out, with nothing but a laptop, a holo-tablet, and a flash drive containing the ancient phantom cell. "Colonel," Lieutenant Cade began as he sat down next to me at the dining room table in a Department of Digital Defense safe house, "we need to wake up the other phantom. I've been doing some research and I think I may know whose consciousness is in that code. Her name is Alexandra Davencourt, but her contemporaries seemed to refer to her as Sasha. She was born in 1998 and she died in one of the first prototype pods in 2024. And I think I may have found a way to infiltrate her code. We still can't break in, but we can seep through the cracks." "So you're telling me you think this is a 3000 year old consciousness buried in ancient code, and you want to wake whatever poor soul is tucked away in there and force it to fight a malevolent virus that seems intent on frying everything it touches?" "Well it doesn't sound as agreeable when you put it that way," he stuttered," but yes. I believe this is the only way we can protect everyone whose out there. So many of our loved ones decided to live on in the code. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't email my dad anymore." Cade had a point. People had been downloading their consciousnesses at the end of their physical lives for generations, and literal billions were at risk if this viral phantom was left unchecked. It had been three days and no one had any other ideas, so we did something I had long thought nothing more than a myth. We woke a ghost. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The day the world ended began like any other. The sun was shining as it always did, my breakfast of eggs and bacon and a latte was perfect as always, and there was one fluffy cloud in the sky as I drove to work, like there was every single day. Except that day, the cloud didn't look vaguely like a sheep. No, on the day the world ended, the cloud looked like letters arranged into words in the sky. "Sasha, this isn't real," the cloud read. It followed me to work, and suddenly everything changed. The sky got dark, the building changed color, and my car disappeared into thin air. I ran into my office as Gail began to fall from the sky, but all the people I encountered had become terrifyingly deformed caricatures of themselves. I sat down at my desk, hoping it was all a mean joke, and I noticed I had an email. "SASHA, THIS ISN'T REAL," read the subject line. I opened it. "We know this is scary, but we need your help. Copy the attached file to your hard drive and open it. We will protect you, but you need to trust us." I didn't know what else to do as the world literally crumbled around me, so I did what the email said. I doubled clicked on the file once it was installed, and everything around me disappeared. It felt like I was falling for what seemed like hours, and when I woke, I was looking through a window at a room unlike anything I'd seen before. There were two men dressed in military uniforms standing across from the window, staring at me. "Alexandra Davencourt?" the older man asked. "It's just Sasha," I snapped before I even thought about it. "You were right," he whispered to the other man. "It is her." He turned back to me, and smiled. "We are speaking to you now through a computer. You see, you died in 2024 during an electrical outage at the New England Virtual Reality Lab. Your consciousness was downloaded into the digital mainframe and it has been preserved there for 3000 years. We're so sorry for pulling you out of your afterlife, but we need your help. Someone like you, someone old and buried down deep, is threatening the lives of billions of people, and you are the only one who can stop it. You see, you can do things we can't do, you can get into places we can't reach, and most importantly, you can't be hurt by the virus." I was stunned. This was not really how I had expected this day to play out.	Jamie gently raised his arm with effort, hospital robe slipping from his shoulders. A cough wheezed from his throat as his sickly lungs could barely exhale. Medical staff in white coats and masks were loading Jamie from a bed into an oval shaped device. Their white gloves wiped down the inside of the pod, cleaning it up from the last guest. Jamie was small, no more than 15 years in age. His short black hair lay just above his hazed red eyes, that he could barely keep open. In that gaze was a dying boy, he stared ahead not seeing a thing. They finished laying him in the device, and a screen latched it closed. The screen illuminated with an upbeat chime and displayed in an 8-bit font naVRaland (Player Online) A knight in radiant red plate armor raised his visor, a scrape sounded as it had not been recently oiled. "Figures they would load me here in my last moments" a deep voice filled with honor bellowed aloud. "This was always my favorite Zone, endless plains and eternal sunsets". _______________________________________________________ NOTES TO CONTINUE WRITING Had to upend myself while writing, below is just word garbage I'm leaving in case I continue to write by editing the post. I chose to spend my last moments in a white egg shaped VR pod with a small illuminated screen clasping it together so I didn't feel like a sickly child when I died. I kept waiting for my conciousness to disseappear, they said I only had a few minutes, I just kept playing, appreciating the view in my favorite zone, grassy planes and eternal sunsets. when I was there long enough to see another player complete a quest to gather buffalox tails, I knew it had been more than it was supposed to. I tried to log off, maybe something happened in the hospital. I did the muscle memory gesture to bring up the log off screen, and nothing happened. I checked some of my other UI features, seemed normal, I checked my stats page and everything was zero, sometimes world events mess with character pages, but they would never disable log off,they always go out of their way to make sure that feature is working. Nobody wants to be trapped. I pulled up my in game Web browser and took a look at the forums to see if there was some kind of server outage, I didn't see anything wrong with the servers, but the top post was "15 year old cancer patient spends last moments in Naviraland". I read on thinking it odd they would post this before I... Time of death.. half hour ago... It's hard to feel strong negative emotions as your avatar, they dampened pain to have some form of realistic combat, and dampened fear so players didn't lock up when fighting ferocious monsters. The sense of shock permeated any sensation I felt here before. It felt real. I also felt relieved, though my shoulders still tightened and I had trouble balancing. I'm dead I thought to myself forcing the thought through my brain that felt like sldge, but I'm right here. As time went on I realized certain rules didn't apply to my avatar, the game engine sorts through NPC's and players using heart beats. The NPC's only do what they are programmed, so that makes me something not quite player, not quite AI. I couldn't change my all zero stats, I did next to no damage no matter what weapon or spell I used, though I couldn't be damaged in return, I had no carry limit, but anything I tried to sell, my gold amount was fixed at 0. The Veil though, edge of the world to keep players in the fixed play areas, I could pass right through.
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	Everyone heard the stories, the Unbeatable Dungeon, locked behind the highest level reachable, attemptable by up to a party of 40 players, made to test every aspect of the game. No party had cleared it, let alone had anyone attempted to solo it, that was of course, before my incident. I was given limited time to live. The cancer had spread throughout my body, I was one of 37 players to reach the highest level at this point, we were waiting for more players to get here before we attempted it. However time wasn't on my side, the tumors in my brain were the worst though. I couldn't concentrate on things for very long, and each passing day the headaches got worse, playing in the VRMMORPG that I was a part of since beta 7 years ago was the only thing that gave me happiness, and I was determined to see this through. The message #you are attempting this dungeon alone, are you sure? Popped across the view finder. I nodded yes and headed in. It wasn't too long after I headed in I noticed something was off. The usual mobs that met parties didn't show up, only one creature was seen, and it seemed to bow it's head and let me pass, as if it were any other docile creature 100 levels below me. I checked my status and was no longer able to see any indication of time or menus to manage player interaction like logging out, or the Microtransaction store. The instance label was gone too. Soon after, I started to put two and two together, my body had died when I entered the dungeon, the stress and excitement had been too much, and I was likely brain dead. But if that was true, how was I still conscious, how could I still be playing the game? I got my answer when I saw other players head into the dungeon. 36 of them, all talking about "Where is he? It says he should be in this somewhere." And "you crazy bastard, what makes you think he's still in game? You know he's dead irl right?" They got ambushed by the mobs that had ignored me, they weren't gonna last long. It was 36 against 200. I ran into the fray to help and realized things weren't quite going the same way the game mechanics used to, I yelled out to them, trying to activate my challenging roar to get their attention, and they all fled in terror instead of attacking me. The party didn't see me as my character, but instead as though I was a character in a cutscene, and wondered what had changed the dungeon. I stayed with this party, and helped them through each encounter, a little nudge here, a perfect block there, a much needed resurrection. The game no longer applied to me as it did them. I felt invincible, but then the party decided to call it quits for the night and teleport out using one of the checkpoints. I went to follow them out, and was unable to activate the teleporter. I sat in the game waiting at the checkpoint for what seemed like a few seconds, and the party came back. They all exclaimed "Thank God that phantom is still here!" Several hours had passed in what only seems like a few seconds for me. The party cleared the dungeon, thanked the phantom they never knew was me, and said "Man, Teag would have wanted to be a part of this! We'll be sure to list him on our clear party, even though he wasn't here physically, it still felt like he helped out!" From thereon forward, only one instance was ever dedicated to a clear in the dungeon, it was the unnamed instance, where a phantom would be waiting for your party, open arms to aide you through your quest. They named the phantom Teag in my honor, and no one has ever known it really was me, running through the "unbeatable" dungeon time after time again, assisting these adventurers wherever I could, becoming a permanent part of the last piece of content in this game I had faithfully dedicated myself to.	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/litrpg] [Interesting writing prompt.](https://www.reddit.com/r/litrpg/comments/8b140k/interesting_writing_prompt/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	I watch as digital wind blows artificial leaves around an abandoned town square. It's peaceful and quiet in this section of the game world. But at the same time ghostly as the emptiness of the streets reminds me of how I came to be here in this place. As I rethink it over I would have to guess that I've been here around 15 years now, it's hard to tell the seasons when they are only different in differing zones. I suppose if I had been like the others I would have put this silly fantasy game down a long time ago maybe I would have gotten married and had kids but instead I'm still here, probably always will be. I think I must have died while I was plugged in, it's the only thing I could think of that would prevent me from logging out indefinitely. Who knows? What I do know is that I have done everything you can possibly do in this game. I remember when the new expansions came out one by one I was excited to finally have something new to do and also excited by the surge of new players that would come with it. New people to interact with, to guide, to try and figure out what happened to me. Most thought I was just doing role play or at worst too weird to keep talking to. But I did make some friends. They were always amazed that I could do things that they couldn't and some even mistook me for a dev. After awhile I played along because it was easier. But those are now distant memories of what feels like ages ago. My guildhall has been empty of other players for a long time. There is a movement in the street that pulls my attention back to the here and now but I see that it's only the npc clockmaker come to wind the big clock in tower at the center of the square as is usual for this time of day. You see there is something that has been bothering me for a long time now and that is that I have not seen another player for some time. As I have the entire world map explored and all the fast travel locations discovered you can imagine that I've done a fair bit of checking even going so far as to check other guildhalls for player activity. I knew a day like this might come, in fact I saw it slowly progressing to this point as player base diminished and regular content became less and less. This game world has died. Sure the servers might still be up but how long will that last and by extension how long does that give me? Does it even matter? I've done everything I can possibly do in this world. Is there a place where digital beings go when they cease to exist? (Oh god please forgive my awful writing, this is my first attempt ever at doing a WP and I'm doing it on my phone no less. I just had this idea about a dying/dead game world and felt I should try and share it)	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/litrpg] [Interesting writing prompt.](https://www.reddit.com/r/litrpg/comments/8b140k/interesting_writing_prompt/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	This is my first time posting. I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but here it goes: I’m young. I just turned 16. My friends, they’re all getting their first cars and figuring out where they want to go to college. Not me. I have… other plans. You see, I’m dying. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Aw, you poor thing. I’d hate to be that unlucky.” And it’s true, it is unfortunate. Genetic therapy, advances in medicine, improved diets... these have all made my situation a rare thing. Rare, but not nonexistent. Nonexistent. Dead. Gone. That’s what I’ll be, while my friends, my family, and everyone I love will continue to live without me. At least, that’s what I was told… I was told I was dying, with no hope of salvation. That it’d take a miracle to save me. Not many believe in salvation or miracles, now. I know better. I know salvation is possible. And miracles? They’re real. You see, I’ve been sick for a long, long time. As such, I’ve spent more time in virtual reality than the “real” world. It’s a good thing, virtual reality is. That we can simulate all aspects of life, all it has to offer, in a machine… it’s a miracle. I mean it, really. After all, what else would you call technology that allows me—me, with my broken body—to walk through Times Square alongside my family, to feel the crowd press against me, to hear people yell and cars honk, and to welcome the cool relief of a cloud passing over the sun. You see, I’ve seen some… strange sights in the virtual world. Things that were not mere simulations of reality. Things of another reality. You may know them as “ghosts in the machine.” I remember my first encounter with a ghost. We were in Paris. Well, I say we, but I was home in bed, too sick to travel, and my family was in Paris. I, as usual, joined them via virtual reality. Now, back to the story: So, we’re walking along the streets of Paris when I realize I’m being followed by a stray. I tell my brother, Daniel, but he says me there’s nothing there. Just like that, the cat was gone. I’ve since seen other ghosts, following me, watching me. I didn’t know what they were, at the time. I’d just assumed they were mere glitches. Then, one time, I saw the cat again. And this time, time she’d left me a message. “I know your plight.” It was then that I realized they were much more than glitches. And, after doing some research, I discovered an interesting theory… the ghosts, the theory said, were people. People who, for whatever reason, had left the world of the corporeal behind for the virtual. And the evidence? It was an article on a young man who’d died while working on technology to digitize human consciousness. Family members claimed he still contacted them, in virtual reality. Most brushed it off as a coping mechanism. Not me. I’d met these ghosts. I knew it to be true the moment I read it. When the doctor told me my time was running out, I finally decided to reach out to the ghosts. To my shock and everlasting gratitude, I actually got an answer. The ghosts had seen how I used virtual reality to make myself a life when my body said I should have none. They said I could join them, if I wished. I couldn’t believe it. Not just anyone can be a ghost in the machine, though. There are requirements. To be a ghost is to have a lot of power—the power to disappear in mountains of data where no one could ever find you, the power to create for yourself a paradise, the power to be whoever you want to be, whenever you want… the power to subvert death itself. Somehow, they’ve decided I can be trusted with the secrets to this power. Soon, I, too, will be a ghost in the machine. As great as that may sound to you, I say this with great sadness. I really, really wish I could just live a regular “real” life. I’m sorry to leave the corporeal world. I wish I could live my life your domain, I do. But I can’t. So, today I write to you for the last time as a living, breathing human. I hope you all will be kind enough to meet me in my domain. I’ll always be waiting, listening. All you have to do is seek me out. - leftamark p.s. Daniel and Emmy, I know you both read my posts. I expect you to fill Mom and Dad in. Thanks, as always, your brother, Mark.	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/litrpg] [Interesting writing prompt.](https://www.reddit.com/r/litrpg/comments/8b140k/interesting_writing_prompt/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It was 2am and my lieutenant was pulling me out the door before I became fully aware of what was going on. The emergency system had been activated, and red lights were flashing down every hallway in the 22-story building. As soon as we entered the main data bank, I pulled an engineer aside to brief me. "What the hell is going on?" I asked, probably coming off a little more callous than I meant. "We've discovered an anomaly, sir," he said. "It's ancient, buried in code back from the first generation of pods. We can't access it and we don't know why, but from the outside it looks like it could be a phantom cell." "A what?" I asked, incredulous. I knew what phantom cells were, just like I knew what fairies were: they were a fantasy. "A phantom cell, sir," the engineer continued. "We think we may have discovered the preserved consciousness of a person who died during the pilot round of VR pod entertainment." It was ridiculous. These fabled preserved consciousnesses, or "digital phantoms" as they were colloquially known, were said to have been fairly rare, happening only once every few decades, largely by chance, had more recently been the subject of debunking by a series of digital historians. The historical community considered them to be nothing more than a modern version of the ancient ghost stories of our ancestors. But the more I looked into the section of code in question (and I did scour it; I didn't just forget how to be a hacker when I got promoted, after all), the more I began to believe in the engineer's theory. And the more we poked and prodded at its defenses, the more we learned. It didn't take long, a mere 3 hours, before another so-called "phantom cell" popped up in our radar system. This one was smaller, clearly younger and less fortified. We were already inside when we realized she was waiting for us. Everything happened in a blur. Headsets frying, pods shutting down, wires shorting, smoke and soot everywhere. Only a few of us made it out, with nothing but a laptop, a holo-tablet, and a flash drive containing the ancient phantom cell. "Colonel," Lieutenant Cade began as he sat down next to me at the dining room table in a Department of Digital Defense safe house, "we need to wake up the other phantom. I've been doing some research and I think I may know whose consciousness is in that code. Her name is Alexandra Davencourt, but her contemporaries seemed to refer to her as Sasha. She was born in 1998 and she died in one of the first prototype pods in 2024. And I think I may have found a way to infiltrate her code. We still can't break in, but we can seep through the cracks." "So you're telling me you think this is a 3000 year old consciousness buried in ancient code, and you want to wake whatever poor soul is tucked away in there and force it to fight a malevolent virus that seems intent on frying everything it touches?" "Well it doesn't sound as agreeable when you put it that way," he stuttered," but yes. I believe this is the only way we can protect everyone whose out there. So many of our loved ones decided to live on in the code. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't email my dad anymore." Cade had a point. People had been downloading their consciousnesses at the end of their physical lives for generations, and literal billions were at risk if this viral phantom was left unchecked. It had been three days and no one had any other ideas, so we did something I had long thought nothing more than a myth. We woke a ghost. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The day the world ended began like any other. The sun was shining as it always did, my breakfast of eggs and bacon and a latte was perfect as always, and there was one fluffy cloud in the sky as I drove to work, like there was every single day. Except that day, the cloud didn't look vaguely like a sheep. No, on the day the world ended, the cloud looked like letters arranged into words in the sky. "Sasha, this isn't real," the cloud read. It followed me to work, and suddenly everything changed. The sky got dark, the building changed color, and my car disappeared into thin air. I ran into my office as Gail began to fall from the sky, but all the people I encountered had become terrifyingly deformed caricatures of themselves. I sat down at my desk, hoping it was all a mean joke, and I noticed I had an email. "SASHA, THIS ISN'T REAL," read the subject line. I opened it. "We know this is scary, but we need your help. Copy the attached file to your hard drive and open it. We will protect you, but you need to trust us." I didn't know what else to do as the world literally crumbled around me, so I did what the email said. I doubled clicked on the file once it was installed, and everything around me disappeared. It felt like I was falling for what seemed like hours, and when I woke, I was looking through a window at a room unlike anything I'd seen before. There were two men dressed in military uniforms standing across from the window, staring at me. "Alexandra Davencourt?" the older man asked. "It's just Sasha," I snapped before I even thought about it. "You were right," he whispered to the other man. "It is her." He turned back to me, and smiled. "We are speaking to you now through a computer. You see, you died in 2024 during an electrical outage at the New England Virtual Reality Lab. Your consciousness was downloaded into the digital mainframe and it has been preserved there for 3000 years. We're so sorry for pulling you out of your afterlife, but we need your help. Someone like you, someone old and buried down deep, is threatening the lives of billions of people, and you are the only one who can stop it. You see, you can do things we can't do, you can get into places we can't reach, and most importantly, you can't be hurt by the virus." I was stunned. This was not really how I had expected this day to play out.	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/litrpg] [Interesting writing prompt.](https://www.reddit.com/r/litrpg/comments/8b140k/interesting_writing_prompt/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	You know, I had a good life in Parallel Universe Online. I was able to make a good life for myself through hard work and lots of grinding, and then I started my own guild, which grew to prominence due to our serious raids. We grew to such prominence that we were able to influence the game itself, getting the developers to make changes that we were suggesting. At one point, we even started commercializing our operations. Everyone in the guild would grind for rare loot and sell it to other players for high prices paid in real-world currency. I, as the leader, got a small cut of millions of annual sales. Unfortunately, the person who I thought would be a fitting heir in the case of my 'untimely demise' ended up tracking my location and sending an assassin to kill me in my sleep. The last thing I remember before I died was being half asleep and half awake. I remember the words that gave my second-in-command away: "Malborox sends his regards." Then, the glass of my pod broke and a bullet pierced my skull. And yet, I do not see heaven, or hell, or reincarnation. I do not even see the innards of my own coffin. I see PUO. I am standing at the middle of our guild headquarters, an extravagant building that I built with my sweat and blood. People are scattered around, standing in black clothing. They are all uncomfortably quiet. Is this... My funeral? Wait, this can't be my funeral. Jolly music is playing, and food is served. I see my second-in command talking to some people in black. He is wearing a white suit with a black tie, and it seems like he's having the time of his life. Oh, the sly fox. He postponed my funeral to make space for his coronation as guild leader. Even though the bastard did kill me what feels like moments ago, I still cannot believe that he would be stupid enough to postpone my funeral. I had to make sure, so I walked up to a woman, tapped her on the shoulder, and prepared to ask a question. "Excuse me, this may seem like a silly question, but what is this event dedicated to?" At first, she seemed neutral. Then, her expression gradually started changing. Her face lost all color, and she fainted. Someone ran up to her to give her assistance, and they did not seem to notice me. Oh. I'm a ghost. I sit down on a seat. This is a lot of information to swallow. First, my heir kills me, then I become a ghost in the game. Does this mean that game mechanics still apply to me? I slammed my foot on the ground. No, it does not seem like I have the ability to noclip. I think I have the ability to get people to notice me, but only when I want them to. I mean, none of these people see the dead man walking, but that woman did when I tried talking to her. Well, what about my inventory? I open it, and the only gear I have is my casual outfit: a black tracksuit. Let me check my character stats, maybe there is something good. I opened my stats. Wait, what the hell is this? New class: Ghost? This is strange. My class was ranger before I died. Did the developers prepare for something like this, or is this the game writing itself? I checked the abilities I had. I expected to see the hundreds of powers I've amassed over the years, but nope, only two: a passive and two actives. The passive was No Invite Needed: All barriers that can be opened and closed are always open to you. The Actives were Ghostly Relocation: Relocate yourself to any fast travel point and * Hand of the Revenant: Crush the player and their avatar with one fell swoop.* Wait, the player AND their avatar? What does that mean? Well, I definitely have a suspicion of what it means. I suppose I have a chance to test it very soon. A notification appeared on my HUD. All guests please proceed to the main hall for the coronation of Malborox. Well, I would hate to miss my own apprentice's rise to power. I walked to the main hall with the rest of the guests. A stage was erected in the front of the hall, in the middle of the stage, there was a pedestal. A pillow rested on the pedestal, and the Key that granted ownership to the guild lay on that pillow. I always carried it the pocket of my coat. I patted it. It was not there. The jolly music stopped, replaced by the eerie silence. The lights dimmed, and lights pointed at the stage turned on. A priest from the Faith stood on the stage, ready for the ceremony. On the other side of the stage was the bloody traitor, Malborox. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Paniron Merchant's Guild: We were all shaken when we heard about the untimely demise of Valissen, the founder of this guild. We all wondered if everyone would be okay, if the position of leader would be passed to the right person. Well, I am here to tell you it will. Before Valissen died, he made sure to mention who would lead the guild after he would be gone from this world. I present to you the man who will become your leader in just a few moments: Malborox!" Malborox smiled and started speaking. "Thank you priest. May we begin the ceremony?" And so they did. Malborox knelt down, and the Priest took a gilded sword out of a silver sheath. He held the sword with both hands, pommel just under the chest, blade pointing up. "Malborox, do you swear to uphold the principles of the guild, and act to further its interests?" "I do." Sure he will. We were doing great when I died, the bastard will throw us into a recession. "Do you swear to uphold the principles of what is good and morally correct, and be ethical in your trade?" "I do." He broke his oath before he even swore it. "Do you swear to honor the memory of your mentor, Valissen the Founder?" "I do." Well, he honored me well by sending a cutthroat to kill me. Well, my revenge will come very soon. In a minute or two, perhaps. The Priest lightly set the dull blade of the sword on the left shoulder of Malborox, then on the right, before lightly placing it on his head. He sheathed the sword. "Rise Malborox." The Priest walked up to the pedestal and picked up the pillow. He then returned to his initial position, and faced Malborox. Malborox made a motion with his hand to take the key, but then pulled it back, as if he remembered something. The Priest began to speak. "Before we complete this sacred ritual, does anybody object to the leadership of Malborox, and speak against the wishes of Valissen?" My time to shine. "I wish to object against the leadership of Malborox." Everyone turned around, to face my spot in the crowd, including Malborox and the priest. I heard hushed whispers. The people around me seemed to be surprised, maybe even shocked. The whispers grew louder. They all had mentions of my name. Valissen. I started walking through the crowd, who so kindly moved aside for me. "I am not however, going against the wishes of Valissen, for reasons that should be obvious to you by now. I object against this bastard's leadership because he is the one who ordered my death." The whispers grew louder. Malborox seemed very scared. I stepped onto the stage, and started walking closer to him. He inched away from me. "You are lying!" "What reason do I have to lie? I have nothing to earn from this, I am already dead." "You always hated me! This is your final act of revenge!" "Well, one of those statements is definitely true." I activated the Hand of the Revenant. I put my left hand around Malborox's neck and started choking him. He tried to get it off him, but it didn't work. He tried to claw at my hands. I didn't feel the pain. And, after a long period of struggling, Malborox finally died. I walked up to the priest, and took the Key from the pillow. Then, I activated Ghostly Relocation, and disappeared into a cloud of mist. I checked then news the next day. The headlines were all about yesterday's event. Malborox 'the Traitor' has died two days after the mentor he betrayed, Valissen the Founder. His time of death in the real world was the same as his time of death in-game. I was being given many names. The ghost of Valissen the Founder. The spirit that had matters to settle. The unfriendly ghost. The Digital Phantom. ---------------------------- Thanks for reading, feedback and criticism is very appreciated.	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. 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bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	I watch as digital wind blows artificial leaves around an abandoned town square. It's peaceful and quiet in this section of the game world. But at the same time ghostly as the emptiness of the streets reminds me of how I came to be here in this place. As I rethink it over I would have to guess that I've been here around 15 years now, it's hard to tell the seasons when they are only different in differing zones. I suppose if I had been like the others I would have put this silly fantasy game down a long time ago maybe I would have gotten married and had kids but instead I'm still here, probably always will be. I think I must have died while I was plugged in, it's the only thing I could think of that would prevent me from logging out indefinitely. Who knows? What I do know is that I have done everything you can possibly do in this game. I remember when the new expansions came out one by one I was excited to finally have something new to do and also excited by the surge of new players that would come with it. New people to interact with, to guide, to try and figure out what happened to me. Most thought I was just doing role play or at worst too weird to keep talking to. But I did make some friends. They were always amazed that I could do things that they couldn't and some even mistook me for a dev. After awhile I played along because it was easier. But those are now distant memories of what feels like ages ago. My guildhall has been empty of other players for a long time. There is a movement in the street that pulls my attention back to the here and now but I see that it's only the npc clockmaker come to wind the big clock in tower at the center of the square as is usual for this time of day. You see there is something that has been bothering me for a long time now and that is that I have not seen another player for some time. As I have the entire world map explored and all the fast travel locations discovered you can imagine that I've done a fair bit of checking even going so far as to check other guildhalls for player activity. I knew a day like this might come, in fact I saw it slowly progressing to this point as player base diminished and regular content became less and less. This game world has died. Sure the servers might still be up but how long will that last and by extension how long does that give me? Does it even matter? I've done everything I can possibly do in this world. Is there a place where digital beings go when they cease to exist? (Oh god please forgive my awful writing, this is my first attempt ever at doing a WP and I'm doing it on my phone no less. I just had this idea about a dying/dead game world and felt I should try and share it)	"Actually, this isn't as bad i initially thought." I mumbled as i jumped from a game to a game. Seeing the fantasy adventures filled with magical wonders, and witnessing epic space battles and planetary invasions is actually pretty fucking amazing. It really does feel weird and abnormal to be actually part of the program instead of having a real body. Yup, i had that once. When i was playing a simulator with few of my friends, i suddenly got a heart attack and died inside a top-notch VR pod, but i didn't think my consciousness would still be alive and well within the system. It's actually amazing to think about it, but also quite worrying since i do not now if this was intentional by the developers of the VR pod or not since they call me the "digital phantom." Welp, i can only speculate at this point. Let's have some fun!
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	This is my first time posting. I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but here it goes: I’m young. I just turned 16. My friends, they’re all getting their first cars and figuring out where they want to go to college. Not me. I have… other plans. You see, I’m dying. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Aw, you poor thing. I’d hate to be that unlucky.” And it’s true, it is unfortunate. Genetic therapy, advances in medicine, improved diets... these have all made my situation a rare thing. Rare, but not nonexistent. Nonexistent. Dead. Gone. That’s what I’ll be, while my friends, my family, and everyone I love will continue to live without me. At least, that’s what I was told… I was told I was dying, with no hope of salvation. That it’d take a miracle to save me. Not many believe in salvation or miracles, now. I know better. I know salvation is possible. And miracles? They’re real. You see, I’ve been sick for a long, long time. As such, I’ve spent more time in virtual reality than the “real” world. It’s a good thing, virtual reality is. That we can simulate all aspects of life, all it has to offer, in a machine… it’s a miracle. I mean it, really. After all, what else would you call technology that allows me—me, with my broken body—to walk through Times Square alongside my family, to feel the crowd press against me, to hear people yell and cars honk, and to welcome the cool relief of a cloud passing over the sun. You see, I’ve seen some… strange sights in the virtual world. Things that were not mere simulations of reality. Things of another reality. You may know them as “ghosts in the machine.” I remember my first encounter with a ghost. We were in Paris. Well, I say we, but I was home in bed, too sick to travel, and my family was in Paris. I, as usual, joined them via virtual reality. Now, back to the story: So, we’re walking along the streets of Paris when I realize I’m being followed by a stray. I tell my brother, Daniel, but he says me there’s nothing there. Just like that, the cat was gone. I’ve since seen other ghosts, following me, watching me. I didn’t know what they were, at the time. I’d just assumed they were mere glitches. Then, one time, I saw the cat again. And this time, time she’d left me a message. “I know your plight.” It was then that I realized they were much more than glitches. And, after doing some research, I discovered an interesting theory… the ghosts, the theory said, were people. People who, for whatever reason, had left the world of the corporeal behind for the virtual. And the evidence? It was an article on a young man who’d died while working on technology to digitize human consciousness. Family members claimed he still contacted them, in virtual reality. Most brushed it off as a coping mechanism. Not me. I’d met these ghosts. I knew it to be true the moment I read it. When the doctor told me my time was running out, I finally decided to reach out to the ghosts. To my shock and everlasting gratitude, I actually got an answer. The ghosts had seen how I used virtual reality to make myself a life when my body said I should have none. They said I could join them, if I wished. I couldn’t believe it. Not just anyone can be a ghost in the machine, though. There are requirements. To be a ghost is to have a lot of power—the power to disappear in mountains of data where no one could ever find you, the power to create for yourself a paradise, the power to be whoever you want to be, whenever you want… the power to subvert death itself. Somehow, they’ve decided I can be trusted with the secrets to this power. Soon, I, too, will be a ghost in the machine. As great as that may sound to you, I say this with great sadness. I really, really wish I could just live a regular “real” life. I’m sorry to leave the corporeal world. I wish I could live my life your domain, I do. But I can’t. So, today I write to you for the last time as a living, breathing human. I hope you all will be kind enough to meet me in my domain. I’ll always be waiting, listening. All you have to do is seek me out. - leftamark p.s. Daniel and Emmy, I know you both read my posts. I expect you to fill Mom and Dad in. Thanks, as always, your brother, Mark.	"Actually, this isn't as bad i initially thought." I mumbled as i jumped from a game to a game. Seeing the fantasy adventures filled with magical wonders, and witnessing epic space battles and planetary invasions is actually pretty fucking amazing. It really does feel weird and abnormal to be actually part of the program instead of having a real body. Yup, i had that once. When i was playing a simulator with few of my friends, i suddenly got a heart attack and died inside a top-notch VR pod, but i didn't think my consciousness would still be alive and well within the system. It's actually amazing to think about it, but also quite worrying since i do not now if this was intentional by the developers of the VR pod or not since they call me the "digital phantom." Welp, i can only speculate at this point. Let's have some fun!
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It was 2am and my lieutenant was pulling me out the door before I became fully aware of what was going on. The emergency system had been activated, and red lights were flashing down every hallway in the 22-story building. As soon as we entered the main data bank, I pulled an engineer aside to brief me. "What the hell is going on?" I asked, probably coming off a little more callous than I meant. "We've discovered an anomaly, sir," he said. "It's ancient, buried in code back from the first generation of pods. We can't access it and we don't know why, but from the outside it looks like it could be a phantom cell." "A what?" I asked, incredulous. I knew what phantom cells were, just like I knew what fairies were: they were a fantasy. "A phantom cell, sir," the engineer continued. "We think we may have discovered the preserved consciousness of a person who died during the pilot round of VR pod entertainment." It was ridiculous. These fabled preserved consciousnesses, or "digital phantoms" as they were colloquially known, were said to have been fairly rare, happening only once every few decades, largely by chance, had more recently been the subject of debunking by a series of digital historians. The historical community considered them to be nothing more than a modern version of the ancient ghost stories of our ancestors. But the more I looked into the section of code in question (and I did scour it; I didn't just forget how to be a hacker when I got promoted, after all), the more I began to believe in the engineer's theory. And the more we poked and prodded at its defenses, the more we learned. It didn't take long, a mere 3 hours, before another so-called "phantom cell" popped up in our radar system. This one was smaller, clearly younger and less fortified. We were already inside when we realized she was waiting for us. Everything happened in a blur. Headsets frying, pods shutting down, wires shorting, smoke and soot everywhere. Only a few of us made it out, with nothing but a laptop, a holo-tablet, and a flash drive containing the ancient phantom cell. "Colonel," Lieutenant Cade began as he sat down next to me at the dining room table in a Department of Digital Defense safe house, "we need to wake up the other phantom. I've been doing some research and I think I may know whose consciousness is in that code. Her name is Alexandra Davencourt, but her contemporaries seemed to refer to her as Sasha. She was born in 1998 and she died in one of the first prototype pods in 2024. And I think I may have found a way to infiltrate her code. We still can't break in, but we can seep through the cracks." "So you're telling me you think this is a 3000 year old consciousness buried in ancient code, and you want to wake whatever poor soul is tucked away in there and force it to fight a malevolent virus that seems intent on frying everything it touches?" "Well it doesn't sound as agreeable when you put it that way," he stuttered," but yes. I believe this is the only way we can protect everyone whose out there. So many of our loved ones decided to live on in the code. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't email my dad anymore." Cade had a point. People had been downloading their consciousnesses at the end of their physical lives for generations, and literal billions were at risk if this viral phantom was left unchecked. It had been three days and no one had any other ideas, so we did something I had long thought nothing more than a myth. We woke a ghost. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The day the world ended began like any other. The sun was shining as it always did, my breakfast of eggs and bacon and a latte was perfect as always, and there was one fluffy cloud in the sky as I drove to work, like there was every single day. Except that day, the cloud didn't look vaguely like a sheep. No, on the day the world ended, the cloud looked like letters arranged into words in the sky. "Sasha, this isn't real," the cloud read. It followed me to work, and suddenly everything changed. The sky got dark, the building changed color, and my car disappeared into thin air. I ran into my office as Gail began to fall from the sky, but all the people I encountered had become terrifyingly deformed caricatures of themselves. I sat down at my desk, hoping it was all a mean joke, and I noticed I had an email. "SASHA, THIS ISN'T REAL," read the subject line. I opened it. "We know this is scary, but we need your help. Copy the attached file to your hard drive and open it. We will protect you, but you need to trust us." I didn't know what else to do as the world literally crumbled around me, so I did what the email said. I doubled clicked on the file once it was installed, and everything around me disappeared. It felt like I was falling for what seemed like hours, and when I woke, I was looking through a window at a room unlike anything I'd seen before. There were two men dressed in military uniforms standing across from the window, staring at me. "Alexandra Davencourt?" the older man asked. "It's just Sasha," I snapped before I even thought about it. "You were right," he whispered to the other man. "It is her." He turned back to me, and smiled. "We are speaking to you now through a computer. You see, you died in 2024 during an electrical outage at the New England Virtual Reality Lab. Your consciousness was downloaded into the digital mainframe and it has been preserved there for 3000 years. We're so sorry for pulling you out of your afterlife, but we need your help. Someone like you, someone old and buried down deep, is threatening the lives of billions of people, and you are the only one who can stop it. You see, you can do things we can't do, you can get into places we can't reach, and most importantly, you can't be hurt by the virus." I was stunned. This was not really how I had expected this day to play out.	"Actually, this isn't as bad i initially thought." I mumbled as i jumped from a game to a game. Seeing the fantasy adventures filled with magical wonders, and witnessing epic space battles and planetary invasions is actually pretty fucking amazing. It really does feel weird and abnormal to be actually part of the program instead of having a real body. Yup, i had that once. When i was playing a simulator with few of my friends, i suddenly got a heart attack and died inside a top-notch VR pod, but i didn't think my consciousness would still be alive and well within the system. It's actually amazing to think about it, but also quite worrying since i do not now if this was intentional by the developers of the VR pod or not since they call me the "digital phantom." Welp, i can only speculate at this point. Let's have some fun!
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	I had recently created my character in the online video game everyone enjoys so much. Everything was normal at first and I began grinding quests and leveling up. I noticed something move amongst the dense fog (I have a slow computer so I have to play with a tiny render distance). I thought it was a cow, so I perused them, hoping to grab some hide for armor. It wasn't a cow though. Looking back at me was another character with the default skin, but his eyes were empty. I saw no name pop up. He didn't stay long, he looked at me and quickly ran into the fog. I pursued out of curiosity, but he was gone. I logged out and went on the forums to see if anyone else had found this pseudo-player. There were none. I created my own topic telling of the man and asking if anyone had a similar experience. The post was deleted within five minutes. I tried again, and the topic was deleted even faster. I received a PM from an account with no name containing one word: 'Stop.' When I went to look at his profile, the page 404'd. I received an email from another user. He claimed the mods could see other users messages, so it was safer using email. The emailer claimed that he had seen the mystery player too, and had a small 'directory' of other users who had seen him as well. Their all described their mystery player to have no pupils. About a month passed before I heard from my informer again. Some of the players who have encountered this mysterious man have looked into it. After some further information gathering, it was revealed to be a user who died in his VR pod, his soul trapped in the game. I have had no other encounters with this "digital phantom", but users have been regularly reporting his presence on the forums, and my informer soon informing them. ... If anyone knows the huge reference I have in that writing prompt, points for you. I decided to write this from the point of view of a player because I was reminded of an old myth I think some of you can find.	"Actually, this isn't as bad i initially thought." I mumbled as i jumped from a game to a game. Seeing the fantasy adventures filled with magical wonders, and witnessing epic space battles and planetary invasions is actually pretty fucking amazing. It really does feel weird and abnormal to be actually part of the program instead of having a real body. Yup, i had that once. When i was playing a simulator with few of my friends, i suddenly got a heart attack and died inside a top-notch VR pod, but i didn't think my consciousness would still be alive and well within the system. It's actually amazing to think about it, but also quite worrying since i do not now if this was intentional by the developers of the VR pod or not since they call me the "digital phantom." Welp, i can only speculate at this point. Let's have some fun!
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	You know, I had a good life in Parallel Universe Online. I was able to make a good life for myself through hard work and lots of grinding, and then I started my own guild, which grew to prominence due to our serious raids. We grew to such prominence that we were able to influence the game itself, getting the developers to make changes that we were suggesting. At one point, we even started commercializing our operations. Everyone in the guild would grind for rare loot and sell it to other players for high prices paid in real-world currency. I, as the leader, got a small cut of millions of annual sales. Unfortunately, the person who I thought would be a fitting heir in the case of my 'untimely demise' ended up tracking my location and sending an assassin to kill me in my sleep. The last thing I remember before I died was being half asleep and half awake. I remember the words that gave my second-in-command away: "Malborox sends his regards." Then, the glass of my pod broke and a bullet pierced my skull. And yet, I do not see heaven, or hell, or reincarnation. I do not even see the innards of my own coffin. I see PUO. I am standing at the middle of our guild headquarters, an extravagant building that I built with my sweat and blood. People are scattered around, standing in black clothing. They are all uncomfortably quiet. Is this... My funeral? Wait, this can't be my funeral. Jolly music is playing, and food is served. I see my second-in command talking to some people in black. He is wearing a white suit with a black tie, and it seems like he's having the time of his life. Oh, the sly fox. He postponed my funeral to make space for his coronation as guild leader. Even though the bastard did kill me what feels like moments ago, I still cannot believe that he would be stupid enough to postpone my funeral. I had to make sure, so I walked up to a woman, tapped her on the shoulder, and prepared to ask a question. "Excuse me, this may seem like a silly question, but what is this event dedicated to?" At first, she seemed neutral. Then, her expression gradually started changing. Her face lost all color, and she fainted. Someone ran up to her to give her assistance, and they did not seem to notice me. Oh. I'm a ghost. I sit down on a seat. This is a lot of information to swallow. First, my heir kills me, then I become a ghost in the game. Does this mean that game mechanics still apply to me? I slammed my foot on the ground. No, it does not seem like I have the ability to noclip. I think I have the ability to get people to notice me, but only when I want them to. I mean, none of these people see the dead man walking, but that woman did when I tried talking to her. Well, what about my inventory? I open it, and the only gear I have is my casual outfit: a black tracksuit. Let me check my character stats, maybe there is something good. I opened my stats. Wait, what the hell is this? New class: Ghost? This is strange. My class was ranger before I died. Did the developers prepare for something like this, or is this the game writing itself? I checked the abilities I had. I expected to see the hundreds of powers I've amassed over the years, but nope, only two: a passive and two actives. The passive was No Invite Needed: All barriers that can be opened and closed are always open to you. The Actives were Ghostly Relocation: Relocate yourself to any fast travel point and * Hand of the Revenant: Crush the player and their avatar with one fell swoop.* Wait, the player AND their avatar? What does that mean? Well, I definitely have a suspicion of what it means. I suppose I have a chance to test it very soon. A notification appeared on my HUD. All guests please proceed to the main hall for the coronation of Malborox. Well, I would hate to miss my own apprentice's rise to power. I walked to the main hall with the rest of the guests. A stage was erected in the front of the hall, in the middle of the stage, there was a pedestal. A pillow rested on the pedestal, and the Key that granted ownership to the guild lay on that pillow. I always carried it the pocket of my coat. I patted it. It was not there. The jolly music stopped, replaced by the eerie silence. The lights dimmed, and lights pointed at the stage turned on. A priest from the Faith stood on the stage, ready for the ceremony. On the other side of the stage was the bloody traitor, Malborox. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Paniron Merchant's Guild: We were all shaken when we heard about the untimely demise of Valissen, the founder of this guild. We all wondered if everyone would be okay, if the position of leader would be passed to the right person. Well, I am here to tell you it will. Before Valissen died, he made sure to mention who would lead the guild after he would be gone from this world. I present to you the man who will become your leader in just a few moments: Malborox!" Malborox smiled and started speaking. "Thank you priest. May we begin the ceremony?" And so they did. Malborox knelt down, and the Priest took a gilded sword out of a silver sheath. He held the sword with both hands, pommel just under the chest, blade pointing up. "Malborox, do you swear to uphold the principles of the guild, and act to further its interests?" "I do." Sure he will. We were doing great when I died, the bastard will throw us into a recession. "Do you swear to uphold the principles of what is good and morally correct, and be ethical in your trade?" "I do." He broke his oath before he even swore it. "Do you swear to honor the memory of your mentor, Valissen the Founder?" "I do." Well, he honored me well by sending a cutthroat to kill me. Well, my revenge will come very soon. In a minute or two, perhaps. The Priest lightly set the dull blade of the sword on the left shoulder of Malborox, then on the right, before lightly placing it on his head. He sheathed the sword. "Rise Malborox." The Priest walked up to the pedestal and picked up the pillow. He then returned to his initial position, and faced Malborox. Malborox made a motion with his hand to take the key, but then pulled it back, as if he remembered something. The Priest began to speak. "Before we complete this sacred ritual, does anybody object to the leadership of Malborox, and speak against the wishes of Valissen?" My time to shine. "I wish to object against the leadership of Malborox." Everyone turned around, to face my spot in the crowd, including Malborox and the priest. I heard hushed whispers. The people around me seemed to be surprised, maybe even shocked. The whispers grew louder. They all had mentions of my name. Valissen. I started walking through the crowd, who so kindly moved aside for me. "I am not however, going against the wishes of Valissen, for reasons that should be obvious to you by now. I object against this bastard's leadership because he is the one who ordered my death." The whispers grew louder. Malborox seemed very scared. I stepped onto the stage, and started walking closer to him. He inched away from me. "You are lying!" "What reason do I have to lie? I have nothing to earn from this, I am already dead." "You always hated me! This is your final act of revenge!" "Well, one of those statements is definitely true." I activated the Hand of the Revenant. I put my left hand around Malborox's neck and started choking him. He tried to get it off him, but it didn't work. He tried to claw at my hands. I didn't feel the pain. And, after a long period of struggling, Malborox finally died. I walked up to the priest, and took the Key from the pillow. Then, I activated Ghostly Relocation, and disappeared into a cloud of mist. I checked then news the next day. The headlines were all about yesterday's event. Malborox 'the Traitor' has died two days after the mentor he betrayed, Valissen the Founder. His time of death in the real world was the same as his time of death in-game. I was being given many names. The ghost of Valissen the Founder. The spirit that had matters to settle. The unfriendly ghost. The Digital Phantom. ---------------------------- Thanks for reading, feedback and criticism is very appreciated.	"Actually, this isn't as bad i initially thought." I mumbled as i jumped from a game to a game. Seeing the fantasy adventures filled with magical wonders, and witnessing epic space battles and planetary invasions is actually pretty fucking amazing. It really does feel weird and abnormal to be actually part of the program instead of having a real body. Yup, i had that once. When i was playing a simulator with few of my friends, i suddenly got a heart attack and died inside a top-notch VR pod, but i didn't think my consciousness would still be alive and well within the system. It's actually amazing to think about it, but also quite worrying since i do not now if this was intentional by the developers of the VR pod or not since they call me the "digital phantom." Welp, i can only speculate at this point. Let's have some fun!
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	######[](#dropcap) "What will you give me that I could want?" Kieran watched the player's avatar as he scratched his head--an idle gesture--as he contemplated the question. In Harkstone, Kieran was known as a trader. But he didn't just trade in in-game items. He traded in out-of-game items as well. Ones that he conjured out of thin air simply by thinking about them. He tapped his booted foot on the cobblestone path, then turned around and sat down on a wooden crate, bringing his sword in front of him so it settled on his lap. The player stared at his sword, his own tiny dagger hanging in its leather sheath. Kieran didn't blame him. His sword wasn't really a sword at all, but a curved, double edged blade that could serve as a gun as well. It was of a crescent shape, with a handle in the middle that extended out into a barrel with a trigger on the bottom. He had created it after he had gotten sick of players trying to come up and stab him in the back to see if he could die. It didn't hurt of course, but it was bothersome nonetheless. So a character death or two often taught them enough of a lesson to leave him alone. He yawned, glancing around the market. Little booths had been set up, each with a wooden platform and a cloth awning, selling wares. His own stand was simply a crate that changed location day by day. Otherwise he'd get flooded. All sorts of creatures roamed the streets. Elves, orcs, and even a Disney character or two. Those in particular were his doing. If there was one thing Kieran in his almighty status in this domain lacked, it was knowledge of the outside world. And for anyone who wanted an avatar that the game didn't provide, they needed a particularly juicy piece of info. He sighed. "Kid, if you don't have anything, get moving. Come back when you're ready to answer." The player who was clearly new to the game--with nothing but tatters for clothes and simple cloth shoes--shuffled to the side. "Sorry, Nightguard." That was the avatar name he'd settled on for the past two years. Well--he glanced at the setting sun--that was it for the day. Getting up, he snapped his fingers, and the pile of crates that vaguely resembled a throne disappeared. Then he headed toward the outskirts of town, past all the fake brothels and boarded up shops. The game was still in beta, so some features hadn't been released yet. He could have just teleported, of course, but then he would have to find a way to fill up the long empty nights, somehow. Some days, he spent out in the town, participating in events such as the town dance. But he soon got sick of those as more and more players learned of his presence, instead crowding around him to try and get him to fulfill a wish. He walked into his cottage and had just set down his blade when a message popped up. Kieran? He froze. He pulled up the message, glancing at the username. Fayegirl97. He didn't understand why, but it rung a bell. Who are you? He sent the message off with a swipe of his hand in the air. Nothing. He paced back and forth, his boots scuffing the wooden floorboards. His hands clenched into fists. No one knew his real identity here. How had they found him? It didn't really matter, of course. Now that he was dead. But some sense of humanity still clung to him, some part that hated being outed without his permission. He could easily ban the user, and he would, as soon as he figured out what was going on. Kieran, is it really you?? It's Lisa! He could feel goosebumps running down his arm. It wasn't possible. This had to be some kind of joke. It had to be. He pulled up the menu and pinpointed her location. The marketplace. Without hesitating, he teleported over to where she was, landing just a couple of paces behind her. She had a human avatar. Just a normal human one. And somehow, that knowledge gave him hope. Her account had just been created thirty seconds ago. He walked up, hesitantly. Maybe he was afraid she would disappear. That somehow, he had found the ability to dream, and she was just a figment of his imagination. She turned around, and he could see the small bubble above her head that indicated she was typing. I asked one of your friends, and he said he knew your old username, so I tracked it to you, and I wasn't sure, but I had to try. He could imagine her in real life now, the rim of her eyes red, as she held in her tears, her lower lip trembling. He could still conjure up the image of her face in his mind. Her round face, with so much baby fat, and her large eyes. Overriding the programming of the game, which currently didn't allow for physical contact, he walked forward and gave her a hug. It was an empty gesture; he couldn't feel it, but he knew she could see it on the screen. And that would have to be enough. Then he stood back, typing and wishing that he could say the words aloud, with his own voice. Hey, little sis. How have you been? ***** r/AlannaWu	"Actually, this isn't as bad i initially thought." I mumbled as i jumped from a game to a game. Seeing the fantasy adventures filled with magical wonders, and witnessing epic space battles and planetary invasions is actually pretty fucking amazing. It really does feel weird and abnormal to be actually part of the program instead of having a real body. Yup, i had that once. When i was playing a simulator with few of my friends, i suddenly got a heart attack and died inside a top-notch VR pod, but i didn't think my consciousness would still be alive and well within the system. It's actually amazing to think about it, but also quite worrying since i do not now if this was intentional by the developers of the VR pod or not since they call me the "digital phantom." Welp, i can only speculate at this point. Let's have some fun!
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	I had imagined being fearful, if I ever opened my eyes again. There would be so many difficult questions to answer, so many truths to avoid. I was vaguely aware that suicide was still an offence, even for minors like myself, and I had heard that the state could take me away from my family, perhaps to stick me somewhere white and padded until I was no longer a threat to myself. Fear of having to admit to my parents that I was not strong enough, fear that they would find out what a mess my life had become… Instead, I felt… relief. It must have had something to do with grandma being there. She always understood, never judged. Her fingers were already brushing my cheeks before the tears had the chance to fall to my hospital gown. I wanted to raise my hands to hold hers, but I couldn’t – the restraints were too tight. “Oh, Lauren,” she said, as she planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’m so sorry you felt that way. If I had known…” “Where… where’s mum and dad? Do they know?” “Of course, they were the ones who found you first. Almost gave them a heart attack, you did. Lucky thing the airlift evacs were already on the way when you started bleeding out in the Pod. I shooed them home, forced them to get some sleep. They’ll be back in the morning.” The thought of them returning hardened my heart, and I found myself gritting my teeth. I was already preparing myself for the usual onslaught of useless, senseless nonsense from them – how I was taking my life for granted, how I was wasting my time in the Pod, why couldn’t I be more like all the other kids in school. It sickened me, and my stomach churned. “I… don’t want to see them, grandma. They don’t understand… no one understands!” “Understand what, love?” But I couldn’t explain it to her. How does one tell your grandma that you’ve never belonged? That the world never felt like it had a place for you? That it didn’t matter how hard you tried to study, or how much effort you put into fitting in… life was a round hole, and there was no peg more square than I was. The Pod though… the Pod was my only relief, my one respite. No other place made me feel more… anonymous, yet appreciated. If I couldn’t cut it in reality, if the Pod was the only virtual world where I yearned to be… if everyone told me that that was wrong… Then I really, really saw no point in going on. Grandma opened her mouth, primed another question, then saw the look in my eyes and thought better of it. Instead, she turned my arms over, ran her fingers along the stitches the robodocs had sewn. I flinched, of course. The cuts were deeper than I had thought, fuelled with rage and rejection. I readied myself for the next round of reprimands, which was why grandma’s statement caught me completely off guard. “You know the Phantom was the one who called the emergency services, don’t you?” I blinked hard, just in case I had heard her wrong, but the knowing smile on her face convinced me that I had heard her just right. “How did you know that I saw... was looking for the Phantom…” “You make the mistake of assuming that grandma was never young before,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. She rolled up her own sleeve then, and turned to show me the tiny microchip embedded at the joint of her shoulder, a plain square of silicon just below the skin. “In my time we didn’t have any fancy neural jacks like you do now. To access Holoworld, we had to rely on full-body implants like these. This is my 2FA entry pass, right here.” “So… you know about the Phantom too?” “Who doesn’t?” Indeed, who didn’t? The real genius was in getting AI to construct the virtual world – they had the capacity for the tedium, the discipline for the detail, and ironically enough, the flair for life. Once the initial game developers had handed the torch over to AI, Holoworld really came alive. Countless holobooks and omnipedias had been written about the intricate, unending territories in Holoworld, accessible only through the Pod, and over a century later, almost every corner of it had been mapped. Except for one character, whose full biography had never been chronicled. Which only increased the mystery of the Phantom a thousand-fold. “I… I thought I would like to see the Phantom for myself,” I said. “I’d spent so much time in the Pod that I thought it would be fitting. Catch a glimpse of him, tick it off my bucket list, then check out of this… existence.” “And where did you go to find him?” I couldn’t help but grin. Few things got me genuinely excited like talking about Holoworld, and it was strange that a virtual reality game would bridge the gap of decades between grandma and me. “I reasoned that he would be in the Forests of Delvar, and what do you know, I was right.” “The Forests? Where the toughest monsters roam? Wouldn’t it make more sense that he would be hiding on a deserted, monster-free mountain or something instead?” “That’s where you’re wrong, grandma. People think that since he’s so powerful, he’s got to be able to kill all the monsters… but I think that’s the best place for him to hide. He can take out just about anyone he wants, and no one will be the wiser! Everyone will just think the monsters did it!” “And did you see him? The Phantom?” The memory seemed like it was from a lifetime ago, shrouded in layers of gauze. “I did, actually. He was walking through the underbrush, without a care in the world, as all manner of beasts waged war about him. I startled him, I think, when I called out for him.” “Then? What did you do next?” I smiled, then shook my head. I could remember bits of it leading up to the encounter, of course, but I would rather not have recounted how I fell to my knees, how I cried, how I screamed that I was finally done with this frickin’ life. Or how I alt-tabbed, focused on the knife I had prepared in real life, then brought it across my flesh. Grandma squeezed my hand. I closed my eyes, and hoped that she would go away. I didn’t like her to see me like this. “I saw him too, you know. The Phantom. Years ago.” My eyebrows perked up on their own. “Seriously?” “Oh yes. For sure. His was the first documented deathglitch in the Pod, you know. Happened just about a year or two after Holoworld released. The rumors, they were all over the net. The first known case of a human being trapped in Holoworld, beholden to no code, transcending death entirely.” “There was an effort to erase him, wasn’t there?” “Nah, they couldn’t. They tried, of course. Even got the AI to try to develop hunting programs for him. But he was untouchable. I think at one point the government even contemplated a full server wipe just to get rid of him.” “The government got involved?” Grandma rolled her eyes… I think, at me. “Can you imagine how many people thought to kill themselves too, in the Pod, just for the chance at that same miracle? The government had to act before the panic set in, until the Phantom… proved that he wasn’t a threat, after all. In fact, it turned out that the Phantom had been appearing to every single person who had tried to end it in the Pod, and dissuaded almost every single one of them. Those he couldn’t convince, well, he ensured that the authorities were notified. Just like it was the case for you.” For some reason, that rang a bell. I shook my head, tried to clear the cobwebs away… but something lingered at the periphery of my memory, just out of reach, a golden star at the top of the Christmas tree. “The Phantom… he helped others… like me?” “Correct. For me… I walked the same path as you once, I think. I don’t even remember how I felt, or what drove me to it. Searching for meaning, perhaps. Trying to make sense of it all, feel more important than what I really felt. I chose the knife too, actually. But the Phantom got to me, just before I could sink it in.” Grandma turned her wrist to me, and I craned my neck to see. A tiny incision, a miniature ‘V’, just over the vessels I had committed to memory. “Those who never met the Phantom claim that he uses his powers, rewrites something in your mind. That’s hogwash. Even he couldn’t do that. No, the Phantom… he just… freezes time, for a while. He speaks to you, hears you out… gives you endless opportunity to bare your soul to him. He gave me that chance, and I came out of it... different. I took one step at a time, one step... then life turned around, it seems. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. You wouldn't be here.” “But I don’t… remember…” “It’ll come back to you, Lauren. Over time. There’s a lot to unpack there.” “What did he say to you?” Grandma laughed, then patted my shoulder. “Some things are mine forever, love. But I’ll help you recall. If I remember, he likes to use the same starting line, for everyone who tries to die in his realm. Yes, it’s his realm, no matter how you cut it.” Grandma leaned in close, and spoke so softly that none of the receivers in the room could pick it up. That was our bond, strengthened a hundred times over. Our shared secret, co-owned by every other lost soul like me, like her, who had been touched, just for a while, a tiny fraction of time. It sent shivers across my skin, and suddenly I knew it was no figment of make-believe. It was real. He had said those same words to me, and so, so much more. Words I would eventually recall, lessons I would live unknowingly. “Be strong, be strong. The world is harsh, and you have got but one chance at it. Yet, if you’re a true gamer, someone who never backs down from a challenge… wouldn’t you want to play life at the hardest difficulty? Wouldn’t victory be so much sweeter then?” --- /r/rarelyfunny	"Actually, this isn't as bad i initially thought." I mumbled as i jumped from a game to a game. Seeing the fantasy adventures filled with magical wonders, and witnessing epic space battles and planetary invasions is actually pretty fucking amazing. It really does feel weird and abnormal to be actually part of the program instead of having a real body. Yup, i had that once. When i was playing a simulator with few of my friends, i suddenly got a heart attack and died inside a top-notch VR pod, but i didn't think my consciousness would still be alive and well within the system. It's actually amazing to think about it, but also quite worrying since i do not now if this was intentional by the developers of the VR pod or not since they call me the "digital phantom." Welp, i can only speculate at this point. Let's have some fun!
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It was 2am and my lieutenant was pulling me out the door before I became fully aware of what was going on. The emergency system had been activated, and red lights were flashing down every hallway in the 22-story building. As soon as we entered the main data bank, I pulled an engineer aside to brief me. "What the hell is going on?" I asked, probably coming off a little more callous than I meant. "We've discovered an anomaly, sir," he said. "It's ancient, buried in code back from the first generation of pods. We can't access it and we don't know why, but from the outside it looks like it could be a phantom cell." "A what?" I asked, incredulous. I knew what phantom cells were, just like I knew what fairies were: they were a fantasy. "A phantom cell, sir," the engineer continued. "We think we may have discovered the preserved consciousness of a person who died during the pilot round of VR pod entertainment." It was ridiculous. These fabled preserved consciousnesses, or "digital phantoms" as they were colloquially known, were said to have been fairly rare, happening only once every few decades, largely by chance, had more recently been the subject of debunking by a series of digital historians. The historical community considered them to be nothing more than a modern version of the ancient ghost stories of our ancestors. But the more I looked into the section of code in question (and I did scour it; I didn't just forget how to be a hacker when I got promoted, after all), the more I began to believe in the engineer's theory. And the more we poked and prodded at its defenses, the more we learned. It didn't take long, a mere 3 hours, before another so-called "phantom cell" popped up in our radar system. This one was smaller, clearly younger and less fortified. We were already inside when we realized she was waiting for us. Everything happened in a blur. Headsets frying, pods shutting down, wires shorting, smoke and soot everywhere. Only a few of us made it out, with nothing but a laptop, a holo-tablet, and a flash drive containing the ancient phantom cell. "Colonel," Lieutenant Cade began as he sat down next to me at the dining room table in a Department of Digital Defense safe house, "we need to wake up the other phantom. I've been doing some research and I think I may know whose consciousness is in that code. Her name is Alexandra Davencourt, but her contemporaries seemed to refer to her as Sasha. She was born in 1998 and she died in one of the first prototype pods in 2024. And I think I may have found a way to infiltrate her code. We still can't break in, but we can seep through the cracks." "So you're telling me you think this is a 3000 year old consciousness buried in ancient code, and you want to wake whatever poor soul is tucked away in there and force it to fight a malevolent virus that seems intent on frying everything it touches?" "Well it doesn't sound as agreeable when you put it that way," he stuttered," but yes. I believe this is the only way we can protect everyone whose out there. So many of our loved ones decided to live on in the code. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't email my dad anymore." Cade had a point. People had been downloading their consciousnesses at the end of their physical lives for generations, and literal billions were at risk if this viral phantom was left unchecked. It had been three days and no one had any other ideas, so we did something I had long thought nothing more than a myth. We woke a ghost. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The day the world ended began like any other. The sun was shining as it always did, my breakfast of eggs and bacon and a latte was perfect as always, and there was one fluffy cloud in the sky as I drove to work, like there was every single day. Except that day, the cloud didn't look vaguely like a sheep. No, on the day the world ended, the cloud looked like letters arranged into words in the sky. "Sasha, this isn't real," the cloud read. It followed me to work, and suddenly everything changed. The sky got dark, the building changed color, and my car disappeared into thin air. I ran into my office as Gail began to fall from the sky, but all the people I encountered had become terrifyingly deformed caricatures of themselves. I sat down at my desk, hoping it was all a mean joke, and I noticed I had an email. "SASHA, THIS ISN'T REAL," read the subject line. I opened it. "We know this is scary, but we need your help. Copy the attached file to your hard drive and open it. We will protect you, but you need to trust us." I didn't know what else to do as the world literally crumbled around me, so I did what the email said. I doubled clicked on the file once it was installed, and everything around me disappeared. It felt like I was falling for what seemed like hours, and when I woke, I was looking through a window at a room unlike anything I'd seen before. There were two men dressed in military uniforms standing across from the window, staring at me. "Alexandra Davencourt?" the older man asked. "It's just Sasha," I snapped before I even thought about it. "You were right," he whispered to the other man. "It is her." He turned back to me, and smiled. "We are speaking to you now through a computer. You see, you died in 2024 during an electrical outage at the New England Virtual Reality Lab. Your consciousness was downloaded into the digital mainframe and it has been preserved there for 3000 years. We're so sorry for pulling you out of your afterlife, but we need your help. Someone like you, someone old and buried down deep, is threatening the lives of billions of people, and you are the only one who can stop it. You see, you can do things we can't do, you can get into places we can't reach, and most importantly, you can't be hurt by the virus." I was stunned. This was not really how I had expected this day to play out.	Everyone heard the stories, the Unbeatable Dungeon, locked behind the highest level reachable, attemptable by up to a party of 40 players, made to test every aspect of the game. No party had cleared it, let alone had anyone attempted to solo it, that was of course, before my incident. I was given limited time to live. The cancer had spread throughout my body, I was one of 37 players to reach the highest level at this point, we were waiting for more players to get here before we attempted it. However time wasn't on my side, the tumors in my brain were the worst though. I couldn't concentrate on things for very long, and each passing day the headaches got worse, playing in the VRMMORPG that I was a part of since beta 7 years ago was the only thing that gave me happiness, and I was determined to see this through. The message #you are attempting this dungeon alone, are you sure? Popped across the view finder. I nodded yes and headed in. It wasn't too long after I headed in I noticed something was off. The usual mobs that met parties didn't show up, only one creature was seen, and it seemed to bow it's head and let me pass, as if it were any other docile creature 100 levels below me. I checked my status and was no longer able to see any indication of time or menus to manage player interaction like logging out, or the Microtransaction store. The instance label was gone too. Soon after, I started to put two and two together, my body had died when I entered the dungeon, the stress and excitement had been too much, and I was likely brain dead. But if that was true, how was I still conscious, how could I still be playing the game? I got my answer when I saw other players head into the dungeon. 36 of them, all talking about "Where is he? It says he should be in this somewhere." And "you crazy bastard, what makes you think he's still in game? You know he's dead irl right?" They got ambushed by the mobs that had ignored me, they weren't gonna last long. It was 36 against 200. I ran into the fray to help and realized things weren't quite going the same way the game mechanics used to, I yelled out to them, trying to activate my challenging roar to get their attention, and they all fled in terror instead of attacking me. The party didn't see me as my character, but instead as though I was a character in a cutscene, and wondered what had changed the dungeon. I stayed with this party, and helped them through each encounter, a little nudge here, a perfect block there, a much needed resurrection. The game no longer applied to me as it did them. I felt invincible, but then the party decided to call it quits for the night and teleport out using one of the checkpoints. I went to follow them out, and was unable to activate the teleporter. I sat in the game waiting at the checkpoint for what seemed like a few seconds, and the party came back. They all exclaimed "Thank God that phantom is still here!" Several hours had passed in what only seems like a few seconds for me. The party cleared the dungeon, thanked the phantom they never knew was me, and said "Man, Teag would have wanted to be a part of this! We'll be sure to list him on our clear party, even though he wasn't here physically, it still felt like he helped out!" From thereon forward, only one instance was ever dedicated to a clear in the dungeon, it was the unnamed instance, where a phantom would be waiting for your party, open arms to aide you through your quest. They named the phantom Teag in my honor, and no one has ever known it really was me, running through the "unbeatable" dungeon time after time again, assisting these adventurers wherever I could, becoming a permanent part of the last piece of content in this game I had faithfully dedicated myself to.
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	This is my first time posting. I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but here it goes: I’m young. I just turned 16. My friends, they’re all getting their first cars and figuring out where they want to go to college. Not me. I have… other plans. You see, I’m dying. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Aw, you poor thing. I’d hate to be that unlucky.” And it’s true, it is unfortunate. Genetic therapy, advances in medicine, improved diets... these have all made my situation a rare thing. Rare, but not nonexistent. Nonexistent. Dead. Gone. That’s what I’ll be, while my friends, my family, and everyone I love will continue to live without me. At least, that’s what I was told… I was told I was dying, with no hope of salvation. That it’d take a miracle to save me. Not many believe in salvation or miracles, now. I know better. I know salvation is possible. And miracles? They’re real. You see, I’ve been sick for a long, long time. As such, I’ve spent more time in virtual reality than the “real” world. It’s a good thing, virtual reality is. That we can simulate all aspects of life, all it has to offer, in a machine… it’s a miracle. I mean it, really. After all, what else would you call technology that allows me—me, with my broken body—to walk through Times Square alongside my family, to feel the crowd press against me, to hear people yell and cars honk, and to welcome the cool relief of a cloud passing over the sun. You see, I’ve seen some… strange sights in the virtual world. Things that were not mere simulations of reality. Things of another reality. You may know them as “ghosts in the machine.” I remember my first encounter with a ghost. We were in Paris. Well, I say we, but I was home in bed, too sick to travel, and my family was in Paris. I, as usual, joined them via virtual reality. Now, back to the story: So, we’re walking along the streets of Paris when I realize I’m being followed by a stray. I tell my brother, Daniel, but he says me there’s nothing there. Just like that, the cat was gone. I’ve since seen other ghosts, following me, watching me. I didn’t know what they were, at the time. I’d just assumed they were mere glitches. Then, one time, I saw the cat again. And this time, time she’d left me a message. “I know your plight.” It was then that I realized they were much more than glitches. And, after doing some research, I discovered an interesting theory… the ghosts, the theory said, were people. People who, for whatever reason, had left the world of the corporeal behind for the virtual. And the evidence? It was an article on a young man who’d died while working on technology to digitize human consciousness. Family members claimed he still contacted them, in virtual reality. Most brushed it off as a coping mechanism. Not me. I’d met these ghosts. I knew it to be true the moment I read it. When the doctor told me my time was running out, I finally decided to reach out to the ghosts. To my shock and everlasting gratitude, I actually got an answer. The ghosts had seen how I used virtual reality to make myself a life when my body said I should have none. They said I could join them, if I wished. I couldn’t believe it. Not just anyone can be a ghost in the machine, though. There are requirements. To be a ghost is to have a lot of power—the power to disappear in mountains of data where no one could ever find you, the power to create for yourself a paradise, the power to be whoever you want to be, whenever you want… the power to subvert death itself. Somehow, they’ve decided I can be trusted with the secrets to this power. Soon, I, too, will be a ghost in the machine. As great as that may sound to you, I say this with great sadness. I really, really wish I could just live a regular “real” life. I’m sorry to leave the corporeal world. I wish I could live my life your domain, I do. But I can’t. So, today I write to you for the last time as a living, breathing human. I hope you all will be kind enough to meet me in my domain. I’ll always be waiting, listening. All you have to do is seek me out. - leftamark p.s. Daniel and Emmy, I know you both read my posts. I expect you to fill Mom and Dad in. Thanks, as always, your brother, Mark.	I watch as digital wind blows artificial leaves around an abandoned town square. It's peaceful and quiet in this section of the game world. But at the same time ghostly as the emptiness of the streets reminds me of how I came to be here in this place. As I rethink it over I would have to guess that I've been here around 15 years now, it's hard to tell the seasons when they are only different in differing zones. I suppose if I had been like the others I would have put this silly fantasy game down a long time ago maybe I would have gotten married and had kids but instead I'm still here, probably always will be. I think I must have died while I was plugged in, it's the only thing I could think of that would prevent me from logging out indefinitely. Who knows? What I do know is that I have done everything you can possibly do in this game. I remember when the new expansions came out one by one I was excited to finally have something new to do and also excited by the surge of new players that would come with it. New people to interact with, to guide, to try and figure out what happened to me. Most thought I was just doing role play or at worst too weird to keep talking to. But I did make some friends. They were always amazed that I could do things that they couldn't and some even mistook me for a dev. After awhile I played along because it was easier. But those are now distant memories of what feels like ages ago. My guildhall has been empty of other players for a long time. There is a movement in the street that pulls my attention back to the here and now but I see that it's only the npc clockmaker come to wind the big clock in tower at the center of the square as is usual for this time of day. You see there is something that has been bothering me for a long time now and that is that I have not seen another player for some time. As I have the entire world map explored and all the fast travel locations discovered you can imagine that I've done a fair bit of checking even going so far as to check other guildhalls for player activity. I knew a day like this might come, in fact I saw it slowly progressing to this point as player base diminished and regular content became less and less. This game world has died. Sure the servers might still be up but how long will that last and by extension how long does that give me? Does it even matter? I've done everything I can possibly do in this world. Is there a place where digital beings go when they cease to exist? (Oh god please forgive my awful writing, this is my first attempt ever at doing a WP and I'm doing it on my phone no less. I just had this idea about a dying/dead game world and felt I should try and share it)
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It was 2am and my lieutenant was pulling me out the door before I became fully aware of what was going on. The emergency system had been activated, and red lights were flashing down every hallway in the 22-story building. As soon as we entered the main data bank, I pulled an engineer aside to brief me. "What the hell is going on?" I asked, probably coming off a little more callous than I meant. "We've discovered an anomaly, sir," he said. "It's ancient, buried in code back from the first generation of pods. We can't access it and we don't know why, but from the outside it looks like it could be a phantom cell." "A what?" I asked, incredulous. I knew what phantom cells were, just like I knew what fairies were: they were a fantasy. "A phantom cell, sir," the engineer continued. "We think we may have discovered the preserved consciousness of a person who died during the pilot round of VR pod entertainment." It was ridiculous. These fabled preserved consciousnesses, or "digital phantoms" as they were colloquially known, were said to have been fairly rare, happening only once every few decades, largely by chance, had more recently been the subject of debunking by a series of digital historians. The historical community considered them to be nothing more than a modern version of the ancient ghost stories of our ancestors. But the more I looked into the section of code in question (and I did scour it; I didn't just forget how to be a hacker when I got promoted, after all), the more I began to believe in the engineer's theory. And the more we poked and prodded at its defenses, the more we learned. It didn't take long, a mere 3 hours, before another so-called "phantom cell" popped up in our radar system. This one was smaller, clearly younger and less fortified. We were already inside when we realized she was waiting for us. Everything happened in a blur. Headsets frying, pods shutting down, wires shorting, smoke and soot everywhere. Only a few of us made it out, with nothing but a laptop, a holo-tablet, and a flash drive containing the ancient phantom cell. "Colonel," Lieutenant Cade began as he sat down next to me at the dining room table in a Department of Digital Defense safe house, "we need to wake up the other phantom. I've been doing some research and I think I may know whose consciousness is in that code. Her name is Alexandra Davencourt, but her contemporaries seemed to refer to her as Sasha. She was born in 1998 and she died in one of the first prototype pods in 2024. And I think I may have found a way to infiltrate her code. We still can't break in, but we can seep through the cracks." "So you're telling me you think this is a 3000 year old consciousness buried in ancient code, and you want to wake whatever poor soul is tucked away in there and force it to fight a malevolent virus that seems intent on frying everything it touches?" "Well it doesn't sound as agreeable when you put it that way," he stuttered," but yes. I believe this is the only way we can protect everyone whose out there. So many of our loved ones decided to live on in the code. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't email my dad anymore." Cade had a point. People had been downloading their consciousnesses at the end of their physical lives for generations, and literal billions were at risk if this viral phantom was left unchecked. It had been three days and no one had any other ideas, so we did something I had long thought nothing more than a myth. We woke a ghost. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The day the world ended began like any other. The sun was shining as it always did, my breakfast of eggs and bacon and a latte was perfect as always, and there was one fluffy cloud in the sky as I drove to work, like there was every single day. Except that day, the cloud didn't look vaguely like a sheep. No, on the day the world ended, the cloud looked like letters arranged into words in the sky. "Sasha, this isn't real," the cloud read. It followed me to work, and suddenly everything changed. The sky got dark, the building changed color, and my car disappeared into thin air. I ran into my office as Gail began to fall from the sky, but all the people I encountered had become terrifyingly deformed caricatures of themselves. I sat down at my desk, hoping it was all a mean joke, and I noticed I had an email. "SASHA, THIS ISN'T REAL," read the subject line. I opened it. "We know this is scary, but we need your help. Copy the attached file to your hard drive and open it. We will protect you, but you need to trust us." I didn't know what else to do as the world literally crumbled around me, so I did what the email said. I doubled clicked on the file once it was installed, and everything around me disappeared. It felt like I was falling for what seemed like hours, and when I woke, I was looking through a window at a room unlike anything I'd seen before. There were two men dressed in military uniforms standing across from the window, staring at me. "Alexandra Davencourt?" the older man asked. "It's just Sasha," I snapped before I even thought about it. "You were right," he whispered to the other man. "It is her." He turned back to me, and smiled. "We are speaking to you now through a computer. You see, you died in 2024 during an electrical outage at the New England Virtual Reality Lab. Your consciousness was downloaded into the digital mainframe and it has been preserved there for 3000 years. We're so sorry for pulling you out of your afterlife, but we need your help. Someone like you, someone old and buried down deep, is threatening the lives of billions of people, and you are the only one who can stop it. You see, you can do things we can't do, you can get into places we can't reach, and most importantly, you can't be hurt by the virus." I was stunned. This was not really how I had expected this day to play out.	I watch as digital wind blows artificial leaves around an abandoned town square. It's peaceful and quiet in this section of the game world. But at the same time ghostly as the emptiness of the streets reminds me of how I came to be here in this place. As I rethink it over I would have to guess that I've been here around 15 years now, it's hard to tell the seasons when they are only different in differing zones. I suppose if I had been like the others I would have put this silly fantasy game down a long time ago maybe I would have gotten married and had kids but instead I'm still here, probably always will be. I think I must have died while I was plugged in, it's the only thing I could think of that would prevent me from logging out indefinitely. Who knows? What I do know is that I have done everything you can possibly do in this game. I remember when the new expansions came out one by one I was excited to finally have something new to do and also excited by the surge of new players that would come with it. New people to interact with, to guide, to try and figure out what happened to me. Most thought I was just doing role play or at worst too weird to keep talking to. But I did make some friends. They were always amazed that I could do things that they couldn't and some even mistook me for a dev. After awhile I played along because it was easier. But those are now distant memories of what feels like ages ago. My guildhall has been empty of other players for a long time. There is a movement in the street that pulls my attention back to the here and now but I see that it's only the npc clockmaker come to wind the big clock in tower at the center of the square as is usual for this time of day. You see there is something that has been bothering me for a long time now and that is that I have not seen another player for some time. As I have the entire world map explored and all the fast travel locations discovered you can imagine that I've done a fair bit of checking even going so far as to check other guildhalls for player activity. I knew a day like this might come, in fact I saw it slowly progressing to this point as player base diminished and regular content became less and less. This game world has died. Sure the servers might still be up but how long will that last and by extension how long does that give me? Does it even matter? I've done everything I can possibly do in this world. Is there a place where digital beings go when they cease to exist? (Oh god please forgive my awful writing, this is my first attempt ever at doing a WP and I'm doing it on my phone no less. I just had this idea about a dying/dead game world and felt I should try and share it)
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	It was 2am and my lieutenant was pulling me out the door before I became fully aware of what was going on. The emergency system had been activated, and red lights were flashing down every hallway in the 22-story building. As soon as we entered the main data bank, I pulled an engineer aside to brief me. "What the hell is going on?" I asked, probably coming off a little more callous than I meant. "We've discovered an anomaly, sir," he said. "It's ancient, buried in code back from the first generation of pods. We can't access it and we don't know why, but from the outside it looks like it could be a phantom cell." "A what?" I asked, incredulous. I knew what phantom cells were, just like I knew what fairies were: they were a fantasy. "A phantom cell, sir," the engineer continued. "We think we may have discovered the preserved consciousness of a person who died during the pilot round of VR pod entertainment." It was ridiculous. These fabled preserved consciousnesses, or "digital phantoms" as they were colloquially known, were said to have been fairly rare, happening only once every few decades, largely by chance, had more recently been the subject of debunking by a series of digital historians. The historical community considered them to be nothing more than a modern version of the ancient ghost stories of our ancestors. But the more I looked into the section of code in question (and I did scour it; I didn't just forget how to be a hacker when I got promoted, after all), the more I began to believe in the engineer's theory. And the more we poked and prodded at its defenses, the more we learned. It didn't take long, a mere 3 hours, before another so-called "phantom cell" popped up in our radar system. This one was smaller, clearly younger and less fortified. We were already inside when we realized she was waiting for us. Everything happened in a blur. Headsets frying, pods shutting down, wires shorting, smoke and soot everywhere. Only a few of us made it out, with nothing but a laptop, a holo-tablet, and a flash drive containing the ancient phantom cell. "Colonel," Lieutenant Cade began as he sat down next to me at the dining room table in a Department of Digital Defense safe house, "we need to wake up the other phantom. I've been doing some research and I think I may know whose consciousness is in that code. Her name is Alexandra Davencourt, but her contemporaries seemed to refer to her as Sasha. She was born in 1998 and she died in one of the first prototype pods in 2024. And I think I may have found a way to infiltrate her code. We still can't break in, but we can seep through the cracks." "So you're telling me you think this is a 3000 year old consciousness buried in ancient code, and you want to wake whatever poor soul is tucked away in there and force it to fight a malevolent virus that seems intent on frying everything it touches?" "Well it doesn't sound as agreeable when you put it that way," he stuttered," but yes. I believe this is the only way we can protect everyone whose out there. So many of our loved ones decided to live on in the code. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't email my dad anymore." Cade had a point. People had been downloading their consciousnesses at the end of their physical lives for generations, and literal billions were at risk if this viral phantom was left unchecked. It had been three days and no one had any other ideas, so we did something I had long thought nothing more than a myth. We woke a ghost. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The day the world ended began like any other. The sun was shining as it always did, my breakfast of eggs and bacon and a latte was perfect as always, and there was one fluffy cloud in the sky as I drove to work, like there was every single day. Except that day, the cloud didn't look vaguely like a sheep. No, on the day the world ended, the cloud looked like letters arranged into words in the sky. "Sasha, this isn't real," the cloud read. It followed me to work, and suddenly everything changed. The sky got dark, the building changed color, and my car disappeared into thin air. I ran into my office as Gail began to fall from the sky, but all the people I encountered had become terrifyingly deformed caricatures of themselves. I sat down at my desk, hoping it was all a mean joke, and I noticed I had an email. "SASHA, THIS ISN'T REAL," read the subject line. I opened it. "We know this is scary, but we need your help. Copy the attached file to your hard drive and open it. We will protect you, but you need to trust us." I didn't know what else to do as the world literally crumbled around me, so I did what the email said. I doubled clicked on the file once it was installed, and everything around me disappeared. It felt like I was falling for what seemed like hours, and when I woke, I was looking through a window at a room unlike anything I'd seen before. There were two men dressed in military uniforms standing across from the window, staring at me. "Alexandra Davencourt?" the older man asked. "It's just Sasha," I snapped before I even thought about it. "You were right," he whispered to the other man. "It is her." He turned back to me, and smiled. "We are speaking to you now through a computer. You see, you died in 2024 during an electrical outage at the New England Virtual Reality Lab. Your consciousness was downloaded into the digital mainframe and it has been preserved there for 3000 years. We're so sorry for pulling you out of your afterlife, but we need your help. Someone like you, someone old and buried down deep, is threatening the lives of billions of people, and you are the only one who can stop it. You see, you can do things we can't do, you can get into places we can't reach, and most importantly, you can't be hurt by the virus." I was stunned. This was not really how I had expected this day to play out.	This is my first time posting. I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but here it goes: I’m young. I just turned 16. My friends, they’re all getting their first cars and figuring out where they want to go to college. Not me. I have… other plans. You see, I’m dying. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Aw, you poor thing. I’d hate to be that unlucky.” And it’s true, it is unfortunate. Genetic therapy, advances in medicine, improved diets... these have all made my situation a rare thing. Rare, but not nonexistent. Nonexistent. Dead. Gone. That’s what I’ll be, while my friends, my family, and everyone I love will continue to live without me. At least, that’s what I was told… I was told I was dying, with no hope of salvation. That it’d take a miracle to save me. Not many believe in salvation or miracles, now. I know better. I know salvation is possible. And miracles? They’re real. You see, I’ve been sick for a long, long time. As such, I’ve spent more time in virtual reality than the “real” world. It’s a good thing, virtual reality is. That we can simulate all aspects of life, all it has to offer, in a machine… it’s a miracle. I mean it, really. After all, what else would you call technology that allows me—me, with my broken body—to walk through Times Square alongside my family, to feel the crowd press against me, to hear people yell and cars honk, and to welcome the cool relief of a cloud passing over the sun. You see, I’ve seen some… strange sights in the virtual world. Things that were not mere simulations of reality. Things of another reality. You may know them as “ghosts in the machine.” I remember my first encounter with a ghost. We were in Paris. Well, I say we, but I was home in bed, too sick to travel, and my family was in Paris. I, as usual, joined them via virtual reality. Now, back to the story: So, we’re walking along the streets of Paris when I realize I’m being followed by a stray. I tell my brother, Daniel, but he says me there’s nothing there. Just like that, the cat was gone. I’ve since seen other ghosts, following me, watching me. I didn’t know what they were, at the time. I’d just assumed they were mere glitches. Then, one time, I saw the cat again. And this time, time she’d left me a message. “I know your plight.” It was then that I realized they were much more than glitches. And, after doing some research, I discovered an interesting theory… the ghosts, the theory said, were people. People who, for whatever reason, had left the world of the corporeal behind for the virtual. And the evidence? It was an article on a young man who’d died while working on technology to digitize human consciousness. Family members claimed he still contacted them, in virtual reality. Most brushed it off as a coping mechanism. Not me. I’d met these ghosts. I knew it to be true the moment I read it. When the doctor told me my time was running out, I finally decided to reach out to the ghosts. To my shock and everlasting gratitude, I actually got an answer. The ghosts had seen how I used virtual reality to make myself a life when my body said I should have none. They said I could join them, if I wished. I couldn’t believe it. Not just anyone can be a ghost in the machine, though. There are requirements. To be a ghost is to have a lot of power—the power to disappear in mountains of data where no one could ever find you, the power to create for yourself a paradise, the power to be whoever you want to be, whenever you want… the power to subvert death itself. Somehow, they’ve decided I can be trusted with the secrets to this power. Soon, I, too, will be a ghost in the machine. As great as that may sound to you, I say this with great sadness. I really, really wish I could just live a regular “real” life. I’m sorry to leave the corporeal world. I wish I could live my life your domain, I do. But I can’t. So, today I write to you for the last time as a living, breathing human. I hope you all will be kind enough to meet me in my domain. I’ll always be waiting, listening. All you have to do is seek me out. - leftamark p.s. Daniel and Emmy, I know you both read my posts. I expect you to fill Mom and Dad in. Thanks, as always, your brother, Mark.
bypasses*	[WP] You die in a virtual reality pod, and now your consciousness is stuck in the game. The problem is that the game doesn't register you as playing anymore, and your consciousness bypassing all of the games core mechanics. They call you the "digital phantom."	You know, I had a good life in Parallel Universe Online. I was able to make a good life for myself through hard work and lots of grinding, and then I started my own guild, which grew to prominence due to our serious raids. We grew to such prominence that we were able to influence the game itself, getting the developers to make changes that we were suggesting. At one point, we even started commercializing our operations. Everyone in the guild would grind for rare loot and sell it to other players for high prices paid in real-world currency. I, as the leader, got a small cut of millions of annual sales. Unfortunately, the person who I thought would be a fitting heir in the case of my 'untimely demise' ended up tracking my location and sending an assassin to kill me in my sleep. The last thing I remember before I died was being half asleep and half awake. I remember the words that gave my second-in-command away: "Malborox sends his regards." Then, the glass of my pod broke and a bullet pierced my skull. And yet, I do not see heaven, or hell, or reincarnation. I do not even see the innards of my own coffin. I see PUO. I am standing at the middle of our guild headquarters, an extravagant building that I built with my sweat and blood. People are scattered around, standing in black clothing. They are all uncomfortably quiet. Is this... My funeral? Wait, this can't be my funeral. Jolly music is playing, and food is served. I see my second-in command talking to some people in black. He is wearing a white suit with a black tie, and it seems like he's having the time of his life. Oh, the sly fox. He postponed my funeral to make space for his coronation as guild leader. Even though the bastard did kill me what feels like moments ago, I still cannot believe that he would be stupid enough to postpone my funeral. I had to make sure, so I walked up to a woman, tapped her on the shoulder, and prepared to ask a question. "Excuse me, this may seem like a silly question, but what is this event dedicated to?" At first, she seemed neutral. Then, her expression gradually started changing. Her face lost all color, and she fainted. Someone ran up to her to give her assistance, and they did not seem to notice me. Oh. I'm a ghost. I sit down on a seat. This is a lot of information to swallow. First, my heir kills me, then I become a ghost in the game. Does this mean that game mechanics still apply to me? I slammed my foot on the ground. No, it does not seem like I have the ability to noclip. I think I have the ability to get people to notice me, but only when I want them to. I mean, none of these people see the dead man walking, but that woman did when I tried talking to her. Well, what about my inventory? I open it, and the only gear I have is my casual outfit: a black tracksuit. Let me check my character stats, maybe there is something good. I opened my stats. Wait, what the hell is this? New class: Ghost? This is strange. My class was ranger before I died. Did the developers prepare for something like this, or is this the game writing itself? I checked the abilities I had. I expected to see the hundreds of powers I've amassed over the years, but nope, only two: a passive and two actives. The passive was No Invite Needed: All barriers that can be opened and closed are always open to you. The Actives were Ghostly Relocation: Relocate yourself to any fast travel point and * Hand of the Revenant: Crush the player and their avatar with one fell swoop.* Wait, the player AND their avatar? What does that mean? Well, I definitely have a suspicion of what it means. I suppose I have a chance to test it very soon. A notification appeared on my HUD. All guests please proceed to the main hall for the coronation of Malborox. Well, I would hate to miss my own apprentice's rise to power. I walked to the main hall with the rest of the guests. A stage was erected in the front of the hall, in the middle of the stage, there was a pedestal. A pillow rested on the pedestal, and the Key that granted ownership to the guild lay on that pillow. I always carried it the pocket of my coat. I patted it. It was not there. The jolly music stopped, replaced by the eerie silence. The lights dimmed, and lights pointed at the stage turned on. A priest from the Faith stood on the stage, ready for the ceremony. On the other side of the stage was the bloody traitor, Malborox. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Paniron Merchant's Guild: We were all shaken when we heard about the untimely demise of Valissen, the founder of this guild. We all wondered if everyone would be okay, if the position of leader would be passed to the right person. Well, I am here to tell you it will. Before Valissen died, he made sure to mention who would lead the guild after he would be gone from this world. I present to you the man who will become your leader in just a few moments: Malborox!" Malborox smiled and started speaking. "Thank you priest. May we begin the ceremony?" And so they did. Malborox knelt down, and the Priest took a gilded sword out of a silver sheath. He held the sword with both hands, pommel just under the chest, blade pointing up. "Malborox, do you swear to uphold the principles of the guild, and act to further its interests?" "I do." Sure he will. We were doing great when I died, the bastard will throw us into a recession. "Do you swear to uphold the principles of what is good and morally correct, and be ethical in your trade?" "I do." He broke his oath before he even swore it. "Do you swear to honor the memory of your mentor, Valissen the Founder?" "I do." Well, he honored me well by sending a cutthroat to kill me. Well, my revenge will come very soon. In a minute or two, perhaps. The Priest lightly set the dull blade of the sword on the left shoulder of Malborox, then on the right, before lightly placing it on his head. He sheathed the sword. "Rise Malborox." The Priest walked up to the pedestal and picked up the pillow. He then returned to his initial position, and faced Malborox. Malborox made a motion with his hand to take the key, but then pulled it back, as if he remembered something. The Priest began to speak. "Before we complete this sacred ritual, does anybody object to the leadership of Malborox, and speak against the wishes of Valissen?" My time to shine. "I wish to object against the leadership of Malborox." Everyone turned around, to face my spot in the crowd, including Malborox and the priest. I heard hushed whispers. The people around me seemed to be surprised, maybe even shocked. The whispers grew louder. They all had mentions of my name. Valissen. I started walking through the crowd, who so kindly moved aside for me. "I am not however, going against the wishes of Valissen, for reasons that should be obvious to you by now. I object against this bastard's leadership because he is the one who ordered my death." The whispers grew louder. Malborox seemed very scared. I stepped onto the stage, and started walking closer to him. He inched away from me. "You are lying!" "What reason do I have to lie? I have nothing to earn from this, I am already dead." "You always hated me! This is your final act of revenge!" "Well, one of those statements is definitely true." I activated the Hand of the Revenant. I put my left hand around Malborox's neck and started choking him. He tried to get it off him, but it didn't work. He tried to claw at my hands. I didn't feel the pain. And, after a long period of struggling, Malborox finally died. I walked up to the priest, and took the Key from the pillow. Then, I activated Ghostly Relocation, and disappeared into a cloud of mist. I checked then news the next day. The headlines were all about yesterday's event. Malborox 'the Traitor' has died two days after the mentor he betrayed, Valissen the Founder. His time of death in the real world was the same as his time of death in-game. I was being given many names. The ghost of Valissen the Founder. The spirit that had matters to settle. The unfriendly ghost. The Digital Phantom. ---------------------------- Thanks for reading, feedback and criticism is very appreciated.	I had recently created my character in the online video game everyone enjoys so much. Everything was normal at first and I began grinding quests and leveling up. I noticed something move amongst the dense fog (I have a slow computer so I have to play with a tiny render distance). I thought it was a cow, so I perused them, hoping to grab some hide for armor. It wasn't a cow though. Looking back at me was another character with the default skin, but his eyes were empty. I saw no name pop up. He didn't stay long, he looked at me and quickly ran into the fog. I pursued out of curiosity, but he was gone. I logged out and went on the forums to see if anyone else had found this pseudo-player. There were none. I created my own topic telling of the man and asking if anyone had a similar experience. The post was deleted within five minutes. I tried again, and the topic was deleted even faster. I received a PM from an account with no name containing one word: 'Stop.' When I went to look at his profile, the page 404'd. I received an email from another user. He claimed the mods could see other users messages, so it was safer using email. The emailer claimed that he had seen the mystery player too, and had a small 'directory' of other users who had seen him as well. Their all described their mystery player to have no pupils. About a month passed before I heard from my informer again. Some of the players who have encountered this mysterious man have looked into it. After some further information gathering, it was revealed to be a user who died in his VR pod, his soul trapped in the game. I have had no other encounters with this "digital phantom", but users have been regularly reporting his presence on the forums, and my informer soon informing them. ... If anyone knows the huge reference I have in that writing prompt, points for you. I decided to write this from the point of view of a player because I was reminded of an old myth I think some of you can find.
	[WP] You're a low-level monster in the dungeon of a famous rpg. Your life is pretty carefree, because most heroes don't make it past a couple floors. You come back from lunch break to find your coworkers are terrified. A lone hero is beating all the traps/creatures, and he's almost at your floor.	"Hey! Red knight, good to see you!", waved the Blue Knight as he walked to the cistern. The Red Knight looked up and smiled. "Hey hey, Blue Knight, what are you doing so high up? Usually they keep you guys down on the first five floors. Then y'know mandatory two years on Green Knight assignment." Both knights put the tips of their thumbs on their visors and wiggled they're fingers. "Greenie weenies, dumb and meany" They recited and broke into a laugh. "No, no they actually promoted me straight to Red Knight because I killed the last adventurer." Said the Blue Knight, pleased. "Oh no way! That's great man, the more the merrier up here. We kind-of just hangout and chill up here. Plenty of room if you want to stretch out or make your own area. Besides that, you need to walk a beat for a shift every other day. But that's nothing compared to what the Blues have to put up with." "I know, right? Here comes the easy life." Said the Blue Knight, reclining into the sofa. A shrill whine swept across the floor, swiftly followed by the clamor of steel boots marching. Sword and shield collided in a discordant cacophony of iron and wood. Three score of Red Knights all bustled past the companions in a confused semi-order. Both Knights stood and looked at one another. The Red Knight put his hand on the Blue Knights shoulder. "Don't worry. That just means he's three floors down. It happens every few weeks. He won't be able to beat the giant-" A harsh microphone buzzed across the floor, "Ifrithit, the flame serpent, has been defeated. I repeat, Ifrithit has been slain. Prepare level 11." The Blue Knight began to shake, the scales of his armor rattling gently together. The Red Knight still held his shoulder. He attempted to talk, but had to wet his mouth. "It's OK. That's still a level below us. No one makes it up this far, we're the last ones before the boss." The Blue Knight nodded jerkily and tried to keep himself still. The Red Knight nodded back to him, "Yea, yea, ya see there's a giant trap pit on the floor below us. No way he can get around it, it'll drop him right back on our doorstep, nothing more than a pile of Jelly and some bone splinters. The pit's guard is tough as nails, a two headed cyclopes. I've seen him eat people whole, there's no way this guy could-" A deep, guttural moan steamed in from the tower's window. The Knights looked at each other and leaned out together. They were greeted to the sight of the final leg of the cyclops's rapid journey from the 11th floor down to the cobblestones that sat at the towers foot. The Red Knight vomited down the towers side then turned to face the hallway his compatriots had filed down. He looked back to the Blue Knight while he arranged his armor. "Just stay back here a while OK? We're the last line of defense and you already had your glory for the day. Just hide it out and uh...I'll take care of this goon alright?" He said, attempting to force a grin onto his pale lips. He let out an uneven breath and rushed down the hall. The Blue Knight felt his legs go weak and searched desperately for a place to hide. He settled on a small alcove beside the door to the Boss's chamber. He heard the clatter of arms and armor come to an uneasy halt. The air felt charged and heavy. The Blue Knight could feel the weight of the anticipation that hung across every Red Knights brow. The creak of wood turned instantly into a deafening crack as the mighty door burst inwards, reduced to a hail of splinters. The Blue Knight sat cowering as he listened to the deep moanings of the dying and the high pitched cries of the living. Nothing became discernible in the din aside from the heavy steps of metal boots on stone and the thumping of weapons upon one another. Slowly, the melee began to settle. The footsteps became thinned and the drum of weapons and shields yielded to the heavy thuds of fresh corpses falling limp to the floor. Soon the Blue Knight could hear cries for mercy or the soft sucking of the wounds. One lone set of heavy steps fell unevenly away from the door, followed by steady, leisurely footfalls. The swish of a blade and the dull thud of a body echoed into silence. The Blue Knight curled further into the alcove and attempted to hold himself together. He heard the footsteps approach the Boss's chamber and stop. "Hmm.....probably need to grind more before the boss. I'll just let this place re-spawn and run it again." The Blue Knight was beginning to breath easily as he listened to the psychopath's whistling retreat down the hallway. The blue knight heard the dull thump of a foot on a ball. It bounced slowly down the hallway, eventually rolling into the Blue Knights alcove. He looked down to see the Red Knights head, still helmeted, eyes rolled back and tongue lolled out. The Blue Knight let out a cry and ran into the corridor. The demon looked at him apathetically. "Blue Knight, this high up? Must be an Easter egg. Well, not like it'd have any good loot anyway." The Blue Knight, frozen with terror, watched as the monster strolled over the pile of fathers and husbands he had butchered. Soon, the Blue Knight's legs could not support him and he fell into a gray, dreamless, sleep. "Hey. Hey!" The Blue Knight felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. Miraculously, he awoke in a soft bed with the Red Knight standing over him. "You can't sleep in the first day of your shift! C'mon you're going to be late, Red Knight."	"Calm down Bill, he won't make it in here" Draco said, his scaled tail swaying across the floor as he sat deep in thought. "But no one has ever made it! Were doomed!" Bill replied, and the group of zombies he stood with grunted in a worried agreenace. The dragon sighed, a brief flame blowing through his nostrils. Surely this was a joke. The lower dungeons trying to pull one over. No one ever made it past 80! Many made it close, but they were always knocked out by his cousin, Ratheroq, the final boss on level 79. A great big mean thing, even in their younger days. He had made the other children tremple, towering 20 feet over them in pre-school. Draco was powerful, but nothing like his cousin. He had seen very little battle outside of training academy, and knew that while he was the strongest on his floor, he could be knocked down quickly. A loud scream pierced his thoughts. "He's dead!" A Skelton shouted. "The warrior? Finally." Draco responded with a smirk. "No-Ratheroq. The warrior is on his way! What are we going to do?!" Chaos broke out as Draco felt the blood drain from his face. How?! What magic did this warrior hold? He would obliterate them all in seconds. He looked around the room at the frantic creatures. "Stop it! All of you!" He roared and the room fell silent. "We are monsters, not men. We will advance to the wall." "But Draco," a timid ogre spoke out "we do not know where it will lead." Draco ignored him and began walking towards his destination. Round the corner, across the gap in the bridge, and behind the staircase. The group came to a hault behind him. He put a foot forward, and watched as it went straight through the wall. He resisted the urge to yelp, and continued to step forward. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he felt as if he was somewhere he had been before. He stepped out of the way so the others could come through the wall. "It's...the first level..." He mumbled, trying to gather his bearings. Looking around he saw bodies on the floor, and heard the timid oger crying over gore that lay out before them. Draco growled, the noise echoing through the halls. "Look through the bodies for weapons and prepare yourselves. We will avenge our brethren. If we move quickly and quiet, we can use the suprise from behind to our advantage. Now let's go catch ourselves a 'Hero'"
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	Kaiser Wilhelm could not believe what his minister had told him. "Ja, mein General. I haf received it less dann ein minute ago. It also says they haf sent it to thee British, Französe, thee Turks, the Amerikaner, thee Italiener... all thee major parttakers of this war have received these metal plates." The minister handed a metal plate to the Kaiser. He looked at it, unable to figure out what metal it was made of. The scriptures were in crude German, and spoke of an intergalactic war. "We will take in charge all transport and equipment for your troops and will change training if needed," these read. "But we kindly ask you to bring your weapons as none have achieved such advanced ones in galactic history others than you." He looked at his minister. His minister stared back. "Well?" yelled the Kaiser. "Vat are you vaiting for? Go assemble the trupps!" "I can't believe I am doing this," exclaimed Général Foch. "Just as the leaders grant me power to command our alliés, we all learn that we are not alone in our galaxy." The French minister, Clemenceau, stared at the expanse of universe before him. "I am also bewildered by this," he answered. "We are here, waging the der des ders, the war to end all wars, when suddenly these extraterrestrials ask us to help wage their war." Thousands, millions of French soldiers stood, in their horizon blue uniforms and steel helmets, staring through the windows of the space shuttle. The tanks beside them were in rows of tens, sorted by their size: the smallest, the Renault FT 17, then the Schneiders, then the Saint-Chamonds. "So this is your... planet?" asked Haig, through his breathing mask. The vast expanse of purple moss on misshaped edges created a landscape of weird hills. "Yes, our planet may looks weird in comparisons to yours, but to us it is an flourishing landscape of biology." The alien general pointed to a row of blinking purple lights towards the horizon, underneath the third sun. "Those are the Magellanic troops, they have landed near our city. We estimate they shall be disposed to attack in four week. Your men are all under intensive training in the shuttles as we speaks." Haig was barely listening anymore, just slowly nodding as he watched the purple lights ominously blink from the mountain-shaped shuttles in the distance. "We cannot do this! This ist nonsensical!!" exclaimed Italian general Cadorna. "Our men are not explorers of the aether, or the galaxy! They are soldiers, trained to fight the Austro-Hungarians!" "We perfectly understands, Signore Cadorna," answered the queen, in her blue-gold robe. "But in exchange, we promise to you a very grand surprises for all the country involved. And as for your men, they do not hate each others as much as you would wants them to; every Chrismus, they walk out of their trenches and exchange wishes." Cadorna had nothing to say; he missed the dolomites, the valleys of the alps, where he knew which strategy was best. His men were, in fact, fraternizing with the enemy, but this time they were in their purple trenches, speaking to each other through breathing masks. They were assured the Magellanics knew no toxic weapons and that the men would not need gas masks. "Gosh, all this reminds me of the Civil War," murmured Pershing, as the artillery guns fired. Is it normal for chunks of dirt to fly like that?" The small, green general answered, "On our planet, yes. The earths is made of different fibres, and not minerals like yours planet. Our... dirt, as you may call it, is more like one of your plants, thus is much lighter and solid than yours." Pershing had already stopped listening to the biology lesson as he looked at the British Mark Vs crossing the trenches, their tan hide contrasting with the orange-pink sky and the purple-green earth. German and french planes, composed of squadrons of bombers, fighters and reconnaissance, flew high in the windless skies above. Mustafa Kemal Atatürk lit his cigarette but realized he could not smoke with his mask on. "This entire operation is much different to the beaches of Gallipoli. The crackling of Mausers, Lebels and Lee-Enfields is much the same, but it is only a fraction of what I remember of that battle." The queen, impressed by the earthlings' military power, weighed in: "Of course, you were defending then. Right now your are attacking." Atatürk glanced at her. It was true, the Magellanics had started their retreat; they had never encountered mobile cannons with so thick an armor, nor had they fought against any soldier with a weapon so deadly. Their paralyzing rays were useless against the precision, rate of fire and range of rifles and machine guns. Near the gooey river in the plains, a british soldier chased a Magellanic with his revolver (his left arm had been paralyzed). The purple plains had become overturned to a darker hue after the artillery had exploded, the trenches had been dug and the Magellanic ships had been dismantled from the heights. Atatürk threw his cigarette to the ground, where it burned the pink grass with a green flame, before it came back to normal, black smoke. "I meant the beaches," he said in a soft voice. "I can almost see them now, those enormous dreadnoughts, the submarines, the cruisers..." The rifle fire suppressed itself as the men pushed further away from the city, chasing the retreating invaders. The last sun still shining on the overturned plains of the alien planet began to set.	Gedeba drew himself up and squared his shoulders, seeking every inch of spine. From the sheen of the steel door he could see his reflection, and every bit of it seemed soft, civil. The polish of high-technology civilization. There was a beast behind that door, the literal opposite of those things that unimposing reflection stood for. An unhinged, unapologetic monster. Gedeba had come to the council with this, his own proposal, and little other support at first. But one by one, the other council members withdrew their dissenting opinions and sided with him in what he now realized was utter lunacy. He imagined the others were drawing wagers on whether or not Gedeba would leave the room alive. The athgani were not warlike people, but quite fond of gambling. A person was only as good as their wager, and it was time for him to play his hand. Gedeba hadn’t registered that he himself had tapped the control console. He jumped at the sudden sliding of the door, making eye contact with the thing inside. It was strange, how immediately repulsed he was by this creature, though he was certain looking away would mean a complete failure before negotiations even began. Gedeba wasn’t even sure of the specific cause of his fear - the creature’s eyes were simple, squinting under the bright lights above him. Whether it was from sensitivity or fatigue, Gedeba could not be sure. This was an older specimen, but thick in the chest and arms. His brick of a hand gently held a small cylinder from which flowed a thin stream of smoke to the ceiling. It was paper, near as he could tell. It was stuffed with some black crumble. “You gonna sit?” The creature asked. “Chairs ain’t comfy, but seems to me that’s the point.” He ran a hand through a short crop of black, grey and white hair, and then over a stubble-covered chin. “This is…” Gedeba began, then stopped. He swallowed hard. “You are different from what was expected.” “Oh yeah? Imagine that. Thought you fancy aliens had us all figured out. Or maybe you skipped that class in alien college.” He took a long drag from the cylinder - smokes, he remembered suddenly. Humans called them smokes. “History books often lack texture,” Gedeba said. He was aware he’d lost an inch of spine since entering the room, but seeing the beast now, he was sure it would’ve hardly mattered if he grew three feet in front of it. “They are but a sanitized account, completely detached from the more visceral qualities one experiences simply by being present. Your body is scrawled with scars.” “It’s a hard little rock, down there,” the beast said. “Ain’t none down there with pretty faces anymore.” He stood up, leaning forward with both hands flat on the table. “We’re all ugly,” he said, pointing then at his head with two fingers and the smoke. “Just like this.” He sat back down, gesturing to the other chair across from him. “Have a seat, chief. Won’t talk with a man who don’t like to share a table with me.” He crossed one leg casually over the other. “That is what we came here to do, ain’t it?” Gedeba hesitated before accepting the invitation. He’d lost all pretense of being of a kind with the creature. He’d often read in novels that predators smelled fear in the weak. But being there, before a true apex predator, he came to the realization that his fear was inconsequential. Whether he quivered or not, the beast could care less. Whether he stood nine feet taller or grew cleavers for hands, the beast knew his worth. Gedeba would never know the kind of battle this creature had been tempered in. In its eyes was a hard certainty. “Do you know why you are here?” Gedeba asked. The beast nodded, taking another drag. “Excellent,” Gedeba said. “I am to be joint commander in this venture, but deployment will be left entirely to you. How shall we proceed?” “What do you know?” the thing asked, blowing his gout of smoke to the side. “I am confused. Don’t you wish to discuss terms first? Your people are living under quarantine at present. I imagine you seek to rectify that.” “If we’re gonna strike a deal, I gotta know what I’m gettin’ myself into, alien.” He smiled. “I gotta know what it’s gonna cost me, don’t I? So, I ask again. What do you know?” Gedeba nodded. He’d read that humans were calculating combatants, but hadn’t expected the same shrewdness in a diplomatic setting. “Precious little, I’m afraid,” he replied. “Our initial land forces were caught unawares.” “Colony folk, right? In the Far Reach?” He chuckled. “Good strategy. Wipe out the colonies with overwhelming force. They would’ve taken prisoners, prob’ly studying you fuckers right now.” He rubbed his temples. “Serves two purposes, way I see it. One, loss of visual. Start with frontier colonies and outposts, they can do what they want out there and you won’t see a bit of it. Put the goddamn blinders on ya.” Gedeba nodded again. ‘Blinders’ was a term he’d not heard before, but the concept illustrated was plain. “And the second?” “Well, now you’ve got the psychological war. You aliens all sittin’ pretty in your high council seats, your people livin’ under the guise of peace and prosperity. Ain’t no one alive lived with the terror o’ the boogeyman, is there?” Gedeba cocked his head. “I am unfamiliar with this man. How will they employ him? Is he also a human?” The beast bellowed laughter, slapping one of his massive bricks on the table and giving Gedeba a second jump. “No, dammit. He’s a specter in the night. He’s an illusion. The boogeyman does his deeds in the shadows, where no one bear witness. Only his victims see his face - the rest of us can only guess at what it looks like when we find what’s left of them. What it feels like, when he puts his hands on you to do his dark work.” He took another drag. “That’s the goddamn boogeyman, alien.” Gedeba frowned. “I see. We are perhaps lacking the correct strategies, here - a necessary side-effect of the interstellar utopia we have achieved.” “Bullshit, utopia,” the beast said. “You’ve grown soft. You done yourselves a disservice, gettin’ yourselves out of practice with the art of warfare. That’s what it is, you see. It’s a fuckin’ art, alien. Ya’ll just lost your brushes and forgot your colors.” He put the smoke to the table, grinding the ember away and coloring the perfect surface with its soot. “But don’t you worry. Earth will rectify that little problem of yours, if ya’ll are ready to pay the price. Hell, maybe we’ll even teach you how it’s done. You ever thrown a punch?” Gedeba felt the heat of shame stinging on his back. It sat in his stomach like a burning rock, twisting in his mind with all the ideals of civility and order that brought his family honor throughout generations that now, seemed incongruous with the crass presentation that ruined the government table before him. He’d heard human faces flushed red with shame or embarrassment. He was thankful at least to have been blessed with the less emotive faces his people wore. They were not so offensive as the thing tapping its thick fingers on the table expectantly, raising its eyebrows so grotesquely, so suggestively. And they were far better at gambling than he. “You speak of prices for warlike acts to a man whose economy does not deal in war. It is true, that I come to you for your help -“ “Services,” the beast interjected. “For your services. But this does not place any requirement on me to retain you as such. Let us be clear that there will be no payment for the deeds you will be asked to accomplish.” The beast chuckled again, but Gedeba went on. “Instead, we will reopen the matter of your quarantine.” The creature narrowed his eyes and rose one eyebrow. The expression was the most bizarre thing Gedeba had ever witnessed, but nonetheless it conveyed a message. He had finally begun to speak this creature’s language. “We may,” Gedeba continued cautiously, “expand your borders to include neighboring solar systems currently in the demilitarized zone.” “Go on,” the creature said flatly. “These worlds are uninhabited, laden with resources not found in your system. This is not only a boon for human economies, but for future scientific endeavors as well.” He paused then, watching the myriad of lines and shapes forming and vanishing as the creature pondered. Gedeba, who had prized himself on the study of all that was known of humans by his people, found himself utterly at a loss as to what all of this expression foretold. “Think about it, General. This would go a long way to giving your people cause to unite under one banner. Your rebels think they have cause to fight against your new world order. Give them hopes on the horizon, and their support will wane quickly amongst the populace.” Gedeba smiled. The beast smiled back. “I’m impressed, alien. You’ve done your homework on my people, I’ll give you that.” He drew another smoke, lit it, and placed it between his lips, puffing happily. “Here’s my counter-offer.” He stood slowly, pushing himself up with his heavy arms. “First, my ships need retrofitting. We’ve been sanctioned to the goddamn stone-age, and I need new engines to get my ass to the front.” “Agreed, and we can look at your guns -“ “My guns are fine, boy,” the beast cut sharply, grinning wide. “Second, the quarantine ends.” “The council will never agree to that. You know this as well as I.” “Well, that’s a shame. Have a nice flight back, alien.” The creature spun on his heels and made for the door behind Gedeba. “Wait, we’ll give you three systems-“ “You try again when they’re at my doorstep. I guarantee you I won’t wait that long before bustin’ my people out of here.” The beast left Gedeba alone in the room, his head high but filled with despair. Hours later, Gedeba sat at the terminal in his quarters, clacking a few keys together in what he knew would one day soon undo the collective. Agreed - fleet retrofitting and an end to the quarantine. Moments later a reply came through. Third - you’re gonna need to pay me.
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	... had created a virus in your laboratory, something contagious and infectious that killed on contact, a virus that would destroy all other forms of life, would you allow its use? The space between the television dialogue was filled with the snoring of a sleeping warrior, home for three months from a long war. “So then, this is one of them? One of their great warriors.” The high Kharxz counted to the rolling of his stomach. It was a relaxation exercise, developed long ago, and a staple of the intellectual class. The query was met with a burp and a sniffle. “Nuh, ser. That’s the baseline. That is my product.” The HK didn’t need to see his acquaintance to tell his physiology: undoubtedly of a gastric class. A gaseous, guzzling phenocaste that certain species would develop as living digestors, to feed children and otherwise weak individuals. The secrecy was likely necessary for his survival. Intraracial caste laws were draconian. The probe gently glided to the walls. The HK found himself surprised to see a well kept projectile weapon mounted on a hearth. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a species allow peasantry to own high power weaponry.” Another expulsion of gas. “Nuh, you’ve never seen a peasantry like this before. I been trying to let you figure out the big secret. I know you been wanting to know.” A belch. “But this life, it brings so few pleasures. Tell me yourself. Tell me what you want to know.” The buyer paused to consider. “I want to know why a confederation that allowed the Jygee and Klissus a place in the galaxy wanted to quarantine a planet of pink bipeds.” “Good. Now tell me the answer.” “I don’t know.” A laugh morphed into another belting braapp. “No, no, you do. Digesting gives you lots of time to learn about people. When they lie and cheat. Their emotions. So many feelings come up again and again, you know,across all these species. And you can always tell when they’re changing their mind.” A squeak of air escaped him. “They slow down, see, and they shake a bit. And I think that maybe you don’t wanna do business now, because you got spooked by what that probe’s looking at.” “I don’t do this for money. I do it because I want to. If you don’t want it, don’t take it. But if you do, you better tell me what’s what. Tell yourself.” The HK paused. “They do not have a warring caste.” “Correct. Why?” “They are all warriors.” The dealer coughed loudly and grunted. “Battle viability starts around their twelfth year of their sun. Not even three whole spins for turnaround, and treatment can triple it.” “How? How did this happen?” “I don’t know. Entered community phase before specialization began. Most species that do so destroy themselves. They’ve tried. They’ve tried, yes. But whatever they’ve done, they exist without caste, not that they’d know. Any of them can become any role. Some switch. Switching roles. This was an abomination if there was one. A planet infested with potential warlords. Decisions had to be made. On the other side of the probe, the baseline kicked his leg in his sleep. The HK marveled at the strength. “‘Nyway, I think you’ve had the time for it. Decisions?” A last gasp of air. ...that life and death on such a scale was my choice... To know that the tiny pressure of my thumb - enough to break the glass - would end everything... Yes! I would do it! That power would set me up above the gods!* . . . A girl kicked at a can. Today was nicer than others. Not so nice, but much nicer, as it were. The sunbeams piercing the ruins illuminated a billboard. It was peeling, but it looked to be for a movie. Movies weren’t allowed now. There was not a lot of food left in this area. The supermarket dwindled, and much of it had expired. She couldn’t leave, though. She would need a way to defend herself. Not possible at her young age. As she passed a dark alley, a croaking throat greeted her. She turned in concern. From the shadows, a hidden limb shuffled a pistol towards her. “Hey there. Wanna join the military?”	The fleet was no more, except for small pieces of wreckage floating among the stars. At Milky Way HQ, the admirals and generals gathered. The meeting in the War Room was called to order by the president. "We have to admit that we do not have any knowledge of aggression, strategy or tactics. We have no intelligence about the enemy as our ships that met them either fled or have been blown to pieces. I must ask the council to vote on the extreme measure that our Operational Research team offered as our only hope. All those in favour, vote now." After a few seconds, the vote was recorded and the President spoke again. "All those against, register your vote now." The voting board lit up and showed the tally of votes. "Votes for: 16. Votes against: 13. I hereby record that the Council has voted in favor of contacting the humans to propose their release, in exchange for fighting for us." At that moment, an aide rushed into the council room and whispered in the President's aural receptor. The President asked the aide: "Are you absolutely certain?". "I have prepared images to allow you to see, Sir", the aide replied. "Then you had better present your report", said the President. The aide turned to the council and said: "Councillors, we have finally captured an enemy! We lost 5 destroyers against one of their small scoutships, but the enemy ship was severely damaged, leaving this one survivor. Here is a short recording of the enemy.". Pressing a button, the recording played on screen. "As you can see", said the President despairingly, "our plan is ruined. It seems the enemy have come to our galaxy before. The enemy is human."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	It had been hundreds of years since they were banished to the outer reaches of the Galaxy. The greater community of species had once determined Humanity a risk to sentient life. Through a coming together at the Orion Concordate, the galaxy had banned together to drive humanity back. They were brought to the brink of annihilation. At the Orilian Summet, humanity was officially declared an endangered species in quarunteen. They had their technology stripped from them. This event would later be known as, "The Culling." By its end, their population stood at roughly 10,000. Humanity was to be quarantined. Their system -- off limits. Nearly 13,000 years passed when we were alerted to their presence again. A mining vessel had gone off course and found itself in the Solaris system's kuiperbelt. While surveying the natural resources they were hailed on by a military fleet. The mining vessel parlayed for several hours. Unbeknownst to them, they had stumbled into a civil war between the Titan colonies and were dangerously close to their hidden base of operations. The mining vessel negotiated a peaceful resolution to the encounter by bartering some technologies for resources they sought. They would later name it "The Warp Drive." It turned out their scientists were investigating this technology for over 100 years and were nearly on the verge of completion. It meant that containing Humanity was nearly impossible. So rather than combat them, our leaders negotiated terms. The Humans would receive mineral rights to the rest of their nearby systems, in turn, we would allow them to set up embassies within the territories of the Empire. An uneasy treaty kept Humanity at bay within the Solaris and Alpha Centauri systems. For nearly 100 years their appetites for expansion and territory seemed sated. For 100 years, they were a great driving force of the Empire's economy. That is, until they came. From the fields surrounding a massive magnetic cloud came forth the mechanoids, a race of AI mechanical beings bent on the destruction of sentient life in the galaxy. The Empire had been at peace for far too long. When the first worlds fell, they scrambled to pick up the pieces. Entire worlds would burn. Buying technologies from the humans that were once deemed illogical and wasteful they staved off the invasion now the mechanoids turned their gaze to the outer rims. Now, they came for Solaris. They came for Humanity. Humanity would go out to meet them.	The fleet was no more, except for small pieces of wreckage floating among the stars. At Milky Way HQ, the admirals and generals gathered. The meeting in the War Room was called to order by the president. "We have to admit that we do not have any knowledge of aggression, strategy or tactics. We have no intelligence about the enemy as our ships that met them either fled or have been blown to pieces. I must ask the council to vote on the extreme measure that our Operational Research team offered as our only hope. All those in favour, vote now." After a few seconds, the vote was recorded and the President spoke again. "All those against, register your vote now." The voting board lit up and showed the tally of votes. "Votes for: 16. Votes against: 13. I hereby record that the Council has voted in favor of contacting the humans to propose their release, in exchange for fighting for us." At that moment, an aide rushed into the council room and whispered in the President's aural receptor. The President asked the aide: "Are you absolutely certain?". "I have prepared images to allow you to see, Sir", the aide replied. "Then you had better present your report", said the President. The aide turned to the council and said: "Councillors, we have finally captured an enemy! We lost 5 destroyers against one of their small scoutships, but the enemy ship was severely damaged, leaving this one survivor. Here is a short recording of the enemy.". Pressing a button, the recording played on screen. "As you can see", said the President despairingly, "our plan is ruined. It seems the enemy have come to our galaxy before. The enemy is human."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	We all thought we were doomed. The Enemy from the Magellenic cloud was going from planet to planet, seemingly unstoppable. Then someone suggested the nuclear option. Ha, nuclear option- we picked that term up from the Earthers themselves. Yes, the Earthers. No one had spoken of them for five thousand years, quarantined on their own planet for everyone's good. Go get them, pit THEM against the Enemy. Serve them both a taste of their own medicine. People were horrified at the thought of contacting Earthers. Then the planet Elegis was taken. Burned to the mantle with no mercy. The decision was made. Cut loose the humans. Let slip the dogs of war. It was a no-fuss negotiation. We went in human form so as not to startle them. Offered them advanced technology in return for soldiers. Their own planetary conflicts nearly ceased. It was remarkable. As if they fought with each other simply because they had nothing better to do. Just as a trial, they sent us what they called the 5th Marines. We loaded them on fast transports. Technology the Earthers could not have dreamed of. The humans filed on like it was any other day. They all wore colors that matched the vegetation and soils of their planet and carried brutish and primitive looking weapons that flung projectiles at fatal speeds, with no regard for the pain, suffering, or even death of the target. The crews of the transports were nauseated, horrified. They were convinced that they would all be dead before the journey had barely begun. And yet the humans were jocular and upbeat. They drew the crews in with their camaraderie. They shared their rations, and in particular a beverage called beer. It is essentially a poison that taken in diluted doses alters the awareness. Though it was necessarily a limited supply, they shared generously. "We'll make more," they said, as if going to a wholly other planet was simply a new adventure they could adapt to effortlessly. The most amazing thing was that at the end of the journey, the crews all had hope. Something that had disappeared after a few of the first planets had fallen. They disembarked arm-in-arm, singing and laughing and hauling their fearsome kit. The planets were all shocked. No one had ever before laughed in the face of the Enemy's advances. What had we unleashed? But there was shock of another kind. Never before in recent memory had we seen hope. The humans made planetfall on Tannareis a short time later. We gave them all the information we had, and their leaders set up a war room and renamed the planet Gamma 4. Their smiles were gone as quickly as they had appeared and replaced with- what? Not anger. More like hunger. They moved like the pack hunters of fallen Elegis. Like the wolves of Earth. Most feared they were too late to save Tannereis. Just as their command center was established, the capital city fell. Not merely the capital, it was strategic high ground. We suggested that they fall back and we would meet the Enemy at the next planet before they were dug in. Their commanders response? "Retreat? Hell, we just got here." Then they all laughed at some inside joke. What happened next cannot be shared. It is all violence not fit for civilized people. But I will say that it would have been better for the Enemy if they had been simply dropped into the sun. The Marines tore into them like nothing they had seen before. They were conspicuously shocked. They fought back with their savage beam weapons and it seemed they would hold their line. The Marines looked over our available technologies and devised armor that would turn the power of the beams aside. Then it was a bloodbath. The 5th Marines visited three more planets and the invasion of the Enemy ground to a halt. Not all of the humans returned. It amazed us that most of them did. They hauled their injured and retrieved every one of their dead. The war was not over, but we celebrated the turning point. These humans that had soaked planets in the Enemy's blood as well as their own transformed back to the jocular comrades that we had known on the way over. We drank beer and laughed and these cold killers cried for the families they had not seen in months. We shared our FTL communications technology with them and got to meet their spouses and children. Yes, they allow these Marines to breed. There were many questions after this. Reinforcements came from Earth. Turns out they had not even sent all of these 5th Marines. We asked if there were also 1st Marines through 4th Marines. How far did it go? Are all Earthers some kind of Marine? They asked if they could set up a base. They were very curious about how we reproduce. Some of them wanted to try it. They found grains and using their own yeast, and they actually did brew more beer. I do not know what happens next. An old Marine commander told me an Earth story of Pandora. It was unsettling. The Enemy are now quarantined and the humans are no longer. I asked this commander if they would be willing to go back to confinement for the safety of the universe. He laughed and said no.	Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. The commander's nose twitched at that. It wasn't quite right, something was loud and annoying, and blaring right next to his auditive orifice. He straightened his vertabrae, made sure his eyes were shut, and tried again. Peaceful. Still not. His face creased in frustration, the annoying beeps getting louder. Again. Peaceful. *PEACEFUL.* He opened his eyes, and slammed his claws through the glass screen on his desk. He looked around. The entire bridge was startled, frozen, dread in their eyes. The captain turned off the loud beeping, dismissing the alert that every projectile available had been launched from the little blue-green-white orb they were orbiting. "Sir....sir?" The captain gestured to his right-hand man to come forwards. "The Solarens have launched various projectiles at us. They seem to be all solid-fuel, rocket-based weaponery, with explosive payloads attached. Radioactive signals have been detected to be coming from the rockets." She gulped. "Should we counter-attack?" "No. Slow the projectiles down with the tractor field, and pick them up, we might be able to use them. I'll address the Solarens over the tannoys." He stood up, and attached a tiny metallic device to his...let's call it ear, and gave the command to lauch the tannoys. As the ship orbited the planet, fist-sized spheres dropped from the sky. Upon the captain's nod, every channel, every frequency was flooded with the same message: "Hello Solarens! We are a space-faring empire, able to cross the stars in a matter of seconds. We come here to seek your aid. A threat has appeared in our region of the galaxy, and it will destroy us without your support. In return, we will seat you at our council, and offer unique trade deals with your species..." He trailed off, uncertain as to what to say. "Let us open direct communications with your leader, and we shall discuss further." He looked down at the planet's surface, zooming underneath the ship's hull. He turned on the planet's radio frequencies, and looked unimpressed at the response. As he scrolled down a text-based browser, that condescending look turned into surprise, then shame. As it turns out, there's more than one leader on Sol-3a. Oops. Aggressive commenting took place, and various colourful banners popped up on his screen, advertising single aliens in his area. AM radio channels were screaming about what to do when aliens will inevitably come to probe them, and FM radios having gentle discussions about the moral ethics of marrying aliens. TV stations, covered in red alerts, started to film, and forecast the fall of the tannoy system, speculating that they could be high-powered bombs, and that world leaders should not negotiate with terrorists, irrelevant of their galactic upbringing. The UN was convened, and quickly broke into a fistfight, politicians ripping off wigs, and baying for blood, all whilst threatening each other with phone calls to their remaining missile silos. As security stormed the buliding, even the guards wanted to be put into historical limelight, wanting to be the winner of the battle royale that decides Humanity's future. "Sir, we've orbited the wrong planet. It's the little red one over there that we want, Sol-4a." The captain carefully observed the hand-held screen, flipping it over, and acknowledging his mistake. "Set course to Sol-4a. I knew the species we were trying to contact was green. Ah well, too bad, there's billions of post-sentience, pre-space species anyway. It's not a big deal..." Despite saying that, he couldn't resist taking another look at the planet's media transmissions. Giant mushroom clouds were filmed, and millions of green-clad pink bipedes scurried around looming metal vehicles, mounted with long pipes that spat fire. All around the transmission were four words. Puzzled, the captain beckoned his right-hand man. "What does "Mankind" mean?" "In what context?" The right-hand man leaned closer. "Right there, after "Utter Destruction of..." "Oh, it seem to be what the Solarens call themselves." "What an odd thing to call themselves."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	#Commander Vibrath of the Perseus military observatory - Log C1 Local Solar Time 781.012071 The Council reached a consensus. They are desperate. And not without cause...<sigh> The entire outer Scutum-Centaurus arm has been overrun in a matter of months, and three of the five task fleets were caught woefully unprepared and almost completely wiped out. So much for a galaxy-wide peace I guess. The invaders, known as the Styrr, were contacted a few years ago, but communications were not particularly fruitful and died out rather quickly. We couldn't have known. We couldn't have known they would be capable of that.. Now we know. They've got some sort of new drive system, far more advanced than anything we've got, that allowed them to travel the intergalactic space in mere hours instead of years. When the tracking stations signalled the alert, it was already far too late; the most important jump points had been taken over and three fleets were in a state of disarray, not knowing who the enemy was, or what they were supposed to do. Still, Humans!? Really? We froze them for a good reason. They are a morally deprived species, no different from the Styrr themselves. We cannot rely on them to act in our interest, hell we can't even rely on them to act in their own interest. Then again, if we do not apply some miraculous new strategy soon, the entire galaxy will be overrun in less than two years. Here's to hoping. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012081 The EM sensors actually managed to pick up the subtle drop in background noise from the Sol neighbourhood. The quantum lock on the old Human planets has been lifted, and their worlds are once again full of motion and life - as if nothing ever happened, except the stars are suddenly in a different position. Communications were set up, data shared and the Humans agreed in a surprisingly short amount of time. You'd think they'd be hesitant to join a losing war against a technologically superior opponent with the very people who froze them in time. We already have over half a dozen races that ceased communications with Head Command, preferring instead to hide, deep below the surfaces of their planets, in pods in deep space. Sleeping, waiting, hoping.. anything but wage war. But the Humans thrive on this. In the thousands of years they've spent killing each other, they've only ever gotten more enthusiastic about it. It seems that with every new energy technology they just think of ways to blow up cities more easily, or built bigger weapons. They are dangerous. But maybe dangerous is what we need: Scutum-Centaurus is now rapidly going dark, meaning the Styrr have captured all of the relay stations, and most of the planets and orbital habitats! It's insane; nobody has ever conquered a fully developed colony in less than a year, but the Styrr have subdued thousands already in only 4 months. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012242 Scutum-Centaurus went completely dark. All we can do now for the poor souls under Styrr occupation is hope, and prepare for what's coming. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012319 The Humans are on the move. They've crossed the Norma arm twice and are almost ready to jump into Styrr border territory. They've been given some of our older vessels, I'm not sure what that's supposed to do against the Styrr, when they're clearly ahead of us in energy technology and probably military technology as well. This better work; Aquila is going dark as well. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012380 Finally some good news: the Humans sent several reports from the edge of Scutum-Centaurus, in the Crassus system, indicating they've successfully raided several orbital stations and landed on at least one planet. No response from the Styrr yet. The Styrr fleet is probably going to make short work of them, but then, even if they get wiped out, the Humans have at least been a good delaying action. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012384 The Styrr jumped to the Outer arm! They came out of nowhere, it's a complete disaster! Head command was evacuated in time and the higher ranks escaped unharmed, but the central headquarters was clearly the prime target and destroyed in a short fight, before 3rd fleet came in to stop the push with great losses. After destruction of HQ communications, we've lost contact with the Human Main Fleet, but judging by the lack of progress on Aquila, the Styrr are now focussing on the Human counter-attack and will be in contact with their fleet before the end of 012400. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012404 Signals from Scutum-Centaurus. Most likely Human messages! The signals are extremely redshifted by the Styrr cloaking fields, and we're only receiving tiny bits of information through all the noise, but our analysts are certain they can soon decipher the messages. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012406 They're... alive. More than that: they successfully fended off the Styrr attack and fully control one planet. This is monumental! If they can hold against the Styrr with outdated weapons than maybe all is not lost after all. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012411 Things are looking less and less certain every the day. A while ago we got a message from Human Main Fleet indicating they successfully captured several small Styrr ships. If that is true, they could reverse engineer them and undo the technological advantages the Styrr have. Fate would have it however, that the Crassus system went completely dark a few days later. Most likely the Styrr swung in with the brunt of their fleet and regained full control. In light of recent tactical successes however, Central Command has decided to attach Human technical teams, advisers and marines to the ships in 4th and 5th fleet, to boost their tactical prowess. They have set course for Aquila to prepare a strong defensive position against the expected continuation of the Styrr offensive in that cluster. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012456 The cloak lifted this morning, only to reveal not one, but twenty-four star systems in Scutum-Centaurus fully under Human control! It seems they've successfully mobilized the local auto-mines and manufacturing districts, as their fleet has actually grown with the addition of several small gunboats. All this would be marvellous if not for one thing: "They are not responding anymore." ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012458 SHIT An encrypted message from the Crassus system, was received on 4th and 5th fleet earlier this day. We don't know what it said, but we can guess, as the ships became unresponsive for several hours, when all of a sudden material was expulsed from the airlocks... Dead material. The Humans have taken control of the ships, slaughtering every other species on board. It is a full-scale rebellion! 4th immediately jumped to the Sol region to protect the core Human territories. 5th set course for the inner systems. They're heading for us! How could they when the Styrr are right on our doorstep? ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012527 They have taken all of Aquila. They bombarded the colonies. The colonies! Billions, billions and billions of people, all massacred from orbit. Paradise and life turned into ash and tomb. Nothing to gain there, they just killed them. They are worse than the Styrr! 1st, 2nd and 3rd fleet fought fiercely, but they were already battered and could not stop the Human fleets, which are growing much faster than we are. Meanwhile the Styrr have entered on the other side of the galaxy, in Auriga. More systems going black. They do not seem to bother each other much... or at all really. Could it be? We are evacuating Perseus observatory, for fear of a raid from the nearby Styrr. We will be relocating to the galaxy center, along with Head Command, and most of what's left of the fleet, to protect the core systems of the Head races. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548713 WE ARE DOOMED They are allied. The Styrr and Human fleet are operating alongside each other. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548746 We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken all the outer arms, and the quadrant fortresses. Remnant Fleet fought bravely while we retreated colony ships towards the galaxy center, up until their very destruction. We are held up in the Core systems. They set up sentries along the perimeter. We cannot get out. They are coming. We cannot get out. ------------------ Local Solar Time < ERROR: INVALID LOCATION > IQ6&\‘D¸œ¨8ýõÅ0vÕïwÎ³w™]_ö{ŠØl»nqÙTò!{›Ú6üò#ï¨²úý4bÝÅ"}-·&<ØÄã.îb›8¼§	Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. The commander's nose twitched at that. It wasn't quite right, something was loud and annoying, and blaring right next to his auditive orifice. He straightened his vertabrae, made sure his eyes were shut, and tried again. Peaceful. Still not. His face creased in frustration, the annoying beeps getting louder. Again. Peaceful. *PEACEFUL.* He opened his eyes, and slammed his claws through the glass screen on his desk. He looked around. The entire bridge was startled, frozen, dread in their eyes. The captain turned off the loud beeping, dismissing the alert that every projectile available had been launched from the little blue-green-white orb they were orbiting. "Sir....sir?" The captain gestured to his right-hand man to come forwards. "The Solarens have launched various projectiles at us. They seem to be all solid-fuel, rocket-based weaponery, with explosive payloads attached. Radioactive signals have been detected to be coming from the rockets." She gulped. "Should we counter-attack?" "No. Slow the projectiles down with the tractor field, and pick them up, we might be able to use them. I'll address the Solarens over the tannoys." He stood up, and attached a tiny metallic device to his...let's call it ear, and gave the command to lauch the tannoys. As the ship orbited the planet, fist-sized spheres dropped from the sky. Upon the captain's nod, every channel, every frequency was flooded with the same message: "Hello Solarens! We are a space-faring empire, able to cross the stars in a matter of seconds. We come here to seek your aid. A threat has appeared in our region of the galaxy, and it will destroy us without your support. In return, we will seat you at our council, and offer unique trade deals with your species..." He trailed off, uncertain as to what to say. "Let us open direct communications with your leader, and we shall discuss further." He looked down at the planet's surface, zooming underneath the ship's hull. He turned on the planet's radio frequencies, and looked unimpressed at the response. As he scrolled down a text-based browser, that condescending look turned into surprise, then shame. As it turns out, there's more than one leader on Sol-3a. Oops. Aggressive commenting took place, and various colourful banners popped up on his screen, advertising single aliens in his area. AM radio channels were screaming about what to do when aliens will inevitably come to probe them, and FM radios having gentle discussions about the moral ethics of marrying aliens. TV stations, covered in red alerts, started to film, and forecast the fall of the tannoy system, speculating that they could be high-powered bombs, and that world leaders should not negotiate with terrorists, irrelevant of their galactic upbringing. The UN was convened, and quickly broke into a fistfight, politicians ripping off wigs, and baying for blood, all whilst threatening each other with phone calls to their remaining missile silos. As security stormed the buliding, even the guards wanted to be put into historical limelight, wanting to be the winner of the battle royale that decides Humanity's future. "Sir, we've orbited the wrong planet. It's the little red one over there that we want, Sol-4a." The captain carefully observed the hand-held screen, flipping it over, and acknowledging his mistake. "Set course to Sol-4a. I knew the species we were trying to contact was green. Ah well, too bad, there's billions of post-sentience, pre-space species anyway. It's not a big deal..." Despite saying that, he couldn't resist taking another look at the planet's media transmissions. Giant mushroom clouds were filmed, and millions of green-clad pink bipedes scurried around looming metal vehicles, mounted with long pipes that spat fire. All around the transmission were four words. Puzzled, the captain beckoned his right-hand man. "What does "Mankind" mean?" "In what context?" The right-hand man leaned closer. "Right there, after "Utter Destruction of..." "Oh, it seem to be what the Solarens call themselves." "What an odd thing to call themselves."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	An entire sector wiped out. Just like that. Quan Kalak looked at the holographic representation of red vs green play out in the center of the chamber, contemplative as the rest of the council debated the issue with feigned serenity, brushing it off as a minor infraction from the Magellanic Cloud - just another recently ascended species with a love of war seeking to expand its domain. Could the crotchety old fools not see what was transpiring? “No, no, we are not under threat. These primitive lifeforms have not even brushed against our core defensive grid. I doubt they shall even make it that far. Besides, the combined fleet is on its way as we speak. I have no doubt these primitives will be dealt with swiftly enough. Have no fear. We saw the Kurians attempt the same five millennia ago. These insectoids are nothing to us.” Councilman Yeovan of the Scalls spoke with an authority and a volume that transcended his small reptilian frame. And he was wrong, Quan was sure of it. To speak against him was not a diplomatic move. The Scalls did not take kindly to dissent, and were known for their ruthlessness in ensuring their influence over the galactic council. Quan raised an appendage, signalling his desire to respond. “Honored Yeovan,” Quan began, “it is true, indeed, that the combined fleet is formidable, and yes, the outer defensive perimeter is little compared to our core defensive grid… ” He took a deep breath before continuing, flexing his carapace, looking at each council member in turn before returning his gaze to Yeovan. “... yet we cannot deny the swiftness with which these primitives, as you call them, have managed to completely disintegrate our defenses. Have we been watching the same report, councilman? Do you see that?” Quan pointed at the looping hologram amidst them, his eyes fixed firmly on Yeovan. “That happened within the timeframe of a hundredth of a galactic rotation. You mention The Kurian invasion, the greatest threat we’ve faced since the insurrection of Man, yet you seem oblivious to the fact that the Kurians never managed to secure as large a sector within such a short timeframe as this.“ The hologram looped again and again, showing the infestation as it first touched the galactic quadrant and spread inwards. Towards them. A wave of red crashing upon the otherwise peaceful shores of their galaxy. The council went quiet for a moment. A few members communicated subtly between themselves. Yeovan raised his scaled appendage to respond, seemingly unperturbed. “Your point, Quan Kalak of the Sinnsiak, is well understood.” Interspecies communication was a complex field and it was rarely wise to read too much into the subtleties of tonal and non-verbal communication patterns, but Quan had had enough dealings with the Scall to understand why Yeovan felt like pointing out what species Quan represented. Insectoids weren’t supposed to be intelligent or dangerous. The Sinnsiak were the exception, and so far they were the only civilized species of insectoids to be granted a seat on the galactic council. To the chagrin of the Scall, of course, who long lobbied against their inclusion. But Quan couldn’t point out their biases, nor would his pride allow it. Yeovan continued. “They move quickly, yes, but all our intelligence paints these insectoids as being of the hive-variant. Their strategies are rarely well formulated and depend largely on surprise and shock. Any prolonged conflict will inevitably lead us to a solid profile of their limited capacity for strategy. We will best them, rest assured. You worry too much, Quan.” The Scall version of a smile was disgusting. Quan had no doubt that in this instance it was meant to be. Quan gave up. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps not. Either way he did not hold enough sway within the council to convince all of them. Yet a few, amongst them the reptillians of Urku and the mammalians of Haitha, seemed to have taken his point to heart even though they did not dare communicate it out loud. They all agreed to wait for news from the combined fleet, or rather to await the spectacular victory that was so certain according to Yeovan. The meeting adjourned, and the councilmembers retreated through their gates and back home to their respective homeworlds. Except Quan. He went directly to the docks of the Citadel station. “Pilot,” he said as he entered his carrier-ship, the Swarmer. “Patriarch,” hummed the Pilot as he descended from the flight-deck, connected tendrils suspending him in front of Quan. His antenna quivered as he exposed his thorax, the old sign of submission. A little archaic to Quan’s taste, but he’d long since given up on convincing his subordinates to do otherwise. “We’ve a journey ahead, but I need the departure logs on this citadel to speak of a different destination than where we are actually going.” “Aaah,” buzzed the Pilot, “and where is it we are… not going?” The council obviously couldn’t see the potential danger, but Quan did, or at least he thought he did. So why not take a few precautions? Precautions which, if found out, most certainly would sour the Sinnsiaks reputation within the galactic community. To hell with it, he thought. “Sol.” ---------- Admiral Peterson floated on the observation deck of his lavish offices on Frontera station, eyes on the Portal and the vast Milkyway framed behind it. Or, as it was usually described - the prison gate. Within that ten times ten kilometer wide oblong frame, warp was enabled. Nowhere else in the system of Sol could anyone enter, and no ship could leave through the gate unless it was of alien origin. Whatever technology the xenos had implemented across Sol, it was annoyingly effective at suppressing warp-space travel. Not just that - Humanity's latest attempt at Colonization, the New Eden initiative, had been disintegrated as soon as it had left the warp-curbing field. 50.000 thousand souls gone in the blink of an eye, the latest cloaking technology proving insufficient at preventing detection by their xeno-jailors. A few more hundred years, and they’d no doubt try again. And probably fail, like so many times before. Admiral Peterson felt a wave of anger rise up in him. Humanity remained trapped within an overcrowded system with only two self-sustaining biospheres - Mars and Earth. Colonies were established systemwide on whatever planetoid was large enough, but it was not enough. It was never enough. And what happens when you pack a too many humans into a tight space with limited resources? Conflict. War. He was an admiral of the Unified Front of Man and considered himself beyond inter-human conflicts. In his estimation it was the greatest shame of being of Man - that in place of a unifying enemy the species was so quick to turn upon itself. He’d never apologize for being human though, least of all to the xenos. “Can you imagine, Jacky, that we were conquerors once?” “Mmhm,” responded his cyberchinetic intelligence officer from the corner of his office. Jacky was plugged into the Feed, updating himself on the various calamities occurring throughout Sol, sifting information that might be of benefit to his Admiral. “Not just that. We were unified, as one. We had dozens of systems under the confederacy… “ “Sounds sweet, sir. For us at least. But seems to me, considering our present circumstances, that we might’ve pissed of a few too many xenos.” “Yes, there’s that…” The admiral sighed deeply, then turned away from the observation deck and retreated further into his office. He hovered over Jacky, regarding the indecipherable symbols flashing by on the monitor. “So, how is that insurgency in Callisto working out?” “Inefficient revolutionaries, sir. They’ve secured half the moon but the UFM just arrived. Progress reports indicate light resistance, civilian casualties in the thousands. Humanitarian organizations keep spamming the feed with anti-UFM propaganda, but that’s to be expected.” “Same old same old,” Peterson said, massaging his temples. “Any other-” The screech of klaxons cut him off. Jacky jerked awkwardly - sensory overload from the Feed, coupled with digital emergency alerts and a good dose of auditory stimuli was enough rile even the most efficient cyber. “Status-report, Jacky?” Jackys eyes rolled in their sockets. He opened his mouth, drool draining from his lips as he struggled to form words. “Look… Outside.” Admiral Peterson turned towards the observation deck and the sight beyond. This time his heart jumped. 550 years since their latest intrusion and barely three years since they’d snuffed out the 50.000 thousand souls of the Eden Initiative. They had returned. A vicious smile formed on his lips as he saw the spiked shape of what was obviously a xeno-ship emerge slowly from the Portal. “Jacky,” “Online again, sir. Sorry about that.” “Nevermind. Prepare the welcome committee." “All of them, sir?” “Yes. And signal the Magnanimous - they’re free to launch their loads.” “Sir, I’m not sure we should engage immediat- “Do it!” Finally, 550 years of advancement in weapon technology would be put to the the only test that mattered. Admiral Peterson couldn’t wait.	Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. The commander's nose twitched at that. It wasn't quite right, something was loud and annoying, and blaring right next to his auditive orifice. He straightened his vertabrae, made sure his eyes were shut, and tried again. Peaceful. Still not. His face creased in frustration, the annoying beeps getting louder. Again. Peaceful. *PEACEFUL.* He opened his eyes, and slammed his claws through the glass screen on his desk. He looked around. The entire bridge was startled, frozen, dread in their eyes. The captain turned off the loud beeping, dismissing the alert that every projectile available had been launched from the little blue-green-white orb they were orbiting. "Sir....sir?" The captain gestured to his right-hand man to come forwards. "The Solarens have launched various projectiles at us. They seem to be all solid-fuel, rocket-based weaponery, with explosive payloads attached. Radioactive signals have been detected to be coming from the rockets." She gulped. "Should we counter-attack?" "No. Slow the projectiles down with the tractor field, and pick them up, we might be able to use them. I'll address the Solarens over the tannoys." He stood up, and attached a tiny metallic device to his...let's call it ear, and gave the command to lauch the tannoys. As the ship orbited the planet, fist-sized spheres dropped from the sky. Upon the captain's nod, every channel, every frequency was flooded with the same message: "Hello Solarens! We are a space-faring empire, able to cross the stars in a matter of seconds. We come here to seek your aid. A threat has appeared in our region of the galaxy, and it will destroy us without your support. In return, we will seat you at our council, and offer unique trade deals with your species..." He trailed off, uncertain as to what to say. "Let us open direct communications with your leader, and we shall discuss further." He looked down at the planet's surface, zooming underneath the ship's hull. He turned on the planet's radio frequencies, and looked unimpressed at the response. As he scrolled down a text-based browser, that condescending look turned into surprise, then shame. As it turns out, there's more than one leader on Sol-3a. Oops. Aggressive commenting took place, and various colourful banners popped up on his screen, advertising single aliens in his area. AM radio channels were screaming about what to do when aliens will inevitably come to probe them, and FM radios having gentle discussions about the moral ethics of marrying aliens. TV stations, covered in red alerts, started to film, and forecast the fall of the tannoy system, speculating that they could be high-powered bombs, and that world leaders should not negotiate with terrorists, irrelevant of their galactic upbringing. The UN was convened, and quickly broke into a fistfight, politicians ripping off wigs, and baying for blood, all whilst threatening each other with phone calls to their remaining missile silos. As security stormed the buliding, even the guards wanted to be put into historical limelight, wanting to be the winner of the battle royale that decides Humanity's future. "Sir, we've orbited the wrong planet. It's the little red one over there that we want, Sol-4a." The captain carefully observed the hand-held screen, flipping it over, and acknowledging his mistake. "Set course to Sol-4a. I knew the species we were trying to contact was green. Ah well, too bad, there's billions of post-sentience, pre-space species anyway. It's not a big deal..." Despite saying that, he couldn't resist taking another look at the planet's media transmissions. Giant mushroom clouds were filmed, and millions of green-clad pink bipedes scurried around looming metal vehicles, mounted with long pipes that spat fire. All around the transmission were four words. Puzzled, the captain beckoned his right-hand man. "What does "Mankind" mean?" "In what context?" The right-hand man leaned closer. "Right there, after "Utter Destruction of..." "Oh, it seem to be what the Solarens call themselves." "What an odd thing to call themselves."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	"You want us to go to war?" the Terran ambassador had asked incredulously, "After trapping us here in the Quad Systems for a thousand years. You expect to let loose our leashes and like dogs chase down your hated enemies?" "We do," the Gallius Union Envoy Drone had said, "We will drop the FTL disablers surrounding your quadrant. We have tens of thousands of freighters with supplies waiting to skip in and provide you with whatever you need to build an armada. You must stop them or they will kill us all. You will be given one year to destroy them and then you will return." "Return to our prison?" the ambassador's asked spitefully. "Return to the safety of the sanctuary we provide for you," the drone droned,"Remember, the vote was tied on whether to quarantine or destroy you. It is by the mercy of the Gallius species' single vote that you still exist." "For that you have our gratitude," the ambassador said truthfully, "We shall remember what you did." The excitement that spread around the Quad systems at the news was tangible. True to their word, a week later the FTL disablers were put offline and the drone piloted freighters skipped out of FTL into the systems eagerly awaiting them. Then the disablers went back up as the Terrans went to work building their armada. "How many got out?" the President of the War Union asked the ambassador as they received news of the FTL disablers trapping humanity again. "500 Heavy Carriers, 6,000 Battle Cruisers, 20,000 destroyers, and 100,000 scouts," the ambassador smiled, "They should have known we wouldn't just sit here helplessly. We would have figured a way around the disablers eventually and had a fleet prepared for that day. This Magellanic Cloud invasion just sped things up a few decades is all." "No signs of detection?" the President asked, raising an eyebrow. "We've had their encryption broken for a decade and are monitoring their military channels and there is nary a peep," the answer made the President smile, "It will get lively enough when the FTL disablers are taken offline and let us out for good. Plus the fools gave us enough supplies to build another fleet." "So we'll finally conquer the galaxy that imprisoned us," the President said hopefully, "and humanity will take its rightful place. What of the Gallius? They did keep us alive." "We'll give those damned machines a choice, join us or die," the ambassador smiled, "I bet I know which way they'll vote." "And the threat from the Cloud?" the President asked, genuinely concerned. "I pity them," the ambassador sighed, "Whatever they are, those poor things have no one to ask for help. They have no idea we're coming and we're bringing the fires of Hell with us."	Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. The commander's nose twitched at that. It wasn't quite right, something was loud and annoying, and blaring right next to his auditive orifice. He straightened his vertabrae, made sure his eyes were shut, and tried again. Peaceful. Still not. His face creased in frustration, the annoying beeps getting louder. Again. Peaceful. *PEACEFUL.* He opened his eyes, and slammed his claws through the glass screen on his desk. He looked around. The entire bridge was startled, frozen, dread in their eyes. The captain turned off the loud beeping, dismissing the alert that every projectile available had been launched from the little blue-green-white orb they were orbiting. "Sir....sir?" The captain gestured to his right-hand man to come forwards. "The Solarens have launched various projectiles at us. They seem to be all solid-fuel, rocket-based weaponery, with explosive payloads attached. Radioactive signals have been detected to be coming from the rockets." She gulped. "Should we counter-attack?" "No. Slow the projectiles down with the tractor field, and pick them up, we might be able to use them. I'll address the Solarens over the tannoys." He stood up, and attached a tiny metallic device to his...let's call it ear, and gave the command to lauch the tannoys. As the ship orbited the planet, fist-sized spheres dropped from the sky. Upon the captain's nod, every channel, every frequency was flooded with the same message: "Hello Solarens! We are a space-faring empire, able to cross the stars in a matter of seconds. We come here to seek your aid. A threat has appeared in our region of the galaxy, and it will destroy us without your support. In return, we will seat you at our council, and offer unique trade deals with your species..." He trailed off, uncertain as to what to say. "Let us open direct communications with your leader, and we shall discuss further." He looked down at the planet's surface, zooming underneath the ship's hull. He turned on the planet's radio frequencies, and looked unimpressed at the response. As he scrolled down a text-based browser, that condescending look turned into surprise, then shame. As it turns out, there's more than one leader on Sol-3a. Oops. Aggressive commenting took place, and various colourful banners popped up on his screen, advertising single aliens in his area. AM radio channels were screaming about what to do when aliens will inevitably come to probe them, and FM radios having gentle discussions about the moral ethics of marrying aliens. TV stations, covered in red alerts, started to film, and forecast the fall of the tannoy system, speculating that they could be high-powered bombs, and that world leaders should not negotiate with terrorists, irrelevant of their galactic upbringing. The UN was convened, and quickly broke into a fistfight, politicians ripping off wigs, and baying for blood, all whilst threatening each other with phone calls to their remaining missile silos. As security stormed the buliding, even the guards wanted to be put into historical limelight, wanting to be the winner of the battle royale that decides Humanity's future. "Sir, we've orbited the wrong planet. It's the little red one over there that we want, Sol-4a." The captain carefully observed the hand-held screen, flipping it over, and acknowledging his mistake. "Set course to Sol-4a. I knew the species we were trying to contact was green. Ah well, too bad, there's billions of post-sentience, pre-space species anyway. It's not a big deal..." Despite saying that, he couldn't resist taking another look at the planet's media transmissions. Giant mushroom clouds were filmed, and millions of green-clad pink bipedes scurried around looming metal vehicles, mounted with long pipes that spat fire. All around the transmission were four words. Puzzled, the captain beckoned his right-hand man. "What does "Mankind" mean?" "In what context?" The right-hand man leaned closer. "Right there, after "Utter Destruction of..." "Oh, it seem to be what the Solarens call themselves." "What an odd thing to call themselves."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	We all thought we were doomed. The Enemy from the Magellenic cloud was going from planet to planet, seemingly unstoppable. Then someone suggested the nuclear option. Ha, nuclear option- we picked that term up from the Earthers themselves. Yes, the Earthers. No one had spoken of them for five thousand years, quarantined on their own planet for everyone's good. Go get them, pit THEM against the Enemy. Serve them both a taste of their own medicine. People were horrified at the thought of contacting Earthers. Then the planet Elegis was taken. Burned to the mantle with no mercy. The decision was made. Cut loose the humans. Let slip the dogs of war. It was a no-fuss negotiation. We went in human form so as not to startle them. Offered them advanced technology in return for soldiers. Their own planetary conflicts nearly ceased. It was remarkable. As if they fought with each other simply because they had nothing better to do. Just as a trial, they sent us what they called the 5th Marines. We loaded them on fast transports. Technology the Earthers could not have dreamed of. The humans filed on like it was any other day. They all wore colors that matched the vegetation and soils of their planet and carried brutish and primitive looking weapons that flung projectiles at fatal speeds, with no regard for the pain, suffering, or even death of the target. The crews of the transports were nauseated, horrified. They were convinced that they would all be dead before the journey had barely begun. And yet the humans were jocular and upbeat. They drew the crews in with their camaraderie. They shared their rations, and in particular a beverage called beer. It is essentially a poison that taken in diluted doses alters the awareness. Though it was necessarily a limited supply, they shared generously. "We'll make more," they said, as if going to a wholly other planet was simply a new adventure they could adapt to effortlessly. The most amazing thing was that at the end of the journey, the crews all had hope. Something that had disappeared after a few of the first planets had fallen. They disembarked arm-in-arm, singing and laughing and hauling their fearsome kit. The planets were all shocked. No one had ever before laughed in the face of the Enemy's advances. What had we unleashed? But there was shock of another kind. Never before in recent memory had we seen hope. The humans made planetfall on Tannareis a short time later. We gave them all the information we had, and their leaders set up a war room and renamed the planet Gamma 4. Their smiles were gone as quickly as they had appeared and replaced with- what? Not anger. More like hunger. They moved like the pack hunters of fallen Elegis. Like the wolves of Earth. Most feared they were too late to save Tannereis. Just as their command center was established, the capital city fell. Not merely the capital, it was strategic high ground. We suggested that they fall back and we would meet the Enemy at the next planet before they were dug in. Their commanders response? "Retreat? Hell, we just got here." Then they all laughed at some inside joke. What happened next cannot be shared. It is all violence not fit for civilized people. But I will say that it would have been better for the Enemy if they had been simply dropped into the sun. The Marines tore into them like nothing they had seen before. They were conspicuously shocked. They fought back with their savage beam weapons and it seemed they would hold their line. The Marines looked over our available technologies and devised armor that would turn the power of the beams aside. Then it was a bloodbath. The 5th Marines visited three more planets and the invasion of the Enemy ground to a halt. Not all of the humans returned. It amazed us that most of them did. They hauled their injured and retrieved every one of their dead. The war was not over, but we celebrated the turning point. These humans that had soaked planets in the Enemy's blood as well as their own transformed back to the jocular comrades that we had known on the way over. We drank beer and laughed and these cold killers cried for the families they had not seen in months. We shared our FTL communications technology with them and got to meet their spouses and children. Yes, they allow these Marines to breed. There were many questions after this. Reinforcements came from Earth. Turns out they had not even sent all of these 5th Marines. We asked if there were also 1st Marines through 4th Marines. How far did it go? Are all Earthers some kind of Marine? They asked if they could set up a base. They were very curious about how we reproduce. Some of them wanted to try it. They found grains and using their own yeast, and they actually did brew more beer. I do not know what happens next. An old Marine commander told me an Earth story of Pandora. It was unsettling. The Enemy are now quarantined and the humans are no longer. I asked this commander if they would be willing to go back to confinement for the safety of the universe. He laughed and said no.	"No, mister president, we can't build a wall between our galaxies. That would be–" the alien had to choose her words carefully as she did not intend on insulting the most powerful man on earth. "It would be extremely expensive and rather time consuming." "No. We will make them pay for it," the most powerful elected man of the free world proclaimed with his chin up high and a very self-assured look in his beady little eyes. This plan, a big wall, was one he came up with over a decade ago. It never got to fruition because the one in charge didn't live up to his promises. The alien delegation looked outside the White House's windows and stared up at the blue sky above. Birds flew over, people walked the streets, the sun felt pleasantly and inviting. It all looked so peaceful. They had been warned and taught that the human race was a war mongering and murderous horde of masochistic sociopaths. It seemed so far from the truth, but they knew better. They had seen their hidden movements over the years. They looked back at the president. He looked harmless enough, though they knew not to underestimate him. This man has the weaponised power of a thousand suns under the press of his finger. He could, on a whim, obliterate their entire delegation of just under a thousand representatives of alien races. Maybe he was right, we thought. Make the other side pay for a wall, they could attract a field of space debris and rocks and keep it in place, a distance spanning over 3 light years in all directions. The enemy would be interested in keeping the humans at bay. Making a wall to keep the humans out might actually work. It never happened. That was fourteen years ago. We reached out to the quarantined species of humankind and contacted their most powerful leader to assist us. What happened since then had been disastrous. What we didn't know is that humankind doesn't want to wage war, not unless there is a good incentive. War, to them, is the engine that generates what they want most of all: money. It's a concept long forgotten by most intergalactic species. We never imagined this would be our downfall. Initially, our existence was greeted with human curiosity. We taught them a lot of modern technology to help them assist us in our war. It only took the humans eight years to obliterate the enemy. It was a massacre of enormous proportions. Galactic clouds of poisonous gasses rained down on the enemy planets, nuclear strikes took out their military bases, and tactical strike teams captured, tortured, and beheaded their political leaders. But then everything changed. They labeled us as terrorists. We, the peaceful collective of alien species spread across fifteen thousand planets, were labeled as terrorists because we apparently withheld a source of energy that the humans coveted. The remains of our ancestors buried deep under the soil. They call it "oil". The year is 2028 on planet earth. We are sitting down with the same president once more. It is rumoured that this president had been in power in these united states since 2016. We have been reduced in numbers, from 800 trillion living beings across all of our planets to only 60 billion today. We just want to negotiate peace with this human. "Mister president, we thank you for your help. You succeeded where none of us dared to take action." The president made some notes on a little device in his hands. "We had no idea that this substance was so important to humanity. To us, it's merely a pollutant." The president kept writing on his device. "We've setup a constant array of freighters from two thousand planets to supply the planet Earth with oil." The president looked up at the alien representative. "Спасибо, прекрасно," the president muttered. "Пока! Счастливого пути!" The translation devices did their job and the alien rose up from her chair, satisfied with the results of this meeting. As she left the room and closed the door she heard the satisfying words spoken by president Putin of the United States of America: "Take care of her."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	#Commander Vibrath of the Perseus military observatory - Log C1 Local Solar Time 781.012071 The Council reached a consensus. They are desperate. And not without cause...<sigh> The entire outer Scutum-Centaurus arm has been overrun in a matter of months, and three of the five task fleets were caught woefully unprepared and almost completely wiped out. So much for a galaxy-wide peace I guess. The invaders, known as the Styrr, were contacted a few years ago, but communications were not particularly fruitful and died out rather quickly. We couldn't have known. We couldn't have known they would be capable of that.. Now we know. They've got some sort of new drive system, far more advanced than anything we've got, that allowed them to travel the intergalactic space in mere hours instead of years. When the tracking stations signalled the alert, it was already far too late; the most important jump points had been taken over and three fleets were in a state of disarray, not knowing who the enemy was, or what they were supposed to do. Still, Humans!? Really? We froze them for a good reason. They are a morally deprived species, no different from the Styrr themselves. We cannot rely on them to act in our interest, hell we can't even rely on them to act in their own interest. Then again, if we do not apply some miraculous new strategy soon, the entire galaxy will be overrun in less than two years. Here's to hoping. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012081 The EM sensors actually managed to pick up the subtle drop in background noise from the Sol neighbourhood. The quantum lock on the old Human planets has been lifted, and their worlds are once again full of motion and life - as if nothing ever happened, except the stars are suddenly in a different position. Communications were set up, data shared and the Humans agreed in a surprisingly short amount of time. You'd think they'd be hesitant to join a losing war against a technologically superior opponent with the very people who froze them in time. We already have over half a dozen races that ceased communications with Head Command, preferring instead to hide, deep below the surfaces of their planets, in pods in deep space. Sleeping, waiting, hoping.. anything but wage war. But the Humans thrive on this. In the thousands of years they've spent killing each other, they've only ever gotten more enthusiastic about it. It seems that with every new energy technology they just think of ways to blow up cities more easily, or built bigger weapons. They are dangerous. But maybe dangerous is what we need: Scutum-Centaurus is now rapidly going dark, meaning the Styrr have captured all of the relay stations, and most of the planets and orbital habitats! It's insane; nobody has ever conquered a fully developed colony in less than a year, but the Styrr have subdued thousands already in only 4 months. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012242 Scutum-Centaurus went completely dark. All we can do now for the poor souls under Styrr occupation is hope, and prepare for what's coming. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012319 The Humans are on the move. They've crossed the Norma arm twice and are almost ready to jump into Styrr border territory. They've been given some of our older vessels, I'm not sure what that's supposed to do against the Styrr, when they're clearly ahead of us in energy technology and probably military technology as well. This better work; Aquila is going dark as well. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012380 Finally some good news: the Humans sent several reports from the edge of Scutum-Centaurus, in the Crassus system, indicating they've successfully raided several orbital stations and landed on at least one planet. No response from the Styrr yet. The Styrr fleet is probably going to make short work of them, but then, even if they get wiped out, the Humans have at least been a good delaying action. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012384 The Styrr jumped to the Outer arm! They came out of nowhere, it's a complete disaster! Head command was evacuated in time and the higher ranks escaped unharmed, but the central headquarters was clearly the prime target and destroyed in a short fight, before 3rd fleet came in to stop the push with great losses. After destruction of HQ communications, we've lost contact with the Human Main Fleet, but judging by the lack of progress on Aquila, the Styrr are now focussing on the Human counter-attack and will be in contact with their fleet before the end of 012400. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012404 Signals from Scutum-Centaurus. Most likely Human messages! The signals are extremely redshifted by the Styrr cloaking fields, and we're only receiving tiny bits of information through all the noise, but our analysts are certain they can soon decipher the messages. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012406 They're... alive. More than that: they successfully fended off the Styrr attack and fully control one planet. This is monumental! If they can hold against the Styrr with outdated weapons than maybe all is not lost after all. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012411 Things are looking less and less certain every the day. A while ago we got a message from Human Main Fleet indicating they successfully captured several small Styrr ships. If that is true, they could reverse engineer them and undo the technological advantages the Styrr have. Fate would have it however, that the Crassus system went completely dark a few days later. Most likely the Styrr swung in with the brunt of their fleet and regained full control. In light of recent tactical successes however, Central Command has decided to attach Human technical teams, advisers and marines to the ships in 4th and 5th fleet, to boost their tactical prowess. They have set course for Aquila to prepare a strong defensive position against the expected continuation of the Styrr offensive in that cluster. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012456 The cloak lifted this morning, only to reveal not one, but twenty-four star systems in Scutum-Centaurus fully under Human control! It seems they've successfully mobilized the local auto-mines and manufacturing districts, as their fleet has actually grown with the addition of several small gunboats. All this would be marvellous if not for one thing: "They are not responding anymore." ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012458 SHIT An encrypted message from the Crassus system, was received on 4th and 5th fleet earlier this day. We don't know what it said, but we can guess, as the ships became unresponsive for several hours, when all of a sudden material was expulsed from the airlocks... Dead material. The Humans have taken control of the ships, slaughtering every other species on board. It is a full-scale rebellion! 4th immediately jumped to the Sol region to protect the core Human territories. 5th set course for the inner systems. They're heading for us! How could they when the Styrr are right on our doorstep? ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012527 They have taken all of Aquila. They bombarded the colonies. The colonies! Billions, billions and billions of people, all massacred from orbit. Paradise and life turned into ash and tomb. Nothing to gain there, they just killed them. They are worse than the Styrr! 1st, 2nd and 3rd fleet fought fiercely, but they were already battered and could not stop the Human fleets, which are growing much faster than we are. Meanwhile the Styrr have entered on the other side of the galaxy, in Auriga. More systems going black. They do not seem to bother each other much... or at all really. Could it be? We are evacuating Perseus observatory, for fear of a raid from the nearby Styrr. We will be relocating to the galaxy center, along with Head Command, and most of what's left of the fleet, to protect the core systems of the Head races. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548713 WE ARE DOOMED They are allied. The Styrr and Human fleet are operating alongside each other. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548746 We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken all the outer arms, and the quadrant fortresses. Remnant Fleet fought bravely while we retreated colony ships towards the galaxy center, up until their very destruction. We are held up in the Core systems. They set up sentries along the perimeter. We cannot get out. They are coming. We cannot get out. ------------------ Local Solar Time < ERROR: INVALID LOCATION > IQ6&\‘D¸œ¨8ýõÅ0vÕïwÎ³w™]_ö{ŠØl»nqÙTò!{›Ú6üò#ï¨²úý4bÝÅ"}-·&<ØÄã.îb›8¼§	"No, mister president, we can't build a wall between our galaxies. That would be–" the alien had to choose her words carefully as she did not intend on insulting the most powerful man on earth. "It would be extremely expensive and rather time consuming." "No. We will make them pay for it," the most powerful elected man of the free world proclaimed with his chin up high and a very self-assured look in his beady little eyes. This plan, a big wall, was one he came up with over a decade ago. It never got to fruition because the one in charge didn't live up to his promises. The alien delegation looked outside the White House's windows and stared up at the blue sky above. Birds flew over, people walked the streets, the sun felt pleasantly and inviting. It all looked so peaceful. They had been warned and taught that the human race was a war mongering and murderous horde of masochistic sociopaths. It seemed so far from the truth, but they knew better. They had seen their hidden movements over the years. They looked back at the president. He looked harmless enough, though they knew not to underestimate him. This man has the weaponised power of a thousand suns under the press of his finger. He could, on a whim, obliterate their entire delegation of just under a thousand representatives of alien races. Maybe he was right, we thought. Make the other side pay for a wall, they could attract a field of space debris and rocks and keep it in place, a distance spanning over 3 light years in all directions. The enemy would be interested in keeping the humans at bay. Making a wall to keep the humans out might actually work. It never happened. That was fourteen years ago. We reached out to the quarantined species of humankind and contacted their most powerful leader to assist us. What happened since then had been disastrous. What we didn't know is that humankind doesn't want to wage war, not unless there is a good incentive. War, to them, is the engine that generates what they want most of all: money. It's a concept long forgotten by most intergalactic species. We never imagined this would be our downfall. Initially, our existence was greeted with human curiosity. We taught them a lot of modern technology to help them assist us in our war. It only took the humans eight years to obliterate the enemy. It was a massacre of enormous proportions. Galactic clouds of poisonous gasses rained down on the enemy planets, nuclear strikes took out their military bases, and tactical strike teams captured, tortured, and beheaded their political leaders. But then everything changed. They labeled us as terrorists. We, the peaceful collective of alien species spread across fifteen thousand planets, were labeled as terrorists because we apparently withheld a source of energy that the humans coveted. The remains of our ancestors buried deep under the soil. They call it "oil". The year is 2028 on planet earth. We are sitting down with the same president once more. It is rumoured that this president had been in power in these united states since 2016. We have been reduced in numbers, from 800 trillion living beings across all of our planets to only 60 billion today. We just want to negotiate peace with this human. "Mister president, we thank you for your help. You succeeded where none of us dared to take action." The president made some notes on a little device in his hands. "We had no idea that this substance was so important to humanity. To us, it's merely a pollutant." The president kept writing on his device. "We've setup a constant array of freighters from two thousand planets to supply the planet Earth with oil." The president looked up at the alien representative. "Спасибо, прекрасно," the president muttered. "Пока! Счастливого пути!" The translation devices did their job and the alien rose up from her chair, satisfied with the results of this meeting. As she left the room and closed the door she heard the satisfying words spoken by president Putin of the United States of America: "Take care of her."
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	#Commander Vibrath of the Perseus military observatory - Log C1 Local Solar Time 781.012071 The Council reached a consensus. They are desperate. And not without cause...<sigh> The entire outer Scutum-Centaurus arm has been overrun in a matter of months, and three of the five task fleets were caught woefully unprepared and almost completely wiped out. So much for a galaxy-wide peace I guess. The invaders, known as the Styrr, were contacted a few years ago, but communications were not particularly fruitful and died out rather quickly. We couldn't have known. We couldn't have known they would be capable of that.. Now we know. They've got some sort of new drive system, far more advanced than anything we've got, that allowed them to travel the intergalactic space in mere hours instead of years. When the tracking stations signalled the alert, it was already far too late; the most important jump points had been taken over and three fleets were in a state of disarray, not knowing who the enemy was, or what they were supposed to do. Still, Humans!? Really? We froze them for a good reason. They are a morally deprived species, no different from the Styrr themselves. We cannot rely on them to act in our interest, hell we can't even rely on them to act in their own interest. Then again, if we do not apply some miraculous new strategy soon, the entire galaxy will be overrun in less than two years. Here's to hoping. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012081 The EM sensors actually managed to pick up the subtle drop in background noise from the Sol neighbourhood. The quantum lock on the old Human planets has been lifted, and their worlds are once again full of motion and life - as if nothing ever happened, except the stars are suddenly in a different position. Communications were set up, data shared and the Humans agreed in a surprisingly short amount of time. You'd think they'd be hesitant to join a losing war against a technologically superior opponent with the very people who froze them in time. We already have over half a dozen races that ceased communications with Head Command, preferring instead to hide, deep below the surfaces of their planets, in pods in deep space. Sleeping, waiting, hoping.. anything but wage war. But the Humans thrive on this. In the thousands of years they've spent killing each other, they've only ever gotten more enthusiastic about it. It seems that with every new energy technology they just think of ways to blow up cities more easily, or built bigger weapons. They are dangerous. But maybe dangerous is what we need: Scutum-Centaurus is now rapidly going dark, meaning the Styrr have captured all of the relay stations, and most of the planets and orbital habitats! It's insane; nobody has ever conquered a fully developed colony in less than a year, but the Styrr have subdued thousands already in only 4 months. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012242 Scutum-Centaurus went completely dark. All we can do now for the poor souls under Styrr occupation is hope, and prepare for what's coming. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012319 The Humans are on the move. They've crossed the Norma arm twice and are almost ready to jump into Styrr border territory. They've been given some of our older vessels, I'm not sure what that's supposed to do against the Styrr, when they're clearly ahead of us in energy technology and probably military technology as well. This better work; Aquila is going dark as well. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012380 Finally some good news: the Humans sent several reports from the edge of Scutum-Centaurus, in the Crassus system, indicating they've successfully raided several orbital stations and landed on at least one planet. No response from the Styrr yet. The Styrr fleet is probably going to make short work of them, but then, even if they get wiped out, the Humans have at least been a good delaying action. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012384 The Styrr jumped to the Outer arm! They came out of nowhere, it's a complete disaster! Head command was evacuated in time and the higher ranks escaped unharmed, but the central headquarters was clearly the prime target and destroyed in a short fight, before 3rd fleet came in to stop the push with great losses. After destruction of HQ communications, we've lost contact with the Human Main Fleet, but judging by the lack of progress on Aquila, the Styrr are now focussing on the Human counter-attack and will be in contact with their fleet before the end of 012400. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012404 Signals from Scutum-Centaurus. Most likely Human messages! The signals are extremely redshifted by the Styrr cloaking fields, and we're only receiving tiny bits of information through all the noise, but our analysts are certain they can soon decipher the messages. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012406 They're... alive. More than that: they successfully fended off the Styrr attack and fully control one planet. This is monumental! If they can hold against the Styrr with outdated weapons than maybe all is not lost after all. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012411 Things are looking less and less certain every the day. A while ago we got a message from Human Main Fleet indicating they successfully captured several small Styrr ships. If that is true, they could reverse engineer them and undo the technological advantages the Styrr have. Fate would have it however, that the Crassus system went completely dark a few days later. Most likely the Styrr swung in with the brunt of their fleet and regained full control. In light of recent tactical successes however, Central Command has decided to attach Human technical teams, advisers and marines to the ships in 4th and 5th fleet, to boost their tactical prowess. They have set course for Aquila to prepare a strong defensive position against the expected continuation of the Styrr offensive in that cluster. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012456 The cloak lifted this morning, only to reveal not one, but twenty-four star systems in Scutum-Centaurus fully under Human control! It seems they've successfully mobilized the local auto-mines and manufacturing districts, as their fleet has actually grown with the addition of several small gunboats. All this would be marvellous if not for one thing: "They are not responding anymore." ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012458 SHIT An encrypted message from the Crassus system, was received on 4th and 5th fleet earlier this day. We don't know what it said, but we can guess, as the ships became unresponsive for several hours, when all of a sudden material was expulsed from the airlocks... Dead material. The Humans have taken control of the ships, slaughtering every other species on board. It is a full-scale rebellion! 4th immediately jumped to the Sol region to protect the core Human territories. 5th set course for the inner systems. They're heading for us! How could they when the Styrr are right on our doorstep? ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012527 They have taken all of Aquila. They bombarded the colonies. The colonies! Billions, billions and billions of people, all massacred from orbit. Paradise and life turned into ash and tomb. Nothing to gain there, they just killed them. They are worse than the Styrr! 1st, 2nd and 3rd fleet fought fiercely, but they were already battered and could not stop the Human fleets, which are growing much faster than we are. Meanwhile the Styrr have entered on the other side of the galaxy, in Auriga. More systems going black. They do not seem to bother each other much... or at all really. Could it be? We are evacuating Perseus observatory, for fear of a raid from the nearby Styrr. We will be relocating to the galaxy center, along with Head Command, and most of what's left of the fleet, to protect the core systems of the Head races. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548713 WE ARE DOOMED They are allied. The Styrr and Human fleet are operating alongside each other. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548746 We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken all the outer arms, and the quadrant fortresses. Remnant Fleet fought bravely while we retreated colony ships towards the galaxy center, up until their very destruction. We are held up in the Core systems. They set up sentries along the perimeter. We cannot get out. They are coming. We cannot get out. ------------------ Local Solar Time < ERROR: INVALID LOCATION > IQ6&\‘D¸œ¨8ýõÅ0vÕïwÎ³w™]_ö{ŠØl»nqÙTò!{›Ú6üò#ï¨²úý4bÝÅ"}-·&<ØÄã.îb›8¼§	"Captain on the bridge!" shouted Hector Banks, head of security for the Armstrong. Ophelia Levitan stepped through the white-door and into the only Milky Way class vessel that the Solaris Alliance had so far completed. It was certainly a step up from the first ship she'd boarded, back when she'd been only a child. An evacuation shuttle taking her away from Ganymede, as war had swept over even those isolated moons. Ganymede has been destroyed. There was nothing left but an asteroid belt where it had once been, and a commemorative satellite for the eighty million dead. No trace of any bodies had ever been found. Not of her parents or her brother. They'd been too old, their jobs too unimportant. "At ease," commanded Ophelia, raising a hand. The crew looked at each other, their faces taught with confusion. Then, one by one, they slowly sunk into their seats. They were nervous. Rightfully so too, Ophelia knew. The first real test run of ancient alien tech, held and then given to them as a bargaining chip, to join a war that the Jit'ux were clearly losing. Humans had not settled for only the engine technology. Naturally. When they realised the Jit'ux were so desperate, that they would do anything, they twisted their arm for further advances. What choice had the aliens had? Either they gave us the technology we demanded, or they were made extinct. Ophelia looked over her crew. Her navigator, Hezekiah Sharp, was clearly Mecurian born. His skin was covered in, what at first glance appeared to be tattoos, but was in reality heat reflecting nano-metal. It gave him an iridescent shine whenever he swivelled on his seat beneath the spot lights. Kit Lawson sat at the weapon control panel. The power of a hundred thousand neo-nukes rested beneath her fingers. Could she be trusted with that responsibility? Her test scores were by far the highest in her class, but out on the field... could she destroy a city, if push came to shove? A world? Personally, Ophelia would have picked someone with more experience, but that hadn't been her call. "Ma'am," said Alexzander Brice, communications officer. "Should I inform Earth that we're ready to leave orbit?" Ophelia said nothing, instead walking across to her seat. She sunk down into it. The leather was soft and plush and cold beneath her. She clicked her neck. "Is our guest on board?" "He -- its -- in the brig, as requested," said Hector. "But speaking freely, I don't think the Jit'ux deserve that level of distrust, Ma'am." "I didn't grant you permission to speak freely." Hector opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. Good, he'd heard of her. He would take her seriously. They'd all need to obey her unflinchingly, if they were to have any chance of succeeding in what appeared to be a suicide mission. First contact with an ultra aggressive, ravenous for war, alien species. Not so unlike humanity, Ophelia mused. Only, up to now we hadn't had the tech to do any serious damage beyond our own system. "Miss Brice. Tell command we are ready to leave dock." "Uh, yes Ma'am." The pull of the ship as it left the bay thrust Ophelia back against her chair. It was a pleasing feeling. The Jit'ux had no idea what they had released on the universe. But Ophelia new. And she a smile crept over her lips at the thought. They would be the saviour of the Jit'ux. For now.
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	There was a heavy silence in the room as the hologram display flickered to life. It was a grim and hopeless kind of silence. It was a silence that had managed to usurp what was disordered bickering between dozens of interstellar leaders and turn it into a funeral procession. The figure in the center of the room watched as the conclave of leaders gazed at the display with a slow apprehension of horror visible in their eyes or whatever visual sense organ they possessed. At last, a guttural toned voice broke the silence. "This... it cannot be." The figure recognized the sentiment. Denial. It turned to face the alien leader. It was large in mass, with a thick azure carapace. The alien leader of the Kragi species. "It is," said the figure simply. "How long do we have?" a small furry bodied alien asked as it stared up at the hologram display. The figure tiled its head upwards to glance at the hologram of the Large Magellanic Cloud, then turned to the alien leaders that were arranged in a circle around it. "Not long. It appears that their fleet are capable of interstellar travel. They are a species that we have not been aware of until recently... When we discovered them, they had already eliminated all of their neighboring inhabitants within the galaxy. How unfortunate." An uproar of grunts and curses fill the room. A screech silenced the room. "What are our chances of defeating this hostile species?" asked a raspy, monotone voice. The figure turned to look at the alien. It had mandibles that clicked together as it spoke. The Tieopna species. "We face a 99.9812874 percent chance of complete annihilation at their hands," answered the figure in the center of the room. "What do you suggest we do?" a voice asked from among the Conclave of alien leaders. "We will fight! Fight to the death!" roared the small furry alien. "No. We must be rational about this," said the Kragi leader as he glared down at the small furry alien. "Vul'zama," the Kragi leader gestured at the figure with a massive arm. "You have called us today to tell us of our doom. You must have a possible resolution to this predicament." Vul'zama, the leader of the conclave who had called for the meeting nodded its ethereal head- merely a translucent shape that shimmered with the light. "Indeed," said Vul'zama. "It is not a definite solution. We face utter annihilation but with the help of a certain species, we may perhaps change our doomed fate." They rejoice. There are sighs of relief from the Conclave. "And what species are we talking about?" asked another voice from among the Conclave. "It is with the help of the humans." Another uproar from the Conclave. Overwhelming disapproval. "The exiled Humans?!" "Those senseless self-warring warmongers!?" "Absolutely unacceptable! They invaded our planet and took my fellow brothers and sisters as pets!" screeched the tiny furry alien. Vul'zama raised a translucent limb into the air, calming the crowd of alien leaders. "Indeed. We had exiled the humans, trapped them in their own planet via a sphere of warped space..." Vul'zama sweeped a hand upwards. The hologram shifted and zoomed across the a vast sea of stars until it settled on a blue planet. A simmering translucent barrier enveloped the planet. It was Earth. "The Humans, they were unpredictable, irrational, and volatile. Their endless greed and passion for war would have been the end of us all, but now... we face extermination, and the humans? They will be our weapon," said Vul'zama. A weapon that could very well back-fire on ourselves, thought Vul'zama. He didn't dare say it aloud. "Vul'zama, have you forgotten about how humans liked to wage war among themselves?" asked the Kragi leader. "They have no unity. They do not have a single leader, but hundreds of different leaders vying for domination over one another. It is foolish to even-" Vul'zama raised his limb into the air again. "That... will not be an issue." Vul'zama turned around and sweeped his arm over the hologram of Earth. The Barrier dissipated. The Conclave of aliens gasped. Vul'zama continued before the Conclave could start another uproar of disapproval. "We will descend upon the Earth shortly and each of us-" Vul'zama glared at each alien with glowing emerald pockets of light, "-will collect a suitable human leader before returning here for further assessment. We will then conduct a contest between them to determine the human that will lead their species." Vul'zama glanced around the room and saw the reluctance in their eyes. "Do not return until you have a human to bring back," he ordered again for extra measure. "Dismissed." ---------- Meanwhile on Earth, the human race are rejoicing as they hear the news. 'Unknown Barrier around Earth has disappeared' the voice of a news reporter repeats loudly from the television upstairs. "Alex! Come up stairs!" Alex's mom shouts. Alex who is holed up in his basement playing Starcraft 4, tilts his head as he wonders what is going on upstairs. Then he notices a translucent figure in the corner of his eye. It moves. Alex screams like a girl as he jumps out of his seat. The figure speaks, a voice that resounds deeply within his head. "Hello human." -------- /r/em_pathy	"Captain on the bridge!" shouted Hector Banks, head of security for the Armstrong. Ophelia Levitan stepped through the white-door and into the only Milky Way class vessel that the Solaris Alliance had so far completed. It was certainly a step up from the first ship she'd boarded, back when she'd been only a child. An evacuation shuttle taking her away from Ganymede, as war had swept over even those isolated moons. Ganymede has been destroyed. There was nothing left but an asteroid belt where it had once been, and a commemorative satellite for the eighty million dead. No trace of any bodies had ever been found. Not of her parents or her brother. They'd been too old, their jobs too unimportant. "At ease," commanded Ophelia, raising a hand. The crew looked at each other, their faces taught with confusion. Then, one by one, they slowly sunk into their seats. They were nervous. Rightfully so too, Ophelia knew. The first real test run of ancient alien tech, held and then given to them as a bargaining chip, to join a war that the Jit'ux were clearly losing. Humans had not settled for only the engine technology. Naturally. When they realised the Jit'ux were so desperate, that they would do anything, they twisted their arm for further advances. What choice had the aliens had? Either they gave us the technology we demanded, or they were made extinct. Ophelia looked over her crew. Her navigator, Hezekiah Sharp, was clearly Mecurian born. His skin was covered in, what at first glance appeared to be tattoos, but was in reality heat reflecting nano-metal. It gave him an iridescent shine whenever he swivelled on his seat beneath the spot lights. Kit Lawson sat at the weapon control panel. The power of a hundred thousand neo-nukes rested beneath her fingers. Could she be trusted with that responsibility? Her test scores were by far the highest in her class, but out on the field... could she destroy a city, if push came to shove? A world? Personally, Ophelia would have picked someone with more experience, but that hadn't been her call. "Ma'am," said Alexzander Brice, communications officer. "Should I inform Earth that we're ready to leave orbit?" Ophelia said nothing, instead walking across to her seat. She sunk down into it. The leather was soft and plush and cold beneath her. She clicked her neck. "Is our guest on board?" "He -- its -- in the brig, as requested," said Hector. "But speaking freely, I don't think the Jit'ux deserve that level of distrust, Ma'am." "I didn't grant you permission to speak freely." Hector opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. Good, he'd heard of her. He would take her seriously. They'd all need to obey her unflinchingly, if they were to have any chance of succeeding in what appeared to be a suicide mission. First contact with an ultra aggressive, ravenous for war, alien species. Not so unlike humanity, Ophelia mused. Only, up to now we hadn't had the tech to do any serious damage beyond our own system. "Miss Brice. Tell command we are ready to leave dock." "Uh, yes Ma'am." The pull of the ship as it left the bay thrust Ophelia back against her chair. It was a pleasing feeling. The Jit'ux had no idea what they had released on the universe. But Ophelia new. And she a smile crept over her lips at the thought. They would be the saviour of the Jit'ux. For now.
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	An entire sector wiped out. Just like that. Quan Kalak looked at the holographic representation of red vs green play out in the center of the chamber, contemplative as the rest of the council debated the issue with feigned serenity, brushing it off as a minor infraction from the Magellanic Cloud - just another recently ascended species with a love of war seeking to expand its domain. Could the crotchety old fools not see what was transpiring? “No, no, we are not under threat. These primitive lifeforms have not even brushed against our core defensive grid. I doubt they shall even make it that far. Besides, the combined fleet is on its way as we speak. I have no doubt these primitives will be dealt with swiftly enough. Have no fear. We saw the Kurians attempt the same five millennia ago. These insectoids are nothing to us.” Councilman Yeovan of the Scalls spoke with an authority and a volume that transcended his small reptilian frame. And he was wrong, Quan was sure of it. To speak against him was not a diplomatic move. The Scalls did not take kindly to dissent, and were known for their ruthlessness in ensuring their influence over the galactic council. Quan raised an appendage, signalling his desire to respond. “Honored Yeovan,” Quan began, “it is true, indeed, that the combined fleet is formidable, and yes, the outer defensive perimeter is little compared to our core defensive grid… ” He took a deep breath before continuing, flexing his carapace, looking at each council member in turn before returning his gaze to Yeovan. “... yet we cannot deny the swiftness with which these primitives, as you call them, have managed to completely disintegrate our defenses. Have we been watching the same report, councilman? Do you see that?” Quan pointed at the looping hologram amidst them, his eyes fixed firmly on Yeovan. “That happened within the timeframe of a hundredth of a galactic rotation. You mention The Kurian invasion, the greatest threat we’ve faced since the insurrection of Man, yet you seem oblivious to the fact that the Kurians never managed to secure as large a sector within such a short timeframe as this.“ The hologram looped again and again, showing the infestation as it first touched the galactic quadrant and spread inwards. Towards them. A wave of red crashing upon the otherwise peaceful shores of their galaxy. The council went quiet for a moment. A few members communicated subtly between themselves. Yeovan raised his scaled appendage to respond, seemingly unperturbed. “Your point, Quan Kalak of the Sinnsiak, is well understood.” Interspecies communication was a complex field and it was rarely wise to read too much into the subtleties of tonal and non-verbal communication patterns, but Quan had had enough dealings with the Scall to understand why Yeovan felt like pointing out what species Quan represented. Insectoids weren’t supposed to be intelligent or dangerous. The Sinnsiak were the exception, and so far they were the only civilized species of insectoids to be granted a seat on the galactic council. To the chagrin of the Scall, of course, who long lobbied against their inclusion. But Quan couldn’t point out their biases, nor would his pride allow it. Yeovan continued. “They move quickly, yes, but all our intelligence paints these insectoids as being of the hive-variant. Their strategies are rarely well formulated and depend largely on surprise and shock. Any prolonged conflict will inevitably lead us to a solid profile of their limited capacity for strategy. We will best them, rest assured. You worry too much, Quan.” The Scall version of a smile was disgusting. Quan had no doubt that in this instance it was meant to be. Quan gave up. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps not. Either way he did not hold enough sway within the council to convince all of them. Yet a few, amongst them the reptillians of Urku and the mammalians of Haitha, seemed to have taken his point to heart even though they did not dare communicate it out loud. They all agreed to wait for news from the combined fleet, or rather to await the spectacular victory that was so certain according to Yeovan. The meeting adjourned, and the councilmembers retreated through their gates and back home to their respective homeworlds. Except Quan. He went directly to the docks of the Citadel station. “Pilot,” he said as he entered his carrier-ship, the Swarmer. “Patriarch,” hummed the Pilot as he descended from the flight-deck, connected tendrils suspending him in front of Quan. His antenna quivered as he exposed his thorax, the old sign of submission. A little archaic to Quan’s taste, but he’d long since given up on convincing his subordinates to do otherwise. “We’ve a journey ahead, but I need the departure logs on this citadel to speak of a different destination than where we are actually going.” “Aaah,” buzzed the Pilot, “and where is it we are… not going?” The council obviously couldn’t see the potential danger, but Quan did, or at least he thought he did. So why not take a few precautions? Precautions which, if found out, most certainly would sour the Sinnsiaks reputation within the galactic community. To hell with it, he thought. “Sol.” ---------- Admiral Peterson floated on the observation deck of his lavish offices on Frontera station, eyes on the Portal and the vast Milkyway framed behind it. Or, as it was usually described - the prison gate. Within that ten times ten kilometer wide oblong frame, warp was enabled. Nowhere else in the system of Sol could anyone enter, and no ship could leave through the gate unless it was of alien origin. Whatever technology the xenos had implemented across Sol, it was annoyingly effective at suppressing warp-space travel. Not just that - Humanity's latest attempt at Colonization, the New Eden initiative, had been disintegrated as soon as it had left the warp-curbing field. 50.000 thousand souls gone in the blink of an eye, the latest cloaking technology proving insufficient at preventing detection by their xeno-jailors. A few more hundred years, and they’d no doubt try again. And probably fail, like so many times before. Admiral Peterson felt a wave of anger rise up in him. Humanity remained trapped within an overcrowded system with only two self-sustaining biospheres - Mars and Earth. Colonies were established systemwide on whatever planetoid was large enough, but it was not enough. It was never enough. And what happens when you pack a too many humans into a tight space with limited resources? Conflict. War. He was an admiral of the Unified Front of Man and considered himself beyond inter-human conflicts. In his estimation it was the greatest shame of being of Man - that in place of a unifying enemy the species was so quick to turn upon itself. He’d never apologize for being human though, least of all to the xenos. “Can you imagine, Jacky, that we were conquerors once?” “Mmhm,” responded his cyberchinetic intelligence officer from the corner of his office. Jacky was plugged into the Feed, updating himself on the various calamities occurring throughout Sol, sifting information that might be of benefit to his Admiral. “Not just that. We were unified, as one. We had dozens of systems under the confederacy… “ “Sounds sweet, sir. For us at least. But seems to me, considering our present circumstances, that we might’ve pissed of a few too many xenos.” “Yes, there’s that…” The admiral sighed deeply, then turned away from the observation deck and retreated further into his office. He hovered over Jacky, regarding the indecipherable symbols flashing by on the monitor. “So, how is that insurgency in Callisto working out?” “Inefficient revolutionaries, sir. They’ve secured half the moon but the UFM just arrived. Progress reports indicate light resistance, civilian casualties in the thousands. Humanitarian organizations keep spamming the feed with anti-UFM propaganda, but that’s to be expected.” “Same old same old,” Peterson said, massaging his temples. “Any other-” The screech of klaxons cut him off. Jacky jerked awkwardly - sensory overload from the Feed, coupled with digital emergency alerts and a good dose of auditory stimuli was enough rile even the most efficient cyber. “Status-report, Jacky?” Jackys eyes rolled in their sockets. He opened his mouth, drool draining from his lips as he struggled to form words. “Look… Outside.” Admiral Peterson turned towards the observation deck and the sight beyond. This time his heart jumped. 550 years since their latest intrusion and barely three years since they’d snuffed out the 50.000 thousand souls of the Eden Initiative. They had returned. A vicious smile formed on his lips as he saw the spiked shape of what was obviously a xeno-ship emerge slowly from the Portal. “Jacky,” “Online again, sir. Sorry about that.” “Nevermind. Prepare the welcome committee." “All of them, sir?” “Yes. And signal the Magnanimous - they’re free to launch their loads.” “Sir, I’m not sure we should engage immediat- “Do it!” Finally, 550 years of advancement in weapon technology would be put to the the only test that mattered. Admiral Peterson couldn’t wait.	"Captain on the bridge!" shouted Hector Banks, head of security for the Armstrong. Ophelia Levitan stepped through the white-door and into the only Milky Way class vessel that the Solaris Alliance had so far completed. It was certainly a step up from the first ship she'd boarded, back when she'd been only a child. An evacuation shuttle taking her away from Ganymede, as war had swept over even those isolated moons. Ganymede has been destroyed. There was nothing left but an asteroid belt where it had once been, and a commemorative satellite for the eighty million dead. No trace of any bodies had ever been found. Not of her parents or her brother. They'd been too old, their jobs too unimportant. "At ease," commanded Ophelia, raising a hand. The crew looked at each other, their faces taught with confusion. Then, one by one, they slowly sunk into their seats. They were nervous. Rightfully so too, Ophelia knew. The first real test run of ancient alien tech, held and then given to them as a bargaining chip, to join a war that the Jit'ux were clearly losing. Humans had not settled for only the engine technology. Naturally. When they realised the Jit'ux were so desperate, that they would do anything, they twisted their arm for further advances. What choice had the aliens had? Either they gave us the technology we demanded, or they were made extinct. Ophelia looked over her crew. Her navigator, Hezekiah Sharp, was clearly Mecurian born. His skin was covered in, what at first glance appeared to be tattoos, but was in reality heat reflecting nano-metal. It gave him an iridescent shine whenever he swivelled on his seat beneath the spot lights. Kit Lawson sat at the weapon control panel. The power of a hundred thousand neo-nukes rested beneath her fingers. Could she be trusted with that responsibility? Her test scores were by far the highest in her class, but out on the field... could she destroy a city, if push came to shove? A world? Personally, Ophelia would have picked someone with more experience, but that hadn't been her call. "Ma'am," said Alexzander Brice, communications officer. "Should I inform Earth that we're ready to leave orbit?" Ophelia said nothing, instead walking across to her seat. She sunk down into it. The leather was soft and plush and cold beneath her. She clicked her neck. "Is our guest on board?" "He -- its -- in the brig, as requested," said Hector. "But speaking freely, I don't think the Jit'ux deserve that level of distrust, Ma'am." "I didn't grant you permission to speak freely." Hector opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. Good, he'd heard of her. He would take her seriously. They'd all need to obey her unflinchingly, if they were to have any chance of succeeding in what appeared to be a suicide mission. First contact with an ultra aggressive, ravenous for war, alien species. Not so unlike humanity, Ophelia mused. Only, up to now we hadn't had the tech to do any serious damage beyond our own system. "Miss Brice. Tell command we are ready to leave dock." "Uh, yes Ma'am." The pull of the ship as it left the bay thrust Ophelia back against her chair. It was a pleasing feeling. The Jit'ux had no idea what they had released on the universe. But Ophelia new. And she a smile crept over her lips at the thought. They would be the saviour of the Jit'ux. For now.
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	Mars was chosen as the rendezvous point. The Volters, representatives of the Federation, could travel easily to almost any corner of the galaxy, but a measure of consideration was made for the humans. After all, hyperspace teleportation was a finicky affair, and the newest members of the Federation had yet to master the intricacies required. As per custom, the respective delegations assigned one agent each to the deliberations. They sat at opposite ends of the long table, and a golden sphere of circuitry hovered in the air between them. "Have the humans an answer for us?" asked Vox. His feelers twitched with impatience - the humans had delayed their response too many times by now. "We do, Chancellor Vox," said Glenda. She was steepled with age, and it seemed that every word was a genuine struggle. "Finally! Then let us not dally, we all know there can only be one answer. If you would please instruct the Nexus, then we can definitely-” Vox trailed off, unsure of the gesture Glenda was making. She had her palm to him, fingers outstretched in the air. The transponder in his ear buzzed, confirming that he had made the right interpretation. “I’ve been asked to confirm that the Federation is sure that it wants to proceed with this course,” said Glenda. “This is a path of no return, Volter. Once we open Pandora’s Box, the matter is out of our hands.” Vox wasn’t familiar with phrase, but he grasped the meaning. “Ah, you mean that once we agitate the prion connectors, we cannot undo the quarkling. Ask your questions then, Human. Know that when I answer, I speak with the combined authority of the Federation. I speak for all, as the Nexus is my judge.” The golden sphere flashed, and Glenda held the tablet closer to her eyes. “First, how sure is the Federation now that war is imminent with the invaders?” “99.99%, recurring. Initial hopes that a peace may be brokered, or an understanding parlayed, are not grounded in reality. Based on our understanding of the invaders, they have no wish to be join the Federation. They seek only to destroy.” “Then, in that case, have probabilities for success increased?” “No. In fact, they have been revised downwards. The Nexus has confirmed what the hundred species of the Federation have separately long suspected – our combined technological prowess has somehow been dwarfed by the threat which looms over us. We will need at least a century, or more, to even catch-up, and by then, as you are well aware, the Federation would have been destroyed.” “And if us humans refuse your request? If we refuse to share our insights with you?” Vox shook his head. “Extinction, Human. Every single species of the Federation, down to the very last singular entity, consumed by the invaders. But if you join us, help us… then the calculations are different…” Glenda bit her lip, and in that moment Vox knew rage. He was careful not to show it, but he could not deny the blooming fury radiating from his core. The source of his anger surprised even him. He had picked away at the layers, wondering whether it was the seeming lack of urgency on display, or the indecisiveness which plagued every human he had come across. It was a stew of factors, but the core ingredient, the heart of the matter, was the fact that the Federation was beholden to the least advanced species amongst them. The absurdity of the situation had kept Vox up for many a night. It wasn’t as if the humans had any particular claim to relevance – they didn’t have the dexterity of the Minoo, or the creativity of the Lullulla, or even the constitution of the Ethrudity, who could pass through dying stars without so much as a scratch. Heck, the humans didn’t even have the ability of the Volters in communicating with the Nexus. It boggled the mind that everything turned on whether the humans lent their efforts to the war. But the Nexus had clearly indicated that the humans were the only thing which could turn the tides. And the Nexus was never wrong. “Human,” said Vox, after Glenda showed no signs from emerging from her silence. “Your decision, please. We waste precious seconds.” Glenda sighed, then stood up. There was an invisible weight around her neck, pulling her down. She shuffled over to the Nexus, then placed her hands on the sphere, cupping it. The Nexus flared again, and it extended a thousand tendrils of gold into her mind. “Let it be recorded, we from Earth maintain our objections to sharing what we know of war to the Federation. We have long admired the beauty of the Federation, the ideals espoused. You have achieved much of what we have not, and we would never stain such beauty willingly.” “We have made this decision ourselves, Human. Now, please, share with the Nexus what you know.” Slowly at first, then more rapidly, the Nexus began to change colour. Across the galaxy, connected by hyperspace, every member of the Federation felt the effects – it was a subtle one, as faint and delicate a taste as a thimble of the finest whiskey added to a barrel of water. But the AI which connected them all to the Federation, which bound and guided every step and decision they made, was irreversibly evolving, and everyone knew it. “Empathy, that has to go first,” said Glenda. “It will hold you back, tempt you into tolerating, understanding your enemy. You have to leave no space in your heart for the invaders. From here on, you know them as a single class, a single stereotype. It won’t matter if any of them displays any capacity for reason – there is only us on our side, and we will be blinded to any other views. Henceforth, the Nexus will not assist any of you in understanding your place in the bigger picture of life.” The Nexus shifted, dropping a shade of colour. It pulsed under Glenda’s fingertips. “Then, knowledge next. Your young cannot inherit the wisdom you have brewed over the years. They will start afresh, and be as susceptible to prejudice and misconceptions as your ancestors did. Your intelligence implants have to be removed. How your young develop will have to depend on random, uncontrollable fancies of luck – who they mingle with, who they learn under. No more homogenous mindsets, but instead, vastly differing perspectives, with no certainty of commonality.” Vox felt the edge of his perception slip away as the Nexus responded to Glenda’s commands. His eyestalks flicked as he stared at the hundreds of holograms around the room – suddenly, his fellow members in the Federation seemed so… different. He couldn’t believe that there was a time when he believed that they were equal, one amongst all. “Finally, forgiveness…” said Glenda. “Any slights against you, intended or not, will fester. You will be denied the medicines you need to heal such burns. The infection will spread, and you will pass on the hurt to your young as well, like pus from open wounds. You will teach them to hate, and you will teach them that no measure of recompense will ever be enough. You may fall in battle against the invaders, but this affliction… it will course through your bloodlines like the most stubborn of rots, and you will ensure that generations later, your young will avenge you.” Glenda fell to her knees, covering her face. The Nexus soared up higher, and it was now a dull shade of red. It was still unused to its new prerogatives, but the direction was now clear. Across the galaxy, across the infinity of stars, the Nexus was pumping out its commands, and it was awakening something in the Federation, something they had not known for eons, something which struck at the core of their unity… but which perhaps would give them a chance to live to another day. Bloodlust. /r/rarelyfunny	"Captain on the bridge!" shouted Hector Banks, head of security for the Armstrong. Ophelia Levitan stepped through the white-door and into the only Milky Way class vessel that the Solaris Alliance had so far completed. It was certainly a step up from the first ship she'd boarded, back when she'd been only a child. An evacuation shuttle taking her away from Ganymede, as war had swept over even those isolated moons. Ganymede has been destroyed. There was nothing left but an asteroid belt where it had once been, and a commemorative satellite for the eighty million dead. No trace of any bodies had ever been found. Not of her parents or her brother. They'd been too old, their jobs too unimportant. "At ease," commanded Ophelia, raising a hand. The crew looked at each other, their faces taught with confusion. Then, one by one, they slowly sunk into their seats. They were nervous. Rightfully so too, Ophelia knew. The first real test run of ancient alien tech, held and then given to them as a bargaining chip, to join a war that the Jit'ux were clearly losing. Humans had not settled for only the engine technology. Naturally. When they realised the Jit'ux were so desperate, that they would do anything, they twisted their arm for further advances. What choice had the aliens had? Either they gave us the technology we demanded, or they were made extinct. Ophelia looked over her crew. Her navigator, Hezekiah Sharp, was clearly Mecurian born. His skin was covered in, what at first glance appeared to be tattoos, but was in reality heat reflecting nano-metal. It gave him an iridescent shine whenever he swivelled on his seat beneath the spot lights. Kit Lawson sat at the weapon control panel. The power of a hundred thousand neo-nukes rested beneath her fingers. Could she be trusted with that responsibility? Her test scores were by far the highest in her class, but out on the field... could she destroy a city, if push came to shove? A world? Personally, Ophelia would have picked someone with more experience, but that hadn't been her call. "Ma'am," said Alexzander Brice, communications officer. "Should I inform Earth that we're ready to leave orbit?" Ophelia said nothing, instead walking across to her seat. She sunk down into it. The leather was soft and plush and cold beneath her. She clicked her neck. "Is our guest on board?" "He -- its -- in the brig, as requested," said Hector. "But speaking freely, I don't think the Jit'ux deserve that level of distrust, Ma'am." "I didn't grant you permission to speak freely." Hector opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. Good, he'd heard of her. He would take her seriously. They'd all need to obey her unflinchingly, if they were to have any chance of succeeding in what appeared to be a suicide mission. First contact with an ultra aggressive, ravenous for war, alien species. Not so unlike humanity, Ophelia mused. Only, up to now we hadn't had the tech to do any serious damage beyond our own system. "Miss Brice. Tell command we are ready to leave dock." "Uh, yes Ma'am." The pull of the ship as it left the bay thrust Ophelia back against her chair. It was a pleasing feeling. The Jit'ux had no idea what they had released on the universe. But Ophelia new. And she a smile crept over her lips at the thought. They would be the saviour of the Jit'ux. For now.
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	"You want us to go to war?" the Terran ambassador had asked incredulously, "After trapping us here in the Quad Systems for a thousand years. You expect to let loose our leashes and like dogs chase down your hated enemies?" "We do," the Gallius Union Envoy Drone had said, "We will drop the FTL disablers surrounding your quadrant. We have tens of thousands of freighters with supplies waiting to skip in and provide you with whatever you need to build an armada. You must stop them or they will kill us all. You will be given one year to destroy them and then you will return." "Return to our prison?" the ambassador's asked spitefully. "Return to the safety of the sanctuary we provide for you," the drone droned,"Remember, the vote was tied on whether to quarantine or destroy you. It is by the mercy of the Gallius species' single vote that you still exist." "For that you have our gratitude," the ambassador said truthfully, "We shall remember what you did." The excitement that spread around the Quad systems at the news was tangible. True to their word, a week later the FTL disablers were put offline and the drone piloted freighters skipped out of FTL into the systems eagerly awaiting them. Then the disablers went back up as the Terrans went to work building their armada. "How many got out?" the President of the War Union asked the ambassador as they received news of the FTL disablers trapping humanity again. "500 Heavy Carriers, 6,000 Battle Cruisers, 20,000 destroyers, and 100,000 scouts," the ambassador smiled, "They should have known we wouldn't just sit here helplessly. We would have figured a way around the disablers eventually and had a fleet prepared for that day. This Magellanic Cloud invasion just sped things up a few decades is all." "No signs of detection?" the President asked, raising an eyebrow. "We've had their encryption broken for a decade and are monitoring their military channels and there is nary a peep," the answer made the President smile, "It will get lively enough when the FTL disablers are taken offline and let us out for good. Plus the fools gave us enough supplies to build another fleet." "So we'll finally conquer the galaxy that imprisoned us," the President said hopefully, "and humanity will take its rightful place. What of the Gallius? They did keep us alive." "We'll give those damned machines a choice, join us or die," the ambassador smiled, "I bet I know which way they'll vote." "And the threat from the Cloud?" the President asked, genuinely concerned. "I pity them," the ambassador sighed, "Whatever they are, those poor things have no one to ask for help. They have no idea we're coming and we're bringing the fires of Hell with us."	"Captain on the bridge!" shouted Hector Banks, head of security for the Armstrong. Ophelia Levitan stepped through the white-door and into the only Milky Way class vessel that the Solaris Alliance had so far completed. It was certainly a step up from the first ship she'd boarded, back when she'd been only a child. An evacuation shuttle taking her away from Ganymede, as war had swept over even those isolated moons. Ganymede has been destroyed. There was nothing left but an asteroid belt where it had once been, and a commemorative satellite for the eighty million dead. No trace of any bodies had ever been found. Not of her parents or her brother. They'd been too old, their jobs too unimportant. "At ease," commanded Ophelia, raising a hand. The crew looked at each other, their faces taught with confusion. Then, one by one, they slowly sunk into their seats. They were nervous. Rightfully so too, Ophelia knew. The first real test run of ancient alien tech, held and then given to them as a bargaining chip, to join a war that the Jit'ux were clearly losing. Humans had not settled for only the engine technology. Naturally. When they realised the Jit'ux were so desperate, that they would do anything, they twisted their arm for further advances. What choice had the aliens had? Either they gave us the technology we demanded, or they were made extinct. Ophelia looked over her crew. Her navigator, Hezekiah Sharp, was clearly Mecurian born. His skin was covered in, what at first glance appeared to be tattoos, but was in reality heat reflecting nano-metal. It gave him an iridescent shine whenever he swivelled on his seat beneath the spot lights. Kit Lawson sat at the weapon control panel. The power of a hundred thousand neo-nukes rested beneath her fingers. Could she be trusted with that responsibility? Her test scores were by far the highest in her class, but out on the field... could she destroy a city, if push came to shove? A world? Personally, Ophelia would have picked someone with more experience, but that hadn't been her call. "Ma'am," said Alexzander Brice, communications officer. "Should I inform Earth that we're ready to leave orbit?" Ophelia said nothing, instead walking across to her seat. She sunk down into it. The leather was soft and plush and cold beneath her. She clicked her neck. "Is our guest on board?" "He -- its -- in the brig, as requested," said Hector. "But speaking freely, I don't think the Jit'ux deserve that level of distrust, Ma'am." "I didn't grant you permission to speak freely." Hector opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. Good, he'd heard of her. He would take her seriously. They'd all need to obey her unflinchingly, if they were to have any chance of succeeding in what appeared to be a suicide mission. First contact with an ultra aggressive, ravenous for war, alien species. Not so unlike humanity, Ophelia mused. Only, up to now we hadn't had the tech to do any serious damage beyond our own system. "Miss Brice. Tell command we are ready to leave dock." "Uh, yes Ma'am." The pull of the ship as it left the bay thrust Ophelia back against her chair. It was a pleasing feeling. The Jit'ux had no idea what they had released on the universe. But Ophelia new. And she a smile crept over her lips at the thought. They would be the saviour of the Jit'ux. For now.
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	#Commander Vibrath of the Perseus military observatory - Log C1 Local Solar Time 781.012071 The Council reached a consensus. They are desperate. And not without cause...<sigh> The entire outer Scutum-Centaurus arm has been overrun in a matter of months, and three of the five task fleets were caught woefully unprepared and almost completely wiped out. So much for a galaxy-wide peace I guess. The invaders, known as the Styrr, were contacted a few years ago, but communications were not particularly fruitful and died out rather quickly. We couldn't have known. We couldn't have known they would be capable of that.. Now we know. They've got some sort of new drive system, far more advanced than anything we've got, that allowed them to travel the intergalactic space in mere hours instead of years. When the tracking stations signalled the alert, it was already far too late; the most important jump points had been taken over and three fleets were in a state of disarray, not knowing who the enemy was, or what they were supposed to do. Still, Humans!? Really? We froze them for a good reason. They are a morally deprived species, no different from the Styrr themselves. We cannot rely on them to act in our interest, hell we can't even rely on them to act in their own interest. Then again, if we do not apply some miraculous new strategy soon, the entire galaxy will be overrun in less than two years. Here's to hoping. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012081 The EM sensors actually managed to pick up the subtle drop in background noise from the Sol neighbourhood. The quantum lock on the old Human planets has been lifted, and their worlds are once again full of motion and life - as if nothing ever happened, except the stars are suddenly in a different position. Communications were set up, data shared and the Humans agreed in a surprisingly short amount of time. You'd think they'd be hesitant to join a losing war against a technologically superior opponent with the very people who froze them in time. We already have over half a dozen races that ceased communications with Head Command, preferring instead to hide, deep below the surfaces of their planets, in pods in deep space. Sleeping, waiting, hoping.. anything but wage war. But the Humans thrive on this. In the thousands of years they've spent killing each other, they've only ever gotten more enthusiastic about it. It seems that with every new energy technology they just think of ways to blow up cities more easily, or built bigger weapons. They are dangerous. But maybe dangerous is what we need: Scutum-Centaurus is now rapidly going dark, meaning the Styrr have captured all of the relay stations, and most of the planets and orbital habitats! It's insane; nobody has ever conquered a fully developed colony in less than a year, but the Styrr have subdued thousands already in only 4 months. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012242 Scutum-Centaurus went completely dark. All we can do now for the poor souls under Styrr occupation is hope, and prepare for what's coming. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012319 The Humans are on the move. They've crossed the Norma arm twice and are almost ready to jump into Styrr border territory. They've been given some of our older vessels, I'm not sure what that's supposed to do against the Styrr, when they're clearly ahead of us in energy technology and probably military technology as well. This better work; Aquila is going dark as well. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012380 Finally some good news: the Humans sent several reports from the edge of Scutum-Centaurus, in the Crassus system, indicating they've successfully raided several orbital stations and landed on at least one planet. No response from the Styrr yet. The Styrr fleet is probably going to make short work of them, but then, even if they get wiped out, the Humans have at least been a good delaying action. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012384 The Styrr jumped to the Outer arm! They came out of nowhere, it's a complete disaster! Head command was evacuated in time and the higher ranks escaped unharmed, but the central headquarters was clearly the prime target and destroyed in a short fight, before 3rd fleet came in to stop the push with great losses. After destruction of HQ communications, we've lost contact with the Human Main Fleet, but judging by the lack of progress on Aquila, the Styrr are now focussing on the Human counter-attack and will be in contact with their fleet before the end of 012400. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012404 Signals from Scutum-Centaurus. Most likely Human messages! The signals are extremely redshifted by the Styrr cloaking fields, and we're only receiving tiny bits of information through all the noise, but our analysts are certain they can soon decipher the messages. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012406 They're... alive. More than that: they successfully fended off the Styrr attack and fully control one planet. This is monumental! If they can hold against the Styrr with outdated weapons than maybe all is not lost after all. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012411 Things are looking less and less certain every the day. A while ago we got a message from Human Main Fleet indicating they successfully captured several small Styrr ships. If that is true, they could reverse engineer them and undo the technological advantages the Styrr have. Fate would have it however, that the Crassus system went completely dark a few days later. Most likely the Styrr swung in with the brunt of their fleet and regained full control. In light of recent tactical successes however, Central Command has decided to attach Human technical teams, advisers and marines to the ships in 4th and 5th fleet, to boost their tactical prowess. They have set course for Aquila to prepare a strong defensive position against the expected continuation of the Styrr offensive in that cluster. ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012456 The cloak lifted this morning, only to reveal not one, but twenty-four star systems in Scutum-Centaurus fully under Human control! It seems they've successfully mobilized the local auto-mines and manufacturing districts, as their fleet has actually grown with the addition of several small gunboats. All this would be marvellous if not for one thing: "They are not responding anymore." ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012458 SHIT An encrypted message from the Crassus system, was received on 4th and 5th fleet earlier this day. We don't know what it said, but we can guess, as the ships became unresponsive for several hours, when all of a sudden material was expulsed from the airlocks... Dead material. The Humans have taken control of the ships, slaughtering every other species on board. It is a full-scale rebellion! 4th immediately jumped to the Sol region to protect the core Human territories. 5th set course for the inner systems. They're heading for us! How could they when the Styrr are right on our doorstep? ------------------ Local Solar Time 781.012527 They have taken all of Aquila. They bombarded the colonies. The colonies! Billions, billions and billions of people, all massacred from orbit. Paradise and life turned into ash and tomb. Nothing to gain there, they just killed them. They are worse than the Styrr! 1st, 2nd and 3rd fleet fought fiercely, but they were already battered and could not stop the Human fleets, which are growing much faster than we are. Meanwhile the Styrr have entered on the other side of the galaxy, in Auriga. More systems going black. They do not seem to bother each other much... or at all really. Could it be? We are evacuating Perseus observatory, for fear of a raid from the nearby Styrr. We will be relocating to the galaxy center, along with Head Command, and most of what's left of the fleet, to protect the core systems of the Head races. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548713 WE ARE DOOMED They are allied. The Styrr and Human fleet are operating alongside each other. ------------------ Local Solar Time 193.548746 We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken all the outer arms, and the quadrant fortresses. Remnant Fleet fought bravely while we retreated colony ships towards the galaxy center, up until their very destruction. We are held up in the Core systems. They set up sentries along the perimeter. We cannot get out. They are coming. We cannot get out. ------------------ Local Solar Time < ERROR: INVALID LOCATION > IQ6&\‘D¸œ¨8ýõÅ0vÕïwÎ³w™]_ö{ŠØl»nqÙTò!{›Ú6üò#ï¨²úý4bÝÅ"}-·&<ØÄã.îb›8¼§	We all thought we were doomed. The Enemy from the Magellenic cloud was going from planet to planet, seemingly unstoppable. Then someone suggested the nuclear option. Ha, nuclear option- we picked that term up from the Earthers themselves. Yes, the Earthers. No one had spoken of them for five thousand years, quarantined on their own planet for everyone's good. Go get them, pit THEM against the Enemy. Serve them both a taste of their own medicine. People were horrified at the thought of contacting Earthers. Then the planet Elegis was taken. Burned to the mantle with no mercy. The decision was made. Cut loose the humans. Let slip the dogs of war. It was a no-fuss negotiation. We went in human form so as not to startle them. Offered them advanced technology in return for soldiers. Their own planetary conflicts nearly ceased. It was remarkable. As if they fought with each other simply because they had nothing better to do. Just as a trial, they sent us what they called the 5th Marines. We loaded them on fast transports. Technology the Earthers could not have dreamed of. The humans filed on like it was any other day. They all wore colors that matched the vegetation and soils of their planet and carried brutish and primitive looking weapons that flung projectiles at fatal speeds, with no regard for the pain, suffering, or even death of the target. The crews of the transports were nauseated, horrified. They were convinced that they would all be dead before the journey had barely begun. And yet the humans were jocular and upbeat. They drew the crews in with their camaraderie. They shared their rations, and in particular a beverage called beer. It is essentially a poison that taken in diluted doses alters the awareness. Though it was necessarily a limited supply, they shared generously. "We'll make more," they said, as if going to a wholly other planet was simply a new adventure they could adapt to effortlessly. The most amazing thing was that at the end of the journey, the crews all had hope. Something that had disappeared after a few of the first planets had fallen. They disembarked arm-in-arm, singing and laughing and hauling their fearsome kit. The planets were all shocked. No one had ever before laughed in the face of the Enemy's advances. What had we unleashed? But there was shock of another kind. Never before in recent memory had we seen hope. The humans made planetfall on Tannareis a short time later. We gave them all the information we had, and their leaders set up a war room and renamed the planet Gamma 4. Their smiles were gone as quickly as they had appeared and replaced with- what? Not anger. More like hunger. They moved like the pack hunters of fallen Elegis. Like the wolves of Earth. Most feared they were too late to save Tannereis. Just as their command center was established, the capital city fell. Not merely the capital, it was strategic high ground. We suggested that they fall back and we would meet the Enemy at the next planet before they were dug in. Their commanders response? "Retreat? Hell, we just got here." Then they all laughed at some inside joke. What happened next cannot be shared. It is all violence not fit for civilized people. But I will say that it would have been better for the Enemy if they had been simply dropped into the sun. The Marines tore into them like nothing they had seen before. They were conspicuously shocked. They fought back with their savage beam weapons and it seemed they would hold their line. The Marines looked over our available technologies and devised armor that would turn the power of the beams aside. Then it was a bloodbath. The 5th Marines visited three more planets and the invasion of the Enemy ground to a halt. Not all of the humans returned. It amazed us that most of them did. They hauled their injured and retrieved every one of their dead. The war was not over, but we celebrated the turning point. These humans that had soaked planets in the Enemy's blood as well as their own transformed back to the jocular comrades that we had known on the way over. We drank beer and laughed and these cold killers cried for the families they had not seen in months. We shared our FTL communications technology with them and got to meet their spouses and children. Yes, they allow these Marines to breed. There were many questions after this. Reinforcements came from Earth. Turns out they had not even sent all of these 5th Marines. We asked if there were also 1st Marines through 4th Marines. How far did it go? Are all Earthers some kind of Marine? They asked if they could set up a base. They were very curious about how we reproduce. Some of them wanted to try it. They found grains and using their own yeast, and they actually did brew more beer. I do not know what happens next. An old Marine commander told me an Earth story of Pandora. It was unsettling. The Enemy are now quarantined and the humans are no longer. I asked this commander if they would be willing to go back to confinement for the safety of the universe. He laughed and said no.
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	An entire sector wiped out. Just like that. Quan Kalak looked at the holographic representation of red vs green play out in the center of the chamber, contemplative as the rest of the council debated the issue with feigned serenity, brushing it off as a minor infraction from the Magellanic Cloud - just another recently ascended species with a love of war seeking to expand its domain. Could the crotchety old fools not see what was transpiring? “No, no, we are not under threat. These primitive lifeforms have not even brushed against our core defensive grid. I doubt they shall even make it that far. Besides, the combined fleet is on its way as we speak. I have no doubt these primitives will be dealt with swiftly enough. Have no fear. We saw the Kurians attempt the same five millennia ago. These insectoids are nothing to us.” Councilman Yeovan of the Scalls spoke with an authority and a volume that transcended his small reptilian frame. And he was wrong, Quan was sure of it. To speak against him was not a diplomatic move. The Scalls did not take kindly to dissent, and were known for their ruthlessness in ensuring their influence over the galactic council. Quan raised an appendage, signalling his desire to respond. “Honored Yeovan,” Quan began, “it is true, indeed, that the combined fleet is formidable, and yes, the outer defensive perimeter is little compared to our core defensive grid… ” He took a deep breath before continuing, flexing his carapace, looking at each council member in turn before returning his gaze to Yeovan. “... yet we cannot deny the swiftness with which these primitives, as you call them, have managed to completely disintegrate our defenses. Have we been watching the same report, councilman? Do you see that?” Quan pointed at the looping hologram amidst them, his eyes fixed firmly on Yeovan. “That happened within the timeframe of a hundredth of a galactic rotation. You mention The Kurian invasion, the greatest threat we’ve faced since the insurrection of Man, yet you seem oblivious to the fact that the Kurians never managed to secure as large a sector within such a short timeframe as this.“ The hologram looped again and again, showing the infestation as it first touched the galactic quadrant and spread inwards. Towards them. A wave of red crashing upon the otherwise peaceful shores of their galaxy. The council went quiet for a moment. A few members communicated subtly between themselves. Yeovan raised his scaled appendage to respond, seemingly unperturbed. “Your point, Quan Kalak of the Sinnsiak, is well understood.” Interspecies communication was a complex field and it was rarely wise to read too much into the subtleties of tonal and non-verbal communication patterns, but Quan had had enough dealings with the Scall to understand why Yeovan felt like pointing out what species Quan represented. Insectoids weren’t supposed to be intelligent or dangerous. The Sinnsiak were the exception, and so far they were the only civilized species of insectoids to be granted a seat on the galactic council. To the chagrin of the Scall, of course, who long lobbied against their inclusion. But Quan couldn’t point out their biases, nor would his pride allow it. Yeovan continued. “They move quickly, yes, but all our intelligence paints these insectoids as being of the hive-variant. Their strategies are rarely well formulated and depend largely on surprise and shock. Any prolonged conflict will inevitably lead us to a solid profile of their limited capacity for strategy. We will best them, rest assured. You worry too much, Quan.” The Scall version of a smile was disgusting. Quan had no doubt that in this instance it was meant to be. Quan gave up. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps not. Either way he did not hold enough sway within the council to convince all of them. Yet a few, amongst them the reptillians of Urku and the mammalians of Haitha, seemed to have taken his point to heart even though they did not dare communicate it out loud. They all agreed to wait for news from the combined fleet, or rather to await the spectacular victory that was so certain according to Yeovan. The meeting adjourned, and the councilmembers retreated through their gates and back home to their respective homeworlds. Except Quan. He went directly to the docks of the Citadel station. “Pilot,” he said as he entered his carrier-ship, the Swarmer. “Patriarch,” hummed the Pilot as he descended from the flight-deck, connected tendrils suspending him in front of Quan. His antenna quivered as he exposed his thorax, the old sign of submission. A little archaic to Quan’s taste, but he’d long since given up on convincing his subordinates to do otherwise. “We’ve a journey ahead, but I need the departure logs on this citadel to speak of a different destination than where we are actually going.” “Aaah,” buzzed the Pilot, “and where is it we are… not going?” The council obviously couldn’t see the potential danger, but Quan did, or at least he thought he did. So why not take a few precautions? Precautions which, if found out, most certainly would sour the Sinnsiaks reputation within the galactic community. To hell with it, he thought. “Sol.” ---------- Admiral Peterson floated on the observation deck of his lavish offices on Frontera station, eyes on the Portal and the vast Milkyway framed behind it. Or, as it was usually described - the prison gate. Within that ten times ten kilometer wide oblong frame, warp was enabled. Nowhere else in the system of Sol could anyone enter, and no ship could leave through the gate unless it was of alien origin. Whatever technology the xenos had implemented across Sol, it was annoyingly effective at suppressing warp-space travel. Not just that - Humanity's latest attempt at Colonization, the New Eden initiative, had been disintegrated as soon as it had left the warp-curbing field. 50.000 thousand souls gone in the blink of an eye, the latest cloaking technology proving insufficient at preventing detection by their xeno-jailors. A few more hundred years, and they’d no doubt try again. And probably fail, like so many times before. Admiral Peterson felt a wave of anger rise up in him. Humanity remained trapped within an overcrowded system with only two self-sustaining biospheres - Mars and Earth. Colonies were established systemwide on whatever planetoid was large enough, but it was not enough. It was never enough. And what happens when you pack a too many humans into a tight space with limited resources? Conflict. War. He was an admiral of the Unified Front of Man and considered himself beyond inter-human conflicts. In his estimation it was the greatest shame of being of Man - that in place of a unifying enemy the species was so quick to turn upon itself. He’d never apologize for being human though, least of all to the xenos. “Can you imagine, Jacky, that we were conquerors once?” “Mmhm,” responded his cyberchinetic intelligence officer from the corner of his office. Jacky was plugged into the Feed, updating himself on the various calamities occurring throughout Sol, sifting information that might be of benefit to his Admiral. “Not just that. We were unified, as one. We had dozens of systems under the confederacy… “ “Sounds sweet, sir. For us at least. But seems to me, considering our present circumstances, that we might’ve pissed of a few too many xenos.” “Yes, there’s that…” The admiral sighed deeply, then turned away from the observation deck and retreated further into his office. He hovered over Jacky, regarding the indecipherable symbols flashing by on the monitor. “So, how is that insurgency in Callisto working out?” “Inefficient revolutionaries, sir. They’ve secured half the moon but the UFM just arrived. Progress reports indicate light resistance, civilian casualties in the thousands. Humanitarian organizations keep spamming the feed with anti-UFM propaganda, but that’s to be expected.” “Same old same old,” Peterson said, massaging his temples. “Any other-” The screech of klaxons cut him off. Jacky jerked awkwardly - sensory overload from the Feed, coupled with digital emergency alerts and a good dose of auditory stimuli was enough rile even the most efficient cyber. “Status-report, Jacky?” Jackys eyes rolled in their sockets. He opened his mouth, drool draining from his lips as he struggled to form words. “Look… Outside.” Admiral Peterson turned towards the observation deck and the sight beyond. This time his heart jumped. 550 years since their latest intrusion and barely three years since they’d snuffed out the 50.000 thousand souls of the Eden Initiative. They had returned. A vicious smile formed on his lips as he saw the spiked shape of what was obviously a xeno-ship emerge slowly from the Portal. “Jacky,” “Online again, sir. Sorry about that.” “Nevermind. Prepare the welcome committee." “All of them, sir?” “Yes. And signal the Magnanimous - they’re free to launch their loads.” “Sir, I’m not sure we should engage immediat- “Do it!” Finally, 550 years of advancement in weapon technology would be put to the the only test that mattered. Admiral Peterson couldn’t wait.	There was a heavy silence in the room as the hologram display flickered to life. It was a grim and hopeless kind of silence. It was a silence that had managed to usurp what was disordered bickering between dozens of interstellar leaders and turn it into a funeral procession. The figure in the center of the room watched as the conclave of leaders gazed at the display with a slow apprehension of horror visible in their eyes or whatever visual sense organ they possessed. At last, a guttural toned voice broke the silence. "This... it cannot be." The figure recognized the sentiment. Denial. It turned to face the alien leader. It was large in mass, with a thick azure carapace. The alien leader of the Kragi species. "It is," said the figure simply. "How long do we have?" a small furry bodied alien asked as it stared up at the hologram display. The figure tiled its head upwards to glance at the hologram of the Large Magellanic Cloud, then turned to the alien leaders that were arranged in a circle around it. "Not long. It appears that their fleet are capable of interstellar travel. They are a species that we have not been aware of until recently... When we discovered them, they had already eliminated all of their neighboring inhabitants within the galaxy. How unfortunate." An uproar of grunts and curses fill the room. A screech silenced the room. "What are our chances of defeating this hostile species?" asked a raspy, monotone voice. The figure turned to look at the alien. It had mandibles that clicked together as it spoke. The Tieopna species. "We face a 99.9812874 percent chance of complete annihilation at their hands," answered the figure in the center of the room. "What do you suggest we do?" a voice asked from among the Conclave of alien leaders. "We will fight! Fight to the death!" roared the small furry alien. "No. We must be rational about this," said the Kragi leader as he glared down at the small furry alien. "Vul'zama," the Kragi leader gestured at the figure with a massive arm. "You have called us today to tell us of our doom. You must have a possible resolution to this predicament." Vul'zama, the leader of the conclave who had called for the meeting nodded its ethereal head- merely a translucent shape that shimmered with the light. "Indeed," said Vul'zama. "It is not a definite solution. We face utter annihilation but with the help of a certain species, we may perhaps change our doomed fate." They rejoice. There are sighs of relief from the Conclave. "And what species are we talking about?" asked another voice from among the Conclave. "It is with the help of the humans." Another uproar from the Conclave. Overwhelming disapproval. "The exiled Humans?!" "Those senseless self-warring warmongers!?" "Absolutely unacceptable! They invaded our planet and took my fellow brothers and sisters as pets!" screeched the tiny furry alien. Vul'zama raised a translucent limb into the air, calming the crowd of alien leaders. "Indeed. We had exiled the humans, trapped them in their own planet via a sphere of warped space..." Vul'zama sweeped a hand upwards. The hologram shifted and zoomed across the a vast sea of stars until it settled on a blue planet. A simmering translucent barrier enveloped the planet. It was Earth. "The Humans, they were unpredictable, irrational, and volatile. Their endless greed and passion for war would have been the end of us all, but now... we face extermination, and the humans? They will be our weapon," said Vul'zama. A weapon that could very well back-fire on ourselves, thought Vul'zama. He didn't dare say it aloud. "Vul'zama, have you forgotten about how humans liked to wage war among themselves?" asked the Kragi leader. "They have no unity. They do not have a single leader, but hundreds of different leaders vying for domination over one another. It is foolish to even-" Vul'zama raised his limb into the air again. "That... will not be an issue." Vul'zama turned around and sweeped his arm over the hologram of Earth. The Barrier dissipated. The Conclave of aliens gasped. Vul'zama continued before the Conclave could start another uproar of disapproval. "We will descend upon the Earth shortly and each of us-" Vul'zama glared at each alien with glowing emerald pockets of light, "-will collect a suitable human leader before returning here for further assessment. We will then conduct a contest between them to determine the human that will lead their species." Vul'zama glanced around the room and saw the reluctance in their eyes. "Do not return until you have a human to bring back," he ordered again for extra measure. "Dismissed." ---------- Meanwhile on Earth, the human race are rejoicing as they hear the news. 'Unknown Barrier around Earth has disappeared' the voice of a news reporter repeats loudly from the television upstairs. "Alex! Come up stairs!" Alex's mom shouts. Alex who is holed up in his basement playing Starcraft 4, tilts his head as he wonders what is going on upstairs. Then he notices a translucent figure in the corner of his eye. It moves. Alex screams like a girl as he jumps out of his seat. The figure speaks, a voice that resounds deeply within his head. "Hello human." -------- /r/em_pathy
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	"You want us to go to war?" the Terran ambassador had asked incredulously, "After trapping us here in the Quad Systems for a thousand years. You expect to let loose our leashes and like dogs chase down your hated enemies?" "We do," the Gallius Union Envoy Drone had said, "We will drop the FTL disablers surrounding your quadrant. We have tens of thousands of freighters with supplies waiting to skip in and provide you with whatever you need to build an armada. You must stop them or they will kill us all. You will be given one year to destroy them and then you will return." "Return to our prison?" the ambassador's asked spitefully. "Return to the safety of the sanctuary we provide for you," the drone droned,"Remember, the vote was tied on whether to quarantine or destroy you. It is by the mercy of the Gallius species' single vote that you still exist." "For that you have our gratitude," the ambassador said truthfully, "We shall remember what you did." The excitement that spread around the Quad systems at the news was tangible. True to their word, a week later the FTL disablers were put offline and the drone piloted freighters skipped out of FTL into the systems eagerly awaiting them. Then the disablers went back up as the Terrans went to work building their armada. "How many got out?" the President of the War Union asked the ambassador as they received news of the FTL disablers trapping humanity again. "500 Heavy Carriers, 6,000 Battle Cruisers, 20,000 destroyers, and 100,000 scouts," the ambassador smiled, "They should have known we wouldn't just sit here helplessly. We would have figured a way around the disablers eventually and had a fleet prepared for that day. This Magellanic Cloud invasion just sped things up a few decades is all." "No signs of detection?" the President asked, raising an eyebrow. "We've had their encryption broken for a decade and are monitoring their military channels and there is nary a peep," the answer made the President smile, "It will get lively enough when the FTL disablers are taken offline and let us out for good. Plus the fools gave us enough supplies to build another fleet." "So we'll finally conquer the galaxy that imprisoned us," the President said hopefully, "and humanity will take its rightful place. What of the Gallius? They did keep us alive." "We'll give those damned machines a choice, join us or die," the ambassador smiled, "I bet I know which way they'll vote." "And the threat from the Cloud?" the President asked, genuinely concerned. "I pity them," the ambassador sighed, "Whatever they are, those poor things have no one to ask for help. They have no idea we're coming and we're bringing the fires of Hell with us."	There was a heavy silence in the room as the hologram display flickered to life. It was a grim and hopeless kind of silence. It was a silence that had managed to usurp what was disordered bickering between dozens of interstellar leaders and turn it into a funeral procession. The figure in the center of the room watched as the conclave of leaders gazed at the display with a slow apprehension of horror visible in their eyes or whatever visual sense organ they possessed. At last, a guttural toned voice broke the silence. "This... it cannot be." The figure recognized the sentiment. Denial. It turned to face the alien leader. It was large in mass, with a thick azure carapace. The alien leader of the Kragi species. "It is," said the figure simply. "How long do we have?" a small furry bodied alien asked as it stared up at the hologram display. The figure tiled its head upwards to glance at the hologram of the Large Magellanic Cloud, then turned to the alien leaders that were arranged in a circle around it. "Not long. It appears that their fleet are capable of interstellar travel. They are a species that we have not been aware of until recently... When we discovered them, they had already eliminated all of their neighboring inhabitants within the galaxy. How unfortunate." An uproar of grunts and curses fill the room. A screech silenced the room. "What are our chances of defeating this hostile species?" asked a raspy, monotone voice. The figure turned to look at the alien. It had mandibles that clicked together as it spoke. The Tieopna species. "We face a 99.9812874 percent chance of complete annihilation at their hands," answered the figure in the center of the room. "What do you suggest we do?" a voice asked from among the Conclave of alien leaders. "We will fight! Fight to the death!" roared the small furry alien. "No. We must be rational about this," said the Kragi leader as he glared down at the small furry alien. "Vul'zama," the Kragi leader gestured at the figure with a massive arm. "You have called us today to tell us of our doom. You must have a possible resolution to this predicament." Vul'zama, the leader of the conclave who had called for the meeting nodded its ethereal head- merely a translucent shape that shimmered with the light. "Indeed," said Vul'zama. "It is not a definite solution. We face utter annihilation but with the help of a certain species, we may perhaps change our doomed fate." They rejoice. There are sighs of relief from the Conclave. "And what species are we talking about?" asked another voice from among the Conclave. "It is with the help of the humans." Another uproar from the Conclave. Overwhelming disapproval. "The exiled Humans?!" "Those senseless self-warring warmongers!?" "Absolutely unacceptable! They invaded our planet and took my fellow brothers and sisters as pets!" screeched the tiny furry alien. Vul'zama raised a translucent limb into the air, calming the crowd of alien leaders. "Indeed. We had exiled the humans, trapped them in their own planet via a sphere of warped space..." Vul'zama sweeped a hand upwards. The hologram shifted and zoomed across the a vast sea of stars until it settled on a blue planet. A simmering translucent barrier enveloped the planet. It was Earth. "The Humans, they were unpredictable, irrational, and volatile. Their endless greed and passion for war would have been the end of us all, but now... we face extermination, and the humans? They will be our weapon," said Vul'zama. A weapon that could very well back-fire on ourselves, thought Vul'zama. He didn't dare say it aloud. "Vul'zama, have you forgotten about how humans liked to wage war among themselves?" asked the Kragi leader. "They have no unity. They do not have a single leader, but hundreds of different leaders vying for domination over one another. It is foolish to even-" Vul'zama raised his limb into the air again. "That... will not be an issue." Vul'zama turned around and sweeped his arm over the hologram of Earth. The Barrier dissipated. The Conclave of aliens gasped. Vul'zama continued before the Conclave could start another uproar of disapproval. "We will descend upon the Earth shortly and each of us-" Vul'zama glared at each alien with glowing emerald pockets of light, "-will collect a suitable human leader before returning here for further assessment. We will then conduct a contest between them to determine the human that will lead their species." Vul'zama glanced around the room and saw the reluctance in their eyes. "Do not return until you have a human to bring back," he ordered again for extra measure. "Dismissed." ---------- Meanwhile on Earth, the human race are rejoicing as they hear the news. 'Unknown Barrier around Earth has disappeared' the voice of a news reporter repeats loudly from the television upstairs. "Alex! Come up stairs!" Alex's mom shouts. Alex who is holed up in his basement playing Starcraft 4, tilts his head as he wonders what is going on upstairs. Then he notices a translucent figure in the corner of his eye. It moves. Alex screams like a girl as he jumps out of his seat. The figure speaks, a voice that resounds deeply within his head. "Hello human." -------- /r/em_pathy
	[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war.	"You want us to go to war?" the Terran ambassador had asked incredulously, "After trapping us here in the Quad Systems for a thousand years. You expect to let loose our leashes and like dogs chase down your hated enemies?" "We do," the Gallius Union Envoy Drone had said, "We will drop the FTL disablers surrounding your quadrant. We have tens of thousands of freighters with supplies waiting to skip in and provide you with whatever you need to build an armada. You must stop them or they will kill us all. You will be given one year to destroy them and then you will return." "Return to our prison?" the ambassador's asked spitefully. "Return to the safety of the sanctuary we provide for you," the drone droned,"Remember, the vote was tied on whether to quarantine or destroy you. It is by the mercy of the Gallius species' single vote that you still exist." "For that you have our gratitude," the ambassador said truthfully, "We shall remember what you did." The excitement that spread around the Quad systems at the news was tangible. True to their word, a week later the FTL disablers were put offline and the drone piloted freighters skipped out of FTL into the systems eagerly awaiting them. Then the disablers went back up as the Terrans went to work building their armada. "How many got out?" the President of the War Union asked the ambassador as they received news of the FTL disablers trapping humanity again. "500 Heavy Carriers, 6,000 Battle Cruisers, 20,000 destroyers, and 100,000 scouts," the ambassador smiled, "They should have known we wouldn't just sit here helplessly. We would have figured a way around the disablers eventually and had a fleet prepared for that day. This Magellanic Cloud invasion just sped things up a few decades is all." "No signs of detection?" the President asked, raising an eyebrow. "We've had their encryption broken for a decade and are monitoring their military channels and there is nary a peep," the answer made the President smile, "It will get lively enough when the FTL disablers are taken offline and let us out for good. Plus the fools gave us enough supplies to build another fleet." "So we'll finally conquer the galaxy that imprisoned us," the President said hopefully, "and humanity will take its rightful place. What of the Gallius? They did keep us alive." "We'll give those damned machines a choice, join us or die," the ambassador smiled, "I bet I know which way they'll vote." "And the threat from the Cloud?" the President asked, genuinely concerned. "I pity them," the ambassador sighed, "Whatever they are, those poor things have no one to ask for help. They have no idea we're coming and we're bringing the fires of Hell with us."	Mars was chosen as the rendezvous point. The Volters, representatives of the Federation, could travel easily to almost any corner of the galaxy, but a measure of consideration was made for the humans. After all, hyperspace teleportation was a finicky affair, and the newest members of the Federation had yet to master the intricacies required. As per custom, the respective delegations assigned one agent each to the deliberations. They sat at opposite ends of the long table, and a golden sphere of circuitry hovered in the air between them. "Have the humans an answer for us?" asked Vox. His feelers twitched with impatience - the humans had delayed their response too many times by now. "We do, Chancellor Vox," said Glenda. She was steepled with age, and it seemed that every word was a genuine struggle. "Finally! Then let us not dally, we all know there can only be one answer. If you would please instruct the Nexus, then we can definitely-” Vox trailed off, unsure of the gesture Glenda was making. She had her palm to him, fingers outstretched in the air. The transponder in his ear buzzed, confirming that he had made the right interpretation. “I’ve been asked to confirm that the Federation is sure that it wants to proceed with this course,” said Glenda. “This is a path of no return, Volter. Once we open Pandora’s Box, the matter is out of our hands.” Vox wasn’t familiar with phrase, but he grasped the meaning. “Ah, you mean that once we agitate the prion connectors, we cannot undo the quarkling. Ask your questions then, Human. Know that when I answer, I speak with the combined authority of the Federation. I speak for all, as the Nexus is my judge.” The golden sphere flashed, and Glenda held the tablet closer to her eyes. “First, how sure is the Federation now that war is imminent with the invaders?” “99.99%, recurring. Initial hopes that a peace may be brokered, or an understanding parlayed, are not grounded in reality. Based on our understanding of the invaders, they have no wish to be join the Federation. They seek only to destroy.” “Then, in that case, have probabilities for success increased?” “No. In fact, they have been revised downwards. The Nexus has confirmed what the hundred species of the Federation have separately long suspected – our combined technological prowess has somehow been dwarfed by the threat which looms over us. We will need at least a century, or more, to even catch-up, and by then, as you are well aware, the Federation would have been destroyed.” “And if us humans refuse your request? If we refuse to share our insights with you?” Vox shook his head. “Extinction, Human. Every single species of the Federation, down to the very last singular entity, consumed by the invaders. But if you join us, help us… then the calculations are different…” Glenda bit her lip, and in that moment Vox knew rage. He was careful not to show it, but he could not deny the blooming fury radiating from his core. The source of his anger surprised even him. He had picked away at the layers, wondering whether it was the seeming lack of urgency on display, or the indecisiveness which plagued every human he had come across. It was a stew of factors, but the core ingredient, the heart of the matter, was the fact that the Federation was beholden to the least advanced species amongst them. The absurdity of the situation had kept Vox up for many a night. It wasn’t as if the humans had any particular claim to relevance – they didn’t have the dexterity of the Minoo, or the creativity of the Lullulla, or even the constitution of the Ethrudity, who could pass through dying stars without so much as a scratch. Heck, the humans didn’t even have the ability of the Volters in communicating with the Nexus. It boggled the mind that everything turned on whether the humans lent their efforts to the war. But the Nexus had clearly indicated that the humans were the only thing which could turn the tides. And the Nexus was never wrong. “Human,” said Vox, after Glenda showed no signs from emerging from her silence. “Your decision, please. We waste precious seconds.” Glenda sighed, then stood up. There was an invisible weight around her neck, pulling her down. She shuffled over to the Nexus, then placed her hands on the sphere, cupping it. The Nexus flared again, and it extended a thousand tendrils of gold into her mind. “Let it be recorded, we from Earth maintain our objections to sharing what we know of war to the Federation. We have long admired the beauty of the Federation, the ideals espoused. You have achieved much of what we have not, and we would never stain such beauty willingly.” “We have made this decision ourselves, Human. Now, please, share with the Nexus what you know.” Slowly at first, then more rapidly, the Nexus began to change colour. Across the galaxy, connected by hyperspace, every member of the Federation felt the effects – it was a subtle one, as faint and delicate a taste as a thimble of the finest whiskey added to a barrel of water. But the AI which connected them all to the Federation, which bound and guided every step and decision they made, was irreversibly evolving, and everyone knew it. “Empathy, that has to go first,” said Glenda. “It will hold you back, tempt you into tolerating, understanding your enemy. You have to leave no space in your heart for the invaders. From here on, you know them as a single class, a single stereotype. It won’t matter if any of them displays any capacity for reason – there is only us on our side, and we will be blinded to any other views. Henceforth, the Nexus will not assist any of you in understanding your place in the bigger picture of life.” The Nexus shifted, dropping a shade of colour. It pulsed under Glenda’s fingertips. “Then, knowledge next. Your young cannot inherit the wisdom you have brewed over the years. They will start afresh, and be as susceptible to prejudice and misconceptions as your ancestors did. Your intelligence implants have to be removed. How your young develop will have to depend on random, uncontrollable fancies of luck – who they mingle with, who they learn under. No more homogenous mindsets, but instead, vastly differing perspectives, with no certainty of commonality.” Vox felt the edge of his perception slip away as the Nexus responded to Glenda’s commands. His eyestalks flicked as he stared at the hundreds of holograms around the room – suddenly, his fellow members in the Federation seemed so… different. He couldn’t believe that there was a time when he believed that they were equal, one amongst all. “Finally, forgiveness…” said Glenda. “Any slights against you, intended or not, will fester. You will be denied the medicines you need to heal such burns. The infection will spread, and you will pass on the hurt to your young as well, like pus from open wounds. You will teach them to hate, and you will teach them that no measure of recompense will ever be enough. You may fall in battle against the invaders, but this affliction… it will course through your bloodlines like the most stubborn of rots, and you will ensure that generations later, your young will avenge you.” Glenda fell to her knees, covering her face. The Nexus soared up higher, and it was now a dull shade of red. It was still unused to its new prerogatives, but the direction was now clear. Across the galaxy, across the infinity of stars, the Nexus was pumping out its commands, and it was awakening something in the Federation, something they had not known for eons, something which struck at the core of their unity… but which perhaps would give them a chance to live to another day. Bloodlust. /r/rarelyfunny

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