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[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure.	Ma always said the problem with moving to a new city is finding a place that'll hire you after you've left your umpteenth job. For me, it was leaving my friends behind and jumping into a new playground of strangers. "You can say hi or you can brood alone in the corner", she'd always remind me on the first day of school before rushing off to her waitressing job at some diner somewhere. I keep saying hi. I keep trying to be friendly and helpful. But it feels like the more I put down roots, the more it hurts to pull them up and move when the smiley people get too close to our house. Ma says the smiley people belong to the cult of something-or-other, and they can wear anything, look like anyone, but something that gives them away is their smile. Their teeth are always paper-white, and flat like cinderblocks, because of what they do to their mouths when they joined. At least, that's what she told me, but I never got close enough to look. Her teeth were also flat like cinderblocks, but my teeth look just like the ones in my picture book. This time, the school we went to was a place called "Jesus is Lord Elementary". We had to chant prayers every day before the teacher would let us in out of the cold, and chant prayers before the teachers would let us go out to play, and chant prayers before we would get to eat. I tried hard to memorize the chant because if I forgot, the teacher would probably lock me in the classroom. We learned about how angels were nice and demons were mean and how god gave us the land and all we own and we should be thankful and that the boys should not kiss other boys. I didn't like it much here but my mom said that they smiley people wouldn't think to look for us here so I could settle down and make some friends for a while. I decided to talk to the quiet kids in the back. "Hey. Do you want to summon a demon?" Adrian asked, softly, so the Teacher couldn't hear. He was always trying to get us in trouble for eating bugs or sneaking into the teacher's lounge. "I hear all you need is some candles and chalk, and then it has to do whatever you tell it to." "No way demons are real." Elise said. She was the brainy one always reading books and had the glasses to prove it. "If they were real, then scientists would have cut them open." "A lot of people have chalk and candles though." I wondered out loud. "So why don't we just have demons everywhere helping out with everything?" "Because, dummies," Adrian rolled his eyes. "You need to draw a certain thing with the chalk. It's in my dad's old books." "Well... I guess we could try it during recess. If it's in a book." Elise said, sounding not too sure. I nodded, just happy to be included. After we got chided for not paying attention in maths, we said our prayers and went behind the ball shed during recess with a birthday candle from Adrian's lunchbox and a stick of pink chalk from the tarmac. Adrian pulled a ripped sheet of paper out of his pocket and started drawing. "That's way too small, Adrian," Elise said. "If you summon a demon in there he would just get squished. Let me draw it." "I know what I'm doing, shush!" Adrian rolled his eyes and finished his picture. It was about the size of a hopscotch square. He looked at me. "Can you light the candle?" I brought out the lighter that Teacher keeps in his desk and played around with it. After a few tries, I managed to light the candle. And then I was on the inside of the diagram, looking out. "Get out of there, James, that's for the demon!" Adrian said. I shrugged. "I don't remember hopping in." "Then get out of there." Elise said a little more quietly than Adrian. She was staring at me in a different way. "I'm kind of stuck actually." I pushed my hand out and felt a wall, even though there was nothing there. "James, are you a demon?" Elise whispered. "I mean if I'm a demon, I'd have to do what you want me to, right? You just told me you wanted me to get out of the circle, and I can't do it. So I can't be a demon, right?" I explained, and she calmed down a little. "James. Throw a rock at Elise." Adrian said out of nowhere. "What? No. That's stupid. You're stupid. I'm not going to hurt Elise." I crossed my arms and sat down. "Huh?" Adrian scratched his head. "That's weird." "You jerk!" Elise said. "I'm telling on you!" She ran off towards the classroom. "No, wait! Argh! She's going to ruin everything!" Adrian took a water battle out of his lunchbox and dumped it on everything: the candle went out, the chalk got washed away, and some of it landed on my shoes. "Ew, gross!" I said and jumped back. The wall was gone. The bell rang, and we headed back to class, with the Teacher looking very strangely at Adrian and me, and I didn't see Elise for the rest of the day. Later that afternoon, after we chanted our prayers and went home, I saw Adrian walking over to his dad. I ran over to ask him about where Elise went, but stopped when they both stared directly at me. "Hey there, kiddo! You must be Adrian's friend!" Adrian's dad held out a hand, but I shrank back. "Are you looking for your friend Elise? She wanted to come to a sleepover with us. You can join if you like, I'll drive you in the car!" I turned around and began to run while he started chanting something under his breath. I ran and ran but it felt like I wasn't getting anywhere, like the ground was sliding me towards him. "Great, we have room for you in the back." He grabbed me in an arm, carrying me like a sack of potatoes, turned around, and a loud crack rang through the air. He fell forward, and my mom was at my side holding the gun from her purse. Adrian started to cry. "Let's go home, James. I think it's time to go to a new town." I shook my head and walked over to Adrian. "I'm sorry, Adrian. You didn't tell me your dad had flat teeth."	“OwO what’s this who had summoned me?” I say flouring my demonic robes as i rise out of the Summoning circle. With a final flourish of red sparkles and smoke I turn to see -SAM fucken SAM my smile faltered “Magufuli?” He said poking my blood red robes. “No stop” I pull my rides away. What am I supposed to do? I turn back around. I’ll tell him that I’ve possessed Thai body or something. I hear a little pop and I glance back to see Sam leaned back on his bean bag opening a soda. “What are you doing” “Waiting” Said Sam eying me up and down. Pausing at my exposed chest “Excuse me” I pull my robes in closer, I wasn’t even that handsome there was nothing to see not even chest hair. But that didn’t stop him from feeling his face becoming hot. “Soooo Magifuli what are you going to do for me” he said circling his fingers around the sofa can. “Oh plenty of things, now I’m not as strong as other Demond’s but that’s what makes me better sometimes you just need the small revenge no one gets hurt but you get back at them. Or maybe you just want to get faster and destroy people on line, I’m quite flexible.” “No I mean what can you do for me as Magufuli not a Demond” “I uh” - What could he possibly want? did he know who he was messing with? Wait he doesn’t “I do not know of this “Magufuli you speak of. I appear to people as their worst” enemies? no we barely new each other competitors? Uhhh -“friend” He raised an eyebrow and placed the soda on the ground before laughing “Magufuli you do know my last friend nearly killed me right?” “Oh no I didn’t” I answered meekly “Yeah it was this whole thing accused me of some really serious stuff because I called him out on his assholy” He stood up and brushed the counter. His textbook neatly arranged and pens perfectly allied. His entire room was blank white. No posters no basketball tucked away just a bed text books and Tshirts and pants folded into a draw with a spotless surface. Everyone who had summoned him had at least a disorganized desk. Most rooms were unlivable. Clothes every where decaying food, unfinished homework used tissues. Author: Idk where to go after this lol. maybe I’ll add something
[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure.	"Annie?" Annie took a pair of glasses out of her fluffy Hello Kitty robe to get a better look at the idiot who summoned her. She regretted immediately seeing Shawn from Biology 2301 in front of her with a familiar grimoire and candles around them. Not to mention the slack jawed guy next to him. Did her cousin sell the book for food again? She looked around seeing the familiar gray paint of the dorm and the twin bed against the wall. It was bad enough being summoned by a classmate and his friend, but being ripped away from her self care routine of ice cream and her crime show made her irritable. She moved her hand over his friend's eyes as they closed and his body crumpled on the floor. "No I'm the tooth fairy. Don't worry I just knocked him out with a memory spell. It's better to have just one person for the contract. So what the hell are you doing summoning a demon at-" she glanced at the clock on his desk, "9 pm on a Monday?" "We were just playing around." Shawn blurted out as the candle flames flickered. Annie huffed as she brushed her damp brown hair away from her eyes, "Do you want a contract or not? The price is your soul of course. Please don't ask for a hookup with Karen- it'll be fake as Professor Bundy's hair." "Uh- no contract but sorry I ruined your night?" "You can grab me fries from Satelite. Next time message me on GroupMe to see if you got a real grimoire." Annie squashed one of the sigils in the circle with her bunny slipper and passed her hand through one of the candles before snuffing all the candles out. She walked to the switch to turn on the lights. "You don't look a demon." "I'm a half demon. Please don't tell the others about," Annie gestured to the summoning circle, "this. I'd get transfered to the branch campus, and you'd get your memory wiped." "Yeah I don't think the others would believe me anyway." "I'll need that book back too." Annie extended her hand. "Ah, but I got this for 20 bucks." "I'll get the boba for the next project." "Deal." Shawn handed over the grimoire as she opened the door. "Are you free tomorrow tonight?" "Yeah after my 6pm class, but why?" "Can you help me study for the test on Friday? I'll pay for the snacks just lemme know what you like." "Sure. Third floor on the library?" "Yeah I'll get us a room. Good night Annie." "Good night Shawn."	“OwO what’s this who had summoned me?” I say flouring my demonic robes as i rise out of the Summoning circle. With a final flourish of red sparkles and smoke I turn to see -SAM fucken SAM my smile faltered “Magufuli?” He said poking my blood red robes. “No stop” I pull my rides away. What am I supposed to do? I turn back around. I’ll tell him that I’ve possessed Thai body or something. I hear a little pop and I glance back to see Sam leaned back on his bean bag opening a soda. “What are you doing” “Waiting” Said Sam eying me up and down. Pausing at my exposed chest “Excuse me” I pull my robes in closer, I wasn’t even that handsome there was nothing to see not even chest hair. But that didn’t stop him from feeling his face becoming hot. “Soooo Magifuli what are you going to do for me” he said circling his fingers around the sofa can. “Oh plenty of things, now I’m not as strong as other Demond’s but that’s what makes me better sometimes you just need the small revenge no one gets hurt but you get back at them. Or maybe you just want to get faster and destroy people on line, I’m quite flexible.” “No I mean what can you do for me as Magufuli not a Demond” “I uh” - What could he possibly want? did he know who he was messing with? Wait he doesn’t “I do not know of this “Magufuli you speak of. I appear to people as their worst” enemies? no we barely new each other competitors? Uhhh -“friend” He raised an eyebrow and placed the soda on the ground before laughing “Magufuli you do know my last friend nearly killed me right?” “Oh no I didn’t” I answered meekly “Yeah it was this whole thing accused me of some really serious stuff because I called him out on his assholy” He stood up and brushed the counter. His textbook neatly arranged and pens perfectly allied. His entire room was blank white. No posters no basketball tucked away just a bed text books and Tshirts and pants folded into a draw with a spotless surface. Everyone who had summoned him had at least a disorganized desk. Most rooms were unlivable. Clothes every where decaying food, unfinished homework used tissues. Author: Idk where to go after this lol. maybe I’ll add something
[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure.	It was a quiet Friday afternoon for Reggie. He had the house to himself that night and he was gonna put his feet up and relax…or so he thought. About halfway through a Pink Panther marathon, a circle enveloped his feet. “Shit!” He yelled in surprise and annoyance. The circle rose up into a cylinder around him and closed just as quickly. When the cylinder spit him back up at his destination, the living room was unfamiliar but the shocked and terrified faces were not. “Well this bound to happen eventually I guess…” Reggie sipped his tea as a group of his classmates stared at him in disbelief. Eventually one of them thrusts a student named Carmine up to Reggie. “Nice place Carmine.” “W…what the fuck? Are…are you a…a…a…” “Demon? Partially, my mother is a demon, or demoness if you want to be super technical. One day she fell head over heels in love with a guy her age working on the docks. They courted, dated, got hitched, and now their half blood offspring stands before you.” “S-s-so why did you get summoned and not your mom?” “The design of this symbol is actually our family crest, and the spell used to summon is our family creed. By all accounts you should have gotten my mom but since she wasn’t home I guess the spell just followed the only demon blood it could sense.” “So this whole time…” Before Carmine could finish the cylinder closed around Reggie again and in an instant he found himself back home just in time to catch his favorite Pink Panther movie… The next Monday at school started like any other day and no one from the party treated Reggie any differently or acknowledged his half demon heritage. Once in homeroom, he took his seat and tapped Vickie, the girl in the seat in front of him, on the shoulder. “I owe you one.” “Hey, if your secret gets out, mine gets out, and if ours gets out then Juan’s secret gets out and so on and so on until we have a massive problem. “ “You made sure everyone thought the dream was different, right?” “Of course, what kind of witch do you think I am?”	“OwO what’s this who had summoned me?” I say flouring my demonic robes as i rise out of the Summoning circle. With a final flourish of red sparkles and smoke I turn to see -SAM fucken SAM my smile faltered “Magufuli?” He said poking my blood red robes. “No stop” I pull my rides away. What am I supposed to do? I turn back around. I’ll tell him that I’ve possessed Thai body or something. I hear a little pop and I glance back to see Sam leaned back on his bean bag opening a soda. “What are you doing” “Waiting” Said Sam eying me up and down. Pausing at my exposed chest “Excuse me” I pull my robes in closer, I wasn’t even that handsome there was nothing to see not even chest hair. But that didn’t stop him from feeling his face becoming hot. “Soooo Magifuli what are you going to do for me” he said circling his fingers around the sofa can. “Oh plenty of things, now I’m not as strong as other Demond’s but that’s what makes me better sometimes you just need the small revenge no one gets hurt but you get back at them. Or maybe you just want to get faster and destroy people on line, I’m quite flexible.” “No I mean what can you do for me as Magufuli not a Demond” “I uh” - What could he possibly want? did he know who he was messing with? Wait he doesn’t “I do not know of this “Magufuli you speak of. I appear to people as their worst” enemies? no we barely new each other competitors? Uhhh -“friend” He raised an eyebrow and placed the soda on the ground before laughing “Magufuli you do know my last friend nearly killed me right?” “Oh no I didn’t” I answered meekly “Yeah it was this whole thing accused me of some really serious stuff because I called him out on his assholy” He stood up and brushed the counter. His textbook neatly arranged and pens perfectly allied. His entire room was blank white. No posters no basketball tucked away just a bed text books and Tshirts and pants folded into a draw with a spotless surface. Everyone who had summoned him had at least a disorganized desk. Most rooms were unlivable. Clothes every where decaying food, unfinished homework used tissues. Author: Idk where to go after this lol. maybe I’ll add something
[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure.	“Kyle?!” Kyle had not been invited to the Halloween sleepover. He hadn’t particularly minded. He was used to keeping his head down in class and getting homework done in his lunch break so he had more time for video games when he got home. The other kids at school weren’t exactly unkind, but Kyle wasn’t the sort of guy you invited to parties. Kyle told himself he didn’t mind. They probably wouldn’t be interested in his stuff, anyway, and it was better off this way. It was a Friday night, and Kyle had been waiting all week to beat the final boss in his game, killer nightshade. The game was new, and with a price tag that made his eyes water, but it had arrived as a gift from his dad. His dad’s job was… unusual, for sure, and Kyle had often heard his parents fighting about it when they were still together. “What do you mean you’re being summoned, Steve, this is our anniversary! You can’t keep doing this! GET THAT BRIMSTONE OUT OF MY KITCHEN!” Still, it must have been pretty well paid because Kyle got frequent gifts from all over the world, wherever his dad had been at the time. It had been a lot more peaceful at home since his dad had moved out, but Kyle missed him. There were certain things that you just couldn’t ask your mum. So when Kyle felt the familiar creeping cold of a summoning, he had no way to prevent it. His hands gripped his controller, fingers mashing at the buttons in a desperate attempt to remain seated in his chair, his bedroom, his house. It was no good. Kyle made a mental note to send dad an email, asking him how to refuse a summoning. His mum would be no use at all. The new room swirled into view: a dusty attic space, lit with clumsily placed candles and a few discarded bottles of Pepsi. Pale faces stared up at him where he stood, his feet placed firmly in the middle of a chalk pentagram. He recognised most of them from class, the popular kids that he tried his best to avoid. “Kyle?!” One of them spoke. It was Alex – a kid from maths class. Kyle glared at the book in Alex’s hands; a thick, leather-bound volume that was heavy with dust and years of disuse. “Is that Kyle from school?” Another said. “I thought this was meant to get a demon?” “It was! You heard it – all that Latin crap. Maybe we said it wrong?” “You didn’t.” Said Kyle. “You’re fine. The summoning worked. It’s a family spell, though, so you really wanted my dad. He’s busy, so it defaults to me.” He shrugged. “You’re a -?” “Half. Dad’s a – yeah.” Kyle said, pushing his glasses up his nose. The dust in the attic was making his asthma flare up. “Oh. Well that’s a bit crap, we wanted a real demon.” Alex sounded disappointed. “Crap? You’re not the one who got pulled away from killer nightshade. I was THIS close to beating the HellFlower and you – “ Alex cut him off, eyes wide. “You have killer nightshade?” Kyle nodded. “How did you afford – wait, can I play? It has two player, right?” Alex asked. The other kids around him jostled in. “Can I watch?” “I brought snacks!” “Please Kyle?” Kyle hesitated. Maybe it would be fun to have someone else to play with. After all, he’d pretty much completed the game by himself… “Okay.” He grinned. “But you have to get rid of the book.” He nodded to the huge pages at Alex’s feet. Alex looked down, like he’d already forgotten it was there. “Deal.” He said.	It has been quite a while since my departure from hell, and my permanent residence in the mortal realm began. About 120 mortal years, I suppose. I've learnt a lot in these years. Mainly, a lot of humans aren't as stupid as they appear to be. A small slip up could cost me my entire disguise, which would force me to memory wipe the people involved and skip town. But, as long as I don't draw unwanted attention to myself, It's suprisingly smooth sailing. When I was but a young Imp, the elder demons of our settlement would speak of the times when our kind would regularly visit the mortal realm, subjugate and plunder to our hearts desire. They would eventually be stamped back down to hell though. It wouldn't take too long either, the most someone's been able to stay while actively conquering the world was about 80 mortal years, give or take. I must wonder if none of them have ever considered to just... live peacefully? Just live and let live. Shit, I've been having loads more fun just living the human life than I would have had if I'd tried to forcefully conquer territory. As I was laying on my couch, watching TV, and scrolling on my phone, I suddenly feel a certain sensation from the back of my head. It's been quite a while. "A summoning? Really? The last time was... what, 1962? Something like that, I guess. Well, Why not. What do I have to lose." A lot, it seemed. Because as I let myself be transported through the aether, thanks to the summoning cirlce, I felt the mind of the summoner. That, in and of itself is nothing strange. It's how it should be. A demon will feel a connection with their summoner so they may better complete the purpose of the summoning and get their payment. What wasn't quite right, was that I recognised this mind. Charlotte... my classmate.. How the hell does she know my summoning circle!? That's an intricate design of several overlapping circles, if even one of them were drawn slightly differently she would've gotten someone else! Well... I guess that's just my luck. "Wait... Damian!?" "Shit, What do I do now.. I really like this life, I don't want to start over, again! The previous 3 were pretty sucky, Can I get a break please? Ugh... Lets... see where this goes. If worse comes to worse, I'll wipe her and move on." "Yup... It's me alright.. How ya doin' Char?" I asked rather tired looking. In truth, I wasn't so much physically tired. More like mentally preparing myself for the headache about to come. "I... You... WHAT THE FUCK!?" "Yeah, that's how I expected you'd react. Listen, alright? I can explain. It's just that... I need you to keep this a secret, okay? I don't want this to become a thing, Y'know?" Instead of answering in a vocal manner, she simply nodded her head. "As good as I'll get, I suppose." "Okay, here goes." I say as I look into her eyes. My eyes flash a deep crimson red glow while saying:"I'm a demon, Charlotte. From Hell. I dont know whether you thought you may have screwed up the summoning or not, but it worked. And the demon you summoned happened to be.... me." I finish off while pointing to myself. Charlottr didn't respond whatsoever. She didn't even blink. "Shit, did I overdo it?" "Hey, Charlotte..? Are you okay?" I ask as I snap my fingers in front of her face. That seemed to snap her back to reality, as she, immediately upon realising what happened, moved away from me with all the fervor of a cornered prey. "Hey, calm down, I'm not gonna hurt ya. You summoned me, remember? I just came to see what the contract was about. Although now, I'm very curious how you knew my circle. Did you find it somewhere, of did you just randomly start drawing?" "I... found it in a book.. one of my great grandfathers collection.. uh.." "Alright, and what was your great grandfathers name?" "Uhm.. John, I think. John Woodblue." "John?....You mean Johnny Blue was your grandfather?!" "How do you know my great-grandpa?!" "How? Kid, he also summoned me. About 80 years ago, I think. He wanted to find the love of his life. I introduced him to the woman you know as your great-grandma. Oh, those were the days. The ideas that crazy bastard came up with still fill me with mirth." Charlotte could barely handle this anymore. First, she gets introduced by her uncle to all this demon stuff a couple of months back. How to draw circles, draw power from hell for certain spells, even how to summon demons properly instead of the half baked imp summons she was doing weeks ago. But this? After finally gathering enough courage and confidence to believe that she managed to draw a circle properly, she finds out that her crush was a demon? She couldn't handle it. Having him suddenly appear in her room when she was performing the summoning had already thrown her off her game but this?! Panic. So much panic, that she almost forgot what she was doing. She was turned away from the boy of her admiration, her hands on her cheeks in a fruitless attempt to hide their deep shade of crimson. "So, Charlotte... What did you summon me for?" That gave her an idea. The proverbial lightbulb above her head sprung into life. This was the perfect chance. Of he really was the demon she summoned, this could be even better thsn what she had in mind! And so, she gathered up all her courage and resolve to do this. "I-I...Uh.. I.. You... Uhm..." This wasn't going good. Maybe she wasn't as prepared as she thought she was, or maybe this was a lot harder for her than she had expected, either way, she was struggling, hard. "Oh come one Charlotte!" She thought to herself. "You can do this! Just say it, Just say it!" "Iwantyoutobecomemyboyfriend!" She blurted out after a second if silence. "Really? Alright, Your wish is my command. I'll see you tomorrow at school, Honey." I said as I gave her a cheeky wink and put her to sleep. As she fell towards the ground, I caught her in my arms and put her in her bed. After cleaning up the remains of the circle, I perform one last check on the room, and I notice something on her dresser. A small metal hair clip. It seemed familiar but I couldn't quite figure out why. Whatever. She does look cute when sleeping. (Alright, that's enough. I wanted to stop halfway through and come back to it later, but I'm on mobile so that's not possible. So, this is all you're gonna get.)
[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure.	“Kyle?!” Kyle had not been invited to the Halloween sleepover. He hadn’t particularly minded. He was used to keeping his head down in class and getting homework done in his lunch break so he had more time for video games when he got home. The other kids at school weren’t exactly unkind, but Kyle wasn’t the sort of guy you invited to parties. Kyle told himself he didn’t mind. They probably wouldn’t be interested in his stuff, anyway, and it was better off this way. It was a Friday night, and Kyle had been waiting all week to beat the final boss in his game, killer nightshade. The game was new, and with a price tag that made his eyes water, but it had arrived as a gift from his dad. His dad’s job was… unusual, for sure, and Kyle had often heard his parents fighting about it when they were still together. “What do you mean you’re being summoned, Steve, this is our anniversary! You can’t keep doing this! GET THAT BRIMSTONE OUT OF MY KITCHEN!” Still, it must have been pretty well paid because Kyle got frequent gifts from all over the world, wherever his dad had been at the time. It had been a lot more peaceful at home since his dad had moved out, but Kyle missed him. There were certain things that you just couldn’t ask your mum. So when Kyle felt the familiar creeping cold of a summoning, he had no way to prevent it. His hands gripped his controller, fingers mashing at the buttons in a desperate attempt to remain seated in his chair, his bedroom, his house. It was no good. Kyle made a mental note to send dad an email, asking him how to refuse a summoning. His mum would be no use at all. The new room swirled into view: a dusty attic space, lit with clumsily placed candles and a few discarded bottles of Pepsi. Pale faces stared up at him where he stood, his feet placed firmly in the middle of a chalk pentagram. He recognised most of them from class, the popular kids that he tried his best to avoid. “Kyle?!” One of them spoke. It was Alex – a kid from maths class. Kyle glared at the book in Alex’s hands; a thick, leather-bound volume that was heavy with dust and years of disuse. “Is that Kyle from school?” Another said. “I thought this was meant to get a demon?” “It was! You heard it – all that Latin crap. Maybe we said it wrong?” “You didn’t.” Said Kyle. “You’re fine. The summoning worked. It’s a family spell, though, so you really wanted my dad. He’s busy, so it defaults to me.” He shrugged. “You’re a -?” “Half. Dad’s a – yeah.” Kyle said, pushing his glasses up his nose. The dust in the attic was making his asthma flare up. “Oh. Well that’s a bit crap, we wanted a real demon.” Alex sounded disappointed. “Crap? You’re not the one who got pulled away from killer nightshade. I was THIS close to beating the HellFlower and you – “ Alex cut him off, eyes wide. “You have killer nightshade?” Kyle nodded. “How did you afford – wait, can I play? It has two player, right?” Alex asked. The other kids around him jostled in. “Can I watch?” “I brought snacks!” “Please Kyle?” Kyle hesitated. Maybe it would be fun to have someone else to play with. After all, he’d pretty much completed the game by himself… “Okay.” He grinned. “But you have to get rid of the book.” He nodded to the huge pages at Alex’s feet. Alex looked down, like he’d already forgotten it was there. “Deal.” He said.	As I was laying down in bed pretending to be asleep, I felt a burning sensation from deep within my chest. I knew what that meant, and I was ready. I got up immediately so I wouldn’t be summoned while horizontal. A ring of red sparks formed at my feet. The sparks got bigger and bigger and bigger until a tornado of sparks was all I could see. The sparks dissipated, and I was somewhere else now, in some sort of basement probably. “Oh great demon, the born of the flame, grant me my desire.” A voice said below me. The voice was strangely familiar. I look down and see the source of the voice, my classmate John. He might be what most people would consider a friend I guess. He’s currently kneeling down below me with candles to his sides. This can’t be good. He looks up at me. He looks surprised. “Spencer, is that you?” He asks. I could possibly lead him to the wrong conclusion. “No! I am not Spencer, I am merely taking the form of him, because, uh, because I can.” I say, trying not to be noticed. “Oh yes, uh, okay.” He says with uncertainty. “What is it you want human!” I say with my booming voice. He looks scared. I can tell he’s deciding whether or not to go through with this. “I-I uh, like this girl. She’s so funny, and pretty. I want you to make her fall in love with me.” I was intrigued. “Which girl?” I ask. “Her name is Sara, she’s the hottest girl in school.” He says. Sara? How? She’s a terrible person. She talks behind peoples backs, she manipulates everyone into liking her, and she has like three boyfriends that don’t even know about each other! “No!!” I shout. “What? Why not? Aren’t you supposed to grant me my wish?” “You can’t do this! Let me tell you, she’s bad news. Definitely not worth trading your soul to.” “But she’s so hot!” “You humans and your drive to make more humans! Aren’t there enough of you on this dying rock?” “But I really like her! If you won’t do this I’ll summon another demon!” “No! Wait!” “What?” I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? “Don’t summon another demon, they’ll take your soul away for garbage like her.” “And why won’t you do that? Even if she is garbage?” “I uh, uh-“ I look back down and see him dialing my phone number. My phone rings from my pocket. “You are Spencer, aren’t you?” He asks. I sigh. “Yes.” “I knew it! Demons don’t change their forms! I read it on that weird book thing the librarian gave me!” “Okay okay, just, don’t tell anyone about this.” “Fine dude, but this is so cool! You’re a demon!?” “You’re not scared or anything?” “Why would I be?” “Because I’m literally like a demon from hell that you summoned with an occult book?” “Yeah that’s cool, I have a friend from Australia, isn’t Hell pretty similar to that?” We’ll he isn’t really wrong. “Anyways, Sara, she isn’t cool?” He asks. “Sara is literal trash. She’ll treat you like trash and find a way to make you smile while she does it.” I respond. “Also don’t summon demons, trading your soul is too much of a price to pay for anything.” “Fine.” He says.
[WP] You are an Ancient Dragon who had served the royal bloodline for centuries. Then, the famously arrogant and prideful Prince of another kingdom showed up at the capital's doorstep with an army and a demand. "Give me the princess's hand in marriage, or suffer my wrath."	"Your wrath? Child, I have regrets older than your parents and yet you intend to threaten me? For my daughter?" Grand Artificer Archibal stared down at the young prince; Prince Elroy of the Kingdom of Seleswind. "You know what I can do, who I can rally. I was promised a princess bride by my nineteenth birthday and I. Will. Have. Her. Or else." "Henrietta, call down to the Foundry, let Bernadette know she has a guest." Henrietta, wife to Archibal and the Grand Archivist, nodded before pressing a button on the table next to her. "Aye! This is Gruff. What can I do fer ya yer majesty?" A deep voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere. Prince Elroy looked around confused at the sound, though he went ignored. "Yes, could you be a dear and send Bernie and Xen up to the Grand Hall? Bernie has a guest waiting." "Aye, will do your majesty." "Thank you." With that, Henrietta released the button and turned to face Elroy once again. "It will be only a moment, just wait there. Would you care for some tea?" Meanwhile, deep below the Grand Hall was a room, a large seemingly endless room, rife with the sounds of metal scraping and hammers ringing. Illuminated only by the glow of molten metal moving around in ducts both above and below the ground, dozens of people stood; hammers and drills and saws and tools of unknown purpose in their hands. Each had their station, and each was deep in their work. Near the center of the room was an anvil larger than any other, easily towering over every man within the Foundry. There, hammering away at a metal glowing an eerie purple, was a dragon. With him was a young girl, maybe no more than 17 years of age, happily sitting on his shoulder, her attention fixed on the metal the dragon worked. "Master Xeniloph, when are you gonna tell me what yer makin?" The girl asked the dragon without turning her gaze. "Soon little one, soon. I said this will be a gift for your birthday, and i meant that. Now, can you tell me how-" Before Xeniloph could finish his question, he was interrupted by a stout man approaching him, waving his arms over his head in an attempt to draw attention. "OI! Lil miss, yer mum's lookn' fer ya! Says you got a visitor or sumthin." Sighing, Bernadette slides off Xeniloph's shoulder before dusting off her overalls. Flakes of iron and copper fall to the floor as she smooths her hair and walks towards the man. "Awright, thanks Gruff! C'mon Xen, let's go see who's lookin' fer me!" "Little one, I am mid forge. I cannot stop my work now. Hurry along and let your parents know I'll follow shortly after. Just need to get this back to a stable form." As he spoke, his hammer strikes punctuated every word, the glow turning a dull blue as he continued. "Awright, don't take too long though Master Xen." With that, the girl turned and made her way towards the stairs. ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// "Awri- er, \ahem\, alright. I'm here, terribly sorry for the wait. Who is this guest for me?" Bernie entered the Grand Hall, her overalls now removed as she tried, and failed, to straighten out the dress she had on underneath. Singe marks were visible along the frills of her dress, with pieces of iron still visible in her hair. "Ah, finally my beloved, you arrive. I am Prince Elroy, and you must be Princess Bernadette, my promised wife to be." Prince Elroy gave an overly dramatic bow as he said this. Turning his head slightly to gaze at Bernie he gave her a 'flirtatious' wink. "Yer- Your what?" Bernie moved around the prince to reach her parents, being careful to leave him a wide berth. "An' when did you and I get engaged? Who decided that, yer mum?" "Bernadette! He is our guest, please stay on your best behavior." Archibal's tone alluded more to her speech than her choice of words. "Sorry Father. Do I truly have to marry him?" Bernie looked at her father, fear residing in her eyes. "Yes you must. If you do not marry me, I will see to it that your entire family is wiped off this earth. My army shall swarm through this pathetic keep you call a castle and-" "And what, little man?" Elroy's threats were cut short by a large presence at the Hall's entrance. Every light within the Grand Hall changed; their steady white glow replaced by a flickering orange flame. The stone and marble making up the walls and floor warmed as the very air grew thick with the acrid smell of the forge. Xeniloph walked towards the prince; his every stepped echoing through the now silent hall. The sound of metal bending and tearing rang out with every footfall. With every breath, the sound of a roaring fire being stoked grew louder. "Who... what... are you?" Elroy's face grew pale as Xeniloph towered over him, dim sparks and metal flakes fluttering down and landing on his face. "I am Xeniloph. Master of The Foundry and Master to the young girl whose hand you seek." As he spoke, the walls of the Grand Hall began to glow with a red hue, the temperature continuing to rise. "You say you want to marry her yet some of your first words to her are threats made against her family and her home. You are not fit to marry her. Based on your behavior you are not fit to rule a kingdom, much less a joint country." Steam began to exude off Xeniloph's scales; a haze forming around him as his own body began to glow with heat. His every inhalation pulled back flames; with every exhale he release plumes of smoke. "I will say this only once, prince. Leave. If you do, you shall go unscathed. Stay, and learn why even gods revere me and my craft." All at once, everything stopped. The air plummeted back to its original temperature. The smell vanished and the glow faded. The lights returned to normal as the smoke and steam ceased from Xeniloph. Prince Elroy stared, mouth agape, at the dragon for what seemed like an eternity. Everyone had theirs eyes on the two, waiting to see what would happen. Finally, Elroy flinched. He stepped back, glared at Bernadette, then ran past Xeniloph and out of the Grand Hall. "Hmm, spineless coward. Come, little one, let us resume our lesson." "Coming Master Xeniloph!"	Once more I awaken from my slumber to horns and once more I am annoyed. Not even the great deep note that I request? These... Trumpets! They must have a very good reason for this! Each of my eyes open. A colossal task in itself, the metal fused to my body over Millenia giving my eyelids great weight. I stretch my head up and peer down towards the castle from my perch overlooking it. Ah, that explains a great deal. There's an army surrounding the city. The trumpets that awoke me were not meant for me. Unfortunate, now they have my attention and my ire. I stretch out my wings, and take to the air, closing in on the largest tent in the siege. There isn't exactly space for me, but I make some. A strong flap of my wings scatters a couple people, horses, and tents and I land in the impromptu clearing. Swiftly I'm surrounded by mediocre human weapons. "Drop your weapons or I will destroy them." I state. Adding a rumble to my voice that make some of the weaker willed men shake. They were smart enough to oblige me. Not dropping their weapons, but at least they weren't pointing them at me. I had a brief desire to immolate a few for disobeying me, but no. I didn't come here explicitly to fight. "I wait here until your highest ranking man comes to speak with me!" I declared. Then for good measure I added "In the meantime I'll be taking mental stock of your supplies so that I may give an accurate estimation to my good friend Queen Camramil." That sent them into overdrive. The people around me scrambled off, presumably to find their general. I already knew what their supplies were like. They had enough to siege the city for long enough probably. That isn't my issue. Amelia Camramil likely already had a perfectly capable plan. It's what I trained her for. No, this visit was purely personal. I absolutely detest being awoken early. After nearly twenty minutes of pretending to look busy, a man clad in disgustingly ornate full plate armor approached me. He was already talking. "What is the meaning of this Dragon!? You are not to meddle in-" "Silence!" I barked shutting him up instantly. Only briefly though, since I had to cut him off as he was about to start speaking. "The old etiquette is the only thing stopping me from leveling this camp. I will hold to it only as long as you do. Now speak Human" I practically spat the last word at him. To his credit, he didn't fluster. Only taking a breath before saying "Forgive me Artemis. Your presence made me forget myself. I am confused because historically you have made a point of avoiding the conflicts of humans." I would have smiled, but my face doesn't really do that. Instead I give a short bow of my head. "I am not participating in this conflict either, but I am awake, so I will not leave until I have a sufficient answer. Why are you here?" I could only see hints of his expression. He was calculating. He chose his words carefully before answering. "I tell you this knowing that you sharing this information would constitute participating in the conflict." "Flawed logic, but I'll humor it." I heard him grit his teeth and force out the niceties as he continued. "I am here to claim the hand of the Princess. The Queen won't give it to me so I'm taking it!" His words hung in the air, only to be cut down by the deep rumbling laughter of one far too large and far too old. My laughter. I couldn't help it! My laughter shook the entire valley before I could calm myself enough to speak. "Ah, amusing. Very well, I wish you the best of luck, though perhaps you'd rather hear exactly why you may not have the princess?" I could feel his fury burning underneath the helmet. A great fire from such a small man, but still merely a candle. He spoke through gritted teeth, knowing full well he couldn't say anything uncouth or risk losing the whole army. "Very well, I'll hear it." "She belongs to me little man. She is my ward, you could level the whole city and in ten years time she will return to coat its walls in your gore." With that I took off, to return to my ward and her training. She'd be upset that she missed the end of winter, but I'll happily explain to her exactly why my hibernation had ended almost a whole month early.
[WP] "Die scum!I will avenge my brother!" the silver knight yells. "Your brother killed my father, i will avenge him in his place bastard!" the gold knight retorts. "What do you mean? your father stole our land!" replies the silver knight. Just how far has this cycle been going on for?	“Die imperial scum!” The Silver Knight screams, clashing swords with his enemy, “I shall avenge my brother!” “Hold your tongue, savage,” The Gold Knight retorted, his stance full of bloodlust. “That simpleton slit my father’s throat at midnight. Merely executed for his crimes. Cowardly, like all your kind!” “So what?” the Silver Knight’s face twists, “Your father stole our land, abducted the good men and women of the forest. Turned our Chieftess into a circusfighter. He ought have expected as much.” “You… hold on.” the Gold Knight loosens the clash between him and the other’s swords, making him stumble into the bloodied sand. The crowd cheered at his humiliation as the golden knight stride aside. “Are you referring to Chieftess Bonua?” The Silver one nodded. The Gold’s face sharpened with hate. “That wretch slaughtered countless citizens in her little holy war, my wife and sons. Our soldiers were only pushing back. You’re lucky we did not slaughter them.” He kick on his opponents in the chest to the center of the arena, and goaded the crowd to cheer, drowning out his shouts of pain. “Art thou among the ones enslaved boy?” The Silver nodded. “Our village was by the ocean, far far away from your empire. You destroyed us, Tis why I became sick entertainment for you maniacs. For the chance to kill you.” “Funny” he smirked genuinely, “Last time one of your kind managed that, she forced Empress Enogard's blade down her torso. It’s in the history books.” “Just the torso? I’ll would have had her swallow it!” The Silver smirks dangerously, picking himself up and barking with rage. “She waged war against all the elves. I’ll be damn sure you pay for that too.” “It was only a skirmish,” the Gold ran on weakly. “after those elves abducted our soldiers and civilians for their insane experiments, you’re no elf anyway.” “My grandmother was… so was that warrior's father. Enogard killed them both.” “An elvish grandmother… is that not 700 years into the past now?” Gold inquired. The Silver one nodded, gripping his sword again. The Gold one readied himself. “… Was your mother Vena of the Black Desert?”	"Die scum!I will avenge my brother!" the silver knight yells. "Your brother killed my father, I will avenge him in his place bastard!" the golden knight retorts. "What do you mean? Your father stole our land!"replies the silver knight. The duel had been going for well over an hour. As per the fair country's laws, the dueling knights had mounted their steeds prior to the fated day and gone to the distant plains which served as the battle grounds. Each knight had brought their squire who were to act as witnesses and report the results of the duel. The outcome was to be accepted no matter what. It was the way of the land and thus it was the way of the knights. The two squires, Tom and Harry, calmly observed the unfolding battle side by side. They had no reason to bear hatred towards one another. In fact, the two had often played together in those lands, like their fathers before them. " So, what's next, Tom?" Harry asked,"Do you think life will be the same after this? " "What will happen will happen, it's up to us to pick up the pieces," Tom, the older boy,replied cooly,"Look it's almost over." At the moment, the two knights were bruised and battered. The silver knight hefted his spear and charged straight for the golden knight. The golden knight tried to parry it, but he was too weakened and couldn't muster the strength to avoid it. And so the spear rammed through the golden knight's torso. He started to cough up blood but the silver knight moved closer, pushing the spear deeper. "I've waited too long for this moment, your family has caused us nothing but ruin. Taking our land, killing my family, this cycle ends here!" The golden knight weakly replied,"Who do you think gave your father that land? You speak as if he was a paragon of virtue, but you know nothing. My father's dying words were that your father was a land grabbing thief" "I will not stand for slander against our-" the silver knight started but his words were cut short when the golden knight, smelling the faintest opportunity drew out his dagger and plunged it to his opponent's neck. The silver knight had miscalculated by coming in too close. As the two knights lay there bleeding out, their squires came closer. "For the record, the land was never yours. It was the people's. And starting from now we shall take it back." Tom said. After confirming their deaths, the two squires shook hands and to take their master's weapons. "You know, for all that hate, they were really victims. What would have done if they one of them survived?"Harry enquired. " Don't worry, this isn't my first duel as a squire. These things have a way of being sorted out. Now let's go Harry."
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Summer job", how insulting those words had been but when you've suddenly got bills to pay and are "over-qualified" for what you've trained a lifetime to do, but you have to take what you can get sometimes. Had been hilarious though. 2 weeks of orientation and training my tail, 2 hours and the "trainer" had had to run off to deal with a special sale. Not a lot of customers milling about, couple dozen maybe, but I guess when you sell everything from $10 rookie costumes to special order lunar shuttles you don't exactly have to be packed with customers full time. "Walk around and familiarize yourself with the store." he said and so that's what I did and how I found myself shaking my head at a wet nosed kid looking like he was trying to do advanced spatial physics while looking at the "weapons attachment counter". "Hey there what can I help with?" "You're new." "Yep. What can I help you with." "Ummm, I've got an opponent with super speed. Not like blinding super speed he maxes at about 120mph but still super speed. I can barely track him much less hit him." "Okay" stepping behind the counter, "Lets assume he has at least minor 'super damage resistance or he would hurt himself bouncing off of things. No powers of your own to counter him?" "No no, just minor damage resistance and all light all dark vision." "Okay so you're a P2. Got it." Reaching up to the rack. "Lets go with a double barred automatic shotgun with counter rotational drum feed magazines oh and a full open choke for maximum pellet spread. Add a motion tracking scanner and an optical observation screen. That way you can track and hip fire at your target without having to line it up by eye. Use the camera lense." Slapping it all together to assemble the weapon for him. "Does your opponent have any kind of optical shielding for bright lights?" "I, I don't think so." "Okay then lets add an under barrel grenade launcher and some "solar flare" strobe canisters. Get him to face plant into a building and unload on full auto as he gets back on his feet. How's that sound so far?" "Great but he usually comes racing up behind me and slaps me unconscious?" "Okay okay...got this come on." Walking over to another section. "Lets get you a new helmet but, in addition to concussion pads and a neck brace, it will limit your ability to turn your head so turn your whole body, that should stop him from slapping you unconscious but, lets get you a helmet with built in nano blades to feasibly slice his fingers off. That should slow him down. Now lets grab you a light body vest and attach a speed sensor to the back, set it to say 30 mph and attach 2 directional mines, one over each shoulder blade looking like armor plates. Anything coming up behind you over 30mph, once you turn it on, will set off the charges blowing over 200 titanium buck shot pellets into their face and body and since it is a defensive system he will have done it to himself. Easier for the lawyers if need be. So, how would you like to pay." Crap that was the first I noticed about a dozen other customers had started following along with us. "Umm, I'm actually a little short. I've only got about 2 grand." "Have you applied for one of our credit cards? 10% off first purchase under $100k." Curse the trainer drilling that into my brain. "Could you help me with that?" "Sure kiddo, lets go." That was the first one. By the time my trainer found me again I was on my third customer with 2 more waiting, solving 'super' conflict issues with gear ideas anyone off the street could feasibly make work. My trainer was pissed, pleased and curious. How was a 'normie' like me coming up with ideas to help even the most basic customer and how, on my first day, was I not being phased by serving 'supers'. Simple answers for him, a normie like me with 17 years of military service, seeing combat and occasionally facing 'supers' had had to come up with ways of staying alive while waiting for a friendly 'super' to show up. As for not being phased, 17 years with multiple combat tours and having seen supers fight and die. They are people and whatever color they bleed, if they bleed they can be killed.	I clocked in and opened my register, and just as I expected, Marcos materialized from a plume of black smoke, and approached me timidly. I had seen him lingering in bat-form under the eaves near the gardening department as I pulled in for my Sunday morning shift. He only felt comfortable shopping on Sunday mornings when the real wackadoos that worked here were stuck at church. I knew what he was here for. Some product called 'Night Glue". Now I don't know what the hell this stuff was, but I know where we kept it. It was one of those "off shelf" items we kept in limited stock. So I go retrieve this specialty item, and return to the register. Marcos is nowhere to be found. I hear a ruckus in the candle aisle, and see that drunken buffoon Spice Cloud stumbling and giggling about with some girl he just picked up from the club hours before. "Can I help you, please?" I offer. "I don't know, MAY you?" cackled this sarcastic drunken mortal. I looked up to the rafters and caught Marcos's eye. "Tell you what. Why don't you go out to the car and make some room. Spice Cloud and I will be right out with this weird obelisk y'all seem to need."
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Summer job", how insulting those words had been but when you've suddenly got bills to pay and are "over-qualified" for what you've trained a lifetime to do, but you have to take what you can get sometimes. Had been hilarious though. 2 weeks of orientation and training my tail, 2 hours and the "trainer" had had to run off to deal with a special sale. Not a lot of customers milling about, couple dozen maybe, but I guess when you sell everything from $10 rookie costumes to special order lunar shuttles you don't exactly have to be packed with customers full time. "Walk around and familiarize yourself with the store." he said and so that's what I did and how I found myself shaking my head at a wet nosed kid looking like he was trying to do advanced spatial physics while looking at the "weapons attachment counter". "Hey there what can I help with?" "You're new." "Yep. What can I help you with." "Ummm, I've got an opponent with super speed. Not like blinding super speed he maxes at about 120mph but still super speed. I can barely track him much less hit him." "Okay" stepping behind the counter, "Lets assume he has at least minor 'super damage resistance or he would hurt himself bouncing off of things. No powers of your own to counter him?" "No no, just minor damage resistance and all light all dark vision." "Okay so you're a P2. Got it." Reaching up to the rack. "Lets go with a double barred automatic shotgun with counter rotational drum feed magazines oh and a full open choke for maximum pellet spread. Add a motion tracking scanner and an optical observation screen. That way you can track and hip fire at your target without having to line it up by eye. Use the camera lense." Slapping it all together to assemble the weapon for him. "Does your opponent have any kind of optical shielding for bright lights?" "I, I don't think so." "Okay then lets add an under barrel grenade launcher and some "solar flare" strobe canisters. Get him to face plant into a building and unload on full auto as he gets back on his feet. How's that sound so far?" "Great but he usually comes racing up behind me and slaps me unconscious?" "Okay okay...got this come on." Walking over to another section. "Lets get you a new helmet but, in addition to concussion pads and a neck brace, it will limit your ability to turn your head so turn your whole body, that should stop him from slapping you unconscious but, lets get you a helmet with built in nano blades to feasibly slice his fingers off. That should slow him down. Now lets grab you a light body vest and attach a speed sensor to the back, set it to say 30 mph and attach 2 directional mines, one over each shoulder blade looking like armor plates. Anything coming up behind you over 30mph, once you turn it on, will set off the charges blowing over 200 titanium buck shot pellets into their face and body and since it is a defensive system he will have done it to himself. Easier for the lawyers if need be. So, how would you like to pay." Crap that was the first I noticed about a dozen other customers had started following along with us. "Umm, I'm actually a little short. I've only got about 2 grand." "Have you applied for one of our credit cards? 10% off first purchase under $100k." Curse the trainer drilling that into my brain. "Could you help me with that?" "Sure kiddo, lets go." That was the first one. By the time my trainer found me again I was on my third customer with 2 more waiting, solving 'super' conflict issues with gear ideas anyone off the street could feasibly make work. My trainer was pissed, pleased and curious. How was a 'normie' like me coming up with ideas to help even the most basic customer and how, on my first day, was I not being phased by serving 'supers'. Simple answers for him, a normie like me with 17 years of military service, seeing combat and occasionally facing 'supers' had had to come up with ways of staying alive while waiting for a friendly 'super' to show up. As for not being phased, 17 years with multiple combat tours and having seen supers fight and die. They are people and whatever color they bleed, if they bleed they can be killed.	Let's see, where to start? The founding of Super-Mart, where the budget-conscious super can get what they need at an affordable price? No, fairly straightforward. The agreement between almost all heroes and villains that there was a neutral zone where the store was? No, too complicated, besides, it gets a little confusing with all the different organizations and what such. Oh, how about -BOOM- A thin layer of dust was knocked off the light fixtures, it felt like the whole Earth shook. A manager, Steve, rushed outside, his green apron flapping in the wind and name tag bouncing as he went. He gasped and rushed out of view, I rushed to the door to see what was happening. Then I saw it, one of Professor Paleo's dinosaurs, Roberta, a T. Rex, in a crater in the ground. BOOM, like a cannon, several blocks to the west, then, like a projectile, was Professor Paleo herself, crashing through the wall, her AnkyloArmor the only thing keeping her from becoming a stain on the waxed concrete floor. "IS THAT THE BEST YOUR PATHETIC PALEONTOLOGICAL FREAKSHOW CAN DO?!?" That voice... it was the voice of Major Meteor, a super of questionable morals and a general jerk, but that would be an insult to the actual General, who was in the store on his usual grocery run at the moment. Professor Paleo only gave a dull groan as an answer. Steve cut in. "Hey! This is a neutral zone!" "WHAT OF IT?" Major Meteor yelled in response, floating above all like he was some kind of god. "The fact that so many Supers shop here, you'll be the top of everyone's list." Major Meteor's mother and mentor, Stellara arrived, bringing with her some of her team, which included, but was not limited to: Cyberbot & Techno, The Ranger, Fissure, and The Unknown. All supers of great reputations and regulars at Super-Mart. "Not to mention zat ze combined efforts af all ze supers working togezer would most likely destroy ze entire city." It was General Relativity, a brilliant doctor turned "mad" scientist, but there were others, such as: The Outrider, Hypnara, Wraith, Megabyte, and Dr Evolution, Professor Paleo's true nemesis, who was currently busy tending to the injuries of said Professor. Stellara spoke up, "You are going to go home and stay there until I get back, because you are GROUNDED, mister." "Aw, c'mon mom, that's not fair, I was gonna go see The E.T.s' concert tonight!" "You'll just have to settle for the livestream, besides, your actions have ruined my evening plans as well, so we'll have all night to talk about what you did. Or, would you rather I let all the supers here take you on all at the same time, with only the crater left behind being our home?" Okay, mom, I'm sorry I ruined your evening." Major Meteor silently floated to the ground and walked off. Stellara approached the manager. "I am so sorry Steve, I swear he wasn't like this until the thing with his father, and I was so looking forward to our date tonight." Steve reassured her that it was alright, the company's insurance would take care of the damage to the Super-Mart, and we would put together something special for Professor Paleo, seeing as her weekend plans had been unexpectedly altered. I volunteer with her at the natural history museum, as we share a love of dinosaurs, it was how we met, come to think of it. The first time she came in, she nearly bought every fruit, vegetable, and meat cut available. When I asked her abou- "Hey, Chronicler! This floor ain't gonna sweep itself!" Assistant Manager Bob called out. "Right, sorry sir!" I rushed to get my trusty broom and get to sweeping. I overheard Stellara on the phone with someone, and she sounded angry. "I swear, that boy is in for it this time. Turns out, his grades are slipping, big time, and it's because he's been ditching school to pick fights. Again. I swear..." as she walked off in the direction of the wine department, I could tell she was going to have a long night. As I'm sweeping, I make my way over to Dr Evolution and Professor Paleo. "You'll be alright, Ellie, the kid and I will take care of your animals while you get better." "Thanks Ian, that means a lot, especially from both my nemesis and brother." It was strange seeing them like this, they were usually at each other's throats, which is why they alternated weekends at the museum. I acted as a neutral point between the two. "Meteor needs some work on his one liners, too. When he hit me, he said, 'HERE COMES EXTINCTION!! And I was just giving Roberta some exercise. Kid needs serious help." "That he most certainly does" Stellara had walked back over, this time with a basket full of the strongest wines we have in stock, with a lot more than her usual selection. While Paleo was getting checked out by the EMTs, I asked Steve for some extra time off to help Professor Paleo with her animals, which he agreed to, but Bob had to point out that it would be unpaid, which I didn't mind, I liked Paleo's dinosaurs, even if they weren't completely scientifically accurate. Dr Evolution and Tank, the guy from the loading dock, helped me get Roberta back home safe and sound. Dr Evolution wished me a good night and both he and Tank left. Right as I was done taking care of the to-do list Paleo gave me, I got a call from my mom. She was understandably worried about what happened at the store, seeing as it was all over the news. She also asked how Ellie was doing and I reminded her that it was Professor Paleo during "work" and Ellie when she's not. She then told me it had felt like just yesterday that Ellie, Ian, and I were just kids playing outside, debating which were smarter, primates, dolphins, or velociraptors, gazing in amazement at the fossils in the museum each time, helping them out when they needed it, and so on. We had been friends since childhood, they were practically family, which is why it was so important to me that I help Ellie while she recovered
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	Super-Mart was the dream job of a lifetime, at least for me. Ever since I was a little kid, I always wanted to be a superhero. Catch bad guys, save people from harm, get the girl. Sadly, life had different plans for me. When I was thirteen years old, I was diagnosed with Marfan Syndrome. Competitive sports were out of the question and with it my dreams of being a hero. I didn't let that keep me down though, so when an opening showed up the next summer at Super-Mart, I jumped at the opportunity. I had been to Super-Mart before to pick up groceries for my parents, so I knew the layout pretty well. The front entrance was much like any grocery store. Cash registers toward the front with several aisles of food. The difference at Super-Mart was when the aisle ended there was a large open area that acted as a buffer from the food section. The other section had less aisles and larger walkways between them. I never went down there before, figuring it was just tools. How wrong I was. Sure there were tools. Tools of the trade and not of a carpenter or a do-it-yourselfer, but of heroes and villains. Blades, grappling hooks, net launchers, gators. You name it, they had it. My first day, all I did was roam those aisles, admiring the impressive selection we offered. The appeal did wear off faster than I thought it would, but my attention then changed to the people who shopped there. People dressed in capes became a regular thing as well as rougher looking people who gravitated toward wearing black and darker black. My trainer mentioned that villains shopped here, but for some reason I found that hard to fathom. None of the heroes who shopped here I recognized, which made me think maybe cosplay was just super popular here. That was until I was called for my first price check. "Jason, you are needed in aisle 3H. Price check on lasers." my radio said from my belt. I unclipped my radio and spoke into it, "I'm on it." I walked over as calm as I could, not wanting to sweat in my clean red shirt. It was my first opportunity at helping someone in person and I didn't want to screw it up. Turning the corner of the aisle I saw a man dressed in an immaculate suit with his hands behind his back. He was reading one of the labels. A few feet beyond him was a woman in a blue cape writhing on the floor, holding her face. My stride got slower, approaching the man with caution. "Ah, you there. Can you help me with something?" the man in the suit asked me. His voice was calm and weirdly soothing, yet the little voice in my head screamed at me to leave at once. If not for the hero writhing in pain, the fact that this man caused her misery without even messing up his suit was enough for alarm. It was clear he was a villain, but I had a job to do. "How can I help you?" I asked, walking up to him. My eyes kept glancing beyond him, trying to see if the caped woman was alright. "I was hoping you could price match these lasers you have with the ones I found online." he said, showing me his phone. I looked at the screen and laughed. Dumb move, but I couldn't help it. It was a simple ten dollar pen laser pointer. The lasers on the shelf next to him could melt skin like butter. I collected myself and tried to break it to him gently. "I'm sorry sir, those aren't the same as these." "How so?" "The lasers may both look the same, but this laser can cut through bone." I said taking one off the shelf. "That one on your screen can blind people at best." "Then why didn't this one cut straight through this woman?" the man said casually admitting he tried to kill someone in the store. "Clearly this is the cheap one." "Fuck you Jaster!" the woman yelled from the floor. The man in the suit turned to her, "Excuse me, miss. I am trying to talk with this young man." "You could have blinded me with that!" she said, getting up from the floor. "You attacked me first. And if I remember right, this place has a no fighting policy." Jaster said, grabbing the laser from my hand. "Why I oughta…" the woman said, before getting blasted in the eyes again with the purple beam. She screamed and covered her eyes, tumbling into the shelf. Jaster turned back to me. I was frozen both in fear and amazement. A laser that should have bored her eyes out, only caused her great suffering. Her strength was remarkable. And Jaster. Thee Jaster was standing in front of me. Easily the most notorious villain that ever lived. I have heard stories, but seeing him in person was surreal, even if he was retired. "I'm sorry about that. So like I was saying, clearly this laser isn't as advertised. I was hoping for a price match." Jaster said. I stared in awe of him for a few more moments before I finally spoke, "Um, I'm sorry. I could get fired for matching that price." "Then how about you match it and come work for me. I could use a tall young man like you." "What? You want me to work for you? I thought you were retired?" "Retired, not dead. Still got to keep busy and I need good workers." "This is just a summer job. I'm still in school." "Not a problem. Ring these up for me," he said, tossing me the pen laser. "I'll take the entire stock." "Don't you do it. I'll have you arrested." the woman said, clinging onto the shelf. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto me, demanding my compliance. "Don't listen to her, Jason. I always take care of my own." Jaster said to me before turning to her. "As for you, we are going to have a little chat about threatening my henchmen." Jaster grabbed her by the throat and walked away with her. Her feet kicked the floor and she pounded on his arm, but he did not flinch. They were both relatively the same size, yet no matter what the woman did his grip was unrelenting. He turned the corner with her and the last sound I heard, besides the squealing of her boots on the clean floor, was the sliding door open and close out of sight. Panic and excitement started to set in. Was I really working for Jaster? I didn't even remember saying yes nor did I tell him my name. I looked down at my shirt. I was not wearing a name tag. Instead of wasting my time wondering how he knew my name I did the one thing that would help me. Running off to grab a cart to fit all the lasers in. Super-Mart may have been my dream job, but working for Jaster was something I couldn't say no to. Even if I wanted to. *** If you want to read more following this universe of heroes/villains, check out: /r/HerosInc	"How about fifty?" "I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!" It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy "Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave." Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here. \\\* "But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes." I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt "Even then I was able to make my way out of it!" He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up. "If you say so." Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world! "Yeah, I say so!" "Let's compromise." Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile? He did! That's bad! That's really bad! "I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough" "O-okay" I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter. "Very well then" \\\* "I got scammed at supercave" "Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses" Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray. Uh... Death ray? Since when I consider this a normal thing here? "I can help you to use those websites if you want" Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job! "So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..." I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here! Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy. This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile "What should I buy?" She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her. "Why not this costume cleaner?" "Oh this might work! But not really" "What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?" "not my style" "Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol" "Too simple" "Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes" "Too pale" Pick something woman! Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine. I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though? Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register. It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again? .............................. Right. ............................. Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others. .............................. \\\* "You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle "I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!" This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks. .............................. Thanks, dad. ............................. I love you.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new. "My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty. "I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended. "Are you saying this was my fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks. "I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish." "I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her. "Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly. "You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup. "Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do? "That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!" "Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do. "R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray? "Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs. "This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless. "Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time. "Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero. "This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this. "Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon. "You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm. "I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares. "Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess.	"How about fifty?" "I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!" It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy "Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave." Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here. \\\* "But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes." I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt "Even then I was able to make my way out of it!" He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up. "If you say so." Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world! "Yeah, I say so!" "Let's compromise." Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile? He did! That's bad! That's really bad! "I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough" "O-okay" I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter. "Very well then" \\\* "I got scammed at supercave" "Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses" Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray. Uh... Death ray? Since when I consider this a normal thing here? "I can help you to use those websites if you want" Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job! "So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..." I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here! Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy. This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile "What should I buy?" She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her. "Why not this costume cleaner?" "Oh this might work! But not really" "What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?" "not my style" "Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol" "Too simple" "Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes" "Too pale" Pick something woman! Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine. I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though? Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register. It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again? .............................. Right. ............................. Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others. .............................. \\\* "You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle "I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!" This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks. .............................. Thanks, dad. ............................. I love you.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Welcome to supermart where our deals are so super, they're evil." I could not believe, that this was how they expected me to greet everybody walking in the door. To say it felt a little ridiculous it's like saying root canal hurt a little bit. Yet, here I was, regretting ever hearing of Craigslist and their "gigs" section. 'Need a Summer job? Want something cool that you can't tell your friends about, or we'll kill ya? Yes, the job is THAT cool! Respond to this via message and tell us why you want to be the envy of your friends with the crazy tips you'll earn, if you can handle it'. I was broke, my Step-mom kept bugging me about getting a job and being GONE more often. So anyway, I applied. A week later, I got snatched off the street outside my favorite comics shop. "Don't struggle kid, this is your JOB INTERVIEW!" Said the voice of one of my attackers. "I would have just gone to your office, you know" I shouted from under the hood. "Is this really necessary?" "No, but it helps us with the paperwork. If you were still screaming like a little bitch..." "Hey! Watch your language!" Another voice said. *...as I was saying, you didn't melt down completely from getting taken to your job interview, so that's the first part of it. We will be pulling up and you will go in to fill out your paperwork." And a moment later, I was dragged out of the van, had my hood removed and hands unbound. SUPER MARKET (Best value, no matter what your values) "Huh... I didn't even know this was here..." I mused. "Of course not!" Said a man in a crisp dark suit. "Nobody really does, until they need it." He motioned toward a solid metal door. Once inside, I filled out my tax forms and received my uniform shirts. "Wear khakis, no cargo pants. They make our clients a little nervous. " "And who are our clients?" "Oh, we have an orientation video for that.". He gestured toward the wall which came to life as a video screen. "Welcome to Super Mart, where our prices are so super, they are evil! That is the slogan that will help you navigate your time working with us here. You see, not everyone is a Bruce Stark or Tony Wayne with billions to throw around to try to protect the world. And not everyone who wants to take over countries or even cities can afford the gadgets required. So, we help with our value prices on everything necessary. " "What? This is a thing? " I was a little confused. "Am I being punked?" "I assure you, you are not. We are have been business for a number of years. We are a beacon of neutrality for our customers. We don't refer to them as heroes or villains, just customers." It has been weird the past few months. First off, NOBODY is in costume. They all look like regular people buying things that could be dangerous if\when assembled. I have recognized a few of them, and as my eyes widened in excitement or fear, they have always walked up, shaken my hand and whispered, "just be cool, we are just shopping here. But I'd you want to move up, let me know..." Followed by a business card descretely slipped into my hand. They pay well, enough. I can keep gas in my car, so that's cool. I wish there was an employee discount. It is not fair that they won't sell me the hover board that actually HOVERS . Evidently, I would have to join up with one of the clients, and they both have compelling reasons to work for each of them. However, school starts up soon, and it's my senior year, so I'll be busy. If you're looking for work, my spot is coming up soon. If you can keep a secret.	"How about fifty?" "I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!" It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy "Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave." Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here. \\\* "But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes." I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt "Even then I was able to make my way out of it!" He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up. "If you say so." Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world! "Yeah, I say so!" "Let's compromise." Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile? He did! That's bad! That's really bad! "I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough" "O-okay" I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter. "Very well then" \\\* "I got scammed at supercave" "Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses" Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray. Uh... Death ray? Since when I consider this a normal thing here? "I can help you to use those websites if you want" Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job! "So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..." I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here! Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy. This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile "What should I buy?" She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her. "Why not this costume cleaner?" "Oh this might work! But not really" "What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?" "not my style" "Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol" "Too simple" "Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes" "Too pale" Pick something woman! Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine. I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though? Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register. It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again? .............................. Right. ............................. Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others. .............................. \\\* "You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle "I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!" This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks. .............................. Thanks, dad. ............................. I love you.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest atmospheres anyone could have ever experienced. Strolling through the isles was a colorful, but sparse collection of motley dressed supers. It almost felt like the air was on the verge of bursting into flames, the way some of the customers looked at each other. No one knew how this place remained open. The owner, whoever they were, had somehow managed to both establish a weapons store in a remote hillside (that was still accessible by road) as well as somehow manage to dodge attacks from governments and militia groups, as well as the occasional super who got a bit too big for their boots. No one knew what happened, to the last category. Galen ignored the sideways death glances as he followed the instructions he'd written down on a scrap of paper. Turn off the A139 (Junction 18). Enter through the main door (they're automatic). At the back of the fifth isle, there will be a door. Walk through it. Do not talk to any of the supers. If a person claiming to be a member of staff tries to talk to you, they're lying. Go up the stairs, my office is the third one along. Don't eat before you come. I'm making tea and scones :D The courier had very specifically asked him to include the smiley face in his note. In retrospect, this was a bit strange: he'd only started writing it a long while after they'd left. The back of the store was even more strange than the front. While the aisles of the front of the store had a clean neutralness to them, displaying racks and racks of this and that, this completely changed once he crossed the threshold. Rich, dark mahogany lined the walls besides him, with the occasional oil lamp to light his way. They flickered and wavered, causing strange, dancing shadows to move along the walls besides him. Not counting the lanterns, it reminded him a bit of his old school. He shivered. He found the door with the lettering stated on it, and knocked. Out of curiosity, he looked around the hallway, wondering if he needed to, how fast he could- "Come in." Oh well. He'd figure it out later. Walking in, he expected to find an office no less surreal than the rest of this place. And he was right. There wasn't a desk or anything of the sort. Just a woman, dressed in a Victorian outfit sitting at a large, round, covered table that looked like it could have fit about five or six. He couldn't make out her face behind the large decorative hat that was balanced on her head. "Erm...I'm here for the-" "Oh, shush. I know why you're here, Galen." How did she know my name? Wait. No. She'd invited him. That was a completely normal thing to know. He sat down at the table, seeing her face for the first time. He blinked. For some reason, everything he'd seen had made him expect someone older. But the person he was sitting across form couldn't have been much older than twenty five. Admittedly, that did make her almost twice his age. He tried not to get too warm, as she poured tea into the cup in front of him. "So, why do you think you'd be a good fit, for this role?" Alright, remember the things you were going to say. "Well...um...I'm a very hard worker. My dad always said that-" She burst out laughing, small flecks of scone pettling his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She said, wiping her eyes "I just had to hear it for myself. Out of all the candidates you were the only one who didn't start with what they could do. You're hired, by the way. The fact that you're here means I was always going to hire you. I just wanted to see it first. "Umm..." he said, not quite sure how to react "...there are...other candidates?" "Oh. No. Not anymore, anyway. And now that I've picked you, there never were. Does that make sense?" He was getting an increasingly uneasy feeling about this. "Oh don't worry. Most of my employees get used to that pretty quickly." "Did-did you just?" "Well no. But also yes. To be honest, I wouldn't worry about it." Which was the sort of statement which did not help with that. Something in her face changed. "I would like to know, though. Why do you think you'd be a good fit, for this role?" To be honest, he was starting to get the impression he didn't want to be. But...there was something in her tone that demanded an answer. So he gave one. "My powers. I see connections in things. Put them together, in ways no one else had thought of. That's why you want me, isn't it? You want me to make things, things that you can sell." She shrugged. "True. Partially." He blinked. "But also completely wrong." That caught him by surprise. "What do you think this place is, Galen?" It occurred to him that she was asking for a response. "A...erm, weapons shop?" She sighed. "If I didn't want to hire you, I would've punched you just then. I put things together." She smiled. "Like you. That's what we do here, we bring things together; things that nobody thought could work the way they did." "But-" he interrupted. "-I never said it was objects, that I was bringing together." He stared at her, not entirely sure what she meant. Only after the fact did it occur to him how immensely stupid it had been to interrupt this person. He was starting to get an idea of just how dangerous she might be. Even he might have trouble. She just smiled. "Anyway, I can see you've had a big day. Go to the lounge; its on the third floor past the living quarters. You can take the rest of the day off. Your shift begins tomorrow."	"How about fifty?" "I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!" It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy "Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave." Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here. \\\* "But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes." I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt "Even then I was able to make my way out of it!" He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up. "If you say so." Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world! "Yeah, I say so!" "Let's compromise." Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile? He did! That's bad! That's really bad! "I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough" "O-okay" I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter. "Very well then" \\\* "I got scammed at supercave" "Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses" Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray. Uh... Death ray? Since when I consider this a normal thing here? "I can help you to use those websites if you want" Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job! "So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..." I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here! Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy. This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile "What should I buy?" She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her. "Why not this costume cleaner?" "Oh this might work! But not really" "What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?" "not my style" "Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol" "Too simple" "Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes" "Too pale" Pick something woman! Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine. I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though? Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register. It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again? .............................. Right. ............................. Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others. .............................. \\\* "You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle "I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!" This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks. .............................. Thanks, dad. ............................. I love you.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	Even with the superheroes and the villains, my job at Super-Mart would have sucked without Ellie. She, by contrast, thought it was the best thing ever. We made a strange pair in the checkout line, her at the register, the darling of the clientèle, fawning over and being fawned over in turn, me bagging and being included only by virtue of her smile. That smile though! Like a lightning bolt. She turned it towards me now, and its force dragged the poor, superpowered-sap she was talking to along with it. “What do you think, Harry?” she said. “You’re definitely not villain material,” I said. The guy she was talking to laughed, brushed me off with a wave of his hand. He was six inches taller than me, with a square jaw and and long, tousled hair that trailed flaming, smoking ends. He had an absolutely egregious mustache too, and somehow that wasn’t smoking. I wished it was. “And what would you know about villain material, kid?” the guy said. “Knock it off Bill, the kid is right,” a woman down the line called. I recognized her, the May Queen. Green, spiraling tendrils sprouted out of her mouth whenever she talked. It was disconcerting, especially for a woman otherwise as beautiful as the very best spring days. A few other heroes chimed in here and there, from our line and from the others nearby. Ellie had that effect on people. And yet, she was still smiling at me. “Why do you say that?” she asked as she finished checking out the smoke-haired guy’s last few items. “You just aren’t,” I said patiently. “Look Ell, you’re too kindhearted for that. I mean, you notice all the little things all the time, you always try to consider other people. I mean come on you’re—” I cut myself off before I said ‘you’re asking me.’ Sometimes, I thought, it was painful how much I liked Ellie. But then, she was all of those things and more. She was most certainly not a villain. Ellie laughed, tossed her hair. “I don’t know,” she said, “I think villains have the best outfits. Have you seen Sir Scarlet? The dress he wears is immaculate.” The guy with the fire hair leaned in. “And I could hook you up with the best tailor. Think about it.” “Will do,” Ellie said, throwing him a little salute. The guy grabbed the last bag from me before I could put it in the cart, and then he was off. The next guy, a Gray, one of those rare superpowered folks who were both fully formed and still uncommitted, shrugged as Ellie checked out his single item. We didn’t acknowledge that is was a bottle of bourbon, or the fact that this particular gray was back for his bottle nearly every day. It was a hard life, being a Gray. Which made Ellie’s choice, and all our customers interest, even more important; because one day soon she would have to choose. Ellie had a power, and powers needed to be aligned. The May Queen was up next. She had more herbs and oils than I could name, even after a month working here. She pitched her voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper that I had to strain to hear. “Sir Scarlet’s dress isn’t bad, but if it’s really fashion you’re after, nobody beats the heroes.” The May Queen reached down into her bag, lips pursed such that a few little tendrils could still escape, and she pulled out a card. “Do you have any idea how rare one of these is?” she said, holding the card out to Ellie. Ellie’s eyes grew wide. It was an invitation to the Heroes Gala, the social event of the year, whatever the villains might say about it. “The dresses here are to die for.” Then the May Queen laughed, flower petal spilling from her lips. “You can even bring the boy!” She swept out on a jonquil scented breeze. I wished very badly that she hadn’t called me a boy. Ellie pocketed the card like it didn’t even matter, glanced back at me, and said, “Dress or spandex?” “Dress,” I said instantly. And the day wore on towards lunch. We talked, as we always did, of what it would be like to be adored as a hero, or how scandalously exciting it would be to become a villain. Ellie tossed an endless stream of prospective names at me, and one or the other of us found reasons to shoot down every one. She asked me once about what I wanted to do once I graduated; I shrugged. I had no idea. There were many things, it seemed, about which I had no idea. I knew nothing about Ellie’s background, why she wasn’t in school herself, how she'd come to have a power, why it was so hard for her to choose. I didn’t even know what her superpower was. Ellie, for all her kindness and interest in me, had played her own cards very close to her chest. And I had never wanted to get a glimpse of someone else’s hand so badly. She must have been powerful, I knew that for a fact. She seemed to be some sort of known quantity for all the powers who came through, she was charismatic as all hell but that wasn’t enough with people like the May Queen. Eventually the lines died down, lunch grew nearer. Ellie’s stomach growled like hell and she slapped it in annoyance, the guy she was checking out laughed. Then we were off, headed towards the breakroom, and as always we were eating together. But today was different. Ellie had an invitation to the Heroes Gala in her pocket, the May Queen, whether she had called me a boy or not, had said that Ellie could bring me, and I was so, so tired of being the only uninformed person in the whole store. I cornered her in the breakroom door, swallowed down my fears, and said, “Elliewhat’syoursuperpower!” It all came out in one awkward rush, not even pitched like a question. Her eyes widened and she tried to lean away from me, bumped into my arm. I realized I had quite literally trapped her, one arm on either side of the doorframe. I hadn’t meant to do that. I stepped away, blushing, and she burst out laughing. “Dude, you know all you had to do was ask, right?” “Huh?” I said. That hadn’t occurred to me. I tried to look back over the whole of the past month, to sift through every interaction we had ever had. Had I really never asked her that question? “Oh shit,” I said, feeling suddenly queasy. Ellie, still laughing, shaking her head, grabbed me by the arm. “It’ll be easier if I just show you,” she said, dragging me off in the direction of the loading dock. The loading dock was no more private than the break room had been. Pete looked over from his forklift, waved at us, Carol and Steve were pushing palletjacks. I glanced around, “This is better than the break room?” Ellie just smiled and kept pulling me along. We were headed for a closet. (part 2 below)	"How about fifty?" "I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!" It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy "Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave." Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here. \\\* "But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes." I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt "Even then I was able to make my way out of it!" He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up. "If you say so." Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world! "Yeah, I say so!" "Let's compromise." Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile? He did! That's bad! That's really bad! "I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough" "O-okay" I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter. "Very well then" \\\* "I got scammed at supercave" "Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses" Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray. Uh... Death ray? Since when I consider this a normal thing here? "I can help you to use those websites if you want" Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job! "So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..." I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here! Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy. This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile "What should I buy?" She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her. "Why not this costume cleaner?" "Oh this might work! But not really" "What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?" "not my style" "Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol" "Too simple" "Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes" "Too pale" Pick something woman! Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine. I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though? Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register. It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again? .............................. Right. ............................. Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others. .............................. \\\* "You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle "I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!" This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks. .............................. Thanks, dad. ............................. I love you.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	My store has two oddities: it's a discount store that caters to superheroes and our items are non-refundable. My first customer of the day knew the store's first quirk. He was unaware of the second. "But it doesn't work!" he whined through his mask which was shaped like a computer monitor made from the early-1990s. The screen displayed a " >:( " face. "The product says it can detect nearby crimes but it's non-responsive!" He slid the a poorly packaged box across the counter towards me. I opened the box and saw a small electronic shaped like a magnifying glass. The Observer read down it's handle in an American Typewriter font. I pressed the power button at the base of the unit. A screen appeared on the lens and animated curved lines rippled from its center like a rock being thrown onto a still pond. "Seems to be working just fine," I said. "The lines are supposed to increase their intensity the moment a crime happens kinda like how a metal detector's beeps get louder when it approaches a rusted can." I turned around in place and saw the lines keep a consistent pulse. "Maybe there's no crimes happening?" "Not possible," he insisted and then went off on how he had The Observer on the entire night looking for crimes and didn't pick up a single incident. According to the police report the following day, multiple felonies happened nearby. "Does this thing have a range setting?" I asked. "What if the device can only pick up on crimes that are really close?" The man sighed. "I don't know the first way to figure out if it does or does not have such a thing. I'm kinda at a loss if anything is more advanced that a Nokia phone from 1998. See, my whole shtick is that I use retro technology to fight bad guys." That's an interesting theme. "How is that going for you?" I said. The man shook his computer head. "Not well. Most of my resources are an impressive inconvenience for my turn around time. I get notified by fax! FAX!" he cried out. "Criminals are long gone by the time my dot matrix printer spits out the report. I figured it was time for an upgrade so I bought this device but I don't understand half of its instructions." A " :( " appeared on his monitor. "This might surprise you, but there's an older man underneath this mask," the hero said. "You don't say," I responded. "Can you help me set this thing up?" I looked behind him and saw a couple of other heroes standing behind him. They looked as if their patience wore thin. "I'd like to, but I honestly don't know much about this model. Unlike you, I'm not a hero. Just a kid who works behind a counter." The man gently placed his balled up hand over a " :'( " symbol on his screen. "You'd be surprised," he said. "You kids are amazing with these gizmos. It's superhuman to me." He grabbed The Observer and box and walked towards the door. "Sir!" I called out to him. He turned around. "How about we get together after my shift. Bring that thing your holding and we'll figure out how to work it together. Say 5:30 this afternoon at that new coffee shop called Mug Shots?" An uplifting chime sounded from the man's screen and the crying face turned into a " :D " "I'd love that! Where's it located?" he asked. "Type it the shop's name into Google Maps," I said. "It should be the first hit." The man stood still at the exit with an " :\| " expression displayed. "I mean, look it up on Map Quest." I mumbled.	"How about fifty?" "I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!" It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy "Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave." Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here. \\\* "But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes." I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt "Even then I was able to make my way out of it!" He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up. "If you say so." Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world! "Yeah, I say so!" "Let's compromise." Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile? He did! That's bad! That's really bad! "I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough" "O-okay" I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter. "Very well then" \\\* "I got scammed at supercave" "Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses" Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray. Uh... Death ray? Since when I consider this a normal thing here? "I can help you to use those websites if you want" Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job! "So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..." I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here! Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy. This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile "What should I buy?" She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her. "Why not this costume cleaner?" "Oh this might work! But not really" "What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?" "not my style" "Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol" "Too simple" "Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes" "Too pale" Pick something woman! Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine. I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though? Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register. It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again? .............................. Right. ............................. Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others. .............................. \\\* "You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle "I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!" This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks. .............................. Thanks, dad. ............................. I love you.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Hey, I need you to tell me what Excelsior just bought." "What?" "I just saw him in here. He had a pretty huge bag. What did he get?" "I have no idea. I'm just stocking shelves." Praxis looks back over his shoulder like he's being followed. I don't buy it. Nobody follows Praxis. Not even on social media. "Come on, man. You probably just stocked it. What'd he get? Couldn't have been potions. Was it nanobots?" "Why are you even asking me this? You know it's against policy." "Oh! A nanobot printer! Like those 3D printers. But for nanobots." "I know what they are." "You even have them on sale!" "I put the stickers up." "It was a nanobot printer, wasn't it?" "You can't ask me these questions. You've had three warnings." "Holy shit. Who do you think you are?" He has no idea I'm trying to help him. Yeah, I just got hired. I also do my homework. Try to make sure I know a thing or two. "Some kind of stock-boy, standing up to ME?! Damn, man. You know I'm Praxis, right? Solely responsible for taking out half of City Hall?" He held potions for Akathisium while she did it, but sure. I ignore him. I keep stocking the shelf. "I swear, I have to beat Excelsior next time. Or Akathisium's never gonna notice me." Shelf doesn't stock itself. Up go the quantum circuitboards. Half off this week. Not bad—I might grab some myself. Real good price with my employee discount. "I need this, man. Just tell me what he bought and I'll go away." I turn and stare him down. "You do not need this. You need to go back to your pocket dimension and practice beating Excelsior a million million times by proxy. That's what you're good at. Taking shortcuts isn't a praxis for experience. It also isn't the Praxis experience. So leave it alone, please." "Hey, that's pretty good!" "Thank you." "Shame I'm about to kill you. Otherwise, I'd give you credit for it." "... Excuse me?" "I'm done with people disrespecting me. Plus, I don't even know how you know about the pocket dimension. You're done, stock-boy. Prepare to d—" It didn't come up in the interview, but when I erase all knowledge of someone from existence, that also includes surveillance records and memories. So that's why you have an incident of unauthorized use of power in the store, but no camera footage, and no record of his previous incidents. He had three warnings followed by a death threat, so I took immediate action. I hope this is a sufficient explanation. ... No, sir. I don't know why they assume the employees aren't also supers. ... Yes, sir. I could do a lot with unlimited power over knowledge. Trust me, working part-time here is just easier. ... Gnosis, sir. You need me to spell it for the form? Sure. G-N-O-S-I-S. ... Praxis, sir. P-R-A-X-I-S. ... Praxis. P-R-A-X-I-S. ... It's okay, sir. I know you're going to have a difficult time remembering him. I'm prepared to tell you as many times as you need.	"How about fifty?" "I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!" It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy "Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave." Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here. \\\* "But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes." I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt "Even then I was able to make my way out of it!" He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up. "If you say so." Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world! "Yeah, I say so!" "Let's compromise." Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile? He did! That's bad! That's really bad! "I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough" "O-okay" I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter. "Very well then" \\\* "I got scammed at supercave" "Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses" Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray. Uh... Death ray? Since when I consider this a normal thing here? "I can help you to use those websites if you want" Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job! "So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..." I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here! Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy. This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile "What should I buy?" She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her. "Why not this costume cleaner?" "Oh this might work! But not really" "What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?" "not my style" "Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol" "Too simple" "Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes" "Too pale" Pick something woman! Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine. I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though? Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register. It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again? .............................. Right. ............................. Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others. .............................. \\\* "You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle "I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!" This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks. .............................. Thanks, dad. ............................. I love you.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Welcome to supermart where our deals are so super, they're evil." I could not believe, that this was how they expected me to greet everybody walking in the door. To say it felt a little ridiculous it's like saying root canal hurt a little bit. Yet, here I was, regretting ever hearing of Craigslist and their "gigs" section. 'Need a Summer job? Want something cool that you can't tell your friends about, or we'll kill ya? Yes, the job is THAT cool! Respond to this via message and tell us why you want to be the envy of your friends with the crazy tips you'll earn, if you can handle it'. I was broke, my Step-mom kept bugging me about getting a job and being GONE more often. So anyway, I applied. A week later, I got snatched off the street outside my favorite comics shop. "Don't struggle kid, this is your JOB INTERVIEW!" Said the voice of one of my attackers. "I would have just gone to your office, you know" I shouted from under the hood. "Is this really necessary?" "No, but it helps us with the paperwork. If you were still screaming like a little bitch..." "Hey! Watch your language!" Another voice said. *...as I was saying, you didn't melt down completely from getting taken to your job interview, so that's the first part of it. We will be pulling up and you will go in to fill out your paperwork." And a moment later, I was dragged out of the van, had my hood removed and hands unbound. SUPER MARKET (Best value, no matter what your values) "Huh... I didn't even know this was here..." I mused. "Of course not!" Said a man in a crisp dark suit. "Nobody really does, until they need it." He motioned toward a solid metal door. Once inside, I filled out my tax forms and received my uniform shirts. "Wear khakis, no cargo pants. They make our clients a little nervous. " "And who are our clients?" "Oh, we have an orientation video for that.". He gestured toward the wall which came to life as a video screen. "Welcome to Super Mart, where our prices are so super, they are evil! That is the slogan that will help you navigate your time working with us here. You see, not everyone is a Bruce Stark or Tony Wayne with billions to throw around to try to protect the world. And not everyone who wants to take over countries or even cities can afford the gadgets required. So, we help with our value prices on everything necessary. " "What? This is a thing? " I was a little confused. "Am I being punked?" "I assure you, you are not. We are have been business for a number of years. We are a beacon of neutrality for our customers. We don't refer to them as heroes or villains, just customers." It has been weird the past few months. First off, NOBODY is in costume. They all look like regular people buying things that could be dangerous if\when assembled. I have recognized a few of them, and as my eyes widened in excitement or fear, they have always walked up, shaken my hand and whispered, "just be cool, we are just shopping here. But I'd you want to move up, let me know..." Followed by a business card descretely slipped into my hand. They pay well, enough. I can keep gas in my car, so that's cool. I wish there was an employee discount. It is not fair that they won't sell me the hover board that actually HOVERS . Evidently, I would have to join up with one of the clients, and they both have compelling reasons to work for each of them. However, school starts up soon, and it's my senior year, so I'll be busy. If you're looking for work, my spot is coming up soon. If you can keep a secret.	"Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new. "My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty. "I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended. "Are you saying this was my fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks. "I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish." "I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her. "Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly. "You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup. "Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do? "That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!" "Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do. "R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray? "Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs. "This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless. "Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time. "Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero. "This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this. "Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon. "You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm. "I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares. "Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest atmospheres anyone could have ever experienced. Strolling through the isles was a colorful, but sparse collection of motley dressed supers. It almost felt like the air was on the verge of bursting into flames, the way some of the customers looked at each other. No one knew how this place remained open. The owner, whoever they were, had somehow managed to both establish a weapons store in a remote hillside (that was still accessible by road) as well as somehow manage to dodge attacks from governments and militia groups, as well as the occasional super who got a bit too big for their boots. No one knew what happened, to the last category. Galen ignored the sideways death glances as he followed the instructions he'd written down on a scrap of paper. Turn off the A139 (Junction 18). Enter through the main door (they're automatic). At the back of the fifth isle, there will be a door. Walk through it. Do not talk to any of the supers. If a person claiming to be a member of staff tries to talk to you, they're lying. Go up the stairs, my office is the third one along. Don't eat before you come. I'm making tea and scones :D The courier had very specifically asked him to include the smiley face in his note. In retrospect, this was a bit strange: he'd only started writing it a long while after they'd left. The back of the store was even more strange than the front. While the aisles of the front of the store had a clean neutralness to them, displaying racks and racks of this and that, this completely changed once he crossed the threshold. Rich, dark mahogany lined the walls besides him, with the occasional oil lamp to light his way. They flickered and wavered, causing strange, dancing shadows to move along the walls besides him. Not counting the lanterns, it reminded him a bit of his old school. He shivered. He found the door with the lettering stated on it, and knocked. Out of curiosity, he looked around the hallway, wondering if he needed to, how fast he could- "Come in." Oh well. He'd figure it out later. Walking in, he expected to find an office no less surreal than the rest of this place. And he was right. There wasn't a desk or anything of the sort. Just a woman, dressed in a Victorian outfit sitting at a large, round, covered table that looked like it could have fit about five or six. He couldn't make out her face behind the large decorative hat that was balanced on her head. "Erm...I'm here for the-" "Oh, shush. I know why you're here, Galen." How did she know my name? Wait. No. She'd invited him. That was a completely normal thing to know. He sat down at the table, seeing her face for the first time. He blinked. For some reason, everything he'd seen had made him expect someone older. But the person he was sitting across form couldn't have been much older than twenty five. Admittedly, that did make her almost twice his age. He tried not to get too warm, as she poured tea into the cup in front of him. "So, why do you think you'd be a good fit, for this role?" Alright, remember the things you were going to say. "Well...um...I'm a very hard worker. My dad always said that-" She burst out laughing, small flecks of scone pettling his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She said, wiping her eyes "I just had to hear it for myself. Out of all the candidates you were the only one who didn't start with what they could do. You're hired, by the way. The fact that you're here means I was always going to hire you. I just wanted to see it first. "Umm..." he said, not quite sure how to react "...there are...other candidates?" "Oh. No. Not anymore, anyway. And now that I've picked you, there never were. Does that make sense?" He was getting an increasingly uneasy feeling about this. "Oh don't worry. Most of my employees get used to that pretty quickly." "Did-did you just?" "Well no. But also yes. To be honest, I wouldn't worry about it." Which was the sort of statement which did not help with that. Something in her face changed. "I would like to know, though. Why do you think you'd be a good fit, for this role?" To be honest, he was starting to get the impression he didn't want to be. But...there was something in her tone that demanded an answer. So he gave one. "My powers. I see connections in things. Put them together, in ways no one else had thought of. That's why you want me, isn't it? You want me to make things, things that you can sell." She shrugged. "True. Partially." He blinked. "But also completely wrong." That caught him by surprise. "What do you think this place is, Galen?" It occurred to him that she was asking for a response. "A...erm, weapons shop?" She sighed. "If I didn't want to hire you, I would've punched you just then. I put things together." She smiled. "Like you. That's what we do here, we bring things together; things that nobody thought could work the way they did." "But-" he interrupted. "-I never said it was objects, that I was bringing together." He stared at her, not entirely sure what she meant. Only after the fact did it occur to him how immensely stupid it had been to interrupt this person. He was starting to get an idea of just how dangerous she might be. Even he might have trouble. She just smiled. "Anyway, I can see you've had a big day. Go to the lounge; its on the third floor past the living quarters. You can take the rest of the day off. Your shift begins tomorrow."	"Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new. "My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty. "I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended. "Are you saying this was my fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks. "I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish." "I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her. "Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly. "You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup. "Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do? "That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!" "Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do. "R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray? "Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs. "This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless. "Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time. "Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero. "This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this. "Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon. "You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm. "I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares. "Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	Even with the superheroes and the villains, my job at Super-Mart would have sucked without Ellie. She, by contrast, thought it was the best thing ever. We made a strange pair in the checkout line, her at the register, the darling of the clientèle, fawning over and being fawned over in turn, me bagging and being included only by virtue of her smile. That smile though! Like a lightning bolt. She turned it towards me now, and its force dragged the poor, superpowered-sap she was talking to along with it. “What do you think, Harry?” she said. “You’re definitely not villain material,” I said. The guy she was talking to laughed, brushed me off with a wave of his hand. He was six inches taller than me, with a square jaw and and long, tousled hair that trailed flaming, smoking ends. He had an absolutely egregious mustache too, and somehow that wasn’t smoking. I wished it was. “And what would you know about villain material, kid?” the guy said. “Knock it off Bill, the kid is right,” a woman down the line called. I recognized her, the May Queen. Green, spiraling tendrils sprouted out of her mouth whenever she talked. It was disconcerting, especially for a woman otherwise as beautiful as the very best spring days. A few other heroes chimed in here and there, from our line and from the others nearby. Ellie had that effect on people. And yet, she was still smiling at me. “Why do you say that?” she asked as she finished checking out the smoke-haired guy’s last few items. “You just aren’t,” I said patiently. “Look Ell, you’re too kindhearted for that. I mean, you notice all the little things all the time, you always try to consider other people. I mean come on you’re—” I cut myself off before I said ‘you’re asking me.’ Sometimes, I thought, it was painful how much I liked Ellie. But then, she was all of those things and more. She was most certainly not a villain. Ellie laughed, tossed her hair. “I don’t know,” she said, “I think villains have the best outfits. Have you seen Sir Scarlet? The dress he wears is immaculate.” The guy with the fire hair leaned in. “And I could hook you up with the best tailor. Think about it.” “Will do,” Ellie said, throwing him a little salute. The guy grabbed the last bag from me before I could put it in the cart, and then he was off. The next guy, a Gray, one of those rare superpowered folks who were both fully formed and still uncommitted, shrugged as Ellie checked out his single item. We didn’t acknowledge that is was a bottle of bourbon, or the fact that this particular gray was back for his bottle nearly every day. It was a hard life, being a Gray. Which made Ellie’s choice, and all our customers interest, even more important; because one day soon she would have to choose. Ellie had a power, and powers needed to be aligned. The May Queen was up next. She had more herbs and oils than I could name, even after a month working here. She pitched her voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper that I had to strain to hear. “Sir Scarlet’s dress isn’t bad, but if it’s really fashion you’re after, nobody beats the heroes.” The May Queen reached down into her bag, lips pursed such that a few little tendrils could still escape, and she pulled out a card. “Do you have any idea how rare one of these is?” she said, holding the card out to Ellie. Ellie’s eyes grew wide. It was an invitation to the Heroes Gala, the social event of the year, whatever the villains might say about it. “The dresses here are to die for.” Then the May Queen laughed, flower petal spilling from her lips. “You can even bring the boy!” She swept out on a jonquil scented breeze. I wished very badly that she hadn’t called me a boy. Ellie pocketed the card like it didn’t even matter, glanced back at me, and said, “Dress or spandex?” “Dress,” I said instantly. And the day wore on towards lunch. We talked, as we always did, of what it would be like to be adored as a hero, or how scandalously exciting it would be to become a villain. Ellie tossed an endless stream of prospective names at me, and one or the other of us found reasons to shoot down every one. She asked me once about what I wanted to do once I graduated; I shrugged. I had no idea. There were many things, it seemed, about which I had no idea. I knew nothing about Ellie’s background, why she wasn’t in school herself, how she'd come to have a power, why it was so hard for her to choose. I didn’t even know what her superpower was. Ellie, for all her kindness and interest in me, had played her own cards very close to her chest. And I had never wanted to get a glimpse of someone else’s hand so badly. She must have been powerful, I knew that for a fact. She seemed to be some sort of known quantity for all the powers who came through, she was charismatic as all hell but that wasn’t enough with people like the May Queen. Eventually the lines died down, lunch grew nearer. Ellie’s stomach growled like hell and she slapped it in annoyance, the guy she was checking out laughed. Then we were off, headed towards the breakroom, and as always we were eating together. But today was different. Ellie had an invitation to the Heroes Gala in her pocket, the May Queen, whether she had called me a boy or not, had said that Ellie could bring me, and I was so, so tired of being the only uninformed person in the whole store. I cornered her in the breakroom door, swallowed down my fears, and said, “Elliewhat’syoursuperpower!” It all came out in one awkward rush, not even pitched like a question. Her eyes widened and she tried to lean away from me, bumped into my arm. I realized I had quite literally trapped her, one arm on either side of the doorframe. I hadn’t meant to do that. I stepped away, blushing, and she burst out laughing. “Dude, you know all you had to do was ask, right?” “Huh?” I said. That hadn’t occurred to me. I tried to look back over the whole of the past month, to sift through every interaction we had ever had. Had I really never asked her that question? “Oh shit,” I said, feeling suddenly queasy. Ellie, still laughing, shaking her head, grabbed me by the arm. “It’ll be easier if I just show you,” she said, dragging me off in the direction of the loading dock. The loading dock was no more private than the break room had been. Pete looked over from his forklift, waved at us, Carol and Steve were pushing palletjacks. I glanced around, “This is better than the break room?” Ellie just smiled and kept pulling me along. We were headed for a closet. (part 2 below)	"Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new. "My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty. "I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended. "Are you saying this was my fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks. "I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish." "I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her. "Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly. "You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup. "Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do? "That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!" "Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do. "R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray? "Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs. "This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless. "Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time. "Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero. "This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this. "Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon. "You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm. "I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares. "Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	My store has two oddities: it's a discount store that caters to superheroes and our items are non-refundable. My first customer of the day knew the store's first quirk. He was unaware of the second. "But it doesn't work!" he whined through his mask which was shaped like a computer monitor made from the early-1990s. The screen displayed a " >:( " face. "The product says it can detect nearby crimes but it's non-responsive!" He slid the a poorly packaged box across the counter towards me. I opened the box and saw a small electronic shaped like a magnifying glass. The Observer read down it's handle in an American Typewriter font. I pressed the power button at the base of the unit. A screen appeared on the lens and animated curved lines rippled from its center like a rock being thrown onto a still pond. "Seems to be working just fine," I said. "The lines are supposed to increase their intensity the moment a crime happens kinda like how a metal detector's beeps get louder when it approaches a rusted can." I turned around in place and saw the lines keep a consistent pulse. "Maybe there's no crimes happening?" "Not possible," he insisted and then went off on how he had The Observer on the entire night looking for crimes and didn't pick up a single incident. According to the police report the following day, multiple felonies happened nearby. "Does this thing have a range setting?" I asked. "What if the device can only pick up on crimes that are really close?" The man sighed. "I don't know the first way to figure out if it does or does not have such a thing. I'm kinda at a loss if anything is more advanced that a Nokia phone from 1998. See, my whole shtick is that I use retro technology to fight bad guys." That's an interesting theme. "How is that going for you?" I said. The man shook his computer head. "Not well. Most of my resources are an impressive inconvenience for my turn around time. I get notified by fax! FAX!" he cried out. "Criminals are long gone by the time my dot matrix printer spits out the report. I figured it was time for an upgrade so I bought this device but I don't understand half of its instructions." A " :( " appeared on his monitor. "This might surprise you, but there's an older man underneath this mask," the hero said. "You don't say," I responded. "Can you help me set this thing up?" I looked behind him and saw a couple of other heroes standing behind him. They looked as if their patience wore thin. "I'd like to, but I honestly don't know much about this model. Unlike you, I'm not a hero. Just a kid who works behind a counter." The man gently placed his balled up hand over a " :'( " symbol on his screen. "You'd be surprised," he said. "You kids are amazing with these gizmos. It's superhuman to me." He grabbed The Observer and box and walked towards the door. "Sir!" I called out to him. He turned around. "How about we get together after my shift. Bring that thing your holding and we'll figure out how to work it together. Say 5:30 this afternoon at that new coffee shop called Mug Shots?" An uplifting chime sounded from the man's screen and the crying face turned into a " :D " "I'd love that! Where's it located?" he asked. "Type it the shop's name into Google Maps," I said. "It should be the first hit." The man stood still at the exit with an " :\| " expression displayed. "I mean, look it up on Map Quest." I mumbled.	"Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new. "My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty. "I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended. "Are you saying this was my fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks. "I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish." "I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her. "Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly. "You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup. "Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do? "That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!" "Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do. "R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray? "Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs. "This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless. "Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time. "Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero. "This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this. "Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon. "You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm. "I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares. "Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Hey, I need you to tell me what Excelsior just bought." "What?" "I just saw him in here. He had a pretty huge bag. What did he get?" "I have no idea. I'm just stocking shelves." Praxis looks back over his shoulder like he's being followed. I don't buy it. Nobody follows Praxis. Not even on social media. "Come on, man. You probably just stocked it. What'd he get? Couldn't have been potions. Was it nanobots?" "Why are you even asking me this? You know it's against policy." "Oh! A nanobot printer! Like those 3D printers. But for nanobots." "I know what they are." "You even have them on sale!" "I put the stickers up." "It was a nanobot printer, wasn't it?" "You can't ask me these questions. You've had three warnings." "Holy shit. Who do you think you are?" He has no idea I'm trying to help him. Yeah, I just got hired. I also do my homework. Try to make sure I know a thing or two. "Some kind of stock-boy, standing up to ME?! Damn, man. You know I'm Praxis, right? Solely responsible for taking out half of City Hall?" He held potions for Akathisium while she did it, but sure. I ignore him. I keep stocking the shelf. "I swear, I have to beat Excelsior next time. Or Akathisium's never gonna notice me." Shelf doesn't stock itself. Up go the quantum circuitboards. Half off this week. Not bad—I might grab some myself. Real good price with my employee discount. "I need this, man. Just tell me what he bought and I'll go away." I turn and stare him down. "You do not need this. You need to go back to your pocket dimension and practice beating Excelsior a million million times by proxy. That's what you're good at. Taking shortcuts isn't a praxis for experience. It also isn't the Praxis experience. So leave it alone, please." "Hey, that's pretty good!" "Thank you." "Shame I'm about to kill you. Otherwise, I'd give you credit for it." "... Excuse me?" "I'm done with people disrespecting me. Plus, I don't even know how you know about the pocket dimension. You're done, stock-boy. Prepare to d—" It didn't come up in the interview, but when I erase all knowledge of someone from existence, that also includes surveillance records and memories. So that's why you have an incident of unauthorized use of power in the store, but no camera footage, and no record of his previous incidents. He had three warnings followed by a death threat, so I took immediate action. I hope this is a sufficient explanation. ... No, sir. I don't know why they assume the employees aren't also supers. ... Yes, sir. I could do a lot with unlimited power over knowledge. Trust me, working part-time here is just easier. ... Gnosis, sir. You need me to spell it for the form? Sure. G-N-O-S-I-S. ... Praxis, sir. P-R-A-X-I-S. ... Praxis. P-R-A-X-I-S. ... It's okay, sir. I know you're going to have a difficult time remembering him. I'm prepared to tell you as many times as you need.	"Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new. "My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty. "I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended. "Are you saying this was my fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks. "I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish." "I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her. "Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly. "You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup. "Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do? "That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!" "Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do. "R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray? "Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs. "This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless. "Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time. "Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero. "This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this. "Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon. "You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm. "I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares. "Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess.
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest atmospheres anyone could have ever experienced. Strolling through the isles was a colorful, but sparse collection of motley dressed supers. It almost felt like the air was on the verge of bursting into flames, the way some of the customers looked at each other. No one knew how this place remained open. The owner, whoever they were, had somehow managed to both establish a weapons store in a remote hillside (that was still accessible by road) as well as somehow manage to dodge attacks from governments and militia groups, as well as the occasional super who got a bit too big for their boots. No one knew what happened, to the last category. Galen ignored the sideways death glances as he followed the instructions he'd written down on a scrap of paper. Turn off the A139 (Junction 18). Enter through the main door (they're automatic). At the back of the fifth isle, there will be a door. Walk through it. Do not talk to any of the supers. If a person claiming to be a member of staff tries to talk to you, they're lying. Go up the stairs, my office is the third one along. Don't eat before you come. I'm making tea and scones :D The courier had very specifically asked him to include the smiley face in his note. In retrospect, this was a bit strange: he'd only started writing it a long while after they'd left. The back of the store was even more strange than the front. While the aisles of the front of the store had a clean neutralness to them, displaying racks and racks of this and that, this completely changed once he crossed the threshold. Rich, dark mahogany lined the walls besides him, with the occasional oil lamp to light his way. They flickered and wavered, causing strange, dancing shadows to move along the walls besides him. Not counting the lanterns, it reminded him a bit of his old school. He shivered. He found the door with the lettering stated on it, and knocked. Out of curiosity, he looked around the hallway, wondering if he needed to, how fast he could- "Come in." Oh well. He'd figure it out later. Walking in, he expected to find an office no less surreal than the rest of this place. And he was right. There wasn't a desk or anything of the sort. Just a woman, dressed in a Victorian outfit sitting at a large, round, covered table that looked like it could have fit about five or six. He couldn't make out her face behind the large decorative hat that was balanced on her head. "Erm...I'm here for the-" "Oh, shush. I know why you're here, Galen." How did she know my name? Wait. No. She'd invited him. That was a completely normal thing to know. He sat down at the table, seeing her face for the first time. He blinked. For some reason, everything he'd seen had made him expect someone older. But the person he was sitting across form couldn't have been much older than twenty five. Admittedly, that did make her almost twice his age. He tried not to get too warm, as she poured tea into the cup in front of him. "So, why do you think you'd be a good fit, for this role?" Alright, remember the things you were going to say. "Well...um...I'm a very hard worker. My dad always said that-" She burst out laughing, small flecks of scone pettling his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She said, wiping her eyes "I just had to hear it for myself. Out of all the candidates you were the only one who didn't start with what they could do. You're hired, by the way. The fact that you're here means I was always going to hire you. I just wanted to see it first. "Umm..." he said, not quite sure how to react "...there are...other candidates?" "Oh. No. Not anymore, anyway. And now that I've picked you, there never were. Does that make sense?" He was getting an increasingly uneasy feeling about this. "Oh don't worry. Most of my employees get used to that pretty quickly." "Did-did you just?" "Well no. But also yes. To be honest, I wouldn't worry about it." Which was the sort of statement which did not help with that. Something in her face changed. "I would like to know, though. Why do you think you'd be a good fit, for this role?" To be honest, he was starting to get the impression he didn't want to be. But...there was something in her tone that demanded an answer. So he gave one. "My powers. I see connections in things. Put them together, in ways no one else had thought of. That's why you want me, isn't it? You want me to make things, things that you can sell." She shrugged. "True. Partially." He blinked. "But also completely wrong." That caught him by surprise. "What do you think this place is, Galen?" It occurred to him that she was asking for a response. "A...erm, weapons shop?" She sighed. "If I didn't want to hire you, I would've punched you just then. I put things together." She smiled. "Like you. That's what we do here, we bring things together; things that nobody thought could work the way they did." "But-" he interrupted. "-I never said it was objects, that I was bringing together." He stared at her, not entirely sure what she meant. Only after the fact did it occur to him how immensely stupid it had been to interrupt this person. He was starting to get an idea of just how dangerous she might be. Even he might have trouble. She just smiled. "Anyway, I can see you've had a big day. Go to the lounge; its on the third floor past the living quarters. You can take the rest of the day off. Your shift begins tomorrow."	Not everybody knew about the Super-Mart, but everybody who knew it would definitely not recommend it to anybody else—because friend or foe, inexpensive super supplies are in short supply. For a stranger passing by, attracted by the always present banner that read “CLOSING SALE,”, one would walk in through the door, notice that it looked like a gaudy outfit store for Halloween with suspiciously tights fits, and leave before the bell finish its ringing. The ones that actually stayed, furtively went about their business, discreetly testing the proper colours and tools without revealing their shtick. Because that was what all heroes and villains were about, no? At least, that’s what new summer hire lanky Toby, 15 years old, felt to be the truth. There was the required long pants—black chinos. Nondescript t-shirt—just the one logo of Sword Savant. And the optional staring at each customer, a hawk with uncomfortably bulging eyes. “That has to be Gentlemanbird,” Toby muttered, watching a rotund man, holding a red and black outfit. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?” Toby swung back, and noticed the much older (by two years) Jeanette sidle up to him. She briefly glanced down at the notepad, and nodded grimly. “I’m sorry to say, Toby, but your superpower is apparently poor handwriting,” Jeanette said. “That’s private,” Toby sulked. “Yeah, is that not a memo you got from working here? All these people are private, doofus,” Jeanette lightly punched his arm. “Don’t go trying and figure out their identities.” “And why not?” Toby argued. “It’s good research.” “I’ll add on to your superpower. Hypocrisy,” Jeanette sighed. “Besides, I’ve already tried. It’s no use, honestly.” “You’ve already tried?” “I’ve been coming back every summer. Good money, compared to other temp jobs. And once, I’m pretty sure I rang the purchases of Fire Falcon before she got real famous, you know,” Jeanette said. “No, what do you mean you’ve already tried?” Toby said. “Oh. Maybe not try? But it’s inevitable, working at a store like this, to guess at who they are,” Jeanette sighed. “You’ll be surprised at how much and how little you can glean. There’s a code name out there on the streets. There’s a code name in costume. And there’s a code name in here.” “You mean that guy’s not really Garrett?” “100 percent no. And don’t count out some of them have shapeshifting abilities. Or go through a friend. Or enemy, really. That, I learned.” “Enemy? You mean…” “Yeah,” Jeanette said. “Sure, you get to the top, and it’s more black and white. But here? It’s all grey.” Toby looked out at the sparse people perusing Super-Mart’s wares. It kind of made sense. This was the only place in town cheap and close enough for many of these people. Did friend or foe really matter when they were all struggling to get by? “So what do you want all that info for,” Jeanette asked. “Stalk them?” “No!” Toby blushed. “I was… doing research. On how to be a hero.” “You want to be a hero?” Jeanette chuckled. “Then be sure to use your employee discount, yeah?” “I’m not so sure any more,” Toby sighed. “It’s not a crime to harbour dreams.” Jeanette pat his shoulder. “Why do you want to be a hero?” “To do good,” Toby whispered. “Sounds silly now.” “Villains can do good too, you know,” Jeanette nodded knowingly. “They are sort of, like, investigative journalists. They do the ugly stuff sometimes, but they can uncover even uglier stuff.” “As long as the hero finds them and beats them up?” “You’re getting it. It’s a push and pull,” Jeanette said. “It’s not easy. It’s not honest work, maybe. But it’s true, and probably more fun.” Toby stood still, and studied his shift partner for a bit. He wasn’t quite sure what to conclude, and realized that research might not be his strong suit—but found Jeanette rather convincing, and far too practised for this to be an off-the-cuff pitch. Enough to shake a bit of his belief, definitely. He looked back at the store. The existence of a place like this lent credence to her theory. “It’s not… one side versus one,” he said. “There’s no winning or losing. The fight needs to go on. That’s what keeps the story going.”. “Good thinking, wannabe hero,” Jeanette said. “Welcome to Super-Mart, and enjoy your stay—but hopefully, not for too long.” --- r/dexdrafts
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	Even with the superheroes and the villains, my job at Super-Mart would have sucked without Ellie. She, by contrast, thought it was the best thing ever. We made a strange pair in the checkout line, her at the register, the darling of the clientèle, fawning over and being fawned over in turn, me bagging and being included only by virtue of her smile. That smile though! Like a lightning bolt. She turned it towards me now, and its force dragged the poor, superpowered-sap she was talking to along with it. “What do you think, Harry?” she said. “You’re definitely not villain material,” I said. The guy she was talking to laughed, brushed me off with a wave of his hand. He was six inches taller than me, with a square jaw and and long, tousled hair that trailed flaming, smoking ends. He had an absolutely egregious mustache too, and somehow that wasn’t smoking. I wished it was. “And what would you know about villain material, kid?” the guy said. “Knock it off Bill, the kid is right,” a woman down the line called. I recognized her, the May Queen. Green, spiraling tendrils sprouted out of her mouth whenever she talked. It was disconcerting, especially for a woman otherwise as beautiful as the very best spring days. A few other heroes chimed in here and there, from our line and from the others nearby. Ellie had that effect on people. And yet, she was still smiling at me. “Why do you say that?” she asked as she finished checking out the smoke-haired guy’s last few items. “You just aren’t,” I said patiently. “Look Ell, you’re too kindhearted for that. I mean, you notice all the little things all the time, you always try to consider other people. I mean come on you’re—” I cut myself off before I said ‘you’re asking me.’ Sometimes, I thought, it was painful how much I liked Ellie. But then, she was all of those things and more. She was most certainly not a villain. Ellie laughed, tossed her hair. “I don’t know,” she said, “I think villains have the best outfits. Have you seen Sir Scarlet? The dress he wears is immaculate.” The guy with the fire hair leaned in. “And I could hook you up with the best tailor. Think about it.” “Will do,” Ellie said, throwing him a little salute. The guy grabbed the last bag from me before I could put it in the cart, and then he was off. The next guy, a Gray, one of those rare superpowered folks who were both fully formed and still uncommitted, shrugged as Ellie checked out his single item. We didn’t acknowledge that is was a bottle of bourbon, or the fact that this particular gray was back for his bottle nearly every day. It was a hard life, being a Gray. Which made Ellie’s choice, and all our customers interest, even more important; because one day soon she would have to choose. Ellie had a power, and powers needed to be aligned. The May Queen was up next. She had more herbs and oils than I could name, even after a month working here. She pitched her voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper that I had to strain to hear. “Sir Scarlet’s dress isn’t bad, but if it’s really fashion you’re after, nobody beats the heroes.” The May Queen reached down into her bag, lips pursed such that a few little tendrils could still escape, and she pulled out a card. “Do you have any idea how rare one of these is?” she said, holding the card out to Ellie. Ellie’s eyes grew wide. It was an invitation to the Heroes Gala, the social event of the year, whatever the villains might say about it. “The dresses here are to die for.” Then the May Queen laughed, flower petal spilling from her lips. “You can even bring the boy!” She swept out on a jonquil scented breeze. I wished very badly that she hadn’t called me a boy. Ellie pocketed the card like it didn’t even matter, glanced back at me, and said, “Dress or spandex?” “Dress,” I said instantly. And the day wore on towards lunch. We talked, as we always did, of what it would be like to be adored as a hero, or how scandalously exciting it would be to become a villain. Ellie tossed an endless stream of prospective names at me, and one or the other of us found reasons to shoot down every one. She asked me once about what I wanted to do once I graduated; I shrugged. I had no idea. There were many things, it seemed, about which I had no idea. I knew nothing about Ellie’s background, why she wasn’t in school herself, how she'd come to have a power, why it was so hard for her to choose. I didn’t even know what her superpower was. Ellie, for all her kindness and interest in me, had played her own cards very close to her chest. And I had never wanted to get a glimpse of someone else’s hand so badly. She must have been powerful, I knew that for a fact. She seemed to be some sort of known quantity for all the powers who came through, she was charismatic as all hell but that wasn’t enough with people like the May Queen. Eventually the lines died down, lunch grew nearer. Ellie’s stomach growled like hell and she slapped it in annoyance, the guy she was checking out laughed. Then we were off, headed towards the breakroom, and as always we were eating together. But today was different. Ellie had an invitation to the Heroes Gala in her pocket, the May Queen, whether she had called me a boy or not, had said that Ellie could bring me, and I was so, so tired of being the only uninformed person in the whole store. I cornered her in the breakroom door, swallowed down my fears, and said, “Elliewhat’syoursuperpower!” It all came out in one awkward rush, not even pitched like a question. Her eyes widened and she tried to lean away from me, bumped into my arm. I realized I had quite literally trapped her, one arm on either side of the doorframe. I hadn’t meant to do that. I stepped away, blushing, and she burst out laughing. “Dude, you know all you had to do was ask, right?” “Huh?” I said. That hadn’t occurred to me. I tried to look back over the whole of the past month, to sift through every interaction we had ever had. Had I really never asked her that question? “Oh shit,” I said, feeling suddenly queasy. Ellie, still laughing, shaking her head, grabbed me by the arm. “It’ll be easier if I just show you,” she said, dragging me off in the direction of the loading dock. The loading dock was no more private than the break room had been. Pete looked over from his forklift, waved at us, Carol and Steve were pushing palletjacks. I glanced around, “This is better than the break room?” Ellie just smiled and kept pulling me along. We were headed for a closet. (part 2 below)	Not everybody knew about the Super-Mart, but everybody who knew it would definitely not recommend it to anybody else—because friend or foe, inexpensive super supplies are in short supply. For a stranger passing by, attracted by the always present banner that read “CLOSING SALE,”, one would walk in through the door, notice that it looked like a gaudy outfit store for Halloween with suspiciously tights fits, and leave before the bell finish its ringing. The ones that actually stayed, furtively went about their business, discreetly testing the proper colours and tools without revealing their shtick. Because that was what all heroes and villains were about, no? At least, that’s what new summer hire lanky Toby, 15 years old, felt to be the truth. There was the required long pants—black chinos. Nondescript t-shirt—just the one logo of Sword Savant. And the optional staring at each customer, a hawk with uncomfortably bulging eyes. “That has to be Gentlemanbird,” Toby muttered, watching a rotund man, holding a red and black outfit. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?” Toby swung back, and noticed the much older (by two years) Jeanette sidle up to him. She briefly glanced down at the notepad, and nodded grimly. “I’m sorry to say, Toby, but your superpower is apparently poor handwriting,” Jeanette said. “That’s private,” Toby sulked. “Yeah, is that not a memo you got from working here? All these people are private, doofus,” Jeanette lightly punched his arm. “Don’t go trying and figure out their identities.” “And why not?” Toby argued. “It’s good research.” “I’ll add on to your superpower. Hypocrisy,” Jeanette sighed. “Besides, I’ve already tried. It’s no use, honestly.” “You’ve already tried?” “I’ve been coming back every summer. Good money, compared to other temp jobs. And once, I’m pretty sure I rang the purchases of Fire Falcon before she got real famous, you know,” Jeanette said. “No, what do you mean you’ve already tried?” Toby said. “Oh. Maybe not try? But it’s inevitable, working at a store like this, to guess at who they are,” Jeanette sighed. “You’ll be surprised at how much and how little you can glean. There’s a code name out there on the streets. There’s a code name in costume. And there’s a code name in here.” “You mean that guy’s not really Garrett?” “100 percent no. And don’t count out some of them have shapeshifting abilities. Or go through a friend. Or enemy, really. That, I learned.” “Enemy? You mean…” “Yeah,” Jeanette said. “Sure, you get to the top, and it’s more black and white. But here? It’s all grey.” Toby looked out at the sparse people perusing Super-Mart’s wares. It kind of made sense. This was the only place in town cheap and close enough for many of these people. Did friend or foe really matter when they were all struggling to get by? “So what do you want all that info for,” Jeanette asked. “Stalk them?” “No!” Toby blushed. “I was… doing research. On how to be a hero.” “You want to be a hero?” Jeanette chuckled. “Then be sure to use your employee discount, yeah?” “I’m not so sure any more,” Toby sighed. “It’s not a crime to harbour dreams.” Jeanette pat his shoulder. “Why do you want to be a hero?” “To do good,” Toby whispered. “Sounds silly now.” “Villains can do good too, you know,” Jeanette nodded knowingly. “They are sort of, like, investigative journalists. They do the ugly stuff sometimes, but they can uncover even uglier stuff.” “As long as the hero finds them and beats them up?” “You’re getting it. It’s a push and pull,” Jeanette said. “It’s not easy. It’s not honest work, maybe. But it’s true, and probably more fun.” Toby stood still, and studied his shift partner for a bit. He wasn’t quite sure what to conclude, and realized that research might not be his strong suit—but found Jeanette rather convincing, and far too practised for this to be an off-the-cuff pitch. Enough to shake a bit of his belief, definitely. He looked back at the store. The existence of a place like this lent credence to her theory. “It’s not… one side versus one,” he said. “There’s no winning or losing. The fight needs to go on. That’s what keeps the story going.”. “Good thinking, wannabe hero,” Jeanette said. “Welcome to Super-Mart, and enjoy your stay—but hopefully, not for too long.” --- r/dexdrafts
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	My store has two oddities: it's a discount store that caters to superheroes and our items are non-refundable. My first customer of the day knew the store's first quirk. He was unaware of the second. "But it doesn't work!" he whined through his mask which was shaped like a computer monitor made from the early-1990s. The screen displayed a " >:( " face. "The product says it can detect nearby crimes but it's non-responsive!" He slid the a poorly packaged box across the counter towards me. I opened the box and saw a small electronic shaped like a magnifying glass. The Observer read down it's handle in an American Typewriter font. I pressed the power button at the base of the unit. A screen appeared on the lens and animated curved lines rippled from its center like a rock being thrown onto a still pond. "Seems to be working just fine," I said. "The lines are supposed to increase their intensity the moment a crime happens kinda like how a metal detector's beeps get louder when it approaches a rusted can." I turned around in place and saw the lines keep a consistent pulse. "Maybe there's no crimes happening?" "Not possible," he insisted and then went off on how he had The Observer on the entire night looking for crimes and didn't pick up a single incident. According to the police report the following day, multiple felonies happened nearby. "Does this thing have a range setting?" I asked. "What if the device can only pick up on crimes that are really close?" The man sighed. "I don't know the first way to figure out if it does or does not have such a thing. I'm kinda at a loss if anything is more advanced that a Nokia phone from 1998. See, my whole shtick is that I use retro technology to fight bad guys." That's an interesting theme. "How is that going for you?" I said. The man shook his computer head. "Not well. Most of my resources are an impressive inconvenience for my turn around time. I get notified by fax! FAX!" he cried out. "Criminals are long gone by the time my dot matrix printer spits out the report. I figured it was time for an upgrade so I bought this device but I don't understand half of its instructions." A " :( " appeared on his monitor. "This might surprise you, but there's an older man underneath this mask," the hero said. "You don't say," I responded. "Can you help me set this thing up?" I looked behind him and saw a couple of other heroes standing behind him. They looked as if their patience wore thin. "I'd like to, but I honestly don't know much about this model. Unlike you, I'm not a hero. Just a kid who works behind a counter." The man gently placed his balled up hand over a " :'( " symbol on his screen. "You'd be surprised," he said. "You kids are amazing with these gizmos. It's superhuman to me." He grabbed The Observer and box and walked towards the door. "Sir!" I called out to him. He turned around. "How about we get together after my shift. Bring that thing your holding and we'll figure out how to work it together. Say 5:30 this afternoon at that new coffee shop called Mug Shots?" An uplifting chime sounded from the man's screen and the crying face turned into a " :D " "I'd love that! Where's it located?" he asked. "Type it the shop's name into Google Maps," I said. "It should be the first hit." The man stood still at the exit with an " :\| " expression displayed. "I mean, look it up on Map Quest." I mumbled.	Not everybody knew about the Super-Mart, but everybody who knew it would definitely not recommend it to anybody else—because friend or foe, inexpensive super supplies are in short supply. For a stranger passing by, attracted by the always present banner that read “CLOSING SALE,”, one would walk in through the door, notice that it looked like a gaudy outfit store for Halloween with suspiciously tights fits, and leave before the bell finish its ringing. The ones that actually stayed, furtively went about their business, discreetly testing the proper colours and tools without revealing their shtick. Because that was what all heroes and villains were about, no? At least, that’s what new summer hire lanky Toby, 15 years old, felt to be the truth. There was the required long pants—black chinos. Nondescript t-shirt—just the one logo of Sword Savant. And the optional staring at each customer, a hawk with uncomfortably bulging eyes. “That has to be Gentlemanbird,” Toby muttered, watching a rotund man, holding a red and black outfit. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?” Toby swung back, and noticed the much older (by two years) Jeanette sidle up to him. She briefly glanced down at the notepad, and nodded grimly. “I’m sorry to say, Toby, but your superpower is apparently poor handwriting,” Jeanette said. “That’s private,” Toby sulked. “Yeah, is that not a memo you got from working here? All these people are private, doofus,” Jeanette lightly punched his arm. “Don’t go trying and figure out their identities.” “And why not?” Toby argued. “It’s good research.” “I’ll add on to your superpower. Hypocrisy,” Jeanette sighed. “Besides, I’ve already tried. It’s no use, honestly.” “You’ve already tried?” “I’ve been coming back every summer. Good money, compared to other temp jobs. And once, I’m pretty sure I rang the purchases of Fire Falcon before she got real famous, you know,” Jeanette said. “No, what do you mean you’ve already tried?” Toby said. “Oh. Maybe not try? But it’s inevitable, working at a store like this, to guess at who they are,” Jeanette sighed. “You’ll be surprised at how much and how little you can glean. There’s a code name out there on the streets. There’s a code name in costume. And there’s a code name in here.” “You mean that guy’s not really Garrett?” “100 percent no. And don’t count out some of them have shapeshifting abilities. Or go through a friend. Or enemy, really. That, I learned.” “Enemy? You mean…” “Yeah,” Jeanette said. “Sure, you get to the top, and it’s more black and white. But here? It’s all grey.” Toby looked out at the sparse people perusing Super-Mart’s wares. It kind of made sense. This was the only place in town cheap and close enough for many of these people. Did friend or foe really matter when they were all struggling to get by? “So what do you want all that info for,” Jeanette asked. “Stalk them?” “No!” Toby blushed. “I was… doing research. On how to be a hero.” “You want to be a hero?” Jeanette chuckled. “Then be sure to use your employee discount, yeah?” “I’m not so sure any more,” Toby sighed. “It’s not a crime to harbour dreams.” Jeanette pat his shoulder. “Why do you want to be a hero?” “To do good,” Toby whispered. “Sounds silly now.” “Villains can do good too, you know,” Jeanette nodded knowingly. “They are sort of, like, investigative journalists. They do the ugly stuff sometimes, but they can uncover even uglier stuff.” “As long as the hero finds them and beats them up?” “You’re getting it. It’s a push and pull,” Jeanette said. “It’s not easy. It’s not honest work, maybe. But it’s true, and probably more fun.” Toby stood still, and studied his shift partner for a bit. He wasn’t quite sure what to conclude, and realized that research might not be his strong suit—but found Jeanette rather convincing, and far too practised for this to be an off-the-cuff pitch. Enough to shake a bit of his belief, definitely. He looked back at the store. The existence of a place like this lent credence to her theory. “It’s not… one side versus one,” he said. “There’s no winning or losing. The fight needs to go on. That’s what keeps the story going.”. “Good thinking, wannabe hero,” Jeanette said. “Welcome to Super-Mart, and enjoy your stay—but hopefully, not for too long.” --- r/dexdrafts
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	"Hey, I need you to tell me what Excelsior just bought." "What?" "I just saw him in here. He had a pretty huge bag. What did he get?" "I have no idea. I'm just stocking shelves." Praxis looks back over his shoulder like he's being followed. I don't buy it. Nobody follows Praxis. Not even on social media. "Come on, man. You probably just stocked it. What'd he get? Couldn't have been potions. Was it nanobots?" "Why are you even asking me this? You know it's against policy." "Oh! A nanobot printer! Like those 3D printers. But for nanobots." "I know what they are." "You even have them on sale!" "I put the stickers up." "It was a nanobot printer, wasn't it?" "You can't ask me these questions. You've had three warnings." "Holy shit. Who do you think you are?" He has no idea I'm trying to help him. Yeah, I just got hired. I also do my homework. Try to make sure I know a thing or two. "Some kind of stock-boy, standing up to ME?! Damn, man. You know I'm Praxis, right? Solely responsible for taking out half of City Hall?" He held potions for Akathisium while she did it, but sure. I ignore him. I keep stocking the shelf. "I swear, I have to beat Excelsior next time. Or Akathisium's never gonna notice me." Shelf doesn't stock itself. Up go the quantum circuitboards. Half off this week. Not bad—I might grab some myself. Real good price with my employee discount. "I need this, man. Just tell me what he bought and I'll go away." I turn and stare him down. "You do not need this. You need to go back to your pocket dimension and practice beating Excelsior a million million times by proxy. That's what you're good at. Taking shortcuts isn't a praxis for experience. It also isn't the Praxis experience. So leave it alone, please." "Hey, that's pretty good!" "Thank you." "Shame I'm about to kill you. Otherwise, I'd give you credit for it." "... Excuse me?" "I'm done with people disrespecting me. Plus, I don't even know how you know about the pocket dimension. You're done, stock-boy. Prepare to d—" It didn't come up in the interview, but when I erase all knowledge of someone from existence, that also includes surveillance records and memories. So that's why you have an incident of unauthorized use of power in the store, but no camera footage, and no record of his previous incidents. He had three warnings followed by a death threat, so I took immediate action. I hope this is a sufficient explanation. ... No, sir. I don't know why they assume the employees aren't also supers. ... Yes, sir. I could do a lot with unlimited power over knowledge. Trust me, working part-time here is just easier. ... Gnosis, sir. You need me to spell it for the form? Sure. G-N-O-S-I-S. ... Praxis, sir. P-R-A-X-I-S. ... Praxis. P-R-A-X-I-S. ... It's okay, sir. I know you're going to have a difficult time remembering him. I'm prepared to tell you as many times as you need.	Not everybody knew about the Super-Mart, but everybody who knew it would definitely not recommend it to anybody else—because friend or foe, inexpensive super supplies are in short supply. For a stranger passing by, attracted by the always present banner that read “CLOSING SALE,”, one would walk in through the door, notice that it looked like a gaudy outfit store for Halloween with suspiciously tights fits, and leave before the bell finish its ringing. The ones that actually stayed, furtively went about their business, discreetly testing the proper colours and tools without revealing their shtick. Because that was what all heroes and villains were about, no? At least, that’s what new summer hire lanky Toby, 15 years old, felt to be the truth. There was the required long pants—black chinos. Nondescript t-shirt—just the one logo of Sword Savant. And the optional staring at each customer, a hawk with uncomfortably bulging eyes. “That has to be Gentlemanbird,” Toby muttered, watching a rotund man, holding a red and black outfit. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?” Toby swung back, and noticed the much older (by two years) Jeanette sidle up to him. She briefly glanced down at the notepad, and nodded grimly. “I’m sorry to say, Toby, but your superpower is apparently poor handwriting,” Jeanette said. “That’s private,” Toby sulked. “Yeah, is that not a memo you got from working here? All these people are private, doofus,” Jeanette lightly punched his arm. “Don’t go trying and figure out their identities.” “And why not?” Toby argued. “It’s good research.” “I’ll add on to your superpower. Hypocrisy,” Jeanette sighed. “Besides, I’ve already tried. It’s no use, honestly.” “You’ve already tried?” “I’ve been coming back every summer. Good money, compared to other temp jobs. And once, I’m pretty sure I rang the purchases of Fire Falcon before she got real famous, you know,” Jeanette said. “No, what do you mean you’ve already tried?” Toby said. “Oh. Maybe not try? But it’s inevitable, working at a store like this, to guess at who they are,” Jeanette sighed. “You’ll be surprised at how much and how little you can glean. There’s a code name out there on the streets. There’s a code name in costume. And there’s a code name in here.” “You mean that guy’s not really Garrett?” “100 percent no. And don’t count out some of them have shapeshifting abilities. Or go through a friend. Or enemy, really. That, I learned.” “Enemy? You mean…” “Yeah,” Jeanette said. “Sure, you get to the top, and it’s more black and white. But here? It’s all grey.” Toby looked out at the sparse people perusing Super-Mart’s wares. It kind of made sense. This was the only place in town cheap and close enough for many of these people. Did friend or foe really matter when they were all struggling to get by? “So what do you want all that info for,” Jeanette asked. “Stalk them?” “No!” Toby blushed. “I was… doing research. On how to be a hero.” “You want to be a hero?” Jeanette chuckled. “Then be sure to use your employee discount, yeah?” “I’m not so sure any more,” Toby sighed. “It’s not a crime to harbour dreams.” Jeanette pat his shoulder. “Why do you want to be a hero?” “To do good,” Toby whispered. “Sounds silly now.” “Villains can do good too, you know,” Jeanette nodded knowingly. “They are sort of, like, investigative journalists. They do the ugly stuff sometimes, but they can uncover even uglier stuff.” “As long as the hero finds them and beats them up?” “You’re getting it. It’s a push and pull,” Jeanette said. “It’s not easy. It’s not honest work, maybe. But it’s true, and probably more fun.” Toby stood still, and studied his shift partner for a bit. He wasn’t quite sure what to conclude, and realized that research might not be his strong suit—but found Jeanette rather convincing, and far too practised for this to be an off-the-cuff pitch. Enough to shake a bit of his belief, definitely. He looked back at the store. The existence of a place like this lent credence to her theory. “It’s not… one side versus one,” he said. “There’s no winning or losing. The fight needs to go on. That’s what keeps the story going.”. “Good thinking, wannabe hero,” Jeanette said. “Welcome to Super-Mart, and enjoy your stay—but hopefully, not for too long.” --- r/dexdrafts
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.	My store has two oddities: it's a discount store that caters to superheroes and our items are non-refundable. My first customer of the day knew the store's first quirk. He was unaware of the second. "But it doesn't work!" he whined through his mask which was shaped like a computer monitor made from the early-1990s. The screen displayed a " >:( " face. "The product says it can detect nearby crimes but it's non-responsive!" He slid the a poorly packaged box across the counter towards me. I opened the box and saw a small electronic shaped like a magnifying glass. The Observer read down it's handle in an American Typewriter font. I pressed the power button at the base of the unit. A screen appeared on the lens and animated curved lines rippled from its center like a rock being thrown onto a still pond. "Seems to be working just fine," I said. "The lines are supposed to increase their intensity the moment a crime happens kinda like how a metal detector's beeps get louder when it approaches a rusted can." I turned around in place and saw the lines keep a consistent pulse. "Maybe there's no crimes happening?" "Not possible," he insisted and then went off on how he had The Observer on the entire night looking for crimes and didn't pick up a single incident. According to the police report the following day, multiple felonies happened nearby. "Does this thing have a range setting?" I asked. "What if the device can only pick up on crimes that are really close?" The man sighed. "I don't know the first way to figure out if it does or does not have such a thing. I'm kinda at a loss if anything is more advanced that a Nokia phone from 1998. See, my whole shtick is that I use retro technology to fight bad guys." That's an interesting theme. "How is that going for you?" I said. The man shook his computer head. "Not well. Most of my resources are an impressive inconvenience for my turn around time. I get notified by fax! FAX!" he cried out. "Criminals are long gone by the time my dot matrix printer spits out the report. I figured it was time for an upgrade so I bought this device but I don't understand half of its instructions." A " :( " appeared on his monitor. "This might surprise you, but there's an older man underneath this mask," the hero said. "You don't say," I responded. "Can you help me set this thing up?" I looked behind him and saw a couple of other heroes standing behind him. They looked as if their patience wore thin. "I'd like to, but I honestly don't know much about this model. Unlike you, I'm not a hero. Just a kid who works behind a counter." The man gently placed his balled up hand over a " :'( " symbol on his screen. "You'd be surprised," he said. "You kids are amazing with these gizmos. It's superhuman to me." He grabbed The Observer and box and walked towards the door. "Sir!" I called out to him. He turned around. "How about we get together after my shift. Bring that thing your holding and we'll figure out how to work it together. Say 5:30 this afternoon at that new coffee shop called Mug Shots?" An uplifting chime sounded from the man's screen and the crying face turned into a " :D " "I'd love that! Where's it located?" he asked. "Type it the shop's name into Google Maps," I said. "It should be the first hit." The man stood still at the exit with an " :\| " expression displayed. "I mean, look it up on Map Quest." I mumbled.	Even with the superheroes and the villains, my job at Super-Mart would have sucked without Ellie. She, by contrast, thought it was the best thing ever. We made a strange pair in the checkout line, her at the register, the darling of the clientèle, fawning over and being fawned over in turn, me bagging and being included only by virtue of her smile. That smile though! Like a lightning bolt. She turned it towards me now, and its force dragged the poor, superpowered-sap she was talking to along with it. “What do you think, Harry?” she said. “You’re definitely not villain material,” I said. The guy she was talking to laughed, brushed me off with a wave of his hand. He was six inches taller than me, with a square jaw and and long, tousled hair that trailed flaming, smoking ends. He had an absolutely egregious mustache too, and somehow that wasn’t smoking. I wished it was. “And what would you know about villain material, kid?” the guy said. “Knock it off Bill, the kid is right,” a woman down the line called. I recognized her, the May Queen. Green, spiraling tendrils sprouted out of her mouth whenever she talked. It was disconcerting, especially for a woman otherwise as beautiful as the very best spring days. A few other heroes chimed in here and there, from our line and from the others nearby. Ellie had that effect on people. And yet, she was still smiling at me. “Why do you say that?” she asked as she finished checking out the smoke-haired guy’s last few items. “You just aren’t,” I said patiently. “Look Ell, you’re too kindhearted for that. I mean, you notice all the little things all the time, you always try to consider other people. I mean come on you’re—” I cut myself off before I said ‘you’re asking me.’ Sometimes, I thought, it was painful how much I liked Ellie. But then, she was all of those things and more. She was most certainly not a villain. Ellie laughed, tossed her hair. “I don’t know,” she said, “I think villains have the best outfits. Have you seen Sir Scarlet? The dress he wears is immaculate.” The guy with the fire hair leaned in. “And I could hook you up with the best tailor. Think about it.” “Will do,” Ellie said, throwing him a little salute. The guy grabbed the last bag from me before I could put it in the cart, and then he was off. The next guy, a Gray, one of those rare superpowered folks who were both fully formed and still uncommitted, shrugged as Ellie checked out his single item. We didn’t acknowledge that is was a bottle of bourbon, or the fact that this particular gray was back for his bottle nearly every day. It was a hard life, being a Gray. Which made Ellie’s choice, and all our customers interest, even more important; because one day soon she would have to choose. Ellie had a power, and powers needed to be aligned. The May Queen was up next. She had more herbs and oils than I could name, even after a month working here. She pitched her voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper that I had to strain to hear. “Sir Scarlet’s dress isn’t bad, but if it’s really fashion you’re after, nobody beats the heroes.” The May Queen reached down into her bag, lips pursed such that a few little tendrils could still escape, and she pulled out a card. “Do you have any idea how rare one of these is?” she said, holding the card out to Ellie. Ellie’s eyes grew wide. It was an invitation to the Heroes Gala, the social event of the year, whatever the villains might say about it. “The dresses here are to die for.” Then the May Queen laughed, flower petal spilling from her lips. “You can even bring the boy!” She swept out on a jonquil scented breeze. I wished very badly that she hadn’t called me a boy. Ellie pocketed the card like it didn’t even matter, glanced back at me, and said, “Dress or spandex?” “Dress,” I said instantly. And the day wore on towards lunch. We talked, as we always did, of what it would be like to be adored as a hero, or how scandalously exciting it would be to become a villain. Ellie tossed an endless stream of prospective names at me, and one or the other of us found reasons to shoot down every one. She asked me once about what I wanted to do once I graduated; I shrugged. I had no idea. There were many things, it seemed, about which I had no idea. I knew nothing about Ellie’s background, why she wasn’t in school herself, how she'd come to have a power, why it was so hard for her to choose. I didn’t even know what her superpower was. Ellie, for all her kindness and interest in me, had played her own cards very close to her chest. And I had never wanted to get a glimpse of someone else’s hand so badly. She must have been powerful, I knew that for a fact. She seemed to be some sort of known quantity for all the powers who came through, she was charismatic as all hell but that wasn’t enough with people like the May Queen. Eventually the lines died down, lunch grew nearer. Ellie’s stomach growled like hell and she slapped it in annoyance, the guy she was checking out laughed. Then we were off, headed towards the breakroom, and as always we were eating together. But today was different. Ellie had an invitation to the Heroes Gala in her pocket, the May Queen, whether she had called me a boy or not, had said that Ellie could bring me, and I was so, so tired of being the only uninformed person in the whole store. I cornered her in the breakroom door, swallowed down my fears, and said, “Elliewhat’syoursuperpower!” It all came out in one awkward rush, not even pitched like a question. Her eyes widened and she tried to lean away from me, bumped into my arm. I realized I had quite literally trapped her, one arm on either side of the doorframe. I hadn’t meant to do that. I stepped away, blushing, and she burst out laughing. “Dude, you know all you had to do was ask, right?” “Huh?” I said. That hadn’t occurred to me. I tried to look back over the whole of the past month, to sift through every interaction we had ever had. Had I really never asked her that question? “Oh shit,” I said, feeling suddenly queasy. Ellie, still laughing, shaking her head, grabbed me by the arm. “It’ll be easier if I just show you,” she said, dragging me off in the direction of the loading dock. The loading dock was no more private than the break room had been. Pete looked over from his forklift, waved at us, Carol and Steve were pushing palletjacks. I glanced around, “This is better than the break room?” Ellie just smiled and kept pulling me along. We were headed for a closet. (part 2 below)
[WP] You are a powerful ancient wizard, masquerading as an unassuming, friendly and senile history teacher. But when a supervillain threatens your school, they learn to never underestimate senior citizens.	“I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago.” I watched as the class burst into laughter, and I tried to hide a rueful smile. Teenagers—thousand years ago, or now, they laughed the same way. I still enjoyed teaching, but as time passed, my ancient arts became far more touchy to the general public—thanks, Salem. But surprisingly, the recent surge of “supers” was no issue, however, to a world starving for unbridled heroism and unerring good. Lessons from my past thought that that wasn’t very likely, but hope and optimism were not bad things. “Good to see you all are still paying attention. To jokes, at least,” I said, as the giggles began to die down. “Now listen up, because the next bit’s impor—” Whoever made the ceiling shake was powerful. The arcane signatures were obvious—especially to trained wizards—but to the laymen, “superpowers” were the more common term. I barely had time to surreptitiously crush my fingers together, sending a debris shield forward to cover my students, before something came crashing through at the speed of a fast-flung Fireball. In an instant, I found myself with my back to the floor, and pained groans seeping out of me. Through vision blurred with concrete dust, I saw one man—dressed extravagantly with a rob and wizard’s hat, yet with extraordinarily poor taste when measured against the official Magic Codex—walk around the room. Each step was slow, deliberate, the sort that inevitably forced every eye to be upon you. I know. I used it a lot. Instead of letting my eyes be drawn, I quickly scanned the status of my students. They all looked safe, at least. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the man said. There was a trembling in the ground. I sense magical amplification, likely of audio, and felt the waves travel in and all around me, and likely wrapped around the whole school—maybe even the whole city, if he was powerful enough. “For too long, magickind has been trampled down. My kin, the wizards and witches, have had to live in secrecy. But no more! I am the Grand Wizard, and from henceforth, magic will rule this city!” I tried very hard to prevent the rolling of my eyes, but I knew that even magic could not stop the inevitable. To my surprise, he swung around, and looked me dead in the eyes. “My, my,” the… Grand Wizard shook his head. “I don’t believe this. An oppressed magic user, right here in this classroom!” “What the hell are you talking about? I… I have no magic,” I said, trembling. Not with fear, but with anger. “Who do you think you are?” “What?” the cocky grin faded, for just a moment, before the facade returned. “You should be rejoicing, no? What, you can finally get out of this dead-end job of being a teacher, and use magic like millennia ago!” “I was there,” I whispered. “All those years ago, at the birth of magic itself. And rampant magic is not a good thing, you fool.” I twisted my wrist, and felt the leylines call to me. His magic—now mine, turned easily on their old owner. He did not scream, for he did not know what was happening. Not until he turned his wand—a wand! What self-respecting wizard…—on me. “Let this serve as an example to you kids,” he said. “Witness the glory of magic, and watch this old man… perish!” He flourished. Nothing happened. “Begone,” I waved my hand. His legs started to obediently walk out the door, but his mouth was not as cooperative. “What the… what the hell? Why am I leaving? No! The plans for the Grand Wizard! Nooooo!” I stood up, dusting myself off. I found the class staring at me. “Where was I?” I continued without missing a beat. “Right, yes, the important thing. Firstly, none of you shall remember what happened here.” I snapped my fingers. There was a brief daze as they all paused, mid-rising out of their chairs, or trying to throw their fists in the air, or attempting to shout out loud. Slowly, they all sat back down, muttering and mumbling. “Firstly,” I said. “The important thing we were talking about. The history of superheroes. Recent, but very relevant. Did you know that historians suspect magic is the root cause of superpowers?” --- r/dexdrafts	"Professor Wilde, I really enjoyed your lecture today on the Battle of Waterloo." One of Erwin Wilde's students said to him as the aging professor prepared to leave the school. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Jefferson," Wilde smiled at the young lad, as he packed a notebook into a briefcase. "And always remember, the Duke of Wellington did not get lucky at Waterloo, like is often said, Napoleon and the Duke were evenly matched." "Noted, have a nice day, professor." Jefferson replied before skipping over to join his mates in the bus. Wilde watched the bus pull out of the school with a smile on his face. He loved teaching at the Bright Institute, the kids were mostly respectful, and his staff mates were friendly. Wilde mused over his day as he walked over to his car, it had been a good one, he'd given his students an in-depth look into the Battle of Waterloo, one of the few major battles in history he'd been lucky enough to witness. Erwin Wilde had a secret, and it wasn't about kidnapped kids in his basement, body parts in hid fridge, or a side chick he was hiding from his wife. Definitely not the latter, he wasn't even married. No his secret was so mind-blowing it would be unbelievable to almost everyone who ever heard it. Erwin was old, ancient being the more truthful term, having been around since the start of the Greco Persian wars in 499 BC. A powerful wizard who had deciphered the secret to long life, Wilde was not immortal, he just aged incredibly slowly. He looked like a man in his early sixties, above average height, with graying hair and horned rimmed glasses. Wilde did not need his glasses, but he liked the unassuming look they gave him. He was well adept in the technology of the twenty first century, but still preferred the relatively quiet nature of the early twentieth century. At least back then the threat of being recognized for a long-lived man was low. There were cameras almost everywhere now, and it wasn't like he could change his face. Still, Wilde wasn't too bothered, acting as an unassuming, senile, but friendly old man had worked in his favour so far. While an ancient man, Wilde did not consider himself a prude, or even a boomer the term he'd usually heard people around his age being called. He was way older than a boomer and considered himself twice as cool as anyone alive currently. Wilde's car was a sleek, black Mercedes SL 300 Gullwing. A classic that commanded admiration and respect from members of both genders. A classic car for a classic man. Procured in 1955, It had occasionally assisted Wilde in his conquest of some members of the feminine gender. He'd kept away from relationships though, no need getting deeply involved with someone when they were just going to die on you. He placed his briefcase in the passenger seat, and then got in behind the wheel. The car started the moment he turned the key in the ignition, and he drove away from the school. Though the Gullwing could hit 160 miles per hour, Wilde kept it at a reasonable 40 during the drive home. No need getting pulled over, he hated using sorcery on cops who were just trying to do their jobs. Wilde lived in a secluded part of town, and once home, he snapped his fingers and the house came alive, the lights went on, the bath warmed itself, and his clothes flew off his person. His shoes walked themselves to their closets, and soft, soul music began playing on the stereos. "Too Much, by Jacob Banks." Wilde muttered as he eased himself into his bath. "Not a bad choice, music player. Wilde closed his eyes for what seemed like an hour, savouring the warm bath, when the music ceased, and the bath suddenly went cold. The water in the bath swirled around him, until it froze, trapping him in place. Wilde snapped his eyes open to see a hooded figure seating on the rim of the bathtub, with their finger resting on tbe frozen surface. "Hello Erwin." A feminine voice greeted, as the figure rose and pushed back the hood. Wilde found himself looking at a pale, lean feminine face, with hair as black as pitch and lustrous as the wooden steering wheel in his Gullwing. The face was accentuated with low cheekbones, large blue eyes, a pointed nose and full lips. The lips parted, revealing milk-white teeth as the woman grinned at him. "Adonna." Wilde whispered back at the woman before him. "You remember me, I was really hoping you hadn't forgotten." She clapped, seemingly pleased that he'd done so. Despite the not so pleasant history they shared, Wilde could never forget the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. How did you..." Wilde began but was effectively cut off. "How did I escape the prison of ice you trapped me in?" Adonna asked, touching Wilde's face, and running her fingers over his dark brown skin. "You look just as good as the last time I saw you, being mad at you doesn't change that. About escaping your prison though, did you clearly think a prison of ice could hold me forever?" Wilde kept silent, he'd known she'd escape her prison at one point. Wilde was a wizard who was most proficient in conjuring and manipulating fire for offense, he could have killed Adonna, all those years ago by simply incinerating her, but he'd been unable to bring himself to do so. She had been his apprentice once, graduating to friends, and then to lovers at a point, and he would have done anything for her, well, anything except engaging in blood magic so she could effectively become immortal. Adonna had grown to become a powerful witch in her own right, and Wilde had shared his spell to long life with her, she'd wanted more though and had wanted Wilde to include blood magic on his original spell, something only he could do so they could live forever. In the ensuring disagreement, they'd fought, and Wilde had been forced to trap the woman he loved in a prison of ice for centuries. He'd never forgotten about Adonna, despite their falling out and her flaws, not even when he laid in the arms of another woman. "You know what I want, Erwin, eternal life with you by my side if possible but I can find a way to go it alone if you still haven't had a change of heart." Adonna spoke again. "You can perfect the spell, we can be together forever, my love." "You'd have me murder an innocent and use their blood for your selfish desires?" "I"m not selfish, I'm willing to share my desires with you," Adonna quickly countered. "besides if you're too squeamish to kill a candidate, I'd be happy to do so for you." "My answer was no before, Adonna, and it's still no now." Wilde answered with finality, conjuring a wave of fire that immediately melted the ice that had him trapped. He stepped out of the bath and towered over Adonna with his eyes afire. "Careful, my love, I'm no longer the naive witch you knew before, I've learnt a lot since our unfortunate parting." "It doesn't matter," Wilde scoffed, "you can't beat me." "Maybe not, but I know you've given your heart to something else, that school you teach in, and the kids that frequent it. I will not share you with anyone!" "Your frustrations are with me, you will not harm those children, Adonna." Wilde warned, conjuring fire into his right palm. Adonna merely waved at the offensive hand, and the fire was immediately put out. She stared up at Wilde as the lamps in the room shattered as a result of her anger. Her light blue coat fluttered around her as an icy chill suddenly filled the room. "You know what I want, Erwin, eternal youth, and eternal life with you as my man. If I can't have that, I will take away every single thing you hold dear until I'm the only thing left. Wilde conjured a fireball and shot it at Adonna, aiming to kill her this time, but she was already gone, having disappeared in a puff of pale-blue mist. Wilde rushed outside the house, wrapped in nothing but a towel, but she wasn't there either. The woman he loved was gone, leaving the words of her threat, no not a threat, he knew Adonna well, her last sentence been a promise. One Wilde wasn't going to take lightly. Adonna hadn't been able to manipulate ice during their battle 300 years before, which was why he'd chosen to trap her with that element. Clearly, she could call upon ice now. She'd grown stronger like she'd said. Wilde was never going to underestimate her. It was time to call in some old friends. ******** Ok so this is part one, don't want to make it any longer else reddit might not allow it. Lemme know if you guys like it and I'll work on a part 2.
[WP] You are a powerful ancient wizard, masquerading as an unassuming, friendly and senile history teacher. But when a supervillain threatens your school, they learn to never underestimate senior citizens.	Memory magic is a wonderful thing, is they not? Terrible and beautiful, capable of so much, yet few ever grasp the breadth of their potential. Sure, you'll have the occasional otherwise weak wizard thinking he can just go around memory wiping people and taking their fame for themselves, only to screw up one day and forget who they ever were. Some think that they can hide behind memory magic to keep their identity hidden from the greater public - clever, but sure to fail, not to mention the ethical quandary of violating the sanctity of the minds of the countless innocent just to maintain a 'greater good' ruse long since rendered pointless or even counterproductive in our age of understanding. Some poke into the memories of others for blackmail, or some other ulterior motive, before someone gets smart on what they're doing and does the old 'I Memory wipe myself' trick, and their friend comes crashing through the window to apprehend them with the ne're-do-well none the wiser. But there's so much more you can do with this magic, things that can actually help the target instead of hindering them. Take teaching, for example. It's been a harsh week, and your students can't seem to muster the mental prowess to remember some important details of a lesson you're teaching. Why, that's one memory-engraving rune away, and your students are all going to be remembering everything you speak in perfect detail for the next week, hopefully enough for them to commit it to their more mundane memory. But why just stop at the mind? Why not engrave a memory of a thing back into the present? Or, part of a thing? It's how I lived for so long and can maintain my illusions of frailty, after all. "The Eternal Witch", some in the magic community gave me, gobsmacked at how I've lived for centuries without the need for any questionable ingredients or unethical experimentation which would have gotten any other unscrupulous fools killed far before their time, for one reason on another. Before you, you see a crone long past her prime. Wispy hair that long since lost its lustre and volume, eyes dulled by cataracts and glaucoma, wrinkles pulled by the wrath of the sun and weathering of time, back hunched and flabby muscle. But with a single word - spoken or not - I can make any or all of those things disappear, simply by materializing the memory of what I once had of myself.....as some poor fool found out. He was one of those annoying ones, running around accosting people, occasionally kidnapping, maybe killing someone here and there to get the attention of the local 'superheroes' who will go out to fight him, win, and call it a day when the police show up. Pah. That's what's wrong with youths these days. Never anything permanent, too soft to put their finally foot down, too unwilling to stomach putting someone away for good - one way, or the other. He'll just find some way to escape, and by next week the entire cycle repeats. But, when this particular fool decided attacking my classroom when I was in teaching, I decided to do something......interesting about him. I looked into his memories, and saw someone who wanted to do good back when he would have been old enough to be under my tutelage. About how his life turned upside down throughout the years, and he grew bitter. Well. Let's do something about that, shall we? Here is he, ranting about how much of a danger he is, holding one of my students hostage, paying absolutely no heed to the old crone slowly getting up, her back straightening, her hair regaining its blonde shine, eyes clearing and focusing on its prey, are outstretched. "Now, now, Thomas. Why don't you take a seat? I won't be punishing you for being late today, but please do pay attention from here on, I won't be going over what you missed. Maybe you can ask Cassandra nicely to see her notes?" And so, Thomas - wearing his favourite t-shirt of some band that stopped being popular two decades - ago stopped what he was doing, thanked me for my leniency, and briskly walked over to the open desk that wasn't there a minute ago beside my star pupil - not that anyone else noticed anything amiss. After all, I can't have them being so preoccupied with petty distractions to properly process anything I'll be teaching them today. History is important, children. Make sure you don't repeat the mistakes therein.	“professor, I don’t think you should go out there, it sounded like gunshots!” bright eyes look up at me in fear, as my students huddle together out of sight of the door to the classroom. “Nonsense, I will just be a moment! I have to make sure you are all as safe as I can manage after all!” I smile as reassuring as possible before slipping out the door and locking it behind me. Can’t have some enterprising little upstarts try and take these wonderful little lights from the world after all. Down the hallway, around the corner, up a flight of stairs and through the open door, another flight of stairs, (can’t these idiots do something at ground level?), healing everyone under my breath as I go. All they see is a mumbling, bumbling old woman with hair thirty years out of date and a penchant for espresso, so its no wonder all the awake enough individuals in the hallway protest as I pass. It won’t stop me, just as it didn’t when I was in my prime and racing after the one evil. This won’t take nearly that long, however. Huffing slightly, I reach the roof and shake out my cardigan. Adjust my expression from the determination I had while passing thought the building into one of doddering curiosity and grip the pen in my pocket in preparation to use it to cast. (Can’t rely on always having a staff or wand after all.) “Hello?” I allow my voice to creek slightly “Westly are you up here? The others are worried.” Five heads whip around and spy me into doorway. I teeter slightly, before stepping out onto the roof proper. “Get gone Grandma, before you get hurt!” one on the left, aggressive, more so than the others. I will have to take him out first. Lull the others into a false sense of security first, then action. just a bit longer. “I’m just looking for a missing student. What on earth are YOU doing up here?” “Ending order to bring about the true face of the world!” same one still talking. Possibly a true believer of what ever crusade they are on. The roof is graced with runes and spell work, complex and beautiful, but destructive in nature. I can’t read the whole thing from my position by the doorway, but it seems to mention a sacrifice. (No, we won’t be allowing that.) “Lofty goals for a school roof. Why don’t we settle down and have a cup of coffee and you can tell me about this whole kerfuffle, wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt after all.” Steel graces my words. I can’t help it. Whatever they want, whatever magic they are cooking up, it will be widespread and destructive. I can’t let that happen. All five laugh at my words. Taken in by my rather harmless appearance, they don’t expect me to simply smile and write a counter casting. Quick as lightning, half the spell work is obliterated. One pulls out a gun, obviously the one they used to get up here, and I pull up a barrier wrapping the shooter in it to keep everyone safe from ricochet. Turn left, block, counter spell, wish I wasn’t in heels, shock spell, remove more of the roof issue, turn right, breath. “You don’t have to do this. I strong when the one evil roamed the world. You five don’t stand a chance now that I have established myself here.” No hint of how out of breath I am. I hate getting old. “The one evil was the true leader of the world! You destroyed everything for everyone! Most people don’t even believe in magic anymore!!!” blinking I look around at all five of them and see no hesitation. Fine, five true believers instead of one. My sigh echoes around the roof and I pull out the pen I had in my pocket. “What are you doing?” I pay them no mind. “Hey Grandma, what the hell are you doing?” the one on the right rushes in, poison magic in hand, and the borders of the roof begin to glow. (Blessings on the staff that let a ‘doddering old fool do her little tricks’ on the building when I first started to work here) “I was old when your teachers where children. I stood against the one evil, and I won, and now, years later, here you are to try and undo all that I have accomplished. No, we won’t be doing this again. I have stopped all the others that tried this before you. And I will stop you now.” The roof flashes with blinding golden light, and from the sky a clap of thunder shakes the windows below me. Slowly, the light fades. I smile at the empty roof, and adjust my stance, once again a doddering old professor, and head back to my students to assure them that everything is going to be ok.
[WP] You are a powerful ancient wizard, masquerading as an unassuming, friendly and senile history teacher. But when a supervillain threatens your school, they learn to never underestimate senior citizens.	Mr. Tarquin had been the history teacher at Montmort High School for ages. He seemed ancient to the students. Many of their parents said they had also had Mr. Tarquin for history when they went to school, and he had seemed ancient to them then. Even some grandparents insisted that he'd been their ancient history teacher. Nobody thought that was too outrageous since teenage pregnancy was somewhat common at the school, and had been even more common back in the day. It did so happen that Mr. Tarquin was hundreds of years old, not even he knew exactly how many years, but he had actually only been working there for 35 years. He considered the job a nice retirement hobby and it had good health care. Being immortal took regular maintenance. As he was now fully vested in his public pension, in all likelihood Mr. Tarquin would have retired again within the next few years. By rights he could have done so five years ago. But he didn't really need the money, nor the free time, and he liked being around young people, so he stayed on. The world changed for Montmort High School on the morning of October 4th, when the dastardly supervillain, the Crimson Horn, attacked. It was somewhat unusual for a world-class supervillain to attack a small rural high school, but not entirely unheard of. Usually this sort of attack was precipitated by a local group of teenagers having formed a nascent super hero club or magical society. The safest action for the students was to evacuate and wait for the energy blasts to calm down. Any structural damage would be paid for using a government fund set up for just such occasions. This is, in fact, what Mr. Tarquin directed his students to do, leading his class along the designated escape route. Unfortunately, they were blocked off once outside by a giant crimson energy dome surrounding the school. The Crimson Horn's minions, known as the Crimson Horde, were herding the students into groups. When one of the demonic imps knocked one of his students to the ground, Mr. Tarquin had had quite enough. He grabbed the imp by the arm. "I have had quite enough of that. I do not allow such behavior at this school. We shall have to go speak to your boss." And with that, he dragged the imp off towards the front of the school. The Crimson Horn wasn't hard to find. He was floating near the flag poll, sending a beam of energy up to power his impenetrable dome. "Excuse me," said Mr. Tarquin. "I need to speak to you about your minion here. It was acting very disruptive to my students, and I don't allow that." "What is going on here? Seize this old fool. I cannot be stopped. Mwahahaha." The laugh needed work. It seemed rather forced. The Crimson Horn continued to focus his energies. Two imps scrambled up to grab Mr Tarquin, but were blasted away as soon as they touched him. He no longer appeared as a bent old teacher. In his right hand was the Staff of Ages, called Delanderinga. On his head was the Cap of Wisdom, given to only the mightiest of the Frignar. On his brow were the Spectacles of Deep-Seeing, given to him by the Abyssal Witch. And in his left hand was still the imp from before, he hadn't finished with it yet. In a voice somehow distinct from the tone he used before, Mr. Tarquin replied, "I said that I don't allow that." This got the full attention of the Crimson Horn. "Old fool. You are this place's defender? I was wondering when somebody would show up. You shall not stop me from gaining the power of Death Mountain." Mr. Tarquin glanced around to the land surrounding the school. On three sides were corn fields, and he knew that out back was a bunch of soccer fields. It was pretty much flat for as far as his Deep-Seeing eyes could see. "Death Mountain? I think you might have the wrong school." "Your enchantments can't hide it from me. The strength of Montmort shall be mine." The Crimson Horn drew back his hand to fling a fireball at Mr. Tarquin. "Oh, I see. Yes, Montmort means death mountain, but this isn't the place you are looking for. You need to learn a bit about local history." The villain hesitated at this and Mr. Tarquin called to a nearby student. "Julia, come over here and we'll see what you remember about the founding of Montmort." Julia cautiously came to stand next to Mr. Tarquin. "It's alright, Julia. Now, can you tell Mr. Crimson Horn here what I taught you about Montmort's history." Julia stood up straight and recited. "Montmort was founded in 1938 and named after the original town of Montmort whose residents settled the town, after the original town was flooded by the creation of the Death River Dam." The Crimson Horn lowered his staff. "So the original school was..." "About seventy five miles north of here." "And you're not here to defend the power, you're just..." "Using the children to fuel my immortality." "Oh, sorry about that, then. We'll be letting you all get back to your school day." "One more thing. There is still the matter of this imp's behavior," said Mr Tarquin, indicating the imp whose arm he still clutched. "He'll be severely punished. I suppose I need someone to blame this whole misadventure on anyways. Horde, follow your master." With that, the Crimson Horn seized the unfortunate imp in bands of crimson power and flew off to the north. Julia was staring up at her teacher. "Mr. Tarquin, what were you saying about immortality?" Mr. Tarquin stamped Delanderinga once against the ground and Julia's eyes glazed over. His cap, staff, and glasses had disappeared. "Alright, students, everyone back inside. Playtime is over."	“professor, I don’t think you should go out there, it sounded like gunshots!” bright eyes look up at me in fear, as my students huddle together out of sight of the door to the classroom. “Nonsense, I will just be a moment! I have to make sure you are all as safe as I can manage after all!” I smile as reassuring as possible before slipping out the door and locking it behind me. Can’t have some enterprising little upstarts try and take these wonderful little lights from the world after all. Down the hallway, around the corner, up a flight of stairs and through the open door, another flight of stairs, (can’t these idiots do something at ground level?), healing everyone under my breath as I go. All they see is a mumbling, bumbling old woman with hair thirty years out of date and a penchant for espresso, so its no wonder all the awake enough individuals in the hallway protest as I pass. It won’t stop me, just as it didn’t when I was in my prime and racing after the one evil. This won’t take nearly that long, however. Huffing slightly, I reach the roof and shake out my cardigan. Adjust my expression from the determination I had while passing thought the building into one of doddering curiosity and grip the pen in my pocket in preparation to use it to cast. (Can’t rely on always having a staff or wand after all.) “Hello?” I allow my voice to creek slightly “Westly are you up here? The others are worried.” Five heads whip around and spy me into doorway. I teeter slightly, before stepping out onto the roof proper. “Get gone Grandma, before you get hurt!” one on the left, aggressive, more so than the others. I will have to take him out first. Lull the others into a false sense of security first, then action. just a bit longer. “I’m just looking for a missing student. What on earth are YOU doing up here?” “Ending order to bring about the true face of the world!” same one still talking. Possibly a true believer of what ever crusade they are on. The roof is graced with runes and spell work, complex and beautiful, but destructive in nature. I can’t read the whole thing from my position by the doorway, but it seems to mention a sacrifice. (No, we won’t be allowing that.) “Lofty goals for a school roof. Why don’t we settle down and have a cup of coffee and you can tell me about this whole kerfuffle, wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt after all.” Steel graces my words. I can’t help it. Whatever they want, whatever magic they are cooking up, it will be widespread and destructive. I can’t let that happen. All five laugh at my words. Taken in by my rather harmless appearance, they don’t expect me to simply smile and write a counter casting. Quick as lightning, half the spell work is obliterated. One pulls out a gun, obviously the one they used to get up here, and I pull up a barrier wrapping the shooter in it to keep everyone safe from ricochet. Turn left, block, counter spell, wish I wasn’t in heels, shock spell, remove more of the roof issue, turn right, breath. “You don’t have to do this. I strong when the one evil roamed the world. You five don’t stand a chance now that I have established myself here.” No hint of how out of breath I am. I hate getting old. “The one evil was the true leader of the world! You destroyed everything for everyone! Most people don’t even believe in magic anymore!!!” blinking I look around at all five of them and see no hesitation. Fine, five true believers instead of one. My sigh echoes around the roof and I pull out the pen I had in my pocket. “What are you doing?” I pay them no mind. “Hey Grandma, what the hell are you doing?” the one on the right rushes in, poison magic in hand, and the borders of the roof begin to glow. (Blessings on the staff that let a ‘doddering old fool do her little tricks’ on the building when I first started to work here) “I was old when your teachers where children. I stood against the one evil, and I won, and now, years later, here you are to try and undo all that I have accomplished. No, we won’t be doing this again. I have stopped all the others that tried this before you. And I will stop you now.” The roof flashes with blinding golden light, and from the sky a clap of thunder shakes the windows below me. Slowly, the light fades. I smile at the empty roof, and adjust my stance, once again a doddering old professor, and head back to my students to assure them that everything is going to be ok.
[WP] You are a powerful ancient wizard, masquerading as an unassuming, friendly and senile history teacher. But when a supervillain threatens your school, they learn to never underestimate senior citizens.	Mr. Tarquin had been the history teacher at Montmort High School for ages. He seemed ancient to the students. Many of their parents said they had also had Mr. Tarquin for history when they went to school, and he had seemed ancient to them then. Even some grandparents insisted that he'd been their ancient history teacher. Nobody thought that was too outrageous since teenage pregnancy was somewhat common at the school, and had been even more common back in the day. It did so happen that Mr. Tarquin was hundreds of years old, not even he knew exactly how many years, but he had actually only been working there for 35 years. He considered the job a nice retirement hobby and it had good health care. Being immortal took regular maintenance. As he was now fully vested in his public pension, in all likelihood Mr. Tarquin would have retired again within the next few years. By rights he could have done so five years ago. But he didn't really need the money, nor the free time, and he liked being around young people, so he stayed on. The world changed for Montmort High School on the morning of October 4th, when the dastardly supervillain, the Crimson Horn, attacked. It was somewhat unusual for a world-class supervillain to attack a small rural high school, but not entirely unheard of. Usually this sort of attack was precipitated by a local group of teenagers having formed a nascent super hero club or magical society. The safest action for the students was to evacuate and wait for the energy blasts to calm down. Any structural damage would be paid for using a government fund set up for just such occasions. This is, in fact, what Mr. Tarquin directed his students to do, leading his class along the designated escape route. Unfortunately, they were blocked off once outside by a giant crimson energy dome surrounding the school. The Crimson Horn's minions, known as the Crimson Horde, were herding the students into groups. When one of the demonic imps knocked one of his students to the ground, Mr. Tarquin had had quite enough. He grabbed the imp by the arm. "I have had quite enough of that. I do not allow such behavior at this school. We shall have to go speak to your boss." And with that, he dragged the imp off towards the front of the school. The Crimson Horn wasn't hard to find. He was floating near the flag poll, sending a beam of energy up to power his impenetrable dome. "Excuse me," said Mr. Tarquin. "I need to speak to you about your minion here. It was acting very disruptive to my students, and I don't allow that." "What is going on here? Seize this old fool. I cannot be stopped. Mwahahaha." The laugh needed work. It seemed rather forced. The Crimson Horn continued to focus his energies. Two imps scrambled up to grab Mr Tarquin, but were blasted away as soon as they touched him. He no longer appeared as a bent old teacher. In his right hand was the Staff of Ages, called Delanderinga. On his head was the Cap of Wisdom, given to only the mightiest of the Frignar. On his brow were the Spectacles of Deep-Seeing, given to him by the Abyssal Witch. And in his left hand was still the imp from before, he hadn't finished with it yet. In a voice somehow distinct from the tone he used before, Mr. Tarquin replied, "I said that I don't allow that." This got the full attention of the Crimson Horn. "Old fool. You are this place's defender? I was wondering when somebody would show up. You shall not stop me from gaining the power of Death Mountain." Mr. Tarquin glanced around to the land surrounding the school. On three sides were corn fields, and he knew that out back was a bunch of soccer fields. It was pretty much flat for as far as his Deep-Seeing eyes could see. "Death Mountain? I think you might have the wrong school." "Your enchantments can't hide it from me. The strength of Montmort shall be mine." The Crimson Horn drew back his hand to fling a fireball at Mr. Tarquin. "Oh, I see. Yes, Montmort means death mountain, but this isn't the place you are looking for. You need to learn a bit about local history." The villain hesitated at this and Mr. Tarquin called to a nearby student. "Julia, come over here and we'll see what you remember about the founding of Montmort." Julia cautiously came to stand next to Mr. Tarquin. "It's alright, Julia. Now, can you tell Mr. Crimson Horn here what I taught you about Montmort's history." Julia stood up straight and recited. "Montmort was founded in 1938 and named after the original town of Montmort whose residents settled the town, after the original town was flooded by the creation of the Death River Dam." The Crimson Horn lowered his staff. "So the original school was..." "About seventy five miles north of here." "And you're not here to defend the power, you're just..." "Using the children to fuel my immortality." "Oh, sorry about that, then. We'll be letting you all get back to your school day." "One more thing. There is still the matter of this imp's behavior," said Mr Tarquin, indicating the imp whose arm he still clutched. "He'll be severely punished. I suppose I need someone to blame this whole misadventure on anyways. Horde, follow your master." With that, the Crimson Horn seized the unfortunate imp in bands of crimson power and flew off to the north. Julia was staring up at her teacher. "Mr. Tarquin, what were you saying about immortality?" Mr. Tarquin stamped Delanderinga once against the ground and Julia's eyes glazed over. His cap, staff, and glasses had disappeared. "Alright, students, everyone back inside. Playtime is over."	Memory magic is a wonderful thing, is they not? Terrible and beautiful, capable of so much, yet few ever grasp the breadth of their potential. Sure, you'll have the occasional otherwise weak wizard thinking he can just go around memory wiping people and taking their fame for themselves, only to screw up one day and forget who they ever were. Some think that they can hide behind memory magic to keep their identity hidden from the greater public - clever, but sure to fail, not to mention the ethical quandary of violating the sanctity of the minds of the countless innocent just to maintain a 'greater good' ruse long since rendered pointless or even counterproductive in our age of understanding. Some poke into the memories of others for blackmail, or some other ulterior motive, before someone gets smart on what they're doing and does the old 'I Memory wipe myself' trick, and their friend comes crashing through the window to apprehend them with the ne're-do-well none the wiser. But there's so much more you can do with this magic, things that can actually help the target instead of hindering them. Take teaching, for example. It's been a harsh week, and your students can't seem to muster the mental prowess to remember some important details of a lesson you're teaching. Why, that's one memory-engraving rune away, and your students are all going to be remembering everything you speak in perfect detail for the next week, hopefully enough for them to commit it to their more mundane memory. But why just stop at the mind? Why not engrave a memory of a thing back into the present? Or, part of a thing? It's how I lived for so long and can maintain my illusions of frailty, after all. "The Eternal Witch", some in the magic community gave me, gobsmacked at how I've lived for centuries without the need for any questionable ingredients or unethical experimentation which would have gotten any other unscrupulous fools killed far before their time, for one reason on another. Before you, you see a crone long past her prime. Wispy hair that long since lost its lustre and volume, eyes dulled by cataracts and glaucoma, wrinkles pulled by the wrath of the sun and weathering of time, back hunched and flabby muscle. But with a single word - spoken or not - I can make any or all of those things disappear, simply by materializing the memory of what I once had of myself.....as some poor fool found out. He was one of those annoying ones, running around accosting people, occasionally kidnapping, maybe killing someone here and there to get the attention of the local 'superheroes' who will go out to fight him, win, and call it a day when the police show up. Pah. That's what's wrong with youths these days. Never anything permanent, too soft to put their finally foot down, too unwilling to stomach putting someone away for good - one way, or the other. He'll just find some way to escape, and by next week the entire cycle repeats. But, when this particular fool decided attacking my classroom when I was in teaching, I decided to do something......interesting about him. I looked into his memories, and saw someone who wanted to do good back when he would have been old enough to be under my tutelage. About how his life turned upside down throughout the years, and he grew bitter. Well. Let's do something about that, shall we? Here is he, ranting about how much of a danger he is, holding one of my students hostage, paying absolutely no heed to the old crone slowly getting up, her back straightening, her hair regaining its blonde shine, eyes clearing and focusing on its prey, are outstretched. "Now, now, Thomas. Why don't you take a seat? I won't be punishing you for being late today, but please do pay attention from here on, I won't be going over what you missed. Maybe you can ask Cassandra nicely to see her notes?" And so, Thomas - wearing his favourite t-shirt of some band that stopped being popular two decades - ago stopped what he was doing, thanked me for my leniency, and briskly walked over to the open desk that wasn't there a minute ago beside my star pupil - not that anyone else noticed anything amiss. After all, I can't have them being so preoccupied with petty distractions to properly process anything I'll be teaching them today. History is important, children. Make sure you don't repeat the mistakes therein.
[WP] You crack open your fortune cookie. It reads "the man 10 feet behind you plans to kill you."	‘The man 10 feet behind you plans to kill you.’ I read as I raised my brow quizzically. These fortune cookies are the bomb if these are the kind of predictions they make. Bet they had their intern write these to get good with the young folks these days. I still could not help but turn around and scan the cafe behind me, until I realised something. I have absolutely no idea how much ten feet is. I groan as I unlock my phone and open Google to convert it into metres. Imagine if this fortune cookie actually turned out to be true, and I am just here waiting patiently as Google tells me how many metres this is while the killer is sharpening his or her knife. When the result loaded in I saw that ten feet is a mere three metres. This definitely made it easier for me. I turned around once more and started to look for any person that radiated serious killer vibes. Three children and a father were sitting behind me, the father looking too mentally drained to check any points off on my list. After a few seconds of suspiciously looking behind me, I turned back to my coffee as I realised I was taking this way too seriously. I took the small paper in hand and pocketed it, deciding that I valued an empty bladder way more than catching a potential killer who was after me (according to a fortune cookie). I stood up and walked towards the toilet when the man behind the exhausted father of three, locked eyes with me. He looked tall and lanky with a terrible posture as he hunched over his small cup of coffee. He smiled at me, and I smiled back as I felt my cheeks flush. ‘He is kinda cute… He definitely checks my list of potential killer.’ I jokingly thought as I passed him by. When I was done washing my hands after my visit I opened the bathroom door, my eyes darting over to the hunched stranger I passed by a few minutes ago. He seemed to be looking down at his phone, that he was checking out under the table. I slowed my pace as I walked past him, my eyes attempting to catch whatever he was looking at on his screen when I noticed that he was looking at a picture of me. Yes, me. I felt the sweat break out as I stood next to his table, not believing what I just saw. He noticed me and looked up, flashing the same charming smile he showed me before I realised that the fortune cookie might be not written by an intern, but that it was some kind of Heavenly intervention. Or maybe an intern with foresight, who knows? ‘Hey stranger.’ He said as he pocketed his phone quickly, straightening his back in the process. I tried to put on a smile, praising whatever Lord that decided to save my life today. ‘Hey’ I said back, gesturing that I had to hurry off. He seemed not at all bothered by my odd behaviour as I scurried off towards the cashier, paying her for the coffee. I could feel his eyes coolly linger on my back as I left the cafe. I stepped into my car and waited for him to leave. After thirty minutes he left the cafe, his tall figure disappearing into a crowd of people.I will never know what he was planning with me, but I know that he wasn’t up to any good. Let this be a lesson that you shouldn't just ignore what a fortune cookie might tell you.	I smirk. Bring it on. The Chinese-American mom and pop shop around the corner from my apartment had devised the best method for sharing secret messages, print out tailor made messages to certain clients such as myself. In return, they were forever under our protection. You would be surprised how much intel a 3rd generation Chinese American delivery boy can gather for his family when he pretends to have a thick accent. As such, the most formidable family in our city is the one who owns no guns. They deal in information. I steal it. For 8 years, I had been pretending to work for a company rival that threatened the entire infrastructure set in place by the largest energy power in the state. I climbed their ranks, learned their secrets, and made my way up high enough that I was on several friendly hit lists, such as the man I had seen stalking me countless times in the last week. I didn't know his intentions. Now, I do. Planning to sign a deal that would gain my rival thousands of new clients, and a deal I knew would ultimately destroy them, it was no wonder some of the lower ranking officials of my mother company had it out for me. They would be losing their jobs. No matter. They were expendable, as was the man that caught the door behind me as I buzzed myself into my building. I could have avoided the interaction by simply breaking my routine, making his plan fall apart. He was mildly patient. He wouldn't be so desperate as to deviate from his plan. However, I hadn't had a meal in a while... I wish I could have taken a picture of his surprised face. A dart blown into my neck at my open door, a hand over my mouth to allow time for the sedative to kick in, pretending to stumble towards my couch in an attempt to get away from my aggressor, only to see the horror set into his features as I turned to him with my features completely changed. My teeth drip with my own blood as my skin tore slightly from my all too rapid transformation, my mouth widening and jaw unhinging so that I could swallow him whole like a snake. I would have to call out and work from home for 14 days, claiming a newfound lost of taste and smell from my wonderful Chinese takeout. It would only take a week to digest him, but company policy is company policy. I didn't bother talking to him as I savored the feeling of his muffled screams in my belly, stopping mere moments later as he suffocated, his bones cracking as my enlarged muscles crushed him. He was a worthless fool. He killed for money. For something meaningless. For greed. I killed for pleasure. I gave myself these allowances every once in a while. The company I worked for had a long term plan to introduce more sustainable energy sources as our times would change, and that was my ultimate goal. To better our world. Part of that, to me, was to try our best to still comply with the Paris Agreement despite hasty, short-sighted decisions of political powers. I wanted to do good for the humanity I'd been thrust upon when I was banished from my original realm, and I enjoyed my actions of repentance. Still, one has to eat, and if I can eat those that don't contribute to their fellow man and only contribute to themselves, I count it as an act of good will and good riddance. Don't worry. I won't eat you. Unless you've been bad.
[WP] It's Halloween, the anniversary of when everyone became the costume they were wearing. Those who skipped Trick-or-treating or don't celebrate were lucky, but now they must live with friends and family who became "the cursed".	None of the changes were psycological. This at the very least we could be thankful for. Sure, a bunch of people who were wearing sexy nurse outfits were transmogrified into people wearing impractical nurse outfits, and did not in fact get a free nursing qualification out of the deal. On the other hand, Hanible Lector happened to be an excessively popular costume that year. Thankfully, the police did not wind up with a bunch of newly minted psycopaths to track down. This was good because they had quite enough on their plate from the incident, even besides the flooding of the market with disturbingly accurate police badge counterfits. The vampires were the worst of it. They're a simple costume (Some face paint or plastic fangs, a red and black cape if you feel like trying) so are the most common category of the cursed. They work off the rules of whatever character they were cosplaying. The Meyeran vampires got the best of it, coming from a mind that didn't care one iota about overpowering her characters. They could move about during the day, and were among those for whom it was explicitly permitted to survive off animal blood. They even came with a tell, to prove their non murderousness. Plus they had basically no weaknesses besides fire. Stokeran vampires did quite well for themselves also. They were more of a metacatagory, as the count had been imagined and reimagined so many times, but the true stokerans, modeled after the first and best, were capable of feeding without killing, and had some of the most fun powers of the lot of them. I mean who doesn't want to be able to turn into a bat and go soaring through the heavens? The Ricean vampires got done dirty. They burst into flames beneath the dawn, and had one of the tamest power sets. Add to this that their prey were mostly unable to survive, and they were nothing more than a scapegoad for politicians to promise the heads of for genocide, and earn an easy vote. But it was no picnic being beast cursed either. Be it a werewolf, dragon, or dinosaur, the inability to form coherent sentences kinda sucks. And of course, they too had problems when it came time to feed. The curse did not alter the dimensions of it's victims in the moment, but many of the cursed were children, and the problem with children is they tend to grow. Many dragon cursed had outgrown their parents' homes, and as for the dinosaur cursed… well the most common theory for the creatures' extinction involved a meteor that made food scarce, resulting in mass starvation. None had reached their full size yet, and already their daily caloric requirements were exceeding entire villages. Every day their extermination crept closer to a matter of when than if. Already the politician's puppets were dancing around the idea on the six o' clock news. Then there were the superhero cursed. Those guys are dicks. Ever see Megamind? Remember Hal. That's 85% of superheroes right there. The police put up with them, and accept them as allies, because they're already stretched thin against the vampire and wizard wars, and can ill afford that fight. Shockingly, the villian cursed tend to be much more chill and polite. They're only like 65% Hals. While many spend their days picking fights with those who were cursed to be like their rivals, others work with the police in the interest of public safety. And them there were those cursed to be magic users. You might question that if there are magic cursed, why has the curse not been unraveled. The real question is how they've managed not to blow up the earth. The benders, alchemists and shadowhunters at least needed some genuine understanding of their powers' mechanics, so had caused no major disasters. However the majority of wizards were somehow even worse than the so-called superheroes. 2 hours and 17 minutes it had taken one brightspark to think to transfigure a rock into gasoline and then put it in his car. Of course when his transfiguration had worn off, a lot of people had died of lungfulls of rock. Magic was banned. Nobody freaking listened. And so every soft magic system magic user was at war with the police. As I walked down the street, through fire and chaos, I reminiced about how good the world was before it all went mad. Sure we had a global pandemic, and the ozone layer was on fire, and the poor were being starved to death. But at least I could walk to school without some greasy neckbeard that some troglodite had granted flight, superspeed and deadly lazer eyes dropping a barge on my head in order to swoop in and save me, before getting his skull crushed, because I was dressed as wonder woman that faithful halloween night. Lord knows what the uncursed do in that all too common. Yeah, this was worse. No doubt about it.	Twas an odd night, that 31st of October. To play, to spook, to party, to love. On that night the girls wore sexy costumes, Of nurses, of cats, of plague doctors, of bats While the boys wore dress of the torn, The horrifying, the bloody, the bold. Still others made fun, dressing as a lark As the opposite sex, another species, or a character from animated art. The wave came fast, energy black as the night, Costumes made real, Twas a real fright. We struggled, we tried, but our efforts were denied. We became that, which our costume matched. Cindy, the nurse, gained the knowledge of her dress. The morning following she must work, knowing the hospital’s address. Mike, too, must live the life his costume gave. Isn’t it just the pits when your new home is a grave? Jennifer was in for quite the shock, her chicken costume garnering the attention from a cock. And poor old Stan, Stacy now. Her costume blessed her with the miracle of birth, yet we know not how. We gather again, a year from when this all began. Cindy is settled. Her life now defined. Her passion to care and her knowledge combined. Nursing was not the first of her choices; but was much better then her previous life of vices. Mike is okay, he even came back. It’s just so sad that he chose to attack. Shot in the head, yet he had not bled, the abuser now seen as the monster he is. Jennifer is gone, this is quite sad. Made into a chicken, forced to live on the land. Her life before one of material excess, now another’s dinner, quite the beautiful carcass What of poor Stan, living as Stacy now? She had become pregnant, and didn’t know how. Well now she is married; a mother, a lover, a wife. Married to Cindy the nurse, after a long talk that night. Stacy and Cindy, a pair of lovers they be. Cursed by the costumes of whom they wanted to be. The energy of that wave, of transformational light, had brought to bare the true selves hidden from sight. Was it a curse, or a blessing in disguise? Stacy and Cindy don’t care, they just know that they both love their daughter and their lives.
[WP] It's Halloween, the anniversary of when everyone became the costume they were wearing. Those who skipped Trick-or-treating or don't celebrate were lucky, but now they must live with friends and family who became "the cursed".	If I had known that magic was going to come back into the world on Halloween I definitely would've stayed away from the college party I was at...Seeing my closest friends turn into their costumes was beyond horrifying. Some got off lucky, turning into Princess peach or Willy Wonka Others...not so much; the apartment got destroyed as a fork in the road appeared where my friend had been sitting and as Loki Laufreeson grew to his terrible height. College changed a lot after that, in every class there were knights feuding with viking gods while the frat bro professor tries to shout them down. As for me? I now have to complete the winds of winter while also studying for my Accounting degree. [First attempt at writing fiction, please lmk what you think. Kinda just had to write out what might have happened at college.]	Here in Sudan, we don't really get to celebrate holidays like Halloween and Christmas, like they do in the west. My only connection to them is the occasional Instagram post, and a few parties around the capital where the "westernized" youth go to offload their energy, before going about their business the next day. Here, if you don't have any friends integrated into that culture, who would encourage you to get a costume together and celebrate, it was just another night. This year, though, it wasn't. This year, my own mother was that friend. She had started getting more into social media- it began with her cursing out the president anonymously on Twitter, but slowly became an alternate life that she was slowly bringing into her own. She saw a few generic costumes of her favorite TV show- a sitcom that I wish I'd remembered the name of, but unfortunately, all I have of it is her new fluent American accent, paired with a red jumper and wool pants that dared our signature year-round Saharan heat. On the complete opposite end of what she represented, she was holding an almost neon green fat suit, and I knew, just by looking at the two distinct trumpet-looking ears, that it was a badly-sown, low grade Shrek suit. It was the fastest I've ever said no to a gathering, and after about half an hour of my sitting and insistently saying no, I reluctantly agreed to put the suit on for a bit, and watched her fill a bowl with dry candy, and then leave me to join the only other cucoo her age as they drove off. That suit stayed on for not longer than a second after. That night, I fell asleep, and texted her to call me if she couldn't get the door to lock, only to receive an "okay, sweetie" back around midnight. Odd. She never called me sweetie, especially in English. Because I brushed it off and woke into the next day unknowingly, that morning was nothing short of a shock, but not before I left my home. It started with mother's weird behavior- That wine-mom behavior, extremely unlike anything she would portray, but I wasn't there for it more than 5 minutes that morning- I had university to attend, and work to finish. Not having even seen her face clearly, I quickly got into my joggers, and out the door. The streets were exceptionally busy, but people oddly contradicted that with an eerie quiet- no one wanted to greet the other, let alone speak to them or laugh as they would in the early morning. Before I walked farther away from the house, I saw my mom's friend drive past with her car window down, and a weirdly familiar brunette wig hanging over her naturally black, curly hair. Odd. In the transport, I took the liberty of going over to my Twitter feed and checking the latest, only to find it riddled with articles headlined with things like "October 32nd" and "Costumes so good, they stayed on." And then photos. Loads and loads of photos of people that could not be any more in character. It almost seemed like there was one of each costume, a duplication in different settings- horrifically realistic cartoons, and wide-eyed but 3-dimentional anime characters. In the second it took to rip my eye off the screen, I glimpsed a red suit with a Dali mask. I couldn't ask our people to get with the times even of I tried. He ran over to a police officer, one of many roaming around the country with AKs these days, and shouted "Take it off, please!" The suit seemed to be stuck, and he was having a hard time breathing through the mask, but somehow neither he, nor the confused officer, could get it off. Then, with a swift pull of his gun, the man emptied a round into his face, breaking the mask to reveal an oozing dark mass under the character he was portraying. I wonder if he had any family. (Don't wanna make this too long, but if I get an interested comment, I can make a follow up~It just feels likea bit much)
[WP] It's Halloween, the anniversary of when everyone became the costume they were wearing. Those who skipped Trick-or-treating or don't celebrate were lucky, but now they must live with friends and family who became "the cursed".	If we had only known in advance. There were so many people with so man idea of what they could have done, how they could have fixed everything if only they had known in advance. Plain white robes and long, bushy white beards were common costumes for men these days - just in case it ever happened again. We wanted to be ready. We wanted to be able to fix everything. At least, for the men who remained free. Those who didn't look a vampire in the eyes and become hypnotised - those who didn't touch a ghost and instantly age several years - those who had never been spotted by a Devil - those who didn't mess with the Fairy Mafia. Those who still had their free will. Those who still had hope. Those who believed that there was a chance that something human might be able to survive into the future.	Here in Sudan, we don't really get to celebrate holidays like Halloween and Christmas, like they do in the west. My only connection to them is the occasional Instagram post, and a few parties around the capital where the "westernized" youth go to offload their energy, before going about their business the next day. Here, if you don't have any friends integrated into that culture, who would encourage you to get a costume together and celebrate, it was just another night. This year, though, it wasn't. This year, my own mother was that friend. She had started getting more into social media- it began with her cursing out the president anonymously on Twitter, but slowly became an alternate life that she was slowly bringing into her own. She saw a few generic costumes of her favorite TV show- a sitcom that I wish I'd remembered the name of, but unfortunately, all I have of it is her new fluent American accent, paired with a red jumper and wool pants that dared our signature year-round Saharan heat. On the complete opposite end of what she represented, she was holding an almost neon green fat suit, and I knew, just by looking at the two distinct trumpet-looking ears, that it was a badly-sown, low grade Shrek suit. It was the fastest I've ever said no to a gathering, and after about half an hour of my sitting and insistently saying no, I reluctantly agreed to put the suit on for a bit, and watched her fill a bowl with dry candy, and then leave me to join the only other cucoo her age as they drove off. That suit stayed on for not longer than a second after. That night, I fell asleep, and texted her to call me if she couldn't get the door to lock, only to receive an "okay, sweetie" back around midnight. Odd. She never called me sweetie, especially in English. Because I brushed it off and woke into the next day unknowingly, that morning was nothing short of a shock, but not before I left my home. It started with mother's weird behavior- That wine-mom behavior, extremely unlike anything she would portray, but I wasn't there for it more than 5 minutes that morning- I had university to attend, and work to finish. Not having even seen her face clearly, I quickly got into my joggers, and out the door. The streets were exceptionally busy, but people oddly contradicted that with an eerie quiet- no one wanted to greet the other, let alone speak to them or laugh as they would in the early morning. Before I walked farther away from the house, I saw my mom's friend drive past with her car window down, and a weirdly familiar brunette wig hanging over her naturally black, curly hair. Odd. In the transport, I took the liberty of going over to my Twitter feed and checking the latest, only to find it riddled with articles headlined with things like "October 32nd" and "Costumes so good, they stayed on." And then photos. Loads and loads of photos of people that could not be any more in character. It almost seemed like there was one of each costume, a duplication in different settings- horrifically realistic cartoons, and wide-eyed but 3-dimentional anime characters. In the second it took to rip my eye off the screen, I glimpsed a red suit with a Dali mask. I couldn't ask our people to get with the times even of I tried. He ran over to a police officer, one of many roaming around the country with AKs these days, and shouted "Take it off, please!" The suit seemed to be stuck, and he was having a hard time breathing through the mask, but somehow neither he, nor the confused officer, could get it off. Then, with a swift pull of his gun, the man emptied a round into his face, breaking the mask to reveal an oozing dark mass under the character he was portraying. I wonder if he had any family. (Don't wanna make this too long, but if I get an interested comment, I can make a follow up~It just feels likea bit much)
[WP] It's Halloween, the anniversary of when everyone became the costume they were wearing. Those who skipped Trick-or-treating or don't celebrate were lucky, but now they must live with friends and family who became "the cursed".	Ah, Halloween. My favourite time of year. I love seeing all the little ghouls and goblins running around, enjoying themselves. The world has changed a lot in the one year since "The Curse". Different countries handled it differently; Russia and China cracked down on those that were changed very quickly, many of them disappeared in a matter of weeks after the event. The UK is still trying to legislate some kind of system for sharing the streets between the changed and the unchanged, but the prime minister being turned into a litteral baby made the whole thing a bit of a fiasco. Canada declared freedom for all the changed, but still had some trouble sorting through the hundreds of Wayne Gretzkys clogging up their ice rinks. Here in the US it was largely freedom for all, though various religious groups tried to apply restrictions in the more conservative states. Ultimately though, the changed were declared a protected class by the supreme court. (I think it helped that three of them had been turned as well) At home though, it's an entirely different beast. My husband's family doesn't invite us over for dinner anymore. They say it's because they don't how to adjust to my new "all blood" diet, but I'm not sure they liked me much to begin with. The kids seem to have taken it alright, though I hate that I only get to see them for a few hours before bed time. My oldest has learned how to use her fairy magic rather quickly, and we try to get regular mother-daughter flight practice in before she goes to bed in the evenings, (getting used to her new pronouns took a little work, but she seems much happier now). My son was a bit of a hassle since raptor proofing the entire house cost a little more than we expected, but my husband and I have worked out a system that keeps him safe and out of trouble (though he's learning how to open doors at an alarming rate.) The hardest thing to deal with was the dog. He was rambunctious enough as a puppy, more so now that he's flying around and breathing fire. It's gotten bad enough that we've had to talk about putting him down if he roasts anymore of the neighborhood cats, but my husband was kind enough to insist on taking care of it himself. Something about his pride as the Grim Reaper.	It is 1 am. The orange street lights illuminate the empty urban streets in the late night. Howls can be heard from afar, and the a few creatures of the night prowl about. Meanwhile, I am sitting in my house to my lonesome while worrying about my girlfriend. She is out for a Halloween party with her friends and I trust that she is safe, but my fears continue to linger. Per tradition of the spooky season, she would dress up as the Statue of Liberty. A strange decision until you take in account her tallness along with her fixation for statues in general. In short, this is the perfect costume for her. Each year, i would help her make the flowing robe and torch while she design the crown. Sadly, I am not able to join her for the party due to a convenient cold causing me to miss the event. Regardless, I am glad to at least help design her costume again. I start to doze off due to my drowsiness of staying up past my normal sleeping hours. Suddenly, a tremor shook me awake. A slight rumble in the earth, at first. Soon, the slight rumbles became earth shattering quakes. The howling from before are silent, now the noise of several car alarms going off. Whatever this thing is, two things are certain, it is big and it is coming my way! I open my window from the second floor of the apartment and look down the street. I could not believe my eyes. Perhaps it is my mind playing tricks on me, but there is the statue of liberty strolling down the street, towering over all of the buildings around the neighborhood and crushing cars underfoot. My jaw drop to the windowsill. The bronze statue continues her way down the street until she reaches the apartment building. She kneels down to look through the windows while still clutching a bronze tablet and a lively torch. After getting a good look at her face, I could not believe my own eyes. That is not just the statue of liberty, that is my girlfriend! She eventually find my window and waves at me. I do not know how she became so huge and made of bronze, but I know that she is home safe and sound.
[WP] You are a Michelin star anonymous critic. You have to keep your identity secret. Unfortunately, you accidentally cross paths with a government spy one day whilst reviewing a restaurant, and they think they're meeting with another spy.	A few well-placed burps help conceal me. I eat like a man possessed, or a dog who hasn't seen food in weeks. To the untrained eye, I do not savour the aftertaste, but in secret, I take my time, keeping the meal in my mouth for a substantial period while getting through more. Here, alone in a dark corner, I revel in the isolation, for it is only my work that fulfils me. Suddenly, a younger man with boyish looks appears. His appearance is the kind that would sweep a lesser critic off their feet, no matter their preferences. He coughs, but I continue eating. It's only after another that I swallow my meal, the cottage cheese mixing nicely with the corn, and yet...there is something about the texture. No, this is atrocious, where is the onion seasoning? Buried by the other ingredients it seems. I tut at this outrage, and turn to face the person opposite me. He looks around the room, and hands me an envelope. I retrieve a glove from my pocket and he smiles. It is made of a special material that lets nothing in, no sauce, no spice, nothing which compromises my abilities. One gets a certain feeling in their fingers that is essential to reviews of this caliber. Slipping it on with grace, I retrieve the letter inside, sliding it next to the plate. The message simply reads: "I know what you are." I smirk, taking another sip of wine. Bitter again. Hmmm. I gesture for him to meet me outside, and excuse myself, promising the staff that I shall be back in just a moment. We walk into the alleyway across the street. I hear his steps behind me, as loud as the crunch of La Gorenya's apple tart, and equally unpleasant. My hand inches towards the pocket of my shirt, where I store my pen. The instant we are out of sight, a gun is pulled behind me. Like a smooth drip of Dalmore, I weave past his defenses, my pen striking an artery within the neck. He stops, stock still, as the venom cascades into his bloodstream. He drops the gun, which he'd been a moment away from firing, and I remove the pen. As his breath leaves, I retrieve the gun, placing it in another, concealed, pocket of mine. I read the identifying documents quickly before restoring them to their original position. It is all written in code, but I identify the spy immediately. This had not been the work of a rival magazine company as I had suspected, but instead the work of a group perhaps far more sinister. My hands soon busy themselves clearing the evidence, as if on autopilot. A quick swipe of his neck with a handkerchief, a perfume that ensures he stinks of cheap whiskey, and the ruffling of hair ensures he should be seen as an unfortunate soul who had been drunk and suffered heart failure. The toxin had made sure that was how he died, and the black veins it induced were already beginning to return to their earlier colour. I am able to wipe the blood from my pen, and place it back, as if it had never been removed. Soon enough, I am settled back at my table, the guest forgotten, and food pouring down my throat once again. In my pocket lies the letter and envelope the spy had carried with him, and these would need careful disposal. After all, if anyone were to prove my profession, the integrity of this prestigious position would no doubt be in jeopardy. Nonetheless, since the government was now investigating me, there were plenty in this world who needed to be silenced, and quickly. An unenviable task, but one I quietly prepared to take on as the rich truffle entered my mouth. After all, an anonymous critic is an honest critic.	Franz had their fork halfway to their mouth when the fellow sat down heavily in the chair opposite. The man was fat, bald, wearing an absurd bushy mustache and pastel golf clothing. He puffed as he sat, and was looking expectantly at Franz. Franz said nothing, and the floret of broccoli they'd balanced on their fork plopped to the tablecloth leaving a brown welt of vinegar. "Who you working for?" The man asked, impatience obvious. Franz whished they'd gotten the fork all the way to their mouth. "Nobody, I'm just here getting lunch and..." The man nodded briskly "Sure. Sure, I get it, but I'm working too and I don't want to step on any toes, so I just want to know who you are with. You can tell me, it's okay." While he talked, Franz jammed a bread roll into their mouth. Soft, lightly sweet, perfectly tender milk bread even without the dense vinegar. They took a long time chewing, looking for a way out of the corner they'd been backed into. Franz knew all 11 other Guides, and this wasn't one of them. That meant this guy was probably a food magazine head, just thought Franz was writing a review. They swallowed their roll, and flashed the man the pad they'd been writing on under the table. "Honestly, Im not working. I'm just a foodie, taking notes. I'm not going to interrupt your deadline or anything." The man's eyebrows shot up, and he left without a word. Franz watched them leave, getting into a french sedan. Franz had begun to sweat, and ate a few more bites to try and calm their nerves. "Xir?" Asked the waitress from behind Franz and they put down the silverware. "The man who just left asked me to give this to you." Franz's car was full of shit. A duffel of clothing was vomiting it's contents messily across the rear seats, their footwell had a milk crate filled with books, and their work bag disarrayed on the seat itself and the man's note atop that. They had, while the wait staff was in the kitchen, slipped a 100€ note under the plate and scampered. It was conspicuous, silly and more than a little cloak and dagger, but they had wanted to leave right then. Getting found out was a serious thing. You couldn't work for a decade in an are where you'd been suspected, and Franz could just about work this corner of Europe with their current level of experience. If they were flagged, their career was over with Michelin. They looked at the paper, ripped from a pocket notebook, with it's writing in block capitals. "Not Fooling Anyone", in rather unsettlingly big font. Franz considered calling their supervisor, but held off, wondering if they could put the pin back into this grenade. Just like that, the rear door opened. Franz's rental was a common Italian compact, common for rideshares, but they were very surprised that their bag of clothes was tossed across the seat. Then, the huge man folded himself into their car. Franz was turning around to say something, but was met with the muzzle of pistol pressing cold into their cheek. "Turn around, drive the car." Franz was shaking now, and took a few tries to find the ignition. "W-where....where should we..." Franz managed before the man roared "just drive out of town" and together they did, squeezing through tiny streets. Franz would occasionally look in the rear view mirror, but the pistol was stowed somewhere on the man. He looked a lot meaner now, his round face painted with lines of frustration. They could also share thick muscle under the man's prodigious weight. They left the town, and went up a B-road that climbed over some wheat field and into a wood. "Stop here" the man said acidly, at a farmers turnout. "You are going to tell me who you're working for." The man said. And tell me what you were doing in there. We sent Telex's to every major corps of operators and still you were sitting there like Sherlock fucking Holmes, scribbling little notes and out the door he goes!" As the man's anger began to reach a fever pitch, Franz's shaking anxiety gave way to tight, terrified tears that they squeezed out around a high-pitched wail. "I'm from the guide! The Michelin guide, please." He swatted Franz on the head with the gun. "Not your cover, idiot, who do you work for!" This person was completely mad and somehow had a pistol, and Franz genuinely didn't know what to say to make it stop. "Please, I've got my notes in that bag, please just look, I'm just a food critic I swear to you!" The pistol pressed into their neck, and a hand rummaged around in their work bag. Then, an exhale of breath "Je-sus. You actually weren't kidding. Fuck me. Sorry about that, I really took you for someone poaching our lead." He got out of the car, suspension creaking as he did. Then he rapped on the front window with the muzzle, and crouched. Franz cracked their window. "You didn't see or hear shit, got it?" Lu Dao was very surprised that Shi Feng turned on the lights in the hotel room as the pair entered. The critic had covered the room in stuff in his characteristic way, piles of clothes and books and toiletries and snacks spread wide. Franz Hemmings Besser was sleeping face up on the bed, snoring riotously. "Sleeping aid" signed Shi Feng, seeing Lu's confusion. Shi picked up an arm and dropped it on the bed in demonstration. They began to look through the clothes, searching for the set Franz had been wearing, a loose grey pantsuit. They found it in a sweat-soaked ball outside of the bathroom. Lu pulled out some tweezers, and pulled at thread near the lapel. It came off with difficulty, Lu frequently altering her grip on the tweezers. The thread appeared thicker, more solid than the cotton the coat was made from. Shi unfolded a cell phone and Lu dropped the thread onto it's screen. Once the thread camera had synchronized, it read back the critic's rather exciting day. The pair took screenshots, of the fat man and a wrinkly fellow who got up a few minutes after Franz's arrival. Shi looked at the sleeping Franz, and made a 'gun' sign to Lu. Lu shook her head, making the sign for 'evidence' The pair nodded to each other and left, leaving the lights on. Lu dropped the thread in the crack between elevator door and threshold. The best agents didn't know they were agents, especially those taking precautions already. Their Audi was waiting out front, Lu getting in front and Shi in back. As Lu drove away, Shi began to assemble a rifle that was in pieces beside him. "Schopengrauer is at the inn, the black site team is taking him now." Shi nodded. "And Mr. Callum?" Lu grinned. "Sleeping in a tent outside of town. Easy pickings now that we know what he looks like."
[WP] Your video channel of historical cooking is going viral because people love your "historical detail". Secretly, you're immortal and really just making old dishes you liked. Except you slip up and make something with a detail not in the historical record.	Your video channel of historical cooking is going viral because people love your "historical detail". Secretly, you're immortal and really just making old dishes you liked. Except you slip up and make something with a detail not in the historical record. Quickly you think about the region you learned that dish from and remember a cute little old lady… what was her name?… “Omalla!,” you remember right before entering the interview where several expert historians plan to rip the authenticity of your recipes to shreds. There also is one member of the conspiracy group Immortal Exposure, who is part of the small group that tries to expose your one secret. Luckily, they havn’t had any proof, but today might be the day if you can’t get the story together quick. “Welcome to the History Exposed Show! Tonight we have a special broadcast scrutinizing the recipe of Chef Xavier who claims to cook authentic recipes from history, he recently celebrated his 100th recipe and show, but when making his most recent dish scholars were quick to point out inaccuracies about the recipe.” Exclaims the announcer. “Today we have Dr. Samual from The Greece historical society, Dr. Francis from the Ancient Culinary Arts, Dr. Lenardo from the South American Society of History. Also we have an interesting guest. Frank Adams, he is here representing the Immortal Exposure group who has been trying to claim that Xavier is really an immortal being.” Audience laughs. “Now, welcome the start of the show… Chef Xavier!” … “Xavier, that story of Omalla was wonderful! I wish I could have met her, she sounds wonderful!, exclaimed Dr. Samual. “To bed she isn’t real!” Cried Frank, “We know your full of crap!” Xavier sidesteps as Frank’s feeble attempt to attack him ended with Frank in a pile on the ground. Dr. Lenardo steps up and intervenes. “Gentlemen, let’s stop this childish bickering. Me. Xavier, do you know where Mrs. Omalla was from? Could we pay her a visit?” The room is silent. You could here a pin drop. “I don’t remember the specifics, but she was from a remote tribe in the Andes mountains in Ecuador.” Xavier explained. “It’s been years since I’ve been there, I don’t even know if she is alive any longer. I last saw her 11 years ago, where we made this recipe together, but she was weak then, I’m not sure she still blesses the earth with her presence.” “Then let us set out to find out,” Dr.Samual stated. “Let’s see if Mrs. Omalla, is still with us. That should put this whole thing to rest.”The group quickly agreed and plans were set to go find Omalla. … The team arrived at a remote village in Ecuador. The village had no more than 100 people in it. Suddenly the group is surrounded by tribesmen with spears pointed at them. The outsiders stopped. A curious teenage stopped as he was passing the group. “Xavier!” He exclaimed and broke through the ring of spear holding tribesman. The leader of the tribes an spoke and all his men broke into a smile, and lowered their spears. The 4-man team were at ease, and the the group laughed and joked as then entered the wooden gates. Xavier spoke to the leader and asked about Omalla. The mans face changed from a bright toothy smile to a somber gaze. He quietly led the 4 men to a small hut. Inside on a cot laid a little sweet lady. There was a younger woman attending to her and the hound lady leaned over and whispered, “Mister Xavier is here to see you.” The frail older lady looked up and smiled. She beckoned Xavier to come over. Xavier knelt down and and gave Omalla a gentle hug, which she weekly returned. Omalla clung to Xavier, “Go make me my favorite meal.” Xavier turned to the men. “Gentlemen, Mrs. Omalla has requested that I make her favorite dish. It appears as though we will be finding out if I made this dish appropriately or not.” Xavier said with an air of confidence. “I’m going with you!” Omalla Called out. A couple men came and helped carry Omalla out to where the supplies were pre-gathered. “I hope you don’t mind, but we heard about the questions regarding if you made it the right way, and we heard you mentioned me so I knew it was only a matter of time before you came to see me. And just in time too. I grow weak and soon I’ll go join the ancestors and guide all those who I have trained to cook. Now go ahead and start cooking or I’ll be dead by the time you finish.” A quiet chuckle went around the campfire. Xavier had talked with the men he came with and told them he would not use the technique that he had used online, to see if Omalla would correct him. Since she is the one who taught it to him. The men agreed and Cavier began to prepare the dish, Omalla’s favorite, it a quantity for the whole village. As he began to prepare the food as the men had agreed upon, Omalla’s voice rose high over the conversations taking place around. “Not like that you baboon! You do it the way the morons in North America and Europe make it. You know better than that! Bring it here!!!” The only noise that could be heard was that of the fire crackling. Xavier quickly walked over to Omalla as she commanded. The other men quietly gathered around Omalla as she took Xaviers hands and moved his hands to reproduce the technique she had “taught” him. “I was taught this technique by my mother,” Omalla explained, “she learned it from my grandmother, and her from my great grandma going back 5 generations.” She looked squarely into each of the men’s eyes. “Everyone takes a turn,” she exclaimed and all the men took turn learning the technique that Omalla was showing them. “There, now you all know how to do it properly.” The chorus of laughs burst out at Omalla’s teaching the guests how to prepare the food right. After they had eaten the tribe performed their welcome performance for their guests and Xavier sat down with Omalla’s hand in his. A sparkle was in her eyes that Xavier only had saw when she was a little kid helping him and her grandma while preparing food. You see it was Xavier who had taught Omalla the technique, and Xavier had learned it from Omalla’s great, great, great, great grandmother. After the festivities were over, Xavier helped to carry Omalla back to her hut. After making sure that no one else was around, Xavier said, “thank you.” Omalla’s eyes glistened and said, “Thank you for being a friend of this tribe through the generations. We love you. Your secret is safe with us.” Omalla leaned forward and gently kissed Xavier. The next morning a mournful cry sounded. The other men jumped up and were confused as to what was happening. Xaviers heart dropped, he knew what the cry was for. He solemnly walked to Omalla’s hut and saw Omalla’s daughter and granddaughter crying over the lifeless body. The next two days were full of feasts and rituals to celebrate the life of Omalla and remember what she had taught them. After the festivities were done, the 4 men said their goodbyes and went home. The next week there was a new episode of the video channel. The four me. Worked together, taking turns preparing the traditional food from a few months before, only this time there was no controversy. It was if the 4 men had been life long friends, through the episode they shared pictures and videos of their excursion and they even did a very comical dance, trying their best to imitate the ritual welcome dances they had seen. And there on the wall behind them was a picture of Omalla, her daughter, and her granddaughter. When the men were working on the controversial process of the dish, there was a sudden shout from out of frame as Frank was taking his turn. “Not like that!” Them men froze as they weren’t expecting someone to interrupt their video. It was Shalea, Omalla’s granddaughter. She came rushing on stage and took Frank’s hands in hers and guided him through the proper technique. The 4 men laughed and continued to prepare the food under the watchful eyes of Shalea. Xavier and Shalea locked eyes and a familiar sparkle stared right back at him, that when Xavier knew that Omalla would always be there to guide him in his cooking.	It was a regular Sunday where I was making a good old fashioned English breakfast. Bacon, hash browns, beans, black pudding and a reasonable helping of eggs. My viewers always enjoyed this one particularly noting the strangeness of English cuisine and how American food was clearly superior. Infidels. I'll show them. I added a bit of pheasant to my meal. Pheasant. An American would clearly never know that this was part of the tradition of a fry-up as they think it's all nonsense. My mad parrot friend Cederick disagreed. "You know these Americans aren't as dumb as you think". I stared at him wryly. "Cederick you're a parrot what's the most intelligent thought that you've had". Cederick ponders a little. "You know a met an American once". That was an Abraham Lincoln. He was decent in leading and stuff until he just stopped living. Oh by the way one fact I should mention is that this particular parrot was immortal. And he was invisible unless he wanted to be seen and no he wasn't a ghost. It was a relationship between cooks, presidents and people of minor importance throughout history. There spirit guide if you will. Helping people with their problems, qualms and more importantly mild cooking tips. It could be ever so infuriating but all I had to was think of him out of existence and puff he was gone. "Voila". The brunch was finished. The viewers seemed to like it though they didn't seem know any better. The thing is in the year 2050 there was not much record of cuisine and deserts. Everything was put onto one central database and everyone just agreed to it. The whole "world order" as it was known. Basically the internet had come to a point where everything had to be done and remembered in a certain if not you'd get shot. But I didn't worry about that of course I was immortal what could possibly go wrong. There was a knock at the door. That was strange. I didn't normally get visitors. I opened the door at to my dismay the internet police had come to throw me away. And this was the point I decided to shoot myself.
[WP] Your video channel of historical cooking is going viral because people love your "historical detail". Secretly, you're immortal and really just making old dishes you liked. Except you slip up and make something with a detail not in the historical record.	"Okay, stop the video right there--" Alfred Wilfred Janus said to Detective Kidrow, jabbing a meaty finger on her mac screen and leaving a greasy fingerprint. "Please don't touch the screen," Jane Kidrow wanted to say to the historian for the third time. She didn't. The sixty-three year old man was a sweetheart and meant well. More importantly, Alfred Wilfred Janus was her only lead, and each time she scolded him for touching the screen he seemed embarrassed and withdrawn. She needed him talking. The pair had secured a study room in the oxford library, and even now at this late hour students were studying by stained glass lamps, ordering tea from a small central hub, and wandering around the stacks. Jane was still jetlagged from the trip from DC, but time was pressing. Her boss was convinced he was on to something and sent Jane to chase it. Jane thought it was a useless trip worth little more than a chance to get some Indian food in London. Until she met with Alfred. "Watch here, and here," Alfred said, poking two separate places on her screen. "Play the video." "A good sear needs heat," Gaghis Elm said in his thick accent. "For that we make, ah, how you say...ellinikí Fotiá, the fire of the greeks." He combined ingredients from two jars, measuring volume from each precisely several times before pouring them into the pan. The flame roared, the fire turning a greenish-blue hue. "That," the historian said breathlessly with his Churchillian air, "Is Greek Fire." "And?" Jane asked. "And it's a secret lost for millenia," Alfred said in a whisper. "So you're telling me, Gaghis Elm, from Kitchen Fiasco, Spice It Up!, and Greasepits of America knows the long lost secret to Greek Fire?" Jane asked. "What I find most sincere," Alfred said, not quite answering her question, "Is how casual he is about it. As if he doesn't know the significance of what he's just done. As if he honestly doesn't know." Jane opened her mouth to speak, but was instead filled with the overwhelming sensation of being watched. She spun, catching a shadowy blur cross between two massive stacks of books. "Who's there?" She asked, digging in her pocket for her phone and turning the flashlight on. Her hand flew to her lower back, searching for the pistol there. In Bloody Old England, she'd been forced to leave it behind. She darted into the stacks after the shadowy figure, phone flashlight scanning left and right, around corners and between stacks as she dodged around the library. No figure. She made a tight circle and returned to the study table to find a Alfred Janus with an arm barred around his neck, eyes wide and bulging from his face as he gasped for air. His face turned blue, and he slumped in his seat. The figure released his arm from around Alfred Janus's neck. He was tall, perhaps six and a half feet. He had dark tan skin, and a thin black beard. He looked to be in fit middle age. He glanced first down at Alfred Janus, who's chest was rising and falling slowly in unconscious sleep. Then he glanced at the computer. Jane watched with wide eyes, as Gaghis Elm, celebrity chef, walked calmly over to her macbook. Wordlessly he opened the command window and began typing in commands. Jane couldn't move. Training which had never before failed her failed her now, and all she could do was watch. "Unfortunately," the man said in his thick accent. "Alfred Janus was not as much help as you hoped. He was suffering from a degenerative disease, and passed away the night after you met with him, though you suspect no foul play," he said to Jane. Jane found herself nodding, mesmerized. "You will be returning to Washington shortly, and believe that pyrotechnic colorant was used as visual effects for Gaghis's video. It is not Greek Fire, and Gaghis Elm is a run-of-the-mill cooking celebrity." Again Jane nodded. "Time to go back to the hotel and buy those tickets home," he said, picking up the macbook and spinning it to face her. She took it, and walked slowly out of the library, open macbook still clasped in unfeeling hands. ... Alfred Janus opened his eyes. "Close call," he said to his friend, who nodded. "Greek fire? They lost Greek Fire, remember?" "I remember," Gaghis growled. "Now, at least." "Just in case you forgot, the Library of Alexandria burned down, and everyone here believes Julius Caesar was killed." "You don't have to rub it in, Enkidu," Gaghis said with a sigh, wandering over to the stacks and flipping through books. "Rest in piece Alfred Janus," he mused, and Enkidu nodded. "This time it's my turn to be the celebrity," he told Gaghis. "Chef?" Gaghis asked, raising an eyebrow and shutting the book he'd been flipping through. "Drone racing," Enkidu said, chin held high. Gaghis balked. "Drone racing?" he asked again, as the pair left the Oxford library. "It looks fun as hell, Gil," Enkidu said. "Looks fun as hell." "I'll go arrange your death certificate," Gaghis said with a sigh. "Thanks buddy," he said. "What about you?" Gaghis sighed. "I think we retire Gaghis Elm too." "You're running out of anagrams, friend." "I know," Gaghis said. "I'm really going to miss doing Greasepits of America." \------- /r/DanielMavWrites	It's Saturday morning. I wake up with a smile on my face. My phone has been going off like crazy all morning and I know it's because of the video I uploaded yesterday at night on my account. Not paying any attention on my phone and with a winning smirk plastered on my face I make my morning cup of coffee. I take a sip, "Ah those mortals are so easily amused. I just upload one of my all-time favourite dishes and poof, it just goes viral." I thought about the feta cheese tofu recipe. It was such a hit ! Greek sculptors had brought an ancient form of feta cheese to China when they came in to make the Terracotta army. Wait... Trembling, I take the buzzing phone into my hands. Three thousand, forty-five comments. "Tofu ? Feta ? Boy you have me confused!" "Greek AND Chinese ancient cuisine ! Dude I never knew Greece was so close to China !" Reality hit you like a brick. People don't know about the connection between the two cultures ! I start researching online. I find a few articles talking about the theory that Greek artists had made the statues. What am I going to do ? I look at the time on my phone and conveniently, as if the Gods have heared my prayers and saved my butt... it was April Fools' day ! "Hahahaha you guys ! It was just a joke ! Happy April Fools' day !" I let out a sigh. My immortal roommate came in ... "Remeber when you messed up the dates in that history exam 50 years ago ? The professor proceeded to tell you that it was the wrong date and you tried to argue back ! You almost told him you were there ! At least I didn't have to use magic to save you this time. You know it's risky you goofball !" he laughes as he walks towards the kitchen counter. "Can you wipe my memory though ?"
[WP] Zombies were never annihilated and became an endless plague. But humans got so good at killing them, that society moved on. They are now just another annoyance to get rid of during this new normal.	Normally the process of cremation within 12 hours of death is more than enough to prevent the undead from rising, but of course every now and then a corpse or two is left a little too long be it from the corpse being poorly accessible or simply the death being unknown until it was too late. This naturally is very inconvenient, and thus the Clean Up Crew is a very well appreciated part of modern society. It certainly isn't a glamorous job, but at least it was respected, and the pay was good, that's what Kenny thought at least. He and his team had a simple job today, the bodies of two hikers that went missing a week ago, found shambling at the outskirts of town, it was all things considered an average Tuesday. Ever since the dead first stopped staying dead it was known that only two things gave the undead peace, fire which naturally was a no go in a heavily wooded area at the peak of summer, and headshots. Each member of a Clean Up Crew is a walking arsenal, trained to be able to take out the brain of a zombie with not only the standard issue weapons but anything they could find lying around, a holdover from the survivor mindset that humanity still hadn't fully graduated from but a useful one nonetheless. Still in spite of the necessity of it all full body armour and multiple forms of weaponry in the hot and humid summer climate was fucking annoying, "I swear to god my visor always fogs up!" Micheal complained behind him "Better than having a Bile variant spit in your eye." Selina pointed out, gesturing to an acid stain on the side of her helmet "Yeah yeah I know it's just fucking annoying!" Michael sighed "The more time you spend bitching the more time we spend in our gear in these goddamn woods!" Kenny snapped, admittedly more than a bit uncomfortable himself, Micheal did have a point about the fogging "You know zombies aren't exactly subtle, we'll probably find them soon" Micheal remarked He was apparently a goddamned prophet because just then two remarkably well preserved corpses lunged at them from the trees, instantly pinning down Selina and Micheal. Jumpers, just his fucking luck. The team moved quickly, the grappled members through well practiced movements threw off their attackers, Selina crushed the skull of one attacker against a rock while Micheal removed his sidearm and shot a neat hole through the head of his attacker. Kenny felt uneasy though, these bodies were fresh, barely decayed despite the humidity and the constant heat, and he knew his team was thinking the same thing as they slowly began scanning their surroundings. Kenny checked the bodies and compared it to the information on the file, his fears were confirmed, these were not the hikers. Kenny turned on his radio and messaged HQ "We killed two zombies but not the ones we were sent after, bodies are extremely fresh, got a possible Class C situation here, requesting backup and a full investigation into a possible horde in Brownbrook Forest over." "Copy that Agent Smith, backup is on the way and your request for an investigation have been forwarded over" replied an older man on the other side From the corner of his vision Kenny saw movement in the shadows, it seems he wasn't the only one as both Selina and Micheal had taken out their rifles and began moving into a defensive formation. Kenny joined them and not a moment too soon as a small army of undead, mostly animals it seemed with the occasional human form, surrounded them. It seems it was going to be a long night, but this was what he was paid for after all. Wordlessly the team began doing what they did best Cleaning up	Hordes upon hordes surrounded the building. No escape, no where to run. Michael stood filling up a glass. "Thanks Michael" A woman grasped, "Damn these things never shut up. I mean I'm trying to manage people's taxes while all I hear is—" A corpse, banged on the window, "Brainssss!" "That. Zombies man" She drank. "That's why I bring headphones Sally. Drowns out the noise" Michael disappeared amongst rows of walls. "Sally" A tall suit with slick black hair said. "Take care of them. Someone didn't put on the force field early enough. Oh don't groan you finish at five" "Sure thing man" Sally got up. "Boss" "Boss man" She finger shot him. She walked towards a giant empty space with a rather small door. Inside was a massive switch with letters written 'Force field'. She pressed it. A loud warping sound echoed outside. Sally moved to the window. A circular blue field left corpses as a welcoming. Any zombies who tried invading now would be vaporized. Sally left. "Done" She said aloof. "Great. Finish the tax account will ya?" Boss man said. His gazed focused on a screen, each type seemed to break his keyboard more. Sally smirked heading down the floor. "Aw man" An elderly man groaned. "Why do I have to clean it up?" "Listen Daryl, sooner it's done the sooner we get wasted!" Michael yelled. "Assuming you finish by five and not six" "ugh"
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Having lived in a cabin alone for quite a long time in a secluded forest in Russia, waking up in a death game was... mildly annoying. Being a reformed demon, I had to avoid any and all contact with humanity to save their life, and whoever was in charge clearly didn't like that idea. I looked around scanning for any other beings able to be classed as supernatural, and sure enough, there were. Four other demons, two werewolves, five vampires, and even a couple angels out of the well over a thousand contestants in this massive murder hole. I felt bad for the humans that were going to be dying in this "game" that these rich fiends seem to enjoy watching like this were some sort of dystopian novel. And much like a dystopian novel, this game's about to be flipped on it's head. "Oh great, it's YOU," A voice rang out in my general direction. I calmly spun around to see my angelic ex walking towards me with notably malicious intent. It was clear she was still mad about our break-up even though I had told her many times over the years that our relationship would never work out. As soon as she got to me, she slapped me as hard as she could, causing me to stagger before falling backwards. "Yeah, nice to freaking meet you too, Sharon, " I casually spoke, getting up like I wasn't just slapped by a divine being, "I shouldn't be surprised you're also in this death game, given these rich bastards wanna see some drama and violence to sate their pathetic little appetites..." "See, this is what is freaking wrong with you! You always treat humans like they're some plague that needs ridden of!" She's not wrong to say this about me, because it's true, but my beliefs aren't unwarranted, given how their history has functioned, needlessly sacrificing thousands of innocent lives to pray to a god that doesn't even care about them, Causing several wars over trivial things like rulership, and even mass starvation all for nothing, "All you ever do is lump the bad together with the good, refusing to understand that people change..!" I rolled my eyes at her, "Hey at least I'm not ravenously murdering humans like other demons carelessly would. And who should I thank for that? Oh right, you!" I glanced around, noticing all eyes are now on the both of us, with mixed reactions from the lot of them. Some were fear, some were skepticism, others were even anger, and heck, some were even disgust. Noticing this, I leaned in close enough to whisper to her ear, "At least be grateful that I'm trying to quell my hatred towards humanity, unlike other demons..! And I would suggest this conversation not be elaborated on while all eyes are on us..!" Soon after, a voice on the intercom rings out among the crowd "Greetings everyone, and welcome to the twenty-seventh bi-annual death game. The rules are simple, Survive the challenges, to win up to over half a billion US dollars. Try to escape, refuse a challenge or even fail a challenge, and you're eliminated. You can probably guess what elimination means." "Yeah fucking right! Like any of us would ever play your sadistic piece of crap game!" One of the vampires, a particularly young one, in fact, roared out in anger. Not fifteen seconds later, a spear jutted from the floor, impaling the poor thing's neck, swiftly killing him. This sent most of the crowd into a panic, but the angels, other demons and I were unfazed. Many humans had tried to kill us, before and very few had ever succeeded. There's only two documents of a human managing to kill an angel/demon, but the details are so vague they may as well not exist at all. I calmly look at Sharon, who was looking at me with a glare, "Heh, well the at least put effort into an original kill. Not just some microchip that magically induces heart attacks or some crap. Anyways, I'm planning on busting this this open like a rock on a coconut. you in, like old times?" She sighed, nodding a bit, "Sure, what the hell. At least I can say that by doing this, the both of us TRIED saving a human's life. That, and it might give 'us' a second chance," For a split second, I coulda swore I saw her smile. Either way, I was going to enjoy what I had in store for humanity. \[To be continued, maybe\]	"Heeey, Hal?.... promise you won't get mad." Guards keep their riffles trained on my head while I speak into the receiver. Their aim is steady, but I can hear their hearts pounding against the kevlar, as well as smell the sweat pooling behind their masks. "Becky?!" Hal's voice sounds frantic. Poor guy, probably didn't get much sleep in my absence. And his day's only going to get worse. "Where the fuck have you been?" "Not a hundred percent sure, to be honest..." Seeing my reflection in the one way mirror, I sigh and rub my cheek. All the blood has cooled and no doubt lost most of its flavor. I lick my fingers, anyway, and glare tiredly at whoever's watching from behind the glass. Man, this place better have some showers. "But I think I found our super secret, super evil, blood sport, thing." I hear papers rustle on Hal's end. He lets out a long, exasperated sigh. "Wait. No. Don't tell me, you're actually-" "Pretty fucked up world we live in, when a kid can't root through a slaughterhouse dumpster without getting kidnapped." "You were supposed to wait for me to at the motel!" "You took too long, and I got hungry." "Damn it, Beck!" One of the guards' headpiece buzzes. He stiffens for a moment, as others nervously shift. He mutters something back into his collar. I glance back at the glass. "Shit. You guys aren't tracing this call, are you?" I grimace at my reflection. "Hey, Hal.. Sorry. Might have just gotten you compromised." "Fantastic." Hal groans back, rummaging with more papers. "Alright, I need you to be real with me." "About what?" "How many did you kill?" I suck in a breath. " You gotta promise me, Hal." "Promise you, what?" "That you won't send me back to Hell for this one." "Becky....How many?" "Not a lot.... I wanna say.... Thirty?" There was a crash on Hal's end. I think he dropped the phone. Or maybe he threw it. "God damnit!" "Hey, I warned them, first! Kept telling them how hungry I was, but did they listen? Noooo, I get the riffle butt to the face. Can't tell you how much I hate this body, Hal! No one ever takes me seriously! "H-how many...were civilians?" "Oooh, Hal..." I stare back at the glass, wishing I could get a just a glimpse at whoever is on the other side. To meet the eyes of something almost as loathsome as myself. "You're a good kid, but you still don't understand the hearts of evil men." "It's not our jobs to punish the victims!" "Wasn't punishing the riff raff." I mutter licking my lips. "Not directly, anyway. I was punishing the dumb fucks who run this game by simply smashing their new toys before they ever got the chance to play with them. You can bet they got that message... It's the only reason we're talking, now." A silence falls between us. I shuffle my feet, and absently kick at a stray piece of viscera. A busted jaw that was once set in some poor soul's skull. Poor soul? Damn it. Hal was becoming a bad influence on me. "Are there any left?" "Of the riff raff? A few." "Beck." Hal's voice is just above a whisper. "I'll let you stay on earth if you answer me this one thing." "Uh-huh? What's that?" "Were you....at least quick?" I can't fight the expression forming on my lips. A cold, hungry smile glints through my reflection. "How could I not be, Hal? You humans are so fragile." Hal exhales into the receiver. "Then finish what you started." "Really?" My mouth begins to water.. "You're cool with that?" "No... but I can't think of any other way to salvage this. Clean the building out, and then come find me. There better be some good evidence to sort through when this is all over." "I can snag you some witnesses, too, if that makes you feel better." "Just hurry up." Hal hangs up. I snort as the call ends. He's going to hold this one over my head for a while, I just know it. But I decide to not let that spoil the rest of my morning. "Bad news boys," I say turning back to the guards. "It's going to be a really short season this year."
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Having lived in a cabin alone for quite a long time in a secluded forest in Russia, waking up in a death game was... mildly annoying. Being a reformed demon, I had to avoid any and all contact with humanity to save their life, and whoever was in charge clearly didn't like that idea. I looked around scanning for any other beings able to be classed as supernatural, and sure enough, there were. Four other demons, two werewolves, five vampires, and even a couple angels out of the well over a thousand contestants in this massive murder hole. I felt bad for the humans that were going to be dying in this "game" that these rich fiends seem to enjoy watching like this were some sort of dystopian novel. And much like a dystopian novel, this game's about to be flipped on it's head. "Oh great, it's YOU," A voice rang out in my general direction. I calmly spun around to see my angelic ex walking towards me with notably malicious intent. It was clear she was still mad about our break-up even though I had told her many times over the years that our relationship would never work out. As soon as she got to me, she slapped me as hard as she could, causing me to stagger before falling backwards. "Yeah, nice to freaking meet you too, Sharon, " I casually spoke, getting up like I wasn't just slapped by a divine being, "I shouldn't be surprised you're also in this death game, given these rich bastards wanna see some drama and violence to sate their pathetic little appetites..." "See, this is what is freaking wrong with you! You always treat humans like they're some plague that needs ridden of!" She's not wrong to say this about me, because it's true, but my beliefs aren't unwarranted, given how their history has functioned, needlessly sacrificing thousands of innocent lives to pray to a god that doesn't even care about them, Causing several wars over trivial things like rulership, and even mass starvation all for nothing, "All you ever do is lump the bad together with the good, refusing to understand that people change..!" I rolled my eyes at her, "Hey at least I'm not ravenously murdering humans like other demons carelessly would. And who should I thank for that? Oh right, you!" I glanced around, noticing all eyes are now on the both of us, with mixed reactions from the lot of them. Some were fear, some were skepticism, others were even anger, and heck, some were even disgust. Noticing this, I leaned in close enough to whisper to her ear, "At least be grateful that I'm trying to quell my hatred towards humanity, unlike other demons..! And I would suggest this conversation not be elaborated on while all eyes are on us..!" Soon after, a voice on the intercom rings out among the crowd "Greetings everyone, and welcome to the twenty-seventh bi-annual death game. The rules are simple, Survive the challenges, to win up to over half a billion US dollars. Try to escape, refuse a challenge or even fail a challenge, and you're eliminated. You can probably guess what elimination means." "Yeah fucking right! Like any of us would ever play your sadistic piece of crap game!" One of the vampires, a particularly young one, in fact, roared out in anger. Not fifteen seconds later, a spear jutted from the floor, impaling the poor thing's neck, swiftly killing him. This sent most of the crowd into a panic, but the angels, other demons and I were unfazed. Many humans had tried to kill us, before and very few had ever succeeded. There's only two documents of a human managing to kill an angel/demon, but the details are so vague they may as well not exist at all. I calmly look at Sharon, who was looking at me with a glare, "Heh, well the at least put effort into an original kill. Not just some microchip that magically induces heart attacks or some crap. Anyways, I'm planning on busting this this open like a rock on a coconut. you in, like old times?" She sighed, nodding a bit, "Sure, what the hell. At least I can say that by doing this, the both of us TRIED saving a human's life. That, and it might give 'us' a second chance," For a split second, I coulda swore I saw her smile. Either way, I was going to enjoy what I had in store for humanity. \[To be continued, maybe\]	Apologies about this being so long. The build-up to the grand event takes a while, but it's worth it, I promise. ;) PART 1: Holger opened his eyes with a groan. His skull felt as if it was being hammered to pieces from the inside out. He groggily sat up, rubbing the back of his head. The king and his closest advisor Tebald had been out hunting along the borders of Pragia. Game was plentiful in that area, and it was a good excuse to enjoy the outdoors away from the bustle of the city and prying eyes. They had been trailing deer for a few hours when they met a few men from Kraidel, who offered to join them. The friends accepted their company eagerly. There was nothing suspicious about them, for the Pragians and Kraidellians were generally on good terms. Besides, there was a very slim chance of them being recognized, as Tebald had suggested that they travel incognito. The hunt turned out to be quite successful, and all was going well. That is, all had been going well. The attack was unexpected. One of the men suddenly hit Tebald over the head, effectively knocking him out. Holger fought back, but he was outnumbered and overpowered despite his efforts. The last thing he remembered was a heavy club crashing down onto his head. Now he found himself in a dark prison cell of sorts. The small barred windows faced a stone-walled hallway, and not a soul was in sight. The king started to panic. Where was Tebald? With another groan, he sat up. Wonderful. His wrists were shackled together, and he had a collar around his neck that was chained to the wall. Whoever his captors were, they seemed to delight in keeping their prisoners like caged beasts, he thought darkly. After taking a few minutes to gather his wits, he crawled over to the bolted door and tried to force it open. That didn’t work. He then examined the locks, looking for a way to pick them, but that also proved to be futile. With an enraged curse, he smashed his fist into the door. “Don’t waste your strength, Holger. You’ll only attract the guards,” said a familiar voice wearily. Holger spun around as well as he could. “Tebald?” he asked. He noticed that another wall had a single grated window in it. A somewhat dazed Tebald was peering through it. “So they got you too,” he said with a mirthless smirk. “Aye,” growled Holger. He sat back down. “Where are we?” “Kraidel, for the entertainment of the unwashed masses. Not my words, the guards’.” The advisor fingered an identical collar around his neck. “These are to suppress what magic we have. And the cells are heavily protected. No use trying to escape from here.” Kraidel… entertainment. Everything clicked in Holger’s mind. He remembered seeing the great amphitheater during his last visit to Kraidel several years ago. His guide spoke of the epic battles within it between wild animals and the brave warriors who dared to fight them, but remained curiously quiet when further questioned. There could be only one reason why… “Gladiators,” mused Holger out loud, “Prisoners, slaves. With no purpose except to fight to the death. Just like beasts taken from the wild.” Tebald looked mildly surprised. “So you did pay attention to your history lessons after all. I would have never guessed. Only you forgot that some gladiators were volunteers who risked life and limb-.” “Save your lectures for the schoolroom,” Holger sighed furiously and ran a hand through his hair. “I should have known something was amiss when we met those hunters. What a fool I am!” “Truer words have never been spoken, my friend. But I forgive you because I too was a fool.” Tebald leaned back against the wall of his cell. He began to hum quietly, much to Holger’s annoyance. “Are you not at all concerned about this?” snapped the king. Tebald shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps. It is rather dull sitting here without even a book to wile away the time.” “Don’t jest, this could mean the death of us! And then war will inevitably come between Pragia and Kraidel.” The smile disappeared from Tebald’s face. “Listen Holger, fussing and fretting won’t help matters. We have no choice but to wait.” He suddenly looked cunning. “Never fear, we’ll find a way out of this somehow. Now shush. The guards are coming.”
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	I sat still through the PA announcement, through the resulting chaos as people tried to find an escape. I followed silently as we were herded down a dark corridor into a much larger enclosure lined by concrete walls but open to the sky above. Around us, I saw weapons on metal racks, sharp edges catching the glint of early morning light as the sun turned the skies orange. Far above us, lined with what I could only assume was bulletproof glass, boxes jutted out from the walls; inside, people in expensive clothes milled about, staring down their noses at us, some with opera glasses. Around me, some people were crying, but I paid them no mind. Others, the bolder or more survival-minded ones, were already edging toward the weapons racks, even though nothing had been announced yet about what was expected of the souls with me. Soon enough, there would no doubt be a mad dash to be the first with a weapon, to be one who could defend themselves from the merriment our watchers believed was coming. I closed my eyes for a moment; breathed in the wet morning air; let the smell of the dirt and vegetation around me fill my senses. Beneath me, I could feel the earth thrumming; they had built walls to trap us in here, but the dirt under my bare feet went deep. Good. Screaming started around me as the ground shook; a crack appeared in the concrete wall beside us. I tuned in on the frequencies I needed, honed what the vibrations told me was necessary, and was gratified when I also saw worry form on some faces in the stands as the glass boxes began to crumble. Another crack formed, splitting vertically to a box on my left, and their worry shifted to panic as the box jolted and bulged toward the arena. Guards poured out of openings in the walls now, weapons trained on the throng of people around me. Some of those with me attacked these newcomers with the weapons from the racks, and were mowed down with automatic gunfire. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-a-tat-tat-tat. I took that rhythm, those staccato blasts, and weaved them in. The air around me began to vibrate, and before anyone could stop me, I sent those frequencies, those percussive notes, deep into the ground beneath me, straight to the tense dance of plates beneath me. The earth responded before the first bodies hit the ground. Beneath the concrete walls, soil and rock erupted from the ground, jolting the entire structure surrounding us up several uneven feet into the air. It came back down but not altogether and not all at once. Large sections broke off; glass boxes toppled, shattered, and collapsed in on themselves. Around me, all humans fell to the ground, unable to keep their feet in the tumult. I was the only one left standing. But then, I wasn’t human. Section by section, the walls fell, disintegrated, imploded. Guards and onlookers were crushed; a few poor souls who tried to run through the open areas guards had come through became casualties themselves. So be it. Beyond the walls, I could almost feel the attempts to escape, the cars and other vehicles moving fast away. Balling up a fist, I drove it into the ground, my knuckles smacking on the wet grass. To onlookers, it appeared a futile gesture, but the ground beneath us dropped several inches and two hundred feet away a flat mass of earth flew upwards, slinging cars high into the air and catching a helicopter taking off so that it overturned, it’s rotors breaking apart and Alicia g through the air. I closed my eyes again, settling to my knees and sitting on my heels, hands palm-up on my thighs as I took deep breaths, feeling the destruction around me. In my minds eye, the lilting sound of a child’s laughter wafted across the air, and I allowed myself a smile at the sound. You are avenged, my son, I thought, allowing the memories of my Andrew to overwhelm me as all around, concrete walls burst and sprayed dust across us all. Most of the screaming had stopped, the people too terrified by what was happening to react at all. A few were looking at me now; I could feel their gazes on me as if my eyes were open and I was staring straight at them. My job, however was done. With a little sigh, I pressed both palms to the soil and let the earth swallow me once again. Screams came from those around me, but they we were only waves in the soil, mixed with the destruction of those who had killed my only son.	hexadecimal arena games incident report 273.10190.101 player 273, self styled "leftist revolutionary" was terminated today after attempting to lead a "worker's coup" against game staff. to note, subject's massively obese frame proved difficult for support staff to remove from arena. subject's organs deemed too damaged for salvaging operations. remaining players: 456/755 subject's identity is in the process of being censored, however, extensive internet footprint on various forums and social media networks have proven difficult for the tech team to remove completely. the tech team estimates that subject spent roughly 17 hours each day on political forums. fortunately, subject's physical footprint proved easily removable, as no significant intersocial relationships, no intact familial relationships, and no professional relationships were accounted for in initial background check. cover story fabricated of cardiac arrest caused by excessive overeating. remaining in game events proceeding as scheduled. Glory to the Organizers.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Why was it that everytime he wanted some peace and quiet, SOMETHING happened. Last week, his flatmates managed to set the kitchen on fire making cereal, the week before that his parents dropped in and decided to tell him they were getting divorced and now he was on the popular hit death game tv reality nonsense show "Who wants to be a Killionair" Very droll. Jason had had enough. The public had acquired the taste for these shows when they decided that executions were a good thing. Then it was public executions. Then Televised. Then a damned Colosseum. It took the span of 4 generations for the world to collectively lose any sense of sanity and here Jason was because he had double parked when he was picking up his dry cleaning. They hadn't even got the curry stain out - those crooks should be in here, not him. He saw his name and picture on the TV screen along with a bunch of other people. He knew how this worked, his little cramped cell, that had a toilet and a bed would open up and they would all rush towards the middle to get some weapons and start maiming each other. For entertainment. Well he wasn't going to play ball. He took off his pants and his underwear. Just like that, the doors opened, the bright light poured into the room. He sprinted to the middle, just like everyone else, his junk flopping around like a fish out of water. The others were distracted. He scooped up a sword and yelled. “Stop!” No one listened and they all stabbed him to death. Well, poop.	hexadecimal arena games incident report 273.10190.101 player 273, self styled "leftist revolutionary" was terminated today after attempting to lead a "worker's coup" against game staff. to note, subject's massively obese frame proved difficult for support staff to remove from arena. subject's organs deemed too damaged for salvaging operations. remaining players: 456/755 subject's identity is in the process of being censored, however, extensive internet footprint on various forums and social media networks have proven difficult for the tech team to remove completely. the tech team estimates that subject spent roughly 17 hours each day on political forums. fortunately, subject's physical footprint proved easily removable, as no significant intersocial relationships, no intact familial relationships, and no professional relationships were accounted for in initial background check. cover story fabricated of cardiac arrest caused by excessive overeating. remaining in game events proceeding as scheduled. Glory to the Organizers.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	&#x200B; I used to work as a salesman. I was good at it, but not as good as I could be. I used to say it was because I have a soul. I helped people get what they needed, not what I would make the most profit from. &#x200B; The way I saw it, it would make them actually want to come back. Build a solid relationship and the business would flourish. But, my good intentions were tested. We were always given instructions on how to get the most out of the customers, and it got to me. It didn't change the way I worked, but as the years went by I felt more and more hollow. My work was useless. I didn't create anything, it was not important, and I was constantly pressured to take advantage of people. &#x200B; Finally I quit. I wanted meaning in my life. So I decided to become a teacher. What a mistake that was. Don't get me wrong, I love teaching. I love having something to do that actually matters. I help people, I comfort, I give life lessons. But, and trust me on this, you have no idea what teaching is like. Everyone thinks they know, since everyone has gone to school, but you really don't. It's exhausting. It can take everything you got, and still it will never be enough. There are always new tasks, something you have not done, not accomplished. Paperwork, endless amounts of paperwork, mind numbingly boring meetings and nothing ever works properly. If it does work, it's instantly changed for something that dont. If you somehow manage to get sort of on top of things, you are given five new tasks, none of which you know how to do or have been given training for. Figure it out! Every school is woefully underfunded, and eventually you understand it's meant to be that way. They are exploiting your work, and don't really care about the kids. Why should they? They don't really want them educated. They want them poor, uneducated and easily manipulated. After all, they don't send their own kids to public schools, oh no. They, of course, deserve way better. &#x200B; I guess I'm an idealist at heart. I want equality, I want people to have a fair chance. I want my life to matter. It got to me, it had to. The first to notice was Sarah. Sweet Sarah, so good natured she literally saw nothing wrong with anyone. So kind, and so gifted.I knew I had hit the jackpot when we fell in love, she really was everything a man could hope for. She would leave small notes for me to find whenever she left on some work for a couple of days. Telling me how much she loved me, how much she enjoyed my company, and sometimes there were riddles I had to solve to find some hidden gift. Sarah always had boundless energy. I did not, and as more and more work was heaped on me I started to stay more and more at home.That was a problem. I did not realize how much of a problem until it was too late. It's not like she just gave up on me. She gave plenty of hints. There were talks, there were arguments, but my mind was a fog I could no longer navigate. Tired, always so tired. &#x200B; She left. She met him while we were together. I think I was even there the first time they met. I saw nothing through my fog. She married him, had a kid.I'm happy for her. She deserves to be happy. After all, she still is the best person I have ever known. I'm bitter though...not at her but at me. Somehow I messed up even if my intentions were good. I was trying to be good at my job, make growing up a little easier for the kids at the school, and my prize was despair. It was good though. Gave me time to work. I coped with my loss by working. Always working. Most of my friends were Sarahs friends as well, and anything connected to her was painful, and easy to ignore. My parents had died when I was fairly young so there really was no one who needed me except at work. I loved work, or at least, I loved my time in the classroom. I guess that's why they collected me. Who would care about me missing? I don't know how long I was lost in thought, how long my flashback lasted. But I noticed the shocked silence following the PA announcement. It floods back to me, why I'm here and what they are about to do.Something breaks.I can feel it, hear it even. Something went wrong inside me. A release. Im filled. I have found meaning. A sound is making itself known, it takes a few moments before I realized it's me. I'm laughing. Suddenly there is plenty of space around me...I'm scaring people. It makes me laugh all the harder. I look up at the windows. At the true enemy. I am a teacher. I'm about to teach a lesson.	hexadecimal arena games incident report 273.10190.101 player 273, self styled "leftist revolutionary" was terminated today after attempting to lead a "worker's coup" against game staff. to note, subject's massively obese frame proved difficult for support staff to remove from arena. subject's organs deemed too damaged for salvaging operations. remaining players: 456/755 subject's identity is in the process of being censored, however, extensive internet footprint on various forums and social media networks have proven difficult for the tech team to remove completely. the tech team estimates that subject spent roughly 17 hours each day on political forums. fortunately, subject's physical footprint proved easily removable, as no significant intersocial relationships, no intact familial relationships, and no professional relationships were accounted for in initial background check. cover story fabricated of cardiac arrest caused by excessive overeating. remaining in game events proceeding as scheduled. Glory to the Organizers.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Games. They equate this death sport to that of a child’s past time. Day after day, they pit us against one another in a soirée of violence that only ends when of us stops breathing. They sit upon a monolithic throne that encapsulates the arena, cheering with wild abandon as we bleed for them, scratch and claw, rend and tear each other’s flesh all for their amusement. This is their perverse pleasure, a past time only for the cruel. You see, they want us to broken. They desire our spirits crushed. That we may be always reminded that we are small, insignificant pawns. We are their victims. That gives them satisfaction. But what they don’t know is that I enjoy it too. Now, as I stand victorious, towering over my downed opponent, they all wait with baited breath for me to deliver the final blow. They want to revel in the culmination of blood lust. But instead, I begin to laugh. No, rather, I begin to cackle like a mad man. My opponent looks at me, though beaten bloody, there’s a look of hope in his eyes. Will I spare his life, he wonders? The crowd picks up on this labored pause in the action. Where’s the death blow? They begin to jeer. Someone in the crowd shouts for me to finish the game else there’ll be consequences. Others think I’ve gone soft, that I won’t finish the job. How wrong they all are. I sink to a knee, placing it firmly across my opponents chest. I feel him writhe beneath my weight. He futilely tries to bat me off, I slap his pathetic efforts aside. The crowd smells blood in the air, they begin to howl. Some so engorged in their bloodlust that they begin to froth at the mouth. They think they know what comes next- the end of this man’s life. They’re wrong. I’ll kill him slowly, painfully, and grotesquely. I slowly, but surely, let my teeth sink into his flesh. There’s a moment of shocked silence. No one expecting this macabre theatre. But then my opponent screams, bringing everyone back to reality. They watch in horror, disgusted that I continue to chew fat, swallowing muscle and tendon. I keep eating. Suddenly their game of sport is ruined. They enjoy their dose of controlled violence but I’ve just upended it. If they want to watch me beat another man to death, they’ll now have to watch as I devour his body. It isn’t long before the spectators begin to leave in disgust. I guess I’ve spoiled their fun. Oh well. Now, as I begin to finish, I can only think of what comes next, how can I top this little display? Because these people wanted a perverse show. So I’m going to give it them.	hexadecimal arena games incident report 273.10190.101 player 273, self styled "leftist revolutionary" was terminated today after attempting to lead a "worker's coup" against game staff. to note, subject's massively obese frame proved difficult for support staff to remove from arena. subject's organs deemed too damaged for salvaging operations. remaining players: 456/755 subject's identity is in the process of being censored, however, extensive internet footprint on various forums and social media networks have proven difficult for the tech team to remove completely. the tech team estimates that subject spent roughly 17 hours each day on political forums. fortunately, subject's physical footprint proved easily removable, as no significant intersocial relationships, no intact familial relationships, and no professional relationships were accounted for in initial background check. cover story fabricated of cardiac arrest caused by excessive overeating. remaining in game events proceeding as scheduled. Glory to the Organizers.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	sry for bad writing and short text, am on mobile edit: spelling As I heard a loud alarm I covered my ears with my hands. "Just one more minute" I said, half awake, half asleep. As I slowly started to gain consciousness I looked around. I was in a gigantic room, filled with beds, all identical. This wasn't even remotely like the cozy room I had fallen asleep in after making love with the beautiful woman I had met at the bar the previous night. It had been a long night, but at around 3 AM I had finally fallen asleep, with the woman in my arms. Some time after she had gone up to get a glass of water or whatever. I had then fallen asleep, a dreamless sleep, and now I found myself here, in this room filled with beds and nothing more. In the room there appeared to be hundreds of people, all looking up at a big monitor in the room where the a man was seen talking into the camera. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen" The voice had barely said the sentence before the crowd started screaming, asking why they were here. All of a sudden a man in the crowd collapsed and the people around him looked shocked for a few seconds before starting to scream and run hysterically. I just sat there, watching the spectacle, while waiting for the man on the monitor to start talking once more. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I would advise to keep quiet in the future. You see, we have implanted a small little chip in your heart. As fast as we think you're disobeying you are going to be killed." People started whispering and a shiver echoed through the crowd, as if though they had already forgotten the bloody corpse amongst them. "You have been placed here today to play 5 death games, all of which will test you in different ways. If you would, against all expectations, survive all 5, you will be given a enormous amount of money- 2.3 billion dollars, given generously to us by the viewers" As I heard him utter the last word I burst out laughing like a maniac. People started looking at me and I even seemed to have gained the attention of the man of the monitor, as he was looking stressed at the sight of me laughing. Oh these rich people who had come for entertainment and seeing people die would soon see their world upside down. Not only had I lived for tens of millennia- I was also one of the original gods of humankind. When humanity still was young they had feared me as the god that made night fall and meat spoil, the god that made sickness and the god that killed their young. When they grew older they started fearing less and less, but I was always there, lurking in the shadows behind the devil's of each religion. As the monitor finally turned of I sat there laughing. This would be the funniest thing to happen in centuries	hexadecimal arena games incident report 273.10190.101 player 273, self styled "leftist revolutionary" was terminated today after attempting to lead a "worker's coup" against game staff. to note, subject's massively obese frame proved difficult for support staff to remove from arena. subject's organs deemed too damaged for salvaging operations. remaining players: 456/755 subject's identity is in the process of being censored, however, extensive internet footprint on various forums and social media networks have proven difficult for the tech team to remove completely. the tech team estimates that subject spent roughly 17 hours each day on political forums. fortunately, subject's physical footprint proved easily removable, as no significant intersocial relationships, no intact familial relationships, and no professional relationships were accounted for in initial background check. cover story fabricated of cardiac arrest caused by excessive overeating. remaining in game events proceeding as scheduled. Glory to the Organizers.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Why was it that everytime he wanted some peace and quiet, SOMETHING happened. Last week, his flatmates managed to set the kitchen on fire making cereal, the week before that his parents dropped in and decided to tell him they were getting divorced and now he was on the popular hit death game tv reality nonsense show "Who wants to be a Killionair" Very droll. Jason had had enough. The public had acquired the taste for these shows when they decided that executions were a good thing. Then it was public executions. Then Televised. Then a damned Colosseum. It took the span of 4 generations for the world to collectively lose any sense of sanity and here Jason was because he had double parked when he was picking up his dry cleaning. They hadn't even got the curry stain out - those crooks should be in here, not him. He saw his name and picture on the TV screen along with a bunch of other people. He knew how this worked, his little cramped cell, that had a toilet and a bed would open up and they would all rush towards the middle to get some weapons and start maiming each other. For entertainment. Well he wasn't going to play ball. He took off his pants and his underwear. Just like that, the doors opened, the bright light poured into the room. He sprinted to the middle, just like everyone else, his junk flopping around like a fish out of water. The others were distracted. He scooped up a sword and yelled. “Stop!” No one listened and they all stabbed him to death. Well, poop.	I sat still through the PA announcement, through the resulting chaos as people tried to find an escape. I followed silently as we were herded down a dark corridor into a much larger enclosure lined by concrete walls but open to the sky above. Around us, I saw weapons on metal racks, sharp edges catching the glint of early morning light as the sun turned the skies orange. Far above us, lined with what I could only assume was bulletproof glass, boxes jutted out from the walls; inside, people in expensive clothes milled about, staring down their noses at us, some with opera glasses. Around me, some people were crying, but I paid them no mind. Others, the bolder or more survival-minded ones, were already edging toward the weapons racks, even though nothing had been announced yet about what was expected of the souls with me. Soon enough, there would no doubt be a mad dash to be the first with a weapon, to be one who could defend themselves from the merriment our watchers believed was coming. I closed my eyes for a moment; breathed in the wet morning air; let the smell of the dirt and vegetation around me fill my senses. Beneath me, I could feel the earth thrumming; they had built walls to trap us in here, but the dirt under my bare feet went deep. Good. Screaming started around me as the ground shook; a crack appeared in the concrete wall beside us. I tuned in on the frequencies I needed, honed what the vibrations told me was necessary, and was gratified when I also saw worry form on some faces in the stands as the glass boxes began to crumble. Another crack formed, splitting vertically to a box on my left, and their worry shifted to panic as the box jolted and bulged toward the arena. Guards poured out of openings in the walls now, weapons trained on the throng of people around me. Some of those with me attacked these newcomers with the weapons from the racks, and were mowed down with automatic gunfire. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-a-tat-tat-tat. I took that rhythm, those staccato blasts, and weaved them in. The air around me began to vibrate, and before anyone could stop me, I sent those frequencies, those percussive notes, deep into the ground beneath me, straight to the tense dance of plates beneath me. The earth responded before the first bodies hit the ground. Beneath the concrete walls, soil and rock erupted from the ground, jolting the entire structure surrounding us up several uneven feet into the air. It came back down but not altogether and not all at once. Large sections broke off; glass boxes toppled, shattered, and collapsed in on themselves. Around me, all humans fell to the ground, unable to keep their feet in the tumult. I was the only one left standing. But then, I wasn’t human. Section by section, the walls fell, disintegrated, imploded. Guards and onlookers were crushed; a few poor souls who tried to run through the open areas guards had come through became casualties themselves. So be it. Beyond the walls, I could almost feel the attempts to escape, the cars and other vehicles moving fast away. Balling up a fist, I drove it into the ground, my knuckles smacking on the wet grass. To onlookers, it appeared a futile gesture, but the ground beneath us dropped several inches and two hundred feet away a flat mass of earth flew upwards, slinging cars high into the air and catching a helicopter taking off so that it overturned, it’s rotors breaking apart and Alicia g through the air. I closed my eyes again, settling to my knees and sitting on my heels, hands palm-up on my thighs as I took deep breaths, feeling the destruction around me. In my minds eye, the lilting sound of a child’s laughter wafted across the air, and I allowed myself a smile at the sound. You are avenged, my son, I thought, allowing the memories of my Andrew to overwhelm me as all around, concrete walls burst and sprayed dust across us all. Most of the screaming had stopped, the people too terrified by what was happening to react at all. A few were looking at me now; I could feel their gazes on me as if my eyes were open and I was staring straight at them. My job, however was done. With a little sigh, I pressed both palms to the soil and let the earth swallow me once again. Screams came from those around me, but they we were only waves in the soil, mixed with the destruction of those who had killed my only son.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	&#x200B; I used to work as a salesman. I was good at it, but not as good as I could be. I used to say it was because I have a soul. I helped people get what they needed, not what I would make the most profit from. &#x200B; The way I saw it, it would make them actually want to come back. Build a solid relationship and the business would flourish. But, my good intentions were tested. We were always given instructions on how to get the most out of the customers, and it got to me. It didn't change the way I worked, but as the years went by I felt more and more hollow. My work was useless. I didn't create anything, it was not important, and I was constantly pressured to take advantage of people. &#x200B; Finally I quit. I wanted meaning in my life. So I decided to become a teacher. What a mistake that was. Don't get me wrong, I love teaching. I love having something to do that actually matters. I help people, I comfort, I give life lessons. But, and trust me on this, you have no idea what teaching is like. Everyone thinks they know, since everyone has gone to school, but you really don't. It's exhausting. It can take everything you got, and still it will never be enough. There are always new tasks, something you have not done, not accomplished. Paperwork, endless amounts of paperwork, mind numbingly boring meetings and nothing ever works properly. If it does work, it's instantly changed for something that dont. If you somehow manage to get sort of on top of things, you are given five new tasks, none of which you know how to do or have been given training for. Figure it out! Every school is woefully underfunded, and eventually you understand it's meant to be that way. They are exploiting your work, and don't really care about the kids. Why should they? They don't really want them educated. They want them poor, uneducated and easily manipulated. After all, they don't send their own kids to public schools, oh no. They, of course, deserve way better. &#x200B; I guess I'm an idealist at heart. I want equality, I want people to have a fair chance. I want my life to matter. It got to me, it had to. The first to notice was Sarah. Sweet Sarah, so good natured she literally saw nothing wrong with anyone. So kind, and so gifted.I knew I had hit the jackpot when we fell in love, she really was everything a man could hope for. She would leave small notes for me to find whenever she left on some work for a couple of days. Telling me how much she loved me, how much she enjoyed my company, and sometimes there were riddles I had to solve to find some hidden gift. Sarah always had boundless energy. I did not, and as more and more work was heaped on me I started to stay more and more at home.That was a problem. I did not realize how much of a problem until it was too late. It's not like she just gave up on me. She gave plenty of hints. There were talks, there were arguments, but my mind was a fog I could no longer navigate. Tired, always so tired. &#x200B; She left. She met him while we were together. I think I was even there the first time they met. I saw nothing through my fog. She married him, had a kid.I'm happy for her. She deserves to be happy. After all, she still is the best person I have ever known. I'm bitter though...not at her but at me. Somehow I messed up even if my intentions were good. I was trying to be good at my job, make growing up a little easier for the kids at the school, and my prize was despair. It was good though. Gave me time to work. I coped with my loss by working. Always working. Most of my friends were Sarahs friends as well, and anything connected to her was painful, and easy to ignore. My parents had died when I was fairly young so there really was no one who needed me except at work. I loved work, or at least, I loved my time in the classroom. I guess that's why they collected me. Who would care about me missing? I don't know how long I was lost in thought, how long my flashback lasted. But I noticed the shocked silence following the PA announcement. It floods back to me, why I'm here and what they are about to do.Something breaks.I can feel it, hear it even. Something went wrong inside me. A release. Im filled. I have found meaning. A sound is making itself known, it takes a few moments before I realized it's me. I'm laughing. Suddenly there is plenty of space around me...I'm scaring people. It makes me laugh all the harder. I look up at the windows. At the true enemy. I am a teacher. I'm about to teach a lesson.	I sat still through the PA announcement, through the resulting chaos as people tried to find an escape. I followed silently as we were herded down a dark corridor into a much larger enclosure lined by concrete walls but open to the sky above. Around us, I saw weapons on metal racks, sharp edges catching the glint of early morning light as the sun turned the skies orange. Far above us, lined with what I could only assume was bulletproof glass, boxes jutted out from the walls; inside, people in expensive clothes milled about, staring down their noses at us, some with opera glasses. Around me, some people were crying, but I paid them no mind. Others, the bolder or more survival-minded ones, were already edging toward the weapons racks, even though nothing had been announced yet about what was expected of the souls with me. Soon enough, there would no doubt be a mad dash to be the first with a weapon, to be one who could defend themselves from the merriment our watchers believed was coming. I closed my eyes for a moment; breathed in the wet morning air; let the smell of the dirt and vegetation around me fill my senses. Beneath me, I could feel the earth thrumming; they had built walls to trap us in here, but the dirt under my bare feet went deep. Good. Screaming started around me as the ground shook; a crack appeared in the concrete wall beside us. I tuned in on the frequencies I needed, honed what the vibrations told me was necessary, and was gratified when I also saw worry form on some faces in the stands as the glass boxes began to crumble. Another crack formed, splitting vertically to a box on my left, and their worry shifted to panic as the box jolted and bulged toward the arena. Guards poured out of openings in the walls now, weapons trained on the throng of people around me. Some of those with me attacked these newcomers with the weapons from the racks, and were mowed down with automatic gunfire. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-a-tat-tat-tat. I took that rhythm, those staccato blasts, and weaved them in. The air around me began to vibrate, and before anyone could stop me, I sent those frequencies, those percussive notes, deep into the ground beneath me, straight to the tense dance of plates beneath me. The earth responded before the first bodies hit the ground. Beneath the concrete walls, soil and rock erupted from the ground, jolting the entire structure surrounding us up several uneven feet into the air. It came back down but not altogether and not all at once. Large sections broke off; glass boxes toppled, shattered, and collapsed in on themselves. Around me, all humans fell to the ground, unable to keep their feet in the tumult. I was the only one left standing. But then, I wasn’t human. Section by section, the walls fell, disintegrated, imploded. Guards and onlookers were crushed; a few poor souls who tried to run through the open areas guards had come through became casualties themselves. So be it. Beyond the walls, I could almost feel the attempts to escape, the cars and other vehicles moving fast away. Balling up a fist, I drove it into the ground, my knuckles smacking on the wet grass. To onlookers, it appeared a futile gesture, but the ground beneath us dropped several inches and two hundred feet away a flat mass of earth flew upwards, slinging cars high into the air and catching a helicopter taking off so that it overturned, it’s rotors breaking apart and Alicia g through the air. I closed my eyes again, settling to my knees and sitting on my heels, hands palm-up on my thighs as I took deep breaths, feeling the destruction around me. In my minds eye, the lilting sound of a child’s laughter wafted across the air, and I allowed myself a smile at the sound. You are avenged, my son, I thought, allowing the memories of my Andrew to overwhelm me as all around, concrete walls burst and sprayed dust across us all. Most of the screaming had stopped, the people too terrified by what was happening to react at all. A few were looking at me now; I could feel their gazes on me as if my eyes were open and I was staring straight at them. My job, however was done. With a little sigh, I pressed both palms to the soil and let the earth swallow me once again. Screams came from those around me, but they we were only waves in the soil, mixed with the destruction of those who had killed my only son.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	sry for bad writing and short text, am on mobile edit: spelling As I heard a loud alarm I covered my ears with my hands. "Just one more minute" I said, half awake, half asleep. As I slowly started to gain consciousness I looked around. I was in a gigantic room, filled with beds, all identical. This wasn't even remotely like the cozy room I had fallen asleep in after making love with the beautiful woman I had met at the bar the previous night. It had been a long night, but at around 3 AM I had finally fallen asleep, with the woman in my arms. Some time after she had gone up to get a glass of water or whatever. I had then fallen asleep, a dreamless sleep, and now I found myself here, in this room filled with beds and nothing more. In the room there appeared to be hundreds of people, all looking up at a big monitor in the room where the a man was seen talking into the camera. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen" The voice had barely said the sentence before the crowd started screaming, asking why they were here. All of a sudden a man in the crowd collapsed and the people around him looked shocked for a few seconds before starting to scream and run hysterically. I just sat there, watching the spectacle, while waiting for the man on the monitor to start talking once more. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I would advise to keep quiet in the future. You see, we have implanted a small little chip in your heart. As fast as we think you're disobeying you are going to be killed." People started whispering and a shiver echoed through the crowd, as if though they had already forgotten the bloody corpse amongst them. "You have been placed here today to play 5 death games, all of which will test you in different ways. If you would, against all expectations, survive all 5, you will be given a enormous amount of money- 2.3 billion dollars, given generously to us by the viewers" As I heard him utter the last word I burst out laughing like a maniac. People started looking at me and I even seemed to have gained the attention of the man of the monitor, as he was looking stressed at the sight of me laughing. Oh these rich people who had come for entertainment and seeing people die would soon see their world upside down. Not only had I lived for tens of millennia- I was also one of the original gods of humankind. When humanity still was young they had feared me as the god that made night fall and meat spoil, the god that made sickness and the god that killed their young. When they grew older they started fearing less and less, but I was always there, lurking in the shadows behind the devil's of each religion. As the monitor finally turned of I sat there laughing. This would be the funniest thing to happen in centuries	I sat still through the PA announcement, through the resulting chaos as people tried to find an escape. I followed silently as we were herded down a dark corridor into a much larger enclosure lined by concrete walls but open to the sky above. Around us, I saw weapons on metal racks, sharp edges catching the glint of early morning light as the sun turned the skies orange. Far above us, lined with what I could only assume was bulletproof glass, boxes jutted out from the walls; inside, people in expensive clothes milled about, staring down their noses at us, some with opera glasses. Around me, some people were crying, but I paid them no mind. Others, the bolder or more survival-minded ones, were already edging toward the weapons racks, even though nothing had been announced yet about what was expected of the souls with me. Soon enough, there would no doubt be a mad dash to be the first with a weapon, to be one who could defend themselves from the merriment our watchers believed was coming. I closed my eyes for a moment; breathed in the wet morning air; let the smell of the dirt and vegetation around me fill my senses. Beneath me, I could feel the earth thrumming; they had built walls to trap us in here, but the dirt under my bare feet went deep. Good. Screaming started around me as the ground shook; a crack appeared in the concrete wall beside us. I tuned in on the frequencies I needed, honed what the vibrations told me was necessary, and was gratified when I also saw worry form on some faces in the stands as the glass boxes began to crumble. Another crack formed, splitting vertically to a box on my left, and their worry shifted to panic as the box jolted and bulged toward the arena. Guards poured out of openings in the walls now, weapons trained on the throng of people around me. Some of those with me attacked these newcomers with the weapons from the racks, and were mowed down with automatic gunfire. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-a-tat-tat-tat. I took that rhythm, those staccato blasts, and weaved them in. The air around me began to vibrate, and before anyone could stop me, I sent those frequencies, those percussive notes, deep into the ground beneath me, straight to the tense dance of plates beneath me. The earth responded before the first bodies hit the ground. Beneath the concrete walls, soil and rock erupted from the ground, jolting the entire structure surrounding us up several uneven feet into the air. It came back down but not altogether and not all at once. Large sections broke off; glass boxes toppled, shattered, and collapsed in on themselves. Around me, all humans fell to the ground, unable to keep their feet in the tumult. I was the only one left standing. But then, I wasn’t human. Section by section, the walls fell, disintegrated, imploded. Guards and onlookers were crushed; a few poor souls who tried to run through the open areas guards had come through became casualties themselves. So be it. Beyond the walls, I could almost feel the attempts to escape, the cars and other vehicles moving fast away. Balling up a fist, I drove it into the ground, my knuckles smacking on the wet grass. To onlookers, it appeared a futile gesture, but the ground beneath us dropped several inches and two hundred feet away a flat mass of earth flew upwards, slinging cars high into the air and catching a helicopter taking off so that it overturned, it’s rotors breaking apart and Alicia g through the air. I closed my eyes again, settling to my knees and sitting on my heels, hands palm-up on my thighs as I took deep breaths, feeling the destruction around me. In my minds eye, the lilting sound of a child’s laughter wafted across the air, and I allowed myself a smile at the sound. You are avenged, my son, I thought, allowing the memories of my Andrew to overwhelm me as all around, concrete walls burst and sprayed dust across us all. Most of the screaming had stopped, the people too terrified by what was happening to react at all. A few were looking at me now; I could feel their gazes on me as if my eyes were open and I was staring straight at them. My job, however was done. With a little sigh, I pressed both palms to the soil and let the earth swallow me once again. Screams came from those around me, but they we were only waves in the soil, mixed with the destruction of those who had killed my only son.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	&#x200B; I used to work as a salesman. I was good at it, but not as good as I could be. I used to say it was because I have a soul. I helped people get what they needed, not what I would make the most profit from. &#x200B; The way I saw it, it would make them actually want to come back. Build a solid relationship and the business would flourish. But, my good intentions were tested. We were always given instructions on how to get the most out of the customers, and it got to me. It didn't change the way I worked, but as the years went by I felt more and more hollow. My work was useless. I didn't create anything, it was not important, and I was constantly pressured to take advantage of people. &#x200B; Finally I quit. I wanted meaning in my life. So I decided to become a teacher. What a mistake that was. Don't get me wrong, I love teaching. I love having something to do that actually matters. I help people, I comfort, I give life lessons. But, and trust me on this, you have no idea what teaching is like. Everyone thinks they know, since everyone has gone to school, but you really don't. It's exhausting. It can take everything you got, and still it will never be enough. There are always new tasks, something you have not done, not accomplished. Paperwork, endless amounts of paperwork, mind numbingly boring meetings and nothing ever works properly. If it does work, it's instantly changed for something that dont. If you somehow manage to get sort of on top of things, you are given five new tasks, none of which you know how to do or have been given training for. Figure it out! Every school is woefully underfunded, and eventually you understand it's meant to be that way. They are exploiting your work, and don't really care about the kids. Why should they? They don't really want them educated. They want them poor, uneducated and easily manipulated. After all, they don't send their own kids to public schools, oh no. They, of course, deserve way better. &#x200B; I guess I'm an idealist at heart. I want equality, I want people to have a fair chance. I want my life to matter. It got to me, it had to. The first to notice was Sarah. Sweet Sarah, so good natured she literally saw nothing wrong with anyone. So kind, and so gifted.I knew I had hit the jackpot when we fell in love, she really was everything a man could hope for. She would leave small notes for me to find whenever she left on some work for a couple of days. Telling me how much she loved me, how much she enjoyed my company, and sometimes there were riddles I had to solve to find some hidden gift. Sarah always had boundless energy. I did not, and as more and more work was heaped on me I started to stay more and more at home.That was a problem. I did not realize how much of a problem until it was too late. It's not like she just gave up on me. She gave plenty of hints. There were talks, there were arguments, but my mind was a fog I could no longer navigate. Tired, always so tired. &#x200B; She left. She met him while we were together. I think I was even there the first time they met. I saw nothing through my fog. She married him, had a kid.I'm happy for her. She deserves to be happy. After all, she still is the best person I have ever known. I'm bitter though...not at her but at me. Somehow I messed up even if my intentions were good. I was trying to be good at my job, make growing up a little easier for the kids at the school, and my prize was despair. It was good though. Gave me time to work. I coped with my loss by working. Always working. Most of my friends were Sarahs friends as well, and anything connected to her was painful, and easy to ignore. My parents had died when I was fairly young so there really was no one who needed me except at work. I loved work, or at least, I loved my time in the classroom. I guess that's why they collected me. Who would care about me missing? I don't know how long I was lost in thought, how long my flashback lasted. But I noticed the shocked silence following the PA announcement. It floods back to me, why I'm here and what they are about to do.Something breaks.I can feel it, hear it even. Something went wrong inside me. A release. Im filled. I have found meaning. A sound is making itself known, it takes a few moments before I realized it's me. I'm laughing. Suddenly there is plenty of space around me...I'm scaring people. It makes me laugh all the harder. I look up at the windows. At the true enemy. I am a teacher. I'm about to teach a lesson.	Why was it that everytime he wanted some peace and quiet, SOMETHING happened. Last week, his flatmates managed to set the kitchen on fire making cereal, the week before that his parents dropped in and decided to tell him they were getting divorced and now he was on the popular hit death game tv reality nonsense show "Who wants to be a Killionair" Very droll. Jason had had enough. The public had acquired the taste for these shows when they decided that executions were a good thing. Then it was public executions. Then Televised. Then a damned Colosseum. It took the span of 4 generations for the world to collectively lose any sense of sanity and here Jason was because he had double parked when he was picking up his dry cleaning. They hadn't even got the curry stain out - those crooks should be in here, not him. He saw his name and picture on the TV screen along with a bunch of other people. He knew how this worked, his little cramped cell, that had a toilet and a bed would open up and they would all rush towards the middle to get some weapons and start maiming each other. For entertainment. Well he wasn't going to play ball. He took off his pants and his underwear. Just like that, the doors opened, the bright light poured into the room. He sprinted to the middle, just like everyone else, his junk flopping around like a fish out of water. The others were distracted. He scooped up a sword and yelled. “Stop!” No one listened and they all stabbed him to death. Well, poop.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	sry for bad writing and short text, am on mobile edit: spelling As I heard a loud alarm I covered my ears with my hands. "Just one more minute" I said, half awake, half asleep. As I slowly started to gain consciousness I looked around. I was in a gigantic room, filled with beds, all identical. This wasn't even remotely like the cozy room I had fallen asleep in after making love with the beautiful woman I had met at the bar the previous night. It had been a long night, but at around 3 AM I had finally fallen asleep, with the woman in my arms. Some time after she had gone up to get a glass of water or whatever. I had then fallen asleep, a dreamless sleep, and now I found myself here, in this room filled with beds and nothing more. In the room there appeared to be hundreds of people, all looking up at a big monitor in the room where the a man was seen talking into the camera. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen" The voice had barely said the sentence before the crowd started screaming, asking why they were here. All of a sudden a man in the crowd collapsed and the people around him looked shocked for a few seconds before starting to scream and run hysterically. I just sat there, watching the spectacle, while waiting for the man on the monitor to start talking once more. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I would advise to keep quiet in the future. You see, we have implanted a small little chip in your heart. As fast as we think you're disobeying you are going to be killed." People started whispering and a shiver echoed through the crowd, as if though they had already forgotten the bloody corpse amongst them. "You have been placed here today to play 5 death games, all of which will test you in different ways. If you would, against all expectations, survive all 5, you will be given a enormous amount of money- 2.3 billion dollars, given generously to us by the viewers" As I heard him utter the last word I burst out laughing like a maniac. People started looking at me and I even seemed to have gained the attention of the man of the monitor, as he was looking stressed at the sight of me laughing. Oh these rich people who had come for entertainment and seeing people die would soon see their world upside down. Not only had I lived for tens of millennia- I was also one of the original gods of humankind. When humanity still was young they had feared me as the god that made night fall and meat spoil, the god that made sickness and the god that killed their young. When they grew older they started fearing less and less, but I was always there, lurking in the shadows behind the devil's of each religion. As the monitor finally turned of I sat there laughing. This would be the funniest thing to happen in centuries	Why was it that everytime he wanted some peace and quiet, SOMETHING happened. Last week, his flatmates managed to set the kitchen on fire making cereal, the week before that his parents dropped in and decided to tell him they were getting divorced and now he was on the popular hit death game tv reality nonsense show "Who wants to be a Killionair" Very droll. Jason had had enough. The public had acquired the taste for these shows when they decided that executions were a good thing. Then it was public executions. Then Televised. Then a damned Colosseum. It took the span of 4 generations for the world to collectively lose any sense of sanity and here Jason was because he had double parked when he was picking up his dry cleaning. They hadn't even got the curry stain out - those crooks should be in here, not him. He saw his name and picture on the TV screen along with a bunch of other people. He knew how this worked, his little cramped cell, that had a toilet and a bed would open up and they would all rush towards the middle to get some weapons and start maiming each other. For entertainment. Well he wasn't going to play ball. He took off his pants and his underwear. Just like that, the doors opened, the bright light poured into the room. He sprinted to the middle, just like everyone else, his junk flopping around like a fish out of water. The others were distracted. He scooped up a sword and yelled. “Stop!” No one listened and they all stabbed him to death. Well, poop.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	&#x200B; I used to work as a salesman. I was good at it, but not as good as I could be. I used to say it was because I have a soul. I helped people get what they needed, not what I would make the most profit from. &#x200B; The way I saw it, it would make them actually want to come back. Build a solid relationship and the business would flourish. But, my good intentions were tested. We were always given instructions on how to get the most out of the customers, and it got to me. It didn't change the way I worked, but as the years went by I felt more and more hollow. My work was useless. I didn't create anything, it was not important, and I was constantly pressured to take advantage of people. &#x200B; Finally I quit. I wanted meaning in my life. So I decided to become a teacher. What a mistake that was. Don't get me wrong, I love teaching. I love having something to do that actually matters. I help people, I comfort, I give life lessons. But, and trust me on this, you have no idea what teaching is like. Everyone thinks they know, since everyone has gone to school, but you really don't. It's exhausting. It can take everything you got, and still it will never be enough. There are always new tasks, something you have not done, not accomplished. Paperwork, endless amounts of paperwork, mind numbingly boring meetings and nothing ever works properly. If it does work, it's instantly changed for something that dont. If you somehow manage to get sort of on top of things, you are given five new tasks, none of which you know how to do or have been given training for. Figure it out! Every school is woefully underfunded, and eventually you understand it's meant to be that way. They are exploiting your work, and don't really care about the kids. Why should they? They don't really want them educated. They want them poor, uneducated and easily manipulated. After all, they don't send their own kids to public schools, oh no. They, of course, deserve way better. &#x200B; I guess I'm an idealist at heart. I want equality, I want people to have a fair chance. I want my life to matter. It got to me, it had to. The first to notice was Sarah. Sweet Sarah, so good natured she literally saw nothing wrong with anyone. So kind, and so gifted.I knew I had hit the jackpot when we fell in love, she really was everything a man could hope for. She would leave small notes for me to find whenever she left on some work for a couple of days. Telling me how much she loved me, how much she enjoyed my company, and sometimes there were riddles I had to solve to find some hidden gift. Sarah always had boundless energy. I did not, and as more and more work was heaped on me I started to stay more and more at home.That was a problem. I did not realize how much of a problem until it was too late. It's not like she just gave up on me. She gave plenty of hints. There were talks, there were arguments, but my mind was a fog I could no longer navigate. Tired, always so tired. &#x200B; She left. She met him while we were together. I think I was even there the first time they met. I saw nothing through my fog. She married him, had a kid.I'm happy for her. She deserves to be happy. After all, she still is the best person I have ever known. I'm bitter though...not at her but at me. Somehow I messed up even if my intentions were good. I was trying to be good at my job, make growing up a little easier for the kids at the school, and my prize was despair. It was good though. Gave me time to work. I coped with my loss by working. Always working. Most of my friends were Sarahs friends as well, and anything connected to her was painful, and easy to ignore. My parents had died when I was fairly young so there really was no one who needed me except at work. I loved work, or at least, I loved my time in the classroom. I guess that's why they collected me. Who would care about me missing? I don't know how long I was lost in thought, how long my flashback lasted. But I noticed the shocked silence following the PA announcement. It floods back to me, why I'm here and what they are about to do.Something breaks.I can feel it, hear it even. Something went wrong inside me. A release. Im filled. I have found meaning. A sound is making itself known, it takes a few moments before I realized it's me. I'm laughing. Suddenly there is plenty of space around me...I'm scaring people. It makes me laugh all the harder. I look up at the windows. At the true enemy. I am a teacher. I'm about to teach a lesson.	As I lay on my cot 5 beds up, I surveyed my surroundings. To my left, Jang Deok-Su fondled his pocket knife, safely guarded by his makeshift miscreant thugs. Way over to my right, Seong Gi-Hun, playing the hero with his misfit crew, was polishing off his fortress. Insofar as you can "polish off" a castle made of cots. And in between was the frightened masses. It didn't take a genius to know what what would befall them in the night. Hmm interesting indeed. I really hate it when others around me are in pain. It's the worst itch and I always feel compelled to act. I did not know if the time was right however. And so I did a bit of scrying. My body went limp and my eyes turned back as my mind flew up a thousand feet. Yes... hundreds of warm bodies washing up on Oryo Don. Soon the police would find them. It was time. As I felt myself sink back to my immediate surroundings, I saw Gi-Hun approaching my bed. "Excuse me, ma'am, but lights will be out soon and it will be dangerous. An elderly woman like yourself shouldn't be alone in the dark. Please join us in safety." I tried so very hard not to laugh hysterically, but a smile escaped to my lips. "Why thank you, young man, for the offer. But I will be safe right here." As he gave a most incredulous look, I quickly added with a wink, "Don't worry I brought protection." Little did he know just what that protection was.... "Well, if you change your mind..." And with that he took a bow and returned to his cushioned castle. I took the time to start my evening preparations. To my fellow contestants I probably looked like a mad old woman murmering to herself as she stared at the featureless ceiling. "Players, it is now lights out." Darkness fell and night erupted with a cacophony.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Games. They equate this death sport to that of a child’s past time. Day after day, they pit us against one another in a soirée of violence that only ends when of us stops breathing. They sit upon a monolithic throne that encapsulates the arena, cheering with wild abandon as we bleed for them, scratch and claw, rend and tear each other’s flesh all for their amusement. This is their perverse pleasure, a past time only for the cruel. You see, they want us to broken. They desire our spirits crushed. That we may be always reminded that we are small, insignificant pawns. We are their victims. That gives them satisfaction. But what they don’t know is that I enjoy it too. Now, as I stand victorious, towering over my downed opponent, they all wait with baited breath for me to deliver the final blow. They want to revel in the culmination of blood lust. But instead, I begin to laugh. No, rather, I begin to cackle like a mad man. My opponent looks at me, though beaten bloody, there’s a look of hope in his eyes. Will I spare his life, he wonders? The crowd picks up on this labored pause in the action. Where’s the death blow? They begin to jeer. Someone in the crowd shouts for me to finish the game else there’ll be consequences. Others think I’ve gone soft, that I won’t finish the job. How wrong they all are. I sink to a knee, placing it firmly across my opponents chest. I feel him writhe beneath my weight. He futilely tries to bat me off, I slap his pathetic efforts aside. The crowd smells blood in the air, they begin to howl. Some so engorged in their bloodlust that they begin to froth at the mouth. They think they know what comes next- the end of this man’s life. They’re wrong. I’ll kill him slowly, painfully, and grotesquely. I slowly, but surely, let my teeth sink into his flesh. There’s a moment of shocked silence. No one expecting this macabre theatre. But then my opponent screams, bringing everyone back to reality. They watch in horror, disgusted that I continue to chew fat, swallowing muscle and tendon. I keep eating. Suddenly their game of sport is ruined. They enjoy their dose of controlled violence but I’ve just upended it. If they want to watch me beat another man to death, they’ll now have to watch as I devour his body. It isn’t long before the spectators begin to leave in disgust. I guess I’ve spoiled their fun. Oh well. Now, as I begin to finish, I can only think of what comes next, how can I top this little display? Because these people wanted a perverse show. So I’m going to give it them.	As I lay on my cot 5 beds up, I surveyed my surroundings. To my left, Jang Deok-Su fondled his pocket knife, safely guarded by his makeshift miscreant thugs. Way over to my right, Seong Gi-Hun, playing the hero with his misfit crew, was polishing off his fortress. Insofar as you can "polish off" a castle made of cots. And in between was the frightened masses. It didn't take a genius to know what what would befall them in the night. Hmm interesting indeed. I really hate it when others around me are in pain. It's the worst itch and I always feel compelled to act. I did not know if the time was right however. And so I did a bit of scrying. My body went limp and my eyes turned back as my mind flew up a thousand feet. Yes... hundreds of warm bodies washing up on Oryo Don. Soon the police would find them. It was time. As I felt myself sink back to my immediate surroundings, I saw Gi-Hun approaching my bed. "Excuse me, ma'am, but lights will be out soon and it will be dangerous. An elderly woman like yourself shouldn't be alone in the dark. Please join us in safety." I tried so very hard not to laugh hysterically, but a smile escaped to my lips. "Why thank you, young man, for the offer. But I will be safe right here." As he gave a most incredulous look, I quickly added with a wink, "Don't worry I brought protection." Little did he know just what that protection was.... "Well, if you change your mind..." And with that he took a bow and returned to his cushioned castle. I took the time to start my evening preparations. To my fellow contestants I probably looked like a mad old woman murmering to herself as she stared at the featureless ceiling. "Players, it is now lights out." Darkness fell and night erupted with a cacophony.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	sry for bad writing and short text, am on mobile edit: spelling As I heard a loud alarm I covered my ears with my hands. "Just one more minute" I said, half awake, half asleep. As I slowly started to gain consciousness I looked around. I was in a gigantic room, filled with beds, all identical. This wasn't even remotely like the cozy room I had fallen asleep in after making love with the beautiful woman I had met at the bar the previous night. It had been a long night, but at around 3 AM I had finally fallen asleep, with the woman in my arms. Some time after she had gone up to get a glass of water or whatever. I had then fallen asleep, a dreamless sleep, and now I found myself here, in this room filled with beds and nothing more. In the room there appeared to be hundreds of people, all looking up at a big monitor in the room where the a man was seen talking into the camera. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen" The voice had barely said the sentence before the crowd started screaming, asking why they were here. All of a sudden a man in the crowd collapsed and the people around him looked shocked for a few seconds before starting to scream and run hysterically. I just sat there, watching the spectacle, while waiting for the man on the monitor to start talking once more. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I would advise to keep quiet in the future. You see, we have implanted a small little chip in your heart. As fast as we think you're disobeying you are going to be killed." People started whispering and a shiver echoed through the crowd, as if though they had already forgotten the bloody corpse amongst them. "You have been placed here today to play 5 death games, all of which will test you in different ways. If you would, against all expectations, survive all 5, you will be given a enormous amount of money- 2.3 billion dollars, given generously to us by the viewers" As I heard him utter the last word I burst out laughing like a maniac. People started looking at me and I even seemed to have gained the attention of the man of the monitor, as he was looking stressed at the sight of me laughing. Oh these rich people who had come for entertainment and seeing people die would soon see their world upside down. Not only had I lived for tens of millennia- I was also one of the original gods of humankind. When humanity still was young they had feared me as the god that made night fall and meat spoil, the god that made sickness and the god that killed their young. When they grew older they started fearing less and less, but I was always there, lurking in the shadows behind the devil's of each religion. As the monitor finally turned of I sat there laughing. This would be the funniest thing to happen in centuries	As I lay on my cot 5 beds up, I surveyed my surroundings. To my left, Jang Deok-Su fondled his pocket knife, safely guarded by his makeshift miscreant thugs. Way over to my right, Seong Gi-Hun, playing the hero with his misfit crew, was polishing off his fortress. Insofar as you can "polish off" a castle made of cots. And in between was the frightened masses. It didn't take a genius to know what what would befall them in the night. Hmm interesting indeed. I really hate it when others around me are in pain. It's the worst itch and I always feel compelled to act. I did not know if the time was right however. And so I did a bit of scrying. My body went limp and my eyes turned back as my mind flew up a thousand feet. Yes... hundreds of warm bodies washing up on Oryo Don. Soon the police would find them. It was time. As I felt myself sink back to my immediate surroundings, I saw Gi-Hun approaching my bed. "Excuse me, ma'am, but lights will be out soon and it will be dangerous. An elderly woman like yourself shouldn't be alone in the dark. Please join us in safety." I tried so very hard not to laugh hysterically, but a smile escaped to my lips. "Why thank you, young man, for the offer. But I will be safe right here." As he gave a most incredulous look, I quickly added with a wink, "Don't worry I brought protection." Little did he know just what that protection was.... "Well, if you change your mind..." And with that he took a bow and returned to his cushioned castle. I took the time to start my evening preparations. To my fellow contestants I probably looked like a mad old woman murmering to herself as she stared at the featureless ceiling. "Players, it is now lights out." Darkness fell and night erupted with a cacophony.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Games. They equate this death sport to that of a child’s past time. Day after day, they pit us against one another in a soirée of violence that only ends when of us stops breathing. They sit upon a monolithic throne that encapsulates the arena, cheering with wild abandon as we bleed for them, scratch and claw, rend and tear each other’s flesh all for their amusement. This is their perverse pleasure, a past time only for the cruel. You see, they want us to broken. They desire our spirits crushed. That we may be always reminded that we are small, insignificant pawns. We are their victims. That gives them satisfaction. But what they don’t know is that I enjoy it too. Now, as I stand victorious, towering over my downed opponent, they all wait with baited breath for me to deliver the final blow. They want to revel in the culmination of blood lust. But instead, I begin to laugh. No, rather, I begin to cackle like a mad man. My opponent looks at me, though beaten bloody, there’s a look of hope in his eyes. Will I spare his life, he wonders? The crowd picks up on this labored pause in the action. Where’s the death blow? They begin to jeer. Someone in the crowd shouts for me to finish the game else there’ll be consequences. Others think I’ve gone soft, that I won’t finish the job. How wrong they all are. I sink to a knee, placing it firmly across my opponents chest. I feel him writhe beneath my weight. He futilely tries to bat me off, I slap his pathetic efforts aside. The crowd smells blood in the air, they begin to howl. Some so engorged in their bloodlust that they begin to froth at the mouth. They think they know what comes next- the end of this man’s life. They’re wrong. I’ll kill him slowly, painfully, and grotesquely. I slowly, but surely, let my teeth sink into his flesh. There’s a moment of shocked silence. No one expecting this macabre theatre. But then my opponent screams, bringing everyone back to reality. They watch in horror, disgusted that I continue to chew fat, swallowing muscle and tendon. I keep eating. Suddenly their game of sport is ruined. They enjoy their dose of controlled violence but I’ve just upended it. If they want to watch me beat another man to death, they’ll now have to watch as I devour his body. It isn’t long before the spectators begin to leave in disgust. I guess I’ve spoiled their fun. Oh well. Now, as I begin to finish, I can only think of what comes next, how can I top this little display? Because these people wanted a perverse show. So I’m going to give it them.	Continuing to laugh hysterically as the first game was announced, Sam fell off his bed while everyone either listened intently to the announcer or stared at the crazy man. “The first game you will be playing, is baseball!” The announcer said, as Sam began to snort loudly while laughing. “You each have a number on your jacket, odd numbers to the left and even numbers to the right”, the announcer continued, with Sam piping up,” oooh their really changing it up from Squid Game, aren’t they?” while now slamming his hand against the floor. The other players ignored Sam as they siphoned off to separate doors. Sam managed to calm himself and looked at his shirt,” 69? Really? Man I hope Gold Tiger king is watching, that cop better not have bit his dick off yet!” Sam ran off to the left, the last in his line. Inside locker room set up for the players, everyone found blue uniforms with white pin stripes. At the center of the uniform shirts was the team name, the BC Angels, and what appeared to be an Angel in a wife beater shirt, drinking a .40 ounce and holding up a middle finger. Sam got the joke. After getting dressed the players head out to the field and are greeted by the other team. They wore red uniforms with white pin stripes and collars. The team name on the chest was the HG Devils, with a Devil mascot smoking a cigar, wearing a suit, and sitting behind a desk. Sam fell over laughing again, he really couldn’t help it! The Announcer spoke up,” we hope the uniforms fit right, players will be called by their numbers to fill positions. Not everyone will get to play, however if a player loses their life a replacement will be called forward. Numbers will be announced now!” Numbers for both teams were called up, Sam being among the starting line up. Next the announcer called out that the Angels would be up to bat first while Red would take the field. The Announcer spoke up again,” for today’s game we have special rules. First if you are struck out you will face instant death. Next,” All of the lights in the field were then shut off, with only a few shining in specific spots on the field,” when a baseman or catcher catches a ball they are to place it in the chutes next to the bases.” Each of the players looked at the illuminated spots and noticed the chutes.” The first baseman will receive the ball from a similar chute in return. Next if a fly ball is caught, all runners on base will receive instant death. Similarly if a runner makes it to home plate an outfielder will receive instant Death in their place. If a home run is hit the game will immediately be over, with the losing team facing instant death.” Sam, having calmed down a bit, said to his team,” well at least they changed it up a bit!” The teams each made their way to their dug outs while the excess players went to the stands. The first player called up to bat was an older man who seemed nervous. As he walked up to the plate the Devil’s players on the infield received ankle braces to lock them in place. The outfield was left free though. The Batter took a few minutes to warm up before taking his spot. The batter looked just as nervous as the pitcher as he looked forward, sweat visibly dripping down his face. The Announcer then spoke up,” Play Ball!” The pitcher reeled back and delivered an absolutely pitiful first pitch that the batter was easily able to hit. The batter, horribly slow, trotted to the first base but the ball had been caught after one bounce by the second baseman, who then threw it to the first baseman. The first baseman caught the ball and placed it in the chute, which activated the trap. The line between home plate and first base opened up and revealed a pit that the batter fell into. Screams of pain emanated from the pit as a loud splash occurred at the bottom with some of the liquid landing on the first baseman’s face. The first baseman screamed in agony, clutching face before falling forward into the pit and dangling by his ankle chain. The pit closed and severed the first baseman’s ankle. The Announcer then called in two more players, an Angel and a Devil, to take their place. Sam was then called up to bat. Sam walked forward, bat in hand, and took his place on base. The pitcher, still sweating profusely, gave another weak pitch that Sam easily smash into the outfield. Sam ran towards his base, still carrying the bat, and ran for his life towards the base. The outfield, who were surprisingly on point, managed to throw the ball to the first baseman who had a suspiciously smug look on his face. Sam managed to wipe the look off the unaware baseman’s face by throwing the bat into the back of his head, nailing him hard enough to knock him out and miss the ball completely. Sam slowed to a trot as he took the base, all to the ire of the Devils. Several of the Devils yelled In protest, saying Sam cheated but the Announcer spoke up,” Player 69 did not break any of the stated rules”. The first baseman was then awoken by a shock from his ankle, forcing him to jump up. The first baseman attempted to square up with Sam, who then held up his retrieved baseball bat and held it up with a smile on his face. The baseman then turned his back to Sam. The next batter then came up, a lady who could pass for an Instagram model, and lazily held the bat. She proceeded to blow a kiss to the pitcher who began to blush. The pitcher surprisingly managed to strike the Instagram model and made a show of flexing. The home plate area then opened up and revealed a giant blender that chopped up the fallen model. Sam began to laugh at this, complimenting the creativity. The first baseman proceeded to backhand him, knocking a little sense into him. Sam managed to make it to home plate and watched as one of the outfielders was dragged off the field by his ankle into a pit full of drill shaped spikes. After a while there were very few players left on either team, with Sam eventually growing bored with the deaths. Sam then decided to end the game, he’d had his fun. Another player was called up to bat but Sam pushed them out of the way, this was his shot now. Sam took a much more serious stance now, the pitcher being slightly intimidated by Sam’s seriousness. The pitcher then delivered his most pathetic pitch yet, which Sam easily hit out of the park. The Pitcher, shocked look on his face, fell into the blender as the pitcher’s mound opened. The same happened with all of the basemen and the outfielders were pulled into drill spike pits. The remaining angels looked at Sam, shocked, and asked,” you could’ve done that the whole time, couldn’t you?” Sam, shit eating grin on his face, replied,” yup!” Angered, one of the Angels asked,” WHY DIDNT YOU DO THAT BEFORE?” Sam, grin turning into a smirk,” ever seen Squid Game? I wanted to see all of the death traps they had!”
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	sry for bad writing and short text, am on mobile edit: spelling As I heard a loud alarm I covered my ears with my hands. "Just one more minute" I said, half awake, half asleep. As I slowly started to gain consciousness I looked around. I was in a gigantic room, filled with beds, all identical. This wasn't even remotely like the cozy room I had fallen asleep in after making love with the beautiful woman I had met at the bar the previous night. It had been a long night, but at around 3 AM I had finally fallen asleep, with the woman in my arms. Some time after she had gone up to get a glass of water or whatever. I had then fallen asleep, a dreamless sleep, and now I found myself here, in this room filled with beds and nothing more. In the room there appeared to be hundreds of people, all looking up at a big monitor in the room where the a man was seen talking into the camera. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen" The voice had barely said the sentence before the crowd started screaming, asking why they were here. All of a sudden a man in the crowd collapsed and the people around him looked shocked for a few seconds before starting to scream and run hysterically. I just sat there, watching the spectacle, while waiting for the man on the monitor to start talking once more. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I would advise to keep quiet in the future. You see, we have implanted a small little chip in your heart. As fast as we think you're disobeying you are going to be killed." People started whispering and a shiver echoed through the crowd, as if though they had already forgotten the bloody corpse amongst them. "You have been placed here today to play 5 death games, all of which will test you in different ways. If you would, against all expectations, survive all 5, you will be given a enormous amount of money- 2.3 billion dollars, given generously to us by the viewers" As I heard him utter the last word I burst out laughing like a maniac. People started looking at me and I even seemed to have gained the attention of the man of the monitor, as he was looking stressed at the sight of me laughing. Oh these rich people who had come for entertainment and seeing people die would soon see their world upside down. Not only had I lived for tens of millennia- I was also one of the original gods of humankind. When humanity still was young they had feared me as the god that made night fall and meat spoil, the god that made sickness and the god that killed their young. When they grew older they started fearing less and less, but I was always there, lurking in the shadows behind the devil's of each religion. As the monitor finally turned of I sat there laughing. This would be the funniest thing to happen in centuries	Continuing to laugh hysterically as the first game was announced, Sam fell off his bed while everyone either listened intently to the announcer or stared at the crazy man. “The first game you will be playing, is baseball!” The announcer said, as Sam began to snort loudly while laughing. “You each have a number on your jacket, odd numbers to the left and even numbers to the right”, the announcer continued, with Sam piping up,” oooh their really changing it up from Squid Game, aren’t they?” while now slamming his hand against the floor. The other players ignored Sam as they siphoned off to separate doors. Sam managed to calm himself and looked at his shirt,” 69? Really? Man I hope Gold Tiger king is watching, that cop better not have bit his dick off yet!” Sam ran off to the left, the last in his line. Inside locker room set up for the players, everyone found blue uniforms with white pin stripes. At the center of the uniform shirts was the team name, the BC Angels, and what appeared to be an Angel in a wife beater shirt, drinking a .40 ounce and holding up a middle finger. Sam got the joke. After getting dressed the players head out to the field and are greeted by the other team. They wore red uniforms with white pin stripes and collars. The team name on the chest was the HG Devils, with a Devil mascot smoking a cigar, wearing a suit, and sitting behind a desk. Sam fell over laughing again, he really couldn’t help it! The Announcer spoke up,” we hope the uniforms fit right, players will be called by their numbers to fill positions. Not everyone will get to play, however if a player loses their life a replacement will be called forward. Numbers will be announced now!” Numbers for both teams were called up, Sam being among the starting line up. Next the announcer called out that the Angels would be up to bat first while Red would take the field. The Announcer spoke up again,” for today’s game we have special rules. First if you are struck out you will face instant death. Next,” All of the lights in the field were then shut off, with only a few shining in specific spots on the field,” when a baseman or catcher catches a ball they are to place it in the chutes next to the bases.” Each of the players looked at the illuminated spots and noticed the chutes.” The first baseman will receive the ball from a similar chute in return. Next if a fly ball is caught, all runners on base will receive instant death. Similarly if a runner makes it to home plate an outfielder will receive instant Death in their place. If a home run is hit the game will immediately be over, with the losing team facing instant death.” Sam, having calmed down a bit, said to his team,” well at least they changed it up a bit!” The teams each made their way to their dug outs while the excess players went to the stands. The first player called up to bat was an older man who seemed nervous. As he walked up to the plate the Devil’s players on the infield received ankle braces to lock them in place. The outfield was left free though. The Batter took a few minutes to warm up before taking his spot. The batter looked just as nervous as the pitcher as he looked forward, sweat visibly dripping down his face. The Announcer then spoke up,” Play Ball!” The pitcher reeled back and delivered an absolutely pitiful first pitch that the batter was easily able to hit. The batter, horribly slow, trotted to the first base but the ball had been caught after one bounce by the second baseman, who then threw it to the first baseman. The first baseman caught the ball and placed it in the chute, which activated the trap. The line between home plate and first base opened up and revealed a pit that the batter fell into. Screams of pain emanated from the pit as a loud splash occurred at the bottom with some of the liquid landing on the first baseman’s face. The first baseman screamed in agony, clutching face before falling forward into the pit and dangling by his ankle chain. The pit closed and severed the first baseman’s ankle. The Announcer then called in two more players, an Angel and a Devil, to take their place. Sam was then called up to bat. Sam walked forward, bat in hand, and took his place on base. The pitcher, still sweating profusely, gave another weak pitch that Sam easily smash into the outfield. Sam ran towards his base, still carrying the bat, and ran for his life towards the base. The outfield, who were surprisingly on point, managed to throw the ball to the first baseman who had a suspiciously smug look on his face. Sam managed to wipe the look off the unaware baseman’s face by throwing the bat into the back of his head, nailing him hard enough to knock him out and miss the ball completely. Sam slowed to a trot as he took the base, all to the ire of the Devils. Several of the Devils yelled In protest, saying Sam cheated but the Announcer spoke up,” Player 69 did not break any of the stated rules”. The first baseman was then awoken by a shock from his ankle, forcing him to jump up. The first baseman attempted to square up with Sam, who then held up his retrieved baseball bat and held it up with a smile on his face. The baseman then turned his back to Sam. The next batter then came up, a lady who could pass for an Instagram model, and lazily held the bat. She proceeded to blow a kiss to the pitcher who began to blush. The pitcher surprisingly managed to strike the Instagram model and made a show of flexing. The home plate area then opened up and revealed a giant blender that chopped up the fallen model. Sam began to laugh at this, complimenting the creativity. The first baseman proceeded to backhand him, knocking a little sense into him. Sam managed to make it to home plate and watched as one of the outfielders was dragged off the field by his ankle into a pit full of drill shaped spikes. After a while there were very few players left on either team, with Sam eventually growing bored with the deaths. Sam then decided to end the game, he’d had his fun. Another player was called up to bat but Sam pushed them out of the way, this was his shot now. Sam took a much more serious stance now, the pitcher being slightly intimidated by Sam’s seriousness. The pitcher then delivered his most pathetic pitch yet, which Sam easily hit out of the park. The Pitcher, shocked look on his face, fell into the blender as the pitcher’s mound opened. The same happened with all of the basemen and the outfielders were pulled into drill spike pits. The remaining angels looked at Sam, shocked, and asked,” you could’ve done that the whole time, couldn’t you?” Sam, shit eating grin on his face, replied,” yup!” Angered, one of the Angels asked,” WHY DIDNT YOU DO THAT BEFORE?” Sam, grin turning into a smirk,” ever seen Squid Game? I wanted to see all of the death traps they had!”
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	Today was not going my way at all. first, i find out that i was kidnapped by some wackos and placed in a room with a bunch of strangers and next i'm being told that this is a death game and i am going to be competing whether i like it or not. the people around me are starting to panic, some curling up into the fetal position and crying while others are shouting at what i assume to be the guards. I, however, sit on the bed i woke up on and start to think and run different scenarios over in my head. a small smile starts to form in my head as i recall the many hours of all-nighters pulled watching horror films and playing dark video games. these people want to wrench me out of my life and force me to compete then i am going to be the most annoying player they have ever seen. my resolve hardened as a small chuckle leaves my lips. internal, i am cackling like a mad man. The guards call the contestants for the first game, hide and seek. i stand and walk towards the arena with the other contestants. i am a hider. perfect. the arena seems to be a apartment complex, and the way you win is by surviving until the clock mounted at the front door of the complex strikes 12. the hands rest at 10. if your body fully leaves the complex, then you are out. there are three seekers, all armed with single shot pistols, to give the contestants a chance of escape while they reload. the guards exit the building and a blank is fired and the clock starts to tick. everyone is running for the stairwell or the corridors, i however, run to the closest room and open the door and see exactly what i am looking for. I pry open the window as i hear gunshots being fired off and start to shimmy up the drain pipes on the outside, intending to get to the roof. after a good while and scraped knees, i peak over the top of the roof and see that it is clear. i pull myself over the ledge and head to the rooftop access door and try the handle, un-locked. i once again look around the rooftop much more carefully and notice a greenhouse full of planters. dragging an empty planter to barricade the door i run and grab as many bags of soil and fertilizers i can carry to make that planter box as heavy as possible. climbing on top of my makeshift barricade i go on top of the doorway's roof and lie as flat as i can. soon i can hear footsteps pounding the stairs below and violent jiggling of the handle beyond that, i can hear a much calmer, yet heavier set of footsteps coming ever closer until the door handle's jiggling falls silent after a gunshot rings through the stairwell beneath me. a second shot is heard and the door swings open slightly as my barricade blocks the seeker from entering the rooftop. i hear a frustrated sigh and a few footsteps before thundering footsteps followed by a large crash is heard. i peer over the edge of the roof and see the seeker sprawled on the ground and covered in dirt. their gun is a few meters away. not hesitating i jump down and aim my feet at the seekers head. a sickening crack is heard as i roll off their head towards their gun. i swipe it up and run back to the seeker and aim it at their neck before pulling the trigger. moving my hand to the other side of their neck i feel their pulse die and i turn them around so i can loot their body for bullets. finding their stash of ammo i use their body to block off the door once again and i head back to the pipe i climbed at the start of the game. sliding down the pipe fireman style i reach the starting floor and peer out of the room towards the clock. my eyes widen at the fact that only 30 odd minutes have passed. i take off my shoes to avoid making noise while walking and make my way towards the clock. carefully, i remove it from its perch and realize it has no covering. not wasting a second i move the hands around to the 12. a sudden ding rings out across the complex and announces the game is over and to please return to the start. once the significantly smaller number of participants gathered at the start we are lead back; or in my case, roughly manhandled, to the dorms we woke up in. from my treatment i know that i at least pissed off a few of the higher ups. i lay down in my bed as i reflect on the game. the pole maneuver? from Alice in Borderland. everything else? common sense hammered into me from many late nights watching good ol' Cinema Summery. any game that they throw at me i am going to break and now the game organizers know it. Murder mystery? death traps? demented version of childhood games? whatever the organizers throw at me i'll be ready. and now they know it to. the lights go out and many contestants fall asleep while i use extra pillows form dead contestants beds to make a human shaped lump under my sheets and i crawl under one of the further beds and close my eyes.	Continuing to laugh hysterically as the first game was announced, Sam fell off his bed while everyone either listened intently to the announcer or stared at the crazy man. “The first game you will be playing, is baseball!” The announcer said, as Sam began to snort loudly while laughing. “You each have a number on your jacket, odd numbers to the left and even numbers to the right”, the announcer continued, with Sam piping up,” oooh their really changing it up from Squid Game, aren’t they?” while now slamming his hand against the floor. The other players ignored Sam as they siphoned off to separate doors. Sam managed to calm himself and looked at his shirt,” 69? Really? Man I hope Gold Tiger king is watching, that cop better not have bit his dick off yet!” Sam ran off to the left, the last in his line. Inside locker room set up for the players, everyone found blue uniforms with white pin stripes. At the center of the uniform shirts was the team name, the BC Angels, and what appeared to be an Angel in a wife beater shirt, drinking a .40 ounce and holding up a middle finger. Sam got the joke. After getting dressed the players head out to the field and are greeted by the other team. They wore red uniforms with white pin stripes and collars. The team name on the chest was the HG Devils, with a Devil mascot smoking a cigar, wearing a suit, and sitting behind a desk. Sam fell over laughing again, he really couldn’t help it! The Announcer spoke up,” we hope the uniforms fit right, players will be called by their numbers to fill positions. Not everyone will get to play, however if a player loses their life a replacement will be called forward. Numbers will be announced now!” Numbers for both teams were called up, Sam being among the starting line up. Next the announcer called out that the Angels would be up to bat first while Red would take the field. The Announcer spoke up again,” for today’s game we have special rules. First if you are struck out you will face instant death. Next,” All of the lights in the field were then shut off, with only a few shining in specific spots on the field,” when a baseman or catcher catches a ball they are to place it in the chutes next to the bases.” Each of the players looked at the illuminated spots and noticed the chutes.” The first baseman will receive the ball from a similar chute in return. Next if a fly ball is caught, all runners on base will receive instant death. Similarly if a runner makes it to home plate an outfielder will receive instant Death in their place. If a home run is hit the game will immediately be over, with the losing team facing instant death.” Sam, having calmed down a bit, said to his team,” well at least they changed it up a bit!” The teams each made their way to their dug outs while the excess players went to the stands. The first player called up to bat was an older man who seemed nervous. As he walked up to the plate the Devil’s players on the infield received ankle braces to lock them in place. The outfield was left free though. The Batter took a few minutes to warm up before taking his spot. The batter looked just as nervous as the pitcher as he looked forward, sweat visibly dripping down his face. The Announcer then spoke up,” Play Ball!” The pitcher reeled back and delivered an absolutely pitiful first pitch that the batter was easily able to hit. The batter, horribly slow, trotted to the first base but the ball had been caught after one bounce by the second baseman, who then threw it to the first baseman. The first baseman caught the ball and placed it in the chute, which activated the trap. The line between home plate and first base opened up and revealed a pit that the batter fell into. Screams of pain emanated from the pit as a loud splash occurred at the bottom with some of the liquid landing on the first baseman’s face. The first baseman screamed in agony, clutching face before falling forward into the pit and dangling by his ankle chain. The pit closed and severed the first baseman’s ankle. The Announcer then called in two more players, an Angel and a Devil, to take their place. Sam was then called up to bat. Sam walked forward, bat in hand, and took his place on base. The pitcher, still sweating profusely, gave another weak pitch that Sam easily smash into the outfield. Sam ran towards his base, still carrying the bat, and ran for his life towards the base. The outfield, who were surprisingly on point, managed to throw the ball to the first baseman who had a suspiciously smug look on his face. Sam managed to wipe the look off the unaware baseman’s face by throwing the bat into the back of his head, nailing him hard enough to knock him out and miss the ball completely. Sam slowed to a trot as he took the base, all to the ire of the Devils. Several of the Devils yelled In protest, saying Sam cheated but the Announcer spoke up,” Player 69 did not break any of the stated rules”. The first baseman was then awoken by a shock from his ankle, forcing him to jump up. The first baseman attempted to square up with Sam, who then held up his retrieved baseball bat and held it up with a smile on his face. The baseman then turned his back to Sam. The next batter then came up, a lady who could pass for an Instagram model, and lazily held the bat. She proceeded to blow a kiss to the pitcher who began to blush. The pitcher surprisingly managed to strike the Instagram model and made a show of flexing. The home plate area then opened up and revealed a giant blender that chopped up the fallen model. Sam began to laugh at this, complimenting the creativity. The first baseman proceeded to backhand him, knocking a little sense into him. Sam managed to make it to home plate and watched as one of the outfielders was dragged off the field by his ankle into a pit full of drill shaped spikes. After a while there were very few players left on either team, with Sam eventually growing bored with the deaths. Sam then decided to end the game, he’d had his fun. Another player was called up to bat but Sam pushed them out of the way, this was his shot now. Sam took a much more serious stance now, the pitcher being slightly intimidated by Sam’s seriousness. The pitcher then delivered his most pathetic pitch yet, which Sam easily hit out of the park. The Pitcher, shocked look on his face, fell into the blender as the pitcher’s mound opened. The same happened with all of the basemen and the outfielders were pulled into drill spike pits. The remaining angels looked at Sam, shocked, and asked,” you could’ve done that the whole time, couldn’t you?” Sam, shit eating grin on his face, replied,” yup!” Angered, one of the Angels asked,” WHY DIDNT YOU DO THAT BEFORE?” Sam, grin turning into a smirk,” ever seen Squid Game? I wanted to see all of the death traps they had!”
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	It took awhile to figure it out. Once I did, a lot of half memories and seemingly “tall tales” told by adults for laughs at holiday parties that were nothing more than an excuse for self proclaimed responsible parents to let loose started to make sense. I can’t die. Not in the “immortal will survive any blow” kind of way. Just. Death doesn’t have an opportunity to happen. Drunk driver about to T-bone a single mother and child? They happen to hit an oil slick on that old backroad and narrowly miss the sedan with the sun faded baby-on-board sticker. Bar fight turned bad? That crazy bitch landed a hit on me but the stab wound missed all the vital organs. It also drew attention to a septic gallbladder. Would’ve died if the damn thing had been left alone another day. So, when I woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like I had gargled kitty litter (in texture AND taste) I knew there had to be a reason for it. At this point not much phases me so the whole “fight to the death for entertainment and fabulous prizes” thing was, well, pretty damn funny if I’m being honest. Ok, ok, I had a good chuckle. Freaked a few people out. Long, convoluted story short, the other contestants kept accidentally saving my life while really sucking at killing me or saving themselves. Although I think it had more to do with the busted gas line at my apartment and subsequent explosion than anything.	Continuing to laugh hysterically as the first game was announced, Sam fell off his bed while everyone either listened intently to the announcer or stared at the crazy man. “The first game you will be playing, is baseball!” The announcer said, as Sam began to snort loudly while laughing. “You each have a number on your jacket, odd numbers to the left and even numbers to the right”, the announcer continued, with Sam piping up,” oooh their really changing it up from Squid Game, aren’t they?” while now slamming his hand against the floor. The other players ignored Sam as they siphoned off to separate doors. Sam managed to calm himself and looked at his shirt,” 69? Really? Man I hope Gold Tiger king is watching, that cop better not have bit his dick off yet!” Sam ran off to the left, the last in his line. Inside locker room set up for the players, everyone found blue uniforms with white pin stripes. At the center of the uniform shirts was the team name, the BC Angels, and what appeared to be an Angel in a wife beater shirt, drinking a .40 ounce and holding up a middle finger. Sam got the joke. After getting dressed the players head out to the field and are greeted by the other team. They wore red uniforms with white pin stripes and collars. The team name on the chest was the HG Devils, with a Devil mascot smoking a cigar, wearing a suit, and sitting behind a desk. Sam fell over laughing again, he really couldn’t help it! The Announcer spoke up,” we hope the uniforms fit right, players will be called by their numbers to fill positions. Not everyone will get to play, however if a player loses their life a replacement will be called forward. Numbers will be announced now!” Numbers for both teams were called up, Sam being among the starting line up. Next the announcer called out that the Angels would be up to bat first while Red would take the field. The Announcer spoke up again,” for today’s game we have special rules. First if you are struck out you will face instant death. Next,” All of the lights in the field were then shut off, with only a few shining in specific spots on the field,” when a baseman or catcher catches a ball they are to place it in the chutes next to the bases.” Each of the players looked at the illuminated spots and noticed the chutes.” The first baseman will receive the ball from a similar chute in return. Next if a fly ball is caught, all runners on base will receive instant death. Similarly if a runner makes it to home plate an outfielder will receive instant Death in their place. If a home run is hit the game will immediately be over, with the losing team facing instant death.” Sam, having calmed down a bit, said to his team,” well at least they changed it up a bit!” The teams each made their way to their dug outs while the excess players went to the stands. The first player called up to bat was an older man who seemed nervous. As he walked up to the plate the Devil’s players on the infield received ankle braces to lock them in place. The outfield was left free though. The Batter took a few minutes to warm up before taking his spot. The batter looked just as nervous as the pitcher as he looked forward, sweat visibly dripping down his face. The Announcer then spoke up,” Play Ball!” The pitcher reeled back and delivered an absolutely pitiful first pitch that the batter was easily able to hit. The batter, horribly slow, trotted to the first base but the ball had been caught after one bounce by the second baseman, who then threw it to the first baseman. The first baseman caught the ball and placed it in the chute, which activated the trap. The line between home plate and first base opened up and revealed a pit that the batter fell into. Screams of pain emanated from the pit as a loud splash occurred at the bottom with some of the liquid landing on the first baseman’s face. The first baseman screamed in agony, clutching face before falling forward into the pit and dangling by his ankle chain. The pit closed and severed the first baseman’s ankle. The Announcer then called in two more players, an Angel and a Devil, to take their place. Sam was then called up to bat. Sam walked forward, bat in hand, and took his place on base. The pitcher, still sweating profusely, gave another weak pitch that Sam easily smash into the outfield. Sam ran towards his base, still carrying the bat, and ran for his life towards the base. The outfield, who were surprisingly on point, managed to throw the ball to the first baseman who had a suspiciously smug look on his face. Sam managed to wipe the look off the unaware baseman’s face by throwing the bat into the back of his head, nailing him hard enough to knock him out and miss the ball completely. Sam slowed to a trot as he took the base, all to the ire of the Devils. Several of the Devils yelled In protest, saying Sam cheated but the Announcer spoke up,” Player 69 did not break any of the stated rules”. The first baseman was then awoken by a shock from his ankle, forcing him to jump up. The first baseman attempted to square up with Sam, who then held up his retrieved baseball bat and held it up with a smile on his face. The baseman then turned his back to Sam. The next batter then came up, a lady who could pass for an Instagram model, and lazily held the bat. She proceeded to blow a kiss to the pitcher who began to blush. The pitcher surprisingly managed to strike the Instagram model and made a show of flexing. The home plate area then opened up and revealed a giant blender that chopped up the fallen model. Sam began to laugh at this, complimenting the creativity. The first baseman proceeded to backhand him, knocking a little sense into him. Sam managed to make it to home plate and watched as one of the outfielders was dragged off the field by his ankle into a pit full of drill shaped spikes. After a while there were very few players left on either team, with Sam eventually growing bored with the deaths. Sam then decided to end the game, he’d had his fun. Another player was called up to bat but Sam pushed them out of the way, this was his shot now. Sam took a much more serious stance now, the pitcher being slightly intimidated by Sam’s seriousness. The pitcher then delivered his most pathetic pitch yet, which Sam easily hit out of the park. The Pitcher, shocked look on his face, fell into the blender as the pitcher’s mound opened. The same happened with all of the basemen and the outfielders were pulled into drill spike pits. The remaining angels looked at Sam, shocked, and asked,” you could’ve done that the whole time, couldn’t you?” Sam, shit eating grin on his face, replied,” yup!” Angered, one of the Angels asked,” WHY DIDNT YOU DO THAT BEFORE?” Sam, grin turning into a smirk,” ever seen Squid Game? I wanted to see all of the death traps they had!”
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	sry for bad writing and short text, am on mobile edit: spelling As I heard a loud alarm I covered my ears with my hands. "Just one more minute" I said, half awake, half asleep. As I slowly started to gain consciousness I looked around. I was in a gigantic room, filled with beds, all identical. This wasn't even remotely like the cozy room I had fallen asleep in after making love with the beautiful woman I had met at the bar the previous night. It had been a long night, but at around 3 AM I had finally fallen asleep, with the woman in my arms. Some time after she had gone up to get a glass of water or whatever. I had then fallen asleep, a dreamless sleep, and now I found myself here, in this room filled with beds and nothing more. In the room there appeared to be hundreds of people, all looking up at a big monitor in the room where the a man was seen talking into the camera. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen" The voice had barely said the sentence before the crowd started screaming, asking why they were here. All of a sudden a man in the crowd collapsed and the people around him looked shocked for a few seconds before starting to scream and run hysterically. I just sat there, watching the spectacle, while waiting for the man on the monitor to start talking once more. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I would advise to keep quiet in the future. You see, we have implanted a small little chip in your heart. As fast as we think you're disobeying you are going to be killed." People started whispering and a shiver echoed through the crowd, as if though they had already forgotten the bloody corpse amongst them. "You have been placed here today to play 5 death games, all of which will test you in different ways. If you would, against all expectations, survive all 5, you will be given a enormous amount of money- 2.3 billion dollars, given generously to us by the viewers" As I heard him utter the last word I burst out laughing like a maniac. People started looking at me and I even seemed to have gained the attention of the man of the monitor, as he was looking stressed at the sight of me laughing. Oh these rich people who had come for entertainment and seeing people die would soon see their world upside down. Not only had I lived for tens of millennia- I was also one of the original gods of humankind. When humanity still was young they had feared me as the god that made night fall and meat spoil, the god that made sickness and the god that killed their young. When they grew older they started fearing less and less, but I was always there, lurking in the shadows behind the devil's of each religion. As the monitor finally turned of I sat there laughing. This would be the funniest thing to happen in centuries	Games. They equate this death sport to that of a child’s past time. Day after day, they pit us against one another in a soirée of violence that only ends when of us stops breathing. They sit upon a monolithic throne that encapsulates the arena, cheering with wild abandon as we bleed for them, scratch and claw, rend and tear each other’s flesh all for their amusement. This is their perverse pleasure, a past time only for the cruel. You see, they want us to broken. They desire our spirits crushed. That we may be always reminded that we are small, insignificant pawns. We are their victims. That gives them satisfaction. But what they don’t know is that I enjoy it too. Now, as I stand victorious, towering over my downed opponent, they all wait with baited breath for me to deliver the final blow. They want to revel in the culmination of blood lust. But instead, I begin to laugh. No, rather, I begin to cackle like a mad man. My opponent looks at me, though beaten bloody, there’s a look of hope in his eyes. Will I spare his life, he wonders? The crowd picks up on this labored pause in the action. Where’s the death blow? They begin to jeer. Someone in the crowd shouts for me to finish the game else there’ll be consequences. Others think I’ve gone soft, that I won’t finish the job. How wrong they all are. I sink to a knee, placing it firmly across my opponents chest. I feel him writhe beneath my weight. He futilely tries to bat me off, I slap his pathetic efforts aside. The crowd smells blood in the air, they begin to howl. Some so engorged in their bloodlust that they begin to froth at the mouth. They think they know what comes next- the end of this man’s life. They’re wrong. I’ll kill him slowly, painfully, and grotesquely. I slowly, but surely, let my teeth sink into his flesh. There’s a moment of shocked silence. No one expecting this macabre theatre. But then my opponent screams, bringing everyone back to reality. They watch in horror, disgusted that I continue to chew fat, swallowing muscle and tendon. I keep eating. Suddenly their game of sport is ruined. They enjoy their dose of controlled violence but I’ve just upended it. If they want to watch me beat another man to death, they’ll now have to watch as I devour his body. It isn’t long before the spectators begin to leave in disgust. I guess I’ve spoiled their fun. Oh well. Now, as I begin to finish, I can only think of what comes next, how can I top this little display? Because these people wanted a perverse show. So I’m going to give it them.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	It took awhile to figure it out. Once I did, a lot of half memories and seemingly “tall tales” told by adults for laughs at holiday parties that were nothing more than an excuse for self proclaimed responsible parents to let loose started to make sense. I can’t die. Not in the “immortal will survive any blow” kind of way. Just. Death doesn’t have an opportunity to happen. Drunk driver about to T-bone a single mother and child? They happen to hit an oil slick on that old backroad and narrowly miss the sedan with the sun faded baby-on-board sticker. Bar fight turned bad? That crazy bitch landed a hit on me but the stab wound missed all the vital organs. It also drew attention to a septic gallbladder. Would’ve died if the damn thing had been left alone another day. So, when I woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like I had gargled kitty litter (in texture AND taste) I knew there had to be a reason for it. At this point not much phases me so the whole “fight to the death for entertainment and fabulous prizes” thing was, well, pretty damn funny if I’m being honest. Ok, ok, I had a good chuckle. Freaked a few people out. Long, convoluted story short, the other contestants kept accidentally saving my life while really sucking at killing me or saving themselves. Although I think it had more to do with the busted gas line at my apartment and subsequent explosion than anything.	Today was not going my way at all. first, i find out that i was kidnapped by some wackos and placed in a room with a bunch of strangers and next i'm being told that this is a death game and i am going to be competing whether i like it or not. the people around me are starting to panic, some curling up into the fetal position and crying while others are shouting at what i assume to be the guards. I, however, sit on the bed i woke up on and start to think and run different scenarios over in my head. a small smile starts to form in my head as i recall the many hours of all-nighters pulled watching horror films and playing dark video games. these people want to wrench me out of my life and force me to compete then i am going to be the most annoying player they have ever seen. my resolve hardened as a small chuckle leaves my lips. internal, i am cackling like a mad man. The guards call the contestants for the first game, hide and seek. i stand and walk towards the arena with the other contestants. i am a hider. perfect. the arena seems to be a apartment complex, and the way you win is by surviving until the clock mounted at the front door of the complex strikes 12. the hands rest at 10. if your body fully leaves the complex, then you are out. there are three seekers, all armed with single shot pistols, to give the contestants a chance of escape while they reload. the guards exit the building and a blank is fired and the clock starts to tick. everyone is running for the stairwell or the corridors, i however, run to the closest room and open the door and see exactly what i am looking for. I pry open the window as i hear gunshots being fired off and start to shimmy up the drain pipes on the outside, intending to get to the roof. after a good while and scraped knees, i peak over the top of the roof and see that it is clear. i pull myself over the ledge and head to the rooftop access door and try the handle, un-locked. i once again look around the rooftop much more carefully and notice a greenhouse full of planters. dragging an empty planter to barricade the door i run and grab as many bags of soil and fertilizers i can carry to make that planter box as heavy as possible. climbing on top of my makeshift barricade i go on top of the doorway's roof and lie as flat as i can. soon i can hear footsteps pounding the stairs below and violent jiggling of the handle beyond that, i can hear a much calmer, yet heavier set of footsteps coming ever closer until the door handle's jiggling falls silent after a gunshot rings through the stairwell beneath me. a second shot is heard and the door swings open slightly as my barricade blocks the seeker from entering the rooftop. i hear a frustrated sigh and a few footsteps before thundering footsteps followed by a large crash is heard. i peer over the edge of the roof and see the seeker sprawled on the ground and covered in dirt. their gun is a few meters away. not hesitating i jump down and aim my feet at the seekers head. a sickening crack is heard as i roll off their head towards their gun. i swipe it up and run back to the seeker and aim it at their neck before pulling the trigger. moving my hand to the other side of their neck i feel their pulse die and i turn them around so i can loot their body for bullets. finding their stash of ammo i use their body to block off the door once again and i head back to the pipe i climbed at the start of the game. sliding down the pipe fireman style i reach the starting floor and peer out of the room towards the clock. my eyes widen at the fact that only 30 odd minutes have passed. i take off my shoes to avoid making noise while walking and make my way towards the clock. carefully, i remove it from its perch and realize it has no covering. not wasting a second i move the hands around to the 12. a sudden ding rings out across the complex and announces the game is over and to please return to the start. once the significantly smaller number of participants gathered at the start we are lead back; or in my case, roughly manhandled, to the dorms we woke up in. from my treatment i know that i at least pissed off a few of the higher ups. i lay down in my bed as i reflect on the game. the pole maneuver? from Alice in Borderland. everything else? common sense hammered into me from many late nights watching good ol' Cinema Summery. any game that they throw at me i am going to break and now the game organizers know it. Murder mystery? death traps? demented version of childhood games? whatever the organizers throw at me i'll be ready. and now they know it to. the lights go out and many contestants fall asleep while i use extra pillows form dead contestants beds to make a human shaped lump under my sheets and i crawl under one of the further beds and close my eyes.
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	It took awhile to figure it out. Once I did, a lot of half memories and seemingly “tall tales” told by adults for laughs at holiday parties that were nothing more than an excuse for self proclaimed responsible parents to let loose started to make sense. I can’t die. Not in the “immortal will survive any blow” kind of way. Just. Death doesn’t have an opportunity to happen. Drunk driver about to T-bone a single mother and child? They happen to hit an oil slick on that old backroad and narrowly miss the sedan with the sun faded baby-on-board sticker. Bar fight turned bad? That crazy bitch landed a hit on me but the stab wound missed all the vital organs. It also drew attention to a septic gallbladder. Would’ve died if the damn thing had been left alone another day. So, when I woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like I had gargled kitty litter (in texture AND taste) I knew there had to be a reason for it. At this point not much phases me so the whole “fight to the death for entertainment and fabulous prizes” thing was, well, pretty damn funny if I’m being honest. Ok, ok, I had a good chuckle. Freaked a few people out. Long, convoluted story short, the other contestants kept accidentally saving my life while really sucking at killing me or saving themselves. Although I think it had more to do with the busted gas line at my apartment and subsequent explosion than anything.	I glanced generously around the room, sizing up my opponents, my lips curling back into a grin, though not far enough to reveal what I am. Oh how these fool humans have gaffed. And those cretins, behind their one way window, they think they're so clever, don't they? Little do they know, I can see them, clear as day, or well, I guess I should say night, I am a vampire, after all. I looked up, high above where I and the others stood, I could see them, five, in total, and not a single bodyguard in the room. Confidence? Maybe. Stupidity? Certainly. Sure humans are unaware of the existence of my kind, but even so, they should at least be smart enough to have one guard, after all, I always do. He looks to me, a slight glint in his eye, I'd have to scold him later for gawking at me again. We'd been at a party before I was drugged and dragged away, so I was still adorned in my little black dress, with red heels. Thankfully, because of my vampiric abilities, drugs don't have as strong of an effect on me, so I was far more, aware than the snacks currently surrounding Adonis and I. He, on the other hand, had a few bruises, and a small laceration on his brow, apparently he'd gotten into quite the scuffle with my captors. I was unsure if he was willingly slowing his healing, or if he needed to feed. Either way, the problem would sort itself soon enough. A sharp tone sounded once again over the PA system, barely a minute after the first announcement. "We will periodically reveal weapons, hidden within secret compartments lining the walls of the room you are currently in, however, the fight begins with hand to hand combat! Begin!" My grin widens, all these humans, all this blood mine, for the taking. "Let the games, begin."
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to.	I noticed something was wrong the instant I began to regain consciousness. I'm very fond of the softness of my bed, and this was nowhere close to that. Before trying to Jump anywhere, I opened my eyes and glanced around. I found myself in a dimly lit stark metal room with another bunk opposite mine. I looked over the edge of my bunk to see the person under me. A man maybe in his fifties was still sound asleep. My sedative probably wore off more quickly. The other two people were still asleep on the other bunk, so I decided it would be fine for me to Jump to the floor. But just a moment before I followed through, I thought to check for a camera. Sure enough, one camera in the upper corner of the room. Full sight except for behind my bunk. I climbed down normally. Despite the creaking of the bed, none of the others woke up. Must have been a heavy sedative. I walked over to the door and looked out through the single tinted square window. I wasn't able to see any guards or cameras covering my door, so I stepped behind my bunk and Jumped through to the other side. A guard was walking down the hallway, just having turned the corner. He was scowling at the tablet he was holding. I panicked and Jumped behind him right before he looked up to see me. He stopped, standing still and looking down the hallway, confused. I held my breath, ready to jump back the other way if he suddenly turned around. Thankfully, he didn't, and looked back down at his tablet as he kept walking. Once he'd rounded the corner at the other end of the hall, I heard a voice in the direction that the guard came from. I made my way down the corridor and peeked around the corner to see a group of guards in casual conversation at the end of the hall. Behind them was a window, telling me that it was still nighttime, but probably not the same night we'd all been abducted. I made a risky move and Jumped outside the window for a fraction of a second, just to see where I was. I immediately Jumped back to the place I was standing to process what I'd seen. An ocean. A shore. We were on an island. I also saw a large expanse of open land with guards scattered around, probably a field for whatever twisted game was coming up. Another important detail; part of the sky was a reddish-orange, meaning sunrise was soon. I Jumped back into my bed. A few minutes later, my roommates started waking up. If these people wanted a Demi-god of Chaos in their death game, then that's exactly what they were about to get.	I glanced generously around the room, sizing up my opponents, my lips curling back into a grin, though not far enough to reveal what I am. Oh how these fool humans have gaffed. And those cretins, behind their one way window, they think they're so clever, don't they? Little do they know, I can see them, clear as day, or well, I guess I should say night, I am a vampire, after all. I looked up, high above where I and the others stood, I could see them, five, in total, and not a single bodyguard in the room. Confidence? Maybe. Stupidity? Certainly. Sure humans are unaware of the existence of my kind, but even so, they should at least be smart enough to have one guard, after all, I always do. He looks to me, a slight glint in his eye, I'd have to scold him later for gawking at me again. We'd been at a party before I was drugged and dragged away, so I was still adorned in my little black dress, with red heels. Thankfully, because of my vampiric abilities, drugs don't have as strong of an effect on me, so I was far more, aware than the snacks currently surrounding Adonis and I. He, on the other hand, had a few bruises, and a small laceration on his brow, apparently he'd gotten into quite the scuffle with my captors. I was unsure if he was willingly slowing his healing, or if he needed to feed. Either way, the problem would sort itself soon enough. A sharp tone sounded once again over the PA system, barely a minute after the first announcement. "We will periodically reveal weapons, hidden within secret compartments lining the walls of the room you are currently in, however, the fight begins with hand to hand combat! Begin!" My grin widens, all these humans, all this blood mine, for the taking. "Let the games, begin."
[WP] You went to hell laughing, when you arrived just as you expected, you did not receive chains but instead you received claps and cheering.	When Aeryn died she didn’t expect anything else. For her, the light at the end of the tunnel had always been a fire. Eternal flame, chains and probably some gruesome demons that’d enjoy torturing her. Who knows how hell would exactly look, but the premise was clear. And with that, Aeryn’s future was clear. So, as she arrived at the gates of hell she was laughing. She had lived her life as best as she could—happily—and now she would pay the price. Of course this wasn’t funny—quite the opposite—but she just couldn’t stop herself. Her laugh suppressed every other emotion from rising in her, especially the fear when she pushed the door open. The plane that revealed itself before her was not as she had imagined it. Sure, it seemed kind of dark and colorless and there was mostly stone and magma around her. But it didn’t seem dreary or lifeless. There were houses and castles build into the rocks everywhere. And while most of them appeared very gothic, they weren’t terrifying but festive and regal. Then Aeryn stepped inside. Discovered by a mob of demons her laughter stifles. Suddenly though, the demons started to cheer at her. Is that how her punishment would begin? Humiliation? But the smiles she saw on their faces, as they approached, looked sincere. Before she could turn her confusion into a question, one of the demons hugged her quickly but tightly. “Oh Aeryn, I am so glad you’re here. Finally I get to meet you!” “W-why are you nice to me?” Aeryn’s voice was unsure, still questioning herself if they were just mocking her. “Why wouldn’t I be? Morgana has told me so many nice things about you. I am Lilian by the way.” “What? But… I’m in hell.” “So am I.” “Yes, but you’re a demon. And… I am gay.” “So am I.” Lilian’s grin got even wider. “Well, really, almost everyone here is.”	Charon steals glances at me. He's dressed in a tattered, black robe and his face, hidden beneath his hood, appears as dark as the waters of the river Styx around us. I don't normally do this, he says. Being ferried across the river separating the land of the living from the land of the dead isn't how I pictured it. I wanted fire. Brimstone. The smell of burnt flesh. Ever since I was five that is all I have strived for. It's true there hasn't been much coin, says Charon. Yet I have maintained a steadfast principle all this time. If you don't have the coin, you must wander the realm of shadows. At least for a couple of centuries. But given your ... reputation, I am willing to make an exception. That's nice I say and Charon seems to sink a little inside his robe. He doesn't have any kind of smell and it annoys me. The stench of death is really the smell of life to the microbes happily breaking our bodies down. But this is no place even for microbial life and as such there is no sweet scent of rot or even the fragrance of bodily fluids creatively mixing to keep me entertained. At the other side Hades stands, hands folded, lips curled in a sly smile. What took you so long? he says and gives Charon a bone-rustling pat on the back. Hope this guy didn't bore you to death he says to me and Charon just stands there, defeated. Hades talks with enthusiasm about the difference between stalagmites and stalactites and several times says come here, I'll show you something real good, and it's just another conic rock formation and he stands there hands-on-hips proud and says that's the stuff right there and damn isn't that something? I am beginning to question my priorities. At church I'd secretly cheer when father Paul spoke of Satan, foaming at his mouth on account of an existence so evil it formed the anti-thesis to God himself. I pumped my fists, but down, towards Hell, and decided I would be second only to Satan himself. I have someone here I'm sure you'd like to meet, he says. Hades bites his lower lips and claps. Apparently he has this all planned. Out from the shadows emerges a small figure and for a moment I am mildly amused, believing it to be Charlie Chaplin. My expectations drop to the ground as I realize who I have been presented with. A vegetarian? I say. Hades looks at me but I am not looking back. A life dedicated to the pursuit of grand evil and I am faced with someone who harbored qualms about the ethical treatment of animals. He's by far the most evil man in my realm, says Hades in a hesitant tone. The man in question objects but Hades isn't having any of it. The most evil man, you say? I reply and as I arch my brows Hades arches his with a calm expression of mutual understanding. To be sure, he says, man is not the most evil creature originating from the land of the living. He scratches his chin, dark smoke emanating from the tips of his fingers, and he pauses for effect as I ask myself what animal is the closest thing to the embodiment of evil. Snakes were the animals chosen by ancient goat herders for Biblical purposes. Probably because they represented an acute threat. Many modern farmers loathe butterflies with a passion and would not hesitate to call them evil. And there are of course locusts, swarming destroyers of crops, and rats; carriers of disease. Spiders and scorpions are seen as evil for little reason more than their ability to poison us. These animals reflect not a true capacity to torment fellow beings, but rather fears borne by pitiful humans. Objective evil is a different matter entirely. Well? he says and I shrug. He grins and asks me to follow along. We have a special place for them, he says, and I can feel my interest surge. An animal so evil that even in the land of the dead, where they can do no harm, they are shielded from the rest? Cats? I suggest and Hades laughs. Worse, he says. Honey badgers? He simply shakes his head and keeps moving with an air of superiority. We reach, at last, a place suffused with Latin sensibility. Flames rage all around and demon creatures squeal with joy as they torture the animals to be the most deserving of such treatment. As I look over Hades' shoulder it all clicks. Of course. These are the very worst our planet has ever had to offer. Nowhere else could you find such pure evil residing inside such awkwardly-shaped vessels. A mockery not just of God, but of life itself. And the senseless rage they habitually express toward their fellow beings is the only proof one would need to ascertain the fact that these are by far the most evil of all animals. Hades wipes his brow as he observes the grin curled across my face and he offers me to join in on the fun. All we have is this old thing, he says, making a show of rolling his eyes, and he hands me a three-pronged spear sizzling at its ends. I leap into the pit of Hell reserved for these creatures and finally reap my just reward for having lived a life of true evil. They quack with burning rage as I poke them with my trident. A sea of hateful ducks and I am the evil standing before them, punishing them for their folly. I have become Duck Satan and this shall forever be my legacy. /r/Hemingbird
[WP] Two astronauts admire the view of Earth from the moon. After being given a nod of approval, one astronaut presses a button and the planet explodes.	The craft they sat in was dark, covered in shadows and blackness as they waited. The two astronauts sung a tune together, a duet, as the planet they circled turned in its orbit. Shadows slowly dispersed, rays of light radiating in through dirty, dusted windows. The sun crested the pale blue planet below, a beautiful array of yellows and oranges bathing the starless void that was space. The starcraft, its two passengers, reveled in the sight as light gave way to beauty. The cosmos was revealed. The planet below seemingly shimmered and glowed, colors seeping across the clouds and surface. Every valley, every peak, every creature, was bathed in light, uniting them. The sun revealed a picturesque world of vast oceans, ranging forests, and stunning deserts. Where the sun did not touch, auroras formed, dancing above the clouds, filling another piece of lightless space. "Sure is lovely." The first astronaut spoke dryly. "Yep." His companion responded, equally monotonous. A green bulb flashed above them, alerting them to an incoming transmission. Their attention turned to the video panel sealed into their flight console. It shuttered open with a hiss, static resounding through the small cockpit. Their captain, back on a planet some seven or eight lightyears away, appeared. "Evening, gentleman." The pair nodded with respect. "You have the go ahead." Grins spread across their faces. They looked to each other, playing a quick game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would press the big red button. The second astronaut won out, glee written upon his face. His hand came up and mightily smacked down, a resounding thud as the button pressed. The planet exploded just as quickly as they blinked. A wave of debris and energy traveled through the solar system, shaking their ship within moments of the explosion. Debris knocked against their shields, harmlessly teetering off into space. "Congratulations, gentlemen! With the removal of STE-129, we can begin with the trans-galactic highway! You've made history." The pair blinked. "Uh, sir, STE-129 is five lightyears away at forty degrees. You gave us the coordinates to..." The first astronaut, the one who lost, spoke up. He looked to another panel, scrolling through a list of names and coordinates till he found the right one. "uh, Earth, sir. Odd name." The captain paled. "Congratulations, gentlemen! You blew up a galactic national park! We'll be handing in our resignation forms later today, it seems."	There was a certain sense of wonder that came innately from looking upon the Earth from this high up. The birthplace of all Humanity, countless wars have been fought over scraps of land on its surface, endless tales of love, tragedy and growth danced upon its surface for untold ages. It was the cradle of life, the most important thing in human history bar none... It was a dead world cursed beyond recognition. Even from here the horrible purple scars dancing across the continents were visible, each a mighty chasm leading towards an abyss beyond comprehension. Across the oceans movement could be seen through even the most basic of telescopes, leviathans the size of nations swimming in unknown depths beneath the tainted seas. The ultimate product of Mankind's hubris, the price for untold amounts of reckless sins, the world was a lost cause. The first man, Hal Armstrong, looked towards his partner and then looked towards an unassuming grey device he held in his hand. The other man, Lucas, looked back towards him and gave a silent, solemn, nod. Words were not said but they both knew the meaning of that small nod. Centuries ago a man bearing his surname walked upon the surface of the moon, the first man to set foot on this rock, now he was to become the last. The button felt heavy, despite the fact it did not even weigh all that much even under higher gravity the thing was a terrible thing to hold. The press of the button took but an instant, but an eternity passed during that time. The Earth lit aflame, consumed with nuclear fire. Purple veins lit into incandescent flames and leviathans writhed in the boiling seas undoubtably each movement creating earthquakes and tsunamis on magnitudes unimaginable in the days before the Fall. For a brief moment the Earth lit like a second sun and the two watching the scene could almost hear a scream, an unimaginable piercing ring that somehow traversed the vaccuum between the burning world and its satellite, before silence returned. Tears were shed, the remnants of Humanity mourned the loss of their homeworld, the most important thing in all of Human history, and then they moved on. This place was dead, there was no point in remaining any longer, nothing of value remained here except a reminder of the mistakes of the past. If only they had stayed... Maybe then they would have seen a purple vein emerge on the charred surface and spit out a swarm of city sized monsters into the void of deep space...
[WP] An alien rover lands in rural America and proceeds to explore. Humanity keeps its distance, curious as to what it would do. It starts collecting grass and corn samples, scratching pieces of road, sampling the atmosphere and drilling holes in the mud. Till it comes across a stray cow...	Humanity, in our infinite wisdom and profound maturity, decided to call it the Ball. We called it the Ball, because some government spokesman, trying to calm people who were nervous about the phrase “alien probe,” called it a Benign Artificial Lander. That, and it was round. It landed in Nebraska, because the only people who want to go to Nebraska are apparently non-humans. At first, we all lost our minds. The first week was nothing but a 168-hour media frenzy, with flashing headlines like WE ARE NOT ALONE and ALIEN INVASION and WHAT DO THEY WANT. But when it became clear that the extraterrestrial basketball wasn’t interested in doing anything besides rolling around some fields and playing in the dirt, the tone changed. Someone gave the Ball a Twitter account (it tweeted pictures of Nebraska covered in hearts). People made t-shirts featuring the Ball. The Ball became a running joke on late night comedy. It was even a recurring character on Saturday Night Live. It was only later that the public learned the military had spent that first week deciding whether to nuke Nebraska. The Ball never traveled far: usually just a few meters a day, before it took more samples. Sometimes it rolled in a straight line. Sometimes it turned and rolled in a different direction. Its daily movements were a topic of constant online speculation; the betting markets made a killing offering odds on whether it would turn north or south the next day. Every day, people woke up to check their phones for the latest Ball-related news. People wrote fanfiction about the Ball. One person even tried to legally marry it but couldn’t get a license. Then, one day, a farmer, apparently happily oblivious of the now Ball-obsessed internet, let his cows out into the field for the spring. The Ball froze. For several days straight, it didn’t even twitch. I know, because the whole world watched it: a shiny metallic basketball, sitting half-hidden in the tall grass while a bunch of cows munched contentedly around it. The news exploded with headlines like WHY DID IT STOP and IS THE BALL OKAY and FARMER BREAKS BALL. Then a calf decided the Ball was just a ball, and tried to play with it. It didn’t like that very much. It scurried away. The calf did like that and chased it. It scurried away further. The calf kept chasing it. The betting markets gave odds on calf vs Ball. Then suddenly all the video feeds of the Ball turned to static. Satellites went dead. About an hour later, when the live feed was restored, the Ball was sitting immobile again in the high grass, surrounded by happy cows. There wasn’t a calf. The military went back to debating whether they should nuke Nebraska. Another Ball landed. The people who had written fanfiction about the Ball got upset, because they’d shipped it with other earthy balls. The two Balls (a name some people really started to regret) were just interested in the cows. Wherever the herd went, they followed. Occasionally they bumped into a cow’s leg and scraped some skin and hair off. The cows ignored them. Another Ball landed. The media broke out their ALIEN INVASION headlines. Then the government started censoring all references to the Balls online. The video was cut. The news stopped talking about them. Someone online “proved” the whole thing had been a hoax from the beginning. Everyone went on with their lives. Later that year there was a beef shortage. The media said it was mad cow. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe that guy who proved it was all a hoax had it right. Supposedly, though, people who have family in Nebraska haven’t heard from them in a while.	We were under scrutiny. The drone poked, probed, and did a thorough analysis of our Earth, with no regard to us at all. It quickly became known that nothing can disrupt the task; any person, vehicle, and projectile couldn't penetrate its invisible force-field. So we waited. Then one day the drone ventured into our biology—but not the human one. It was only interested with the cows that grazed about, who didn't understand the scope of which the fate of humanity rested on. So it took them, rather spectacularly. One second the drone and cow were there, the next they vanished with no trace. As one could imagine, this was perplexing and horrifying. No one knew what the implications were. Embarrassing as it is, we spent the last moments as the dominant species of our planet fighting, along with conducting other horrendous acts. Then they showed up. If one were to picture an alien, they would naturally imagine a human-like appearance. But there was no similarities between us and them. If it wasn't for the situation, the sight of bipedal cows would be funny. But that's what they were. And they were not happy. So karma went into full-swing. It turns out that aliens cows like human meat as much we do theirs. I was one of the lucky ones. Vegans, such as myself, were spared. Our lifestyle saved us. As horrifying as the situation was, the turn of events amazed me. The irony of being meat-free saved me from being eaten had a morbid sense of humor about it. Conversion was on the horizon. I had get used to being inferior to my dairy overlords while betraying my people. I couldn't call myself human anymore, unless I wanted to be their next meal. I started at the bottom of the ranks. Designated for acclimation to their culture—the typical thing for conquerors do to the conquered— I needed an education before becoming Calci. And Calci I became, which brought along their taste-buds. And it turns out Humans are quite tasteful.
[WP] A virus causes all animals on Earth to become hostile towards each other. A tech startup mass produces small spheres which can contain the animals, while the government starts a propaganda campaign that encourages young children to “catch them all”.	[Poem]. The sickness of beast, forced nature to rage. Our humanity had shaken its cage. Reflecting man’s heart, in hatred and war. This virus has mirrored our core. Evolutionary change threatens existence. No we will not bow down. To nature we’ve conquered, at times persistence. Now we begin to drown. Men went to fight, men went to conquer. Cities died in this dark chapter. Between man and beast, claw and defeat. Now we have drawn our fate. Our fathers have fallen, brothers at war. The beasts grow hungry ashore. All is not lost, for have we forgot. Science may save us once more. A new day has dawned, we take what is ours. With spheres and trinkets to capture. But who now will fight, our men out of light. Our children will be the new rapture. Decades grow old, tradition is passed. Traversing lands one to another. Youth on a quest, to battle the rest. Do not forgot all our late fathers. Edit: format	i walk down the stairs to see my mother waiting for me. i immediately notice that she has caught this heinous virus "human!" she screeches as she darts towards me. i instinctively pull out my catcher circles from my pockets and throw the one labeled "little brother" on the floor, my little brother materializes out of the circle. my mum backs away and prepares her attack, she uses "punish" in the blink of an eye she is swinging a wooden spoon around aiming for my little brothers head. once the spoon makes contact with his head he squeals "Hu Hu Hu Hu" "its ok little bro" i say chucking him a fruit snack "heal up, Now use hyper scream" mum rapidly rushes to cover her ears but it was to late the high pitched scream busts her ear drums. "good one bro" i say scratching his head. suddenly mum starts preparing the highly feared attack "I'm not mad just disappointed" there is nothing i can do i just stand and watch in horror as my mum uses the psychic stare on my brother. little bro curls up into a ball and his hp drops luckily he managed to survive but only barely "just one more good hit and ill be able to catch her, use Im telling mum!' i forget that this attack dosent work on infected if they are a "mother" but it was too late, little bro uses the attack but it is uneffective. mum uses "fix this damn phone" and the phone flys to my brother and he falls down on the ground, dead. i realize my brother must of had the nuzlocke version of the virus meaning he dies after fights instead of just fainting, holding back tears i throw my next catcher circle, labbeld puppy onto the floor. my dog leaps out of the ball and says "puppy pu pu puppy!". "use slobber" i say to the cutie. they rush towards mum and starts slobbering on their face "good" i mutter "now she will be captured by the empty capture circle. "return" i say to the puppy, they fly up and back into their capture circle. I pull out an empty capture circle and throw it at my mother. she floats into the empty circle and it starts vibrating wildly as she trys to escape but then it shines for a second telling me she was succsesfully caught. i collapse to the ground, sobbing. i clutch my brothers corpse and close their eyes. carefully, i pick up my brothers body and bring it to the garden. i let out puppy and tell her to use dig. she digs out a nicely sized grave before i tell her to return. i carefully lay his body down and cover him back up. such is the life of a virus catcher. (did you forget that humans are still animals? also mum is correct for me i live in new zealand anyway thank you for reading i hope you liked it)
[WP] A virus causes all animals on Earth to become hostile towards each other. A tech startup mass produces small spheres which can contain the animals, while the government starts a propaganda campaign that encourages young children to “catch them all”.	The ‘Catch them all’ campaign was met with much contention when it was proposed. Really? The government planned to send children out to capture hostile animals. In what world did that make any sense? Despite this contention, the legislation passed, making it legal for children over the age of ten to capture these wild creatures. The government claiming that while all the creatures were indeed hostile, the virus mutation that caused their hostility only appeared to make them hostile to other animals, meaning humans should be perfectly safe around them as long as they keep spare change in their pockets. As strange as it sounded, throwing coins at the creatures was enough to escape most dangerous encounters. The shine mixed with the sound of the coin dropping was enough to draw out the creatures’ hostile instincts, allowing anyone to escape. But how does a child capture a creature? Sure, a kid might catch a duck or puppy, but what child is going to have the abilities to take down a lion or something even more deadly? That’s where the CAS Corporation came in. CAS started researching the virus even before the government had plans to implement their campaign. At first, they considered cages and high amounts of a drug known as E-52. This drug, if administered correctly, could kill the hostile virus in the creature and, as a result, would even make the creature more passive. But this proved a tiresome approach. Capturing animals this way required a lot of effort and time, time that the world didn’t have. This is when Professor Donald Oak invented a new product known as the Animal capturing device. Or ACD for short. The ACD was revolutionary in its design. It was a small ball, no bigger than a baseball, that could be thrown at an animal. No matter the size of the creature, it would swoop them up in a blue hue of light before capturing them. This meant that not only could researchers now safety capture the animals, but the balls could also administer the necessary amounts of E-52 into the animal. When Professor Oak first threw his ACD ball into the crowd of scientists, they shrieked, watching as he freed the once ravenous raccoon inside, only to find the once wild creature had pacified, now climbing up the jacket of the professor, staying close to his side. Now that they had figured out the capture method, they needed to distribute the cure. Even if every scientist on Earth put down their current research to aid in the project, the animals would still outnumber them. They tossed around the idea of volunteer work, only to find that would take far too long. It wasn’t until Professor Oak raised the point that catching the animals was fun, something that children might wish to do. With all the pieces in place, the Catch them all campaign was in full swing. They encouraged children to download an app called anidex. The anidex listing every known animal to humankind, allowing the children to refer to it as a checklist of sorts. With children being awarded points based on the difficulty and rareness of the animal found. When they captured an animal with an ACD ball, it would send a Bluetooth signal to the app, allowing the details of the animal to be recorded. When the ball had administered the cure, the app prompted the children to release the creature, only awarded their points if the creature was safety released to the wild. As the popularity of the app grew, they added more incentives to encourage children to catch the animals. The app adding things like badges. Using them as a way of showing recognition for users that successfully captured and released over a certain number of animals. The top 4 of the badge earners being referred to as the elite 4 and given the option of selecting an in-app avatar to represent them. Soon, money was even being offered as a reward. Based on the difficulty of the capture, children were paid a small amount, rewarded for their efforts. With how cheap it was to produce and sell the ACD balls, most children were making a small fortune spending their days out searching for animals. With each year, the number of infected animals decreased, and the campaign eventually was pulled, much to the sadness of the children who invested time into the project. Seeing the sadness he had unintentionally created, Professor Oak developed a game using the same mechanics the children were using. Calling it Animon, named lovingly after the app they had created. Allowing children to indulge in their hobby once more. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)	"Well what the fuck do you want me to do about it, Delia?!" Samuel shouted, gripping the back of his skull. "Well," she screamed back "Forgetting the fact that you, unasked, created a pocket encyclopedia, you could, at least, not have volunteered our goddamn child to this 'sport.'" "He wants to do it! He told me before I told them!" "He's fucking ten!" Delia screeched. "Two years ago he asked me if he could keep his poop as a pet, because he thought it looked like an Ekans. This is not a decision he should be making. My fucking God!" "Look..." Samuel averted his eyes. "You don't know these guys like I do. I've done a lot of schmoozing to get my grants and they..." He sighed as he shook his head. "Listen, they want him." he continued. "And either he goes, or we all end up at the bottom of Route 19." "Oh my god, you can't be fucking serious..." Delia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright. But you and me are done. I want all of your shit out here. From now on you live in your lab." "Baby, please-" "Shut up," Delia retorted. "I'll send him over in a few days. And I swear to god, you better have something in there to protect him." "Well...I have a Pikachu..."
[WP] You are the last human left in existence after aliens resurrect you from death. Apparently, the aliens found Earth some time ago and are trying to figure out what caused the destruction of all life on the planet. They ask you what you remember about your life before you died.	"I mean, everything's still a little blurry, but I think I was an unemployed community college student living in a van." All things considered, Harper thought she was handling the situation well. She wasn't certain how most people would react to being brought back to life, surrounded by people who weren't human. She had a feeling it would have involved screaming. The Albreti weren't so bad, honestly. Harper had always thought of aliens as short grey dudes with skinny bodies and massive heads. These guys were imposing, sure, but anyone who loomed at, like, seven feet at the shortest would have been intimidating, anyway. They had wedge-shaped heads on thick necks, with a body that was more chest than waist, and arms that ended in three fingered hands. Their legs were bent backwards, like an animals, with muscular thighs and skinny ankles. Their skin was skin, but more supple than a humans, and in a wider array of colors and markings. Most of them had stripes. They did have the big eyes, sure, but they were kind and warm and sort of looked like they were full of starlight, so it wasn't really that jarring. They were kind of charming, in their own way. The one she'd spent the most time with was a dusty-pink guy with a name her vocal chords couldn't make. He'd said it was alright if she just called him Rosy. He was the one questioning her, now, sitting across from her in the medbay. She was resting on a very soft round cot, wrapped in a blanket that was way too thin to be as warm as it was. He was sitting on a stool, taking notes. Her answer made him look up. "'Community college'." He repeated. His voice sounded strange, double-layered, and that she could understand him at all was fascinating. They'd given her a bunch of dust to inhale shortly after her awakening which, they'd later explained, were actually nanobots. Although they hadn't said 'nanobots'. Remy had just inferred. "What is that?" "It's like, uh," Harper scratched her head. "It's like. So, first of all, college is-- was-- this school... thing. You could go to. Like, after your basic schooling was over with. And you could specialize in a certain field." "Ah," Rosy said, and nodded. "Yes, I see. And 'community'... this was the one available to the general populace?" "Sort of? I mean, yeah. Basically." She said. "Interesting," he murmured, and made another note. He had a holographic screen balanced in the palm of one hand. "And a 'van' is...?" "A vehicle. Big, boxy, lots of space in the back." "Oh!" His eyes brightened. "Yes. That would be what we recovered your body from, then." "Ah, sweet Bertha." "Bertha?" "My van." "Ah," Rosy said. "Well, I am afraid to tell you that your 'Bertha' was in... poor condition." He paused. "It would be better to say that she was crushed, in fact, beneath something very large, although there was a pocket just large enough for your remains to fit." Harper, who still found the idea that she'd been dead a little jarring, felt a little queasy. "Oh, yeah?" "Yes. Very interesting. We suspect that this 'van' shielded you from the worst of your planet's surface destruction. It also provided a relatively safe place for your corpse to mummify." "You don't say," she murmured, rubbing her stomach. Rosy blinked. "I do say," he answered, as if he needed to clarify. "I just did." "No, it's-- never mind." Harper rubbed her forehead. "Any other questions?" "Yes, just one," he said. "But it is... a large one." "Welp," Harper said, popping the 'p'. "Go for it, I guess. Not like I have anything better to do." Rosy nodded. "Very well. What do you remember about the final days of your planet?" Harper stared at him. She supposed that it made sense that he would ask. She was given to understand that the entire purpose of their experiment was to find answers about the end of humans as a species. She pulled her knees to her chest. "Look, dude, I don't... it's all still kind of blurry, like I said." She leaned back on her hands. "I think... I think the sky got really weird?" "In what way?" "It was orange. Like, all the time. Normally, it was blue, or grey, or-- well, sometimes it was orange anyway, but never all the time. I just remember it being so... bright." She squinted. "It was like everything was on fire, except it wasn't." "I see." "They cancelled classes. I remember that. I was spending a lot of time in my van, reading news stories on my phone. Everyone was wondering what was going on with the sky, but it didn't seem like anyone had any concrete answers." "No one?" Rosy asked. "Not even your researchers? Scientists?" "I mean, they were working on finding out what was happening," she shrugged. "Dunno how far they got. All I know is, one day, I woke up and the sun was gone." "'Sun'," he repeated. "The, uh, central star. The one in the middle of our solar system," she said. "We were third planet from it, so we were just close enough to get the benefits-- light, warmth, so on-- and far enough that it didn't burn us to pieces. It was... kind of important." "Interesting," he murmured. He scrolled through a few pages on his screen. "We have no record of a life-sustaining star in this system." "Well, it was there. Saw it every day, don't know what to tell you." Harper said. "And it was kind of the source of all life on earth, so, you can see how it just up and disappearing would be an issue." "Yes, that would be... inconvenient." "Yeah. I mean," she sat up a little, "it didn't kill everything right away. It got dark, you know, and then it got... it got really, really cold." God, she could still feel it, little claws grasping at the edge of her mind. She wrapped her arms around herself, squeezed a little. "I think that's how I died," she said. "I was in my van, wearing all of my clothes, and I just... I was so cold. And then I was... warm? And then..." Darkness. Just darkness, and silence, until she woke up in a smooth pit of white, surrounded by aliens. Rosy was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Preliminary examinations suggest that humans were not adapted to survive in extreme cold without assistance." Harper laughed weakly. "You can say that again. God," she ran a hand back through her hair. It was shorter than she remembered it being. "You know the worst thing?" He shook his head. "The worst thing is, we were eight minutes behind for all of it." She snorted. "I looked it up in those last days. It took eight minutes for the light from the sun to hit the planet. Eight minutes. When that sucker left, and our world ended, we didn't even know about it until eight minutes later." "I see," he murmured. She didn't think he did, not really, but it made her feel a little better that he was sympathetic. ' After a moment, she asked, "So, what now? Do I get carted off by your government and used in invasive experiments? Are you gonna put me in a zoo and try to, like. Clone me?" She grimaced. "Or breed me?" "Oh. No." Rosy stared at her. "Of course not. You're a sapient being with rights. We would never do that. Also," he lifted a hand and scratched at the back of his neck, "you are technically not required to stay with us for any length of time, although we would appreciate it if you remained with our group until we receive our final grade." Harper froze. "...grade," she repeated. "You're getting graded on this?" "Well, yes," he said. "It is quite common to be graded on research experiments by one's learned professors." She met his gaze and held it. "You're..." She started, and then had to stop and take a breath. "You're students?" He lifted his head. "Technically, we are advanced near-graduates," he said. "But 'student' is not far from the proper definition." Harper let out a wheezing breath. She sucked in, and then giggled. Her giggle turned into uncontrollable laughter. Rosy was perplexed and concerned. He stood, screen disappearing, and hovered nearby, hands outstretched. "What is wrong?" He asked. "Are you alright? Should I summon the physician?" "No, no, I'm just-- haha, oh my god-- I'm just laughing, because I," Harper wheezed, her face red. "Because I was dragged off of my dead planet in my crushed van and brought back to life by a bunch of graduate students doing a senior project!" She lost herself to laughter again. Rosy, now assured that she wasn't experiencing some strange human fit, put his hands down and waited. When her laughter finally subsided, Harper pushed herself up. She wiped her eyes on the backs of her hands. "God, sorry, just. That's hilarious. I wish I could explain why." Rosy tilted his head. "It is possible I would not understand if you did." "No, probably not," she agreed. "You probably just had to be there to get it." They sat together in silence for several long moments. Then Harper said, "Actually, I take back the 'eight minutes' thing." "Yes?" "Yeah. Actually, the whole worst part about all of this is that I really miss my cat." Rosy blinked. "'Cat'?" She nodded. "Mm. Feline. Small, furry little predator that humans kept as pets. Mine was a calico boy named Cheddar. It was rare for calicos to be boys." "Oh," he said, and pulled up his screen to check something. "That explains something." "Does it?" "Yes. When we recovered your remains, we also found the remnants of a small creature beside you. We obtained enough workable material that we could revive it, as we did with you, but we were not certain if..." Harper shot up from the bed. "You're telling me you can bring my fucking cat back to life?" "Um," Rosy said. "Yes?" She threw her arms into the air. "Well what are we doing sitting around here, then?! Come on, dude, let's go!" She walked out of the medbay into the hall. Rosy followed her. "Where are we going?" He asked. "Where else? Back to that weird revival pod!" She pointed forward, smiling wide enough to show her teeth. "I want my cat back!"	Your first thought is panic. Are they still on you? Have they found some way to control you? Have they infiltrated you somehow? What are you seeing? More accurately, has IT found some way to control you? A calm, robotic voice breaks into your thoughts. "Please do not be alarmed organism, you are in friendly company. We would simply like to ask you a few questions." You finally breathe and take in your surroundings. You are floating in what looks to be air but must be some type of supercharged fluid. You look down at yourself. young and muscular. Strange. you do see one other thing. Your fusion cored watch is still alive. It seems to have been attached to your skin. Perhaps whoever did this didn't understand human anatomy. "Mar. 3rd. 2852. 10:30:11" Still telling time down to the second, apparently. You feel strangely calm. perhaps they gave you something. &#x200B; You're again jerked from your thoughts by the voice "Please remember your homeworld." You have no choice but to comply, and as you do you experience flashes of memory stronger than you thought possible. The sound of a soft electric buzz is heard. War. Famine. Security. All part of your history, as ancient as time. Scenes flash through your mind faster than you thought possible. Your wife, children, and house in the Community. The cave, its walls stretching to be all you knew. The stainless steel doors that had 3 layers at the only entrance and exit. No one to enter. No one to leave. The virus. BIOS. It was more than a virus, wasn't it? You are snapped away from your thoughts just as quickly. "Death." is all the robotic voice says this time. You remember now. the plague got in because some prankster thought it would be a good idea to cut through the first door with a homemade GalSaw. Little did they know, IT was already through the first two doors despite their resistance, and was working on the 3rd. Despite all the precautions. Zombies. Hiveminds. The dead. "Thank you for your time." your vision goes black.
[WP] There has been a murder at a dinner party. It's a good thing you're a necromancer so you can speed along the investigation and ask the victim what happened.	"for fucks sake Pete!" I cried "I know I've been one to exaggerate before but this isn't something you test" "What?" Pete exclaimed, equally exasperated and still holding the broken bottle in his hand as the corpse lay at his feet "I don't see what the issue is, you say you're a necromancer! You will have her back on her feet in no time! Anyway, she said she wanted a lie-down!" We both stood there, looking down at the corpse. The party was in full swing now, by the sound of the ruckus around us, this wasn't the first broken glass of the evening or even the first person passed on the floor. A lot of things went on at these parties, but we both knew the rapidly increasing pool of blood was going to garner some attention shortly. "Well, what are you waiting for, get going" Pete exclaimed, finally having the decency to dispose of the murder weapon behind a cushion. "It's not that easy, you do know what necromancy is, don't you?" I retorted. "Of course, you bring back dead people" Pete responded, adding, "no, it's not blood, she spilled her wine as she fell, someone's looking for a towel don't worry." to a concerned passer-by. "Not exactly, it's the magic of raising the dead. I can reanimate her corpse, but she'll still be dead." only pausing to add, "and there can be complications!" "Like what?" Pete asked, now looking worried... "Zombies," I said bluntly. "Fuck off, I know you're taking the piss! Come on, get her back on her feet before we have to explain ourselves!" Pete exclaimed "I'm serious, those horror stories of corpses coming back to life and wanting to eat brains. They all come from reanimation spells gone wrong!" I paused "what do you mean, explain ourselves? You clocked her with a wine bottle, I've done nothing wrong here. You don't have to be Sherlock to work out who the murderer is here, but if you insist, we can ask her when she's back on her feet." "Come on! It'll be fine! People are starting to look, get going!" Pete whispered, becoming aware of his surroundings. "Fine," I said, striking the necromancer's pose as I did so. Sure, I could have done it standing still, but there is such a thing as showmanship. Starting to chant, "hmmnummnummnuim!" while waving my arms around, causing a small group of people to turn and watch both Pete and me staring at the yet-to-move body between us. "How long is this supposed to take?" whispered Pete, now visibly nervous. "Something's not right," I replied, "they're usually up and about by now, I don't think she's dead!" "What should we do?" Pete exclaimed, almost as white as the not quite dead body. "Call an ambulance?" I asked "What, no! You still need to prove you're a necromancer, and we'll have to explain what happened to the police" a look of resolution on his face as he spoke, moving back towards the cushion to retrieve the original weapon. "I'll finish it here and now, so we know." One of the onlookers held out his hand, stopping Pete on the way back towards the body "what the fuck is going on here! What are you going to do with that?!" He shouted, pushing Pete away from the body, "you killed her!" "Well, not quite, but you don't understand. It's not what it looks like, he's a necromancer!" Pete replied, having the decency to look abashed. The man stood there looking at Pete. Slowly, he turned to me and said, "You're not worried about a zombie situation?" "A little, but this isn't my idea. Can someone call an ambulance just in case Pete fails to kill her again? Having two chances to kill someone is more than generous!" looking at the shocked faces, I added, "If I can get her back on her feet, I will, but if it doesn't fall within my expertise, we're going to need a medic!" Pete pushes around the man, broken bottle in hand, and gets ready for his second attempt. Meanwhile, the man pulls out his phone "hello, emergency services, I need an ambulance." quickly covering the mic, "how worried are we about zombies?!" - "A little," I responded. The man nodded, uncovering the mic again, "Make sure they turn up with a stake! no! the wooden kind!". "That's vampires!" someone at the back of the now rapidly growing crowd shouted. "Sorry, sorry, forget that we'll need a bulb of garlic instead!" he stammered. "That's still vampires!" came the voice at the back again. "Look, I assure you, we've already eaten. I'm not trying to get you to bring us food. Just send an ambulance as quickly as you can!" the man signed, hanging up. Just then, I sensed a twinge. Looking down at the body and the now very bloodied Pete, I say, "she's dead! We need to wrap this up!" As Pete backed away, I struck the necromancer's pose, albeit more half-heartedly this time, and began humming "hmmnummnummnuim" as the crowd watched on in deathly silence. For a while, nothing happened, and then a twitch of a limb. Slowly, the corpse started to pull itself to its feet as the crowd cheered. As the corpse straightened up, the silence returned. Finally, its head lifted, and its empty eyes began surveying the room. "Fine, I'll accept you're a necromancer. Better call off the ambulance!" Pete said, relieved. "Wait, we should check who did this to her. I need my conscience cleared!" turning to the corpse before me, I ask, "What got us in this mess?" On hearing this, the corpse turned to look at Pete, fixing him with a cold unfocused stare, its mouth starting to move but no sound, until finally with its last breath leaving the body "brains..." "Fuck"	Cassidy works as a loan manager for Loan America, a small private equity bank. It's been a hard week; she's spent hours upon hours responding to the demands of millionaires Aubrey and Mark Preston, who are involved in a massive real estate project. She's had to put up with their endless, boring stories about real estate problems; she's even had to take Mrs. Preston's shitzu to the dog groomer. Banks from all around the world are lining up to lend the billion dollars required to develop their new high-rise condominiums. Her boss, Richard Seymour, is off to a dinner party tonight to finalize the transaction as Loan America, however unlikely, is a finalist to receive the loan.It's 4:30 p.m. on Friday when the phone rings. "Richard would like to see you before you leave for the day," the secretary says.Cassidy smiles as she walks to her boss's office, seeing all of her coworkers leaving for the weekend, she begins thinking about her comfortable bed, streaming the latest episode of her favorite crime drama, "The Neighbor Did It," and sleeping until Sunday. As soon as she walks in, she notices Richard is sweating, appears to be about to vomit, and has a steam machine running on his desk. "Cassidy; I need you to go to that dinner party tonight; I've come down with a bug," Richard says."Me? The Prestons despise me; your charisma is the sole reason we're even in the running for this loan!" Cassidy says. "You've got this, between you and me, if the deal goes through as is, we're a shoo-in to win the loan. They know you, hold their hand until the end of the transaction," Richard says. "They only know me because they think I'm their dog groomer!" Cassidy says. "I can't do it; I'm just going home to watch tonight's episode of my favorite show, "The Neighbor Did It. I adore it; there's always a surprise in the end. In the previous episode, the neighbor did it, I didn't see that coming," Richard says. "OK, I'll do it," Cassidy says. "I'm confident you'll close this business. If you do, you might find a promotion on your desk on Monday morning," Richard says. As Cassidy pulls up to the humongous mansion, she gets into the car line behind a Mercedes and a BMW; her Ford Taurus stands out like a dog turd on a finely manicured lawn.She makes her way to the front of the queue and passes the keys to the valet. The Taurus buckles and turns off as the valet looks on in disbelief. Cassidy has a saddened expression on her face as she looks at her old junk car."I'm really sorry," Cassidy apologizes to the valet as two other valets start pushing the car out of the way. When the Prestons learn Cassidy is here instead of the charming Richard, their phony grins and arrogant glances morph into frowns and bad posture. There's even a last-minute seat change when she's relocated from right next to the Prestons to the end of the table with the guests who are only here because they're family and couldn't leave. Cassidy sits next to Albert Preston, the black sheep brother on her right, and the Preston's neighbor, who is only there because she threatened to file a noise complaint if she wasn't invited. "I guess we've been relegated to the dinner party's outcast section," Albert says."That appears to be the case; unfortunately for me, if I want a promotion on Monday, I need to complete the deal with the Prestons. The only reason I'm here is because my boss is sick," Cassidy says."Not me, I'm here for the delicious rolls," the neighbor sitting next to Cassidy says as she begins to stuff bread into her purse. To begin the dinner party, Aubrey Preston clinks her class three times."I want to thank everyone for coming tonight; this meal will mark the beginning of the Prestons' second stage of greatness. The three banks we're considering for this billion-dollar loan are all here tonight, including Trust Bank CEO Rosemary Wilkins," Audrey Preston says, motioning to Rosemary, who grins and nods. "Then there's Zoltan Hensley, CEO of Vision Bank, who came here from California," Aubrey Preston continues, motioning with her hand."Unfortunately, Loan America's Richard Seymour couldn't be here tonight, but they sent some kind of bank teller in his place; what was your name again?" Aubrey Preston asks."My name is Cassidy, and I'm the loan manager for Loan America," Cassidy says from across the table in a muted tone that no one can hear."All right then, Felicity, The Lone Ranger or whatever she said, welcome all, let the dinner begin," Aubrey Preston says as she holds her wine glass to the sky. The lights abruptly go out and then back on. Once the lights have turned on, Albert Preston is stabbed in the back with a kitchen knife and is dead on the table. The neighbor next to Cassidy screams, and the cops arrive quickly. When they arrive, they request that none of the guests leave since everyone must be questioned before they are allowed to go. Cassidy is in the bathroom, exhausted, hungry, and disheartened that now that Mark Preston's brother has been murdered, she will never have the opportunity to seal the deal and obtain her promotion. Cassidy looks into the mirror and begins to press the bags beneath her eyes. She is startled to hear a voice."Hey, can you hear what I'm saying?" Albert's voice asks.Cassidy is stunned; she just saw his lifeless body on the table and now she hears his voice in her thoughts."Do you hear what I'm saying?" Albert asks."Oh my God, this is what happens when you only get three hours of sleep a night, Cassidy, you start hearing dead people's voices," she says to herself."No, this isn't a dream," Albert says."Who was it that did this to you?" Cassidy inquires in the mirror."I have no idea, but I've been opposed to this high-rise condo from the beginning. My brother intends to demolish low-income homes to make way for this insane condo," Albert says. "Do you believe one of the other bank CEOs murdered you because they were scared you might jeopardize their deal?" Cassidy asks."That may be, Rosemary Wilkins and I slept together, and I never called her after," Albert says.Cassidy sighs and rolls her eyes."I may have led her to believe that I had more control over loan selection than I actually was," Albert admits. Cassidy emerges from the bathroom, notices Rosemary on her phone, and walks over to strike up a conversation."Isn't this insane?" Cassidy asks."Yeah, and he was sitting right next to you, I would be totally freaking out," Rosemary says."Did you know who he was?" Cassidy asks."I saw him around, but we barely exchanged a few words," Rosemary says."Lie! " Cassidy winces when Albert screams in her ear."Oh, I had heard differently," Cassidy says."It's true, we had a relationship, and I fell deeply for him, but he rejected me," Rosemary adds, breaking down.Cassidy slowly backs away as Rosemary begins to ugly cry and wail loudly. She returns to the bathroom."Do you have any other suggestions, casanova?" Cassidy asks in the mirror."It had to be the other CEO, Zolton; we got into a shouting match because I wanted to add low-income units on the first 20 floors of the 25-story condo," Albert says.Cassidy returns to the party and notices Zolton conversing with other guests. She tries to join in quietly but laughs awkwardly, calling attention to herself."Can we help you?" Zolton asks."Oh, don't mind me; I was just wondering if any of you disliked the deceased?" Cassidy asks hesitantly.Zolton is overcome with emotion."Quite the contrary, Albert was a principled man, sometimes unnecessarily so, but I had a lot of respect for him. He cared; he was the only one looking out for the little guy in this deal. We could all benefit from being a little more like Albert," Zolton remarks, before recognizing Cassidy."Don't I recognize you from somewhere? Didn't you have dog crap on you the last time I saw you?" Zolton asks.Cassidy sheepishly withdraws from the conversation and returns to the bathroom. "Well, we've run out of CEOs; who else could benefit from this loan?" Cassidy asks."Aubrey, my brother's wife," Albert explains, "was the reason he was going forward with the deal despite my objections." "The police are questioning my end of the table, so this might be our last chance, are you sure?" Cassidy asks."I'm certain she's the one," Albert says.Cassidy walks up to Aubrey, who is sitting alone on a chair, staring out the window."Hello, Mrs. Preston," Cassidy says."Oh, hello," Aubrey says."I've heard you and Albert had a disagreement regarding the condo project," Cassidy inquires."Yes, but what are you implying?" Aubrey asks."I'm just going to ask because I'm tired and it's been a long week; did you have Albert murdered?" Cassidy asks."I am outraged by your question; if I wanted Albert dead, why would we surprise him with his 20-story low-income housing concept?" Aubrey says as she holds up a bottle of champagne with a note that says, "thanks for being the level-headed one, love Aubrey and Mark Preston.""We were wrong!" Albert says as the police come out searching for their next person to question. "We're looking for a Mrs. Seymour, the neighbor; has anyone seen Mrs. Seymour?" says the cop."Seymour?" Cassidy says to herself.Cassidy begins to piece everything together; her boss, Richard Seymour's mother, lives next door to the Prestons. It was the reason why a small bank like Loan America was being considered for such a large loan. She murdered Albert so that her son could collect his large payday and retire. Cassidy reports her boss and his mother to the police, and they are both arrested next door binge-watching, "The Neighbor Did It." It cost her the promotion, and all of her hard work was for naught. However, Cassidy helped everyone say goodbye to a man they all loved before Albert faded away. Cassidy impressed the Prestons so much that she was hired as the property manager for the low-income apartments.
[WP] There has been a murder at a dinner party. It's a good thing you're a necromancer so you can speed along the investigation and ask the victim what happened.	You chant your spell as the departed slowly rises. Between two groans, a barely audible "y..you" can be heard by all the guests. Nervous, you keep going; surely there is more to what the decreased has to say. Finally, a loud gasp fills the silent, anticipating room, and your newly reanimated servant stand strongly on her own two feet. "You are such an asshole!" she shouts, with exasperation in her eyes. "Were you just gonna leave me there? Thank God this other guy found me!" "No, I would never! I just got called over, and had to run for a minute, but I promise I was on my way back!" The guests were all standing there, starring blankly at both of you, wondering what you could possibly be arguing about. There was an obvious aura of suspicion in the room, mixed with confusion. Suddenly, from the back of the crowd, a man spoke up: "Surely you wouldn't have reanimated your own victim, necromancer... Could one of you please explain what is going on?" The girl rolled her eyes. "This guy told me he would give me two hundred bucks if I let him practice his necromancing on me. Said something about 'ethical reanimation' and only performing spells on willing victims. I thought the idea of catching a glimpse of the other side enticing, until my soul started hovering away and from above I could see our friend here just walking away from my lifeless body." Again, the guests just stood there, blank, mouths agape. "Well what, did your all think you had stepped into an Agatha Christie novel? I'm sorry, but I don't see figurines on the table, so now that it's settled, can we please just get back to our dinner?" you say, your face hot with nervous anticipation. Because of the sheer ridiculous nature of the event, and because the matter was, in fact, resolved, everyone went back to their earlier activities: at first with much discomfort and sideways glances, then gradually more confidently and naturally. By the end of the night, everyone was well fed and well drunk, and the incident was brushed aside. On your way out, you feel a hand grasp your shoulder. Her cold breath sends shivers down your spine as she whispers in your ear: "You're tripling that two hundred or I'm telling them what really happened."	Cassidy works as a loan manager for Loan America, a small private equity bank. It's been a hard week; she's spent hours upon hours responding to the demands of millionaires Aubrey and Mark Preston, who are involved in a massive real estate project. She's had to put up with their endless, boring stories about real estate problems; she's even had to take Mrs. Preston's shitzu to the dog groomer. Banks from all around the world are lining up to lend the billion dollars required to develop their new high-rise condominiums. Her boss, Richard Seymour, is off to a dinner party tonight to finalize the transaction as Loan America, however unlikely, is a finalist to receive the loan.It's 4:30 p.m. on Friday when the phone rings. "Richard would like to see you before you leave for the day," the secretary says.Cassidy smiles as she walks to her boss's office, seeing all of her coworkers leaving for the weekend, she begins thinking about her comfortable bed, streaming the latest episode of her favorite crime drama, "The Neighbor Did It," and sleeping until Sunday. As soon as she walks in, she notices Richard is sweating, appears to be about to vomit, and has a steam machine running on his desk. "Cassidy; I need you to go to that dinner party tonight; I've come down with a bug," Richard says."Me? The Prestons despise me; your charisma is the sole reason we're even in the running for this loan!" Cassidy says. "You've got this, between you and me, if the deal goes through as is, we're a shoo-in to win the loan. They know you, hold their hand until the end of the transaction," Richard says. "They only know me because they think I'm their dog groomer!" Cassidy says. "I can't do it; I'm just going home to watch tonight's episode of my favorite show, "The Neighbor Did It. I adore it; there's always a surprise in the end. In the previous episode, the neighbor did it, I didn't see that coming," Richard says. "OK, I'll do it," Cassidy says. "I'm confident you'll close this business. If you do, you might find a promotion on your desk on Monday morning," Richard says. As Cassidy pulls up to the humongous mansion, she gets into the car line behind a Mercedes and a BMW; her Ford Taurus stands out like a dog turd on a finely manicured lawn.She makes her way to the front of the queue and passes the keys to the valet. The Taurus buckles and turns off as the valet looks on in disbelief. Cassidy has a saddened expression on her face as she looks at her old junk car."I'm really sorry," Cassidy apologizes to the valet as two other valets start pushing the car out of the way. When the Prestons learn Cassidy is here instead of the charming Richard, their phony grins and arrogant glances morph into frowns and bad posture. There's even a last-minute seat change when she's relocated from right next to the Prestons to the end of the table with the guests who are only here because they're family and couldn't leave. Cassidy sits next to Albert Preston, the black sheep brother on her right, and the Preston's neighbor, who is only there because she threatened to file a noise complaint if she wasn't invited. "I guess we've been relegated to the dinner party's outcast section," Albert says."That appears to be the case; unfortunately for me, if I want a promotion on Monday, I need to complete the deal with the Prestons. The only reason I'm here is because my boss is sick," Cassidy says."Not me, I'm here for the delicious rolls," the neighbor sitting next to Cassidy says as she begins to stuff bread into her purse. To begin the dinner party, Aubrey Preston clinks her class three times."I want to thank everyone for coming tonight; this meal will mark the beginning of the Prestons' second stage of greatness. The three banks we're considering for this billion-dollar loan are all here tonight, including Trust Bank CEO Rosemary Wilkins," Audrey Preston says, motioning to Rosemary, who grins and nods. "Then there's Zoltan Hensley, CEO of Vision Bank, who came here from California," Aubrey Preston continues, motioning with her hand."Unfortunately, Loan America's Richard Seymour couldn't be here tonight, but they sent some kind of bank teller in his place; what was your name again?" Aubrey Preston asks."My name is Cassidy, and I'm the loan manager for Loan America," Cassidy says from across the table in a muted tone that no one can hear."All right then, Felicity, The Lone Ranger or whatever she said, welcome all, let the dinner begin," Aubrey Preston says as she holds her wine glass to the sky. The lights abruptly go out and then back on. Once the lights have turned on, Albert Preston is stabbed in the back with a kitchen knife and is dead on the table. The neighbor next to Cassidy screams, and the cops arrive quickly. When they arrive, they request that none of the guests leave since everyone must be questioned before they are allowed to go. Cassidy is in the bathroom, exhausted, hungry, and disheartened that now that Mark Preston's brother has been murdered, she will never have the opportunity to seal the deal and obtain her promotion. Cassidy looks into the mirror and begins to press the bags beneath her eyes. She is startled to hear a voice."Hey, can you hear what I'm saying?" Albert's voice asks.Cassidy is stunned; she just saw his lifeless body on the table and now she hears his voice in her thoughts."Do you hear what I'm saying?" Albert asks."Oh my God, this is what happens when you only get three hours of sleep a night, Cassidy, you start hearing dead people's voices," she says to herself."No, this isn't a dream," Albert says."Who was it that did this to you?" Cassidy inquires in the mirror."I have no idea, but I've been opposed to this high-rise condo from the beginning. My brother intends to demolish low-income homes to make way for this insane condo," Albert says. "Do you believe one of the other bank CEOs murdered you because they were scared you might jeopardize their deal?" Cassidy asks."That may be, Rosemary Wilkins and I slept together, and I never called her after," Albert says.Cassidy sighs and rolls her eyes."I may have led her to believe that I had more control over loan selection than I actually was," Albert admits. Cassidy emerges from the bathroom, notices Rosemary on her phone, and walks over to strike up a conversation."Isn't this insane?" Cassidy asks."Yeah, and he was sitting right next to you, I would be totally freaking out," Rosemary says."Did you know who he was?" Cassidy asks."I saw him around, but we barely exchanged a few words," Rosemary says."Lie! " Cassidy winces when Albert screams in her ear."Oh, I had heard differently," Cassidy says."It's true, we had a relationship, and I fell deeply for him, but he rejected me," Rosemary adds, breaking down.Cassidy slowly backs away as Rosemary begins to ugly cry and wail loudly. She returns to the bathroom."Do you have any other suggestions, casanova?" Cassidy asks in the mirror."It had to be the other CEO, Zolton; we got into a shouting match because I wanted to add low-income units on the first 20 floors of the 25-story condo," Albert says.Cassidy returns to the party and notices Zolton conversing with other guests. She tries to join in quietly but laughs awkwardly, calling attention to herself."Can we help you?" Zolton asks."Oh, don't mind me; I was just wondering if any of you disliked the deceased?" Cassidy asks hesitantly.Zolton is overcome with emotion."Quite the contrary, Albert was a principled man, sometimes unnecessarily so, but I had a lot of respect for him. He cared; he was the only one looking out for the little guy in this deal. We could all benefit from being a little more like Albert," Zolton remarks, before recognizing Cassidy."Don't I recognize you from somewhere? Didn't you have dog crap on you the last time I saw you?" Zolton asks.Cassidy sheepishly withdraws from the conversation and returns to the bathroom. "Well, we've run out of CEOs; who else could benefit from this loan?" Cassidy asks."Aubrey, my brother's wife," Albert explains, "was the reason he was going forward with the deal despite my objections." "The police are questioning my end of the table, so this might be our last chance, are you sure?" Cassidy asks."I'm certain she's the one," Albert says.Cassidy walks up to Aubrey, who is sitting alone on a chair, staring out the window."Hello, Mrs. Preston," Cassidy says."Oh, hello," Aubrey says."I've heard you and Albert had a disagreement regarding the condo project," Cassidy inquires."Yes, but what are you implying?" Aubrey asks."I'm just going to ask because I'm tired and it's been a long week; did you have Albert murdered?" Cassidy asks."I am outraged by your question; if I wanted Albert dead, why would we surprise him with his 20-story low-income housing concept?" Aubrey says as she holds up a bottle of champagne with a note that says, "thanks for being the level-headed one, love Aubrey and Mark Preston.""We were wrong!" Albert says as the police come out searching for their next person to question. "We're looking for a Mrs. Seymour, the neighbor; has anyone seen Mrs. Seymour?" says the cop."Seymour?" Cassidy says to herself.Cassidy begins to piece everything together; her boss, Richard Seymour's mother, lives next door to the Prestons. It was the reason why a small bank like Loan America was being considered for such a large loan. She murdered Albert so that her son could collect his large payday and retire. Cassidy reports her boss and his mother to the police, and they are both arrested next door binge-watching, "The Neighbor Did It." It cost her the promotion, and all of her hard work was for naught. However, Cassidy helped everyone say goodbye to a man they all loved before Albert faded away. Cassidy impressed the Prestons so much that she was hired as the property manager for the low-income apartments.
[WP] There has been a murder at a dinner party. It's a good thing you're a necromancer so you can speed along the investigation and ask the victim what happened.	A shrill scream pierced the quiet evening causing the murmur of conversation to end abruptly. Guests filed out of the dining room and down the hall into the grand library this mansion housed. Tracy stood over a dead body - her husband, a knife buried in his chest and blood in a wide pool around his body. He was clearly past expiry and wouldn't be rejoining the realm of the living. &#x200B; Tracy stammered "I... I just found him here like this! Why?! Who would do such a thing?! Oh Mark..." She buried her face in her hands and began to sob before falling to her knees. If you had asked me I would say it seemed a little bit dramatic; however, I tended to be rather emotionally blank when it came to the whole death thing. One guest stepped forward and declared himself a detective of some repute as he puffed his chest out. A large mustache adorned his face which flapped violently as he began loudly analyzing the situation. I let him carry on about the positioning of the body and approximate time of death as I swirled my wine and inhaled the bouquet, it was simply divine. &#x200B; Gasps filled the library as the "detective" pointed an accusatory finger at me, I nearly choked on my wine. Every eye in the room was on me now, waiting for my response. I cleared my throat, "That... is impossible. I did not do this, and I can prove it." The detective began to hurl more accusations that no doubt would have been a long tirade of circumstantial "proof" regarding my guilt. He was silenced altogether by my actions as I strode confidently toward the corpse. I didn't like to showcase my particular affinity for the magicks as some found it unsavory, and I had a reputation to uphold after all, but I wagered murder accusations would weight my reputation down more. &#x200B; I knelt in the pool of blood (ruining a very expensive suit I might add) as I drew a few cursory runes on the forehead of the deceased in the mans own blood. More gasps of shock and one haughty lady fainting later the corpse sat bolt upright and twisted stiff tendons and muscles to stare at me blankly. I went for the dramatic and opted to use all of my three questions allowed by the spell, saving the meat for last. "How did you die?" &#x200B; A dry throat rasped in what some may call an unnerving way, "I was stabbed in the chest, and left to bleed out." The eyes remained locked to my own in the way that only magicks could allow. I pondered a moment before asking my second question, "Is the murdered in this room?" Unblinking and transfixed the corpse was compelled to my will, "Yesssss....." I nodded in agreement and went in for the finale, "Who murdered you?" You could hear a pin drop as the poor souls neck creaked, shifting his gaze to the now silent Tracy and fixing those cold dead eyes on her. "Tracy, my wife, my love." With that the man let out a death rattle for the second and final time before slumping back into the pool of his own life force. &#x200B; I looked sternly at the pale faced detective, "You owe me a suit." I chuckled internally.	Cassidy works as a loan manager for Loan America, a small private equity bank. It's been a hard week; she's spent hours upon hours responding to the demands of millionaires Aubrey and Mark Preston, who are involved in a massive real estate project. She's had to put up with their endless, boring stories about real estate problems; she's even had to take Mrs. Preston's shitzu to the dog groomer. Banks from all around the world are lining up to lend the billion dollars required to develop their new high-rise condominiums. Her boss, Richard Seymour, is off to a dinner party tonight to finalize the transaction as Loan America, however unlikely, is a finalist to receive the loan.It's 4:30 p.m. on Friday when the phone rings. "Richard would like to see you before you leave for the day," the secretary says.Cassidy smiles as she walks to her boss's office, seeing all of her coworkers leaving for the weekend, she begins thinking about her comfortable bed, streaming the latest episode of her favorite crime drama, "The Neighbor Did It," and sleeping until Sunday. As soon as she walks in, she notices Richard is sweating, appears to be about to vomit, and has a steam machine running on his desk. "Cassidy; I need you to go to that dinner party tonight; I've come down with a bug," Richard says."Me? The Prestons despise me; your charisma is the sole reason we're even in the running for this loan!" Cassidy says. "You've got this, between you and me, if the deal goes through as is, we're a shoo-in to win the loan. They know you, hold their hand until the end of the transaction," Richard says. "They only know me because they think I'm their dog groomer!" Cassidy says. "I can't do it; I'm just going home to watch tonight's episode of my favorite show, "The Neighbor Did It. I adore it; there's always a surprise in the end. In the previous episode, the neighbor did it, I didn't see that coming," Richard says. "OK, I'll do it," Cassidy says. "I'm confident you'll close this business. If you do, you might find a promotion on your desk on Monday morning," Richard says. As Cassidy pulls up to the humongous mansion, she gets into the car line behind a Mercedes and a BMW; her Ford Taurus stands out like a dog turd on a finely manicured lawn.She makes her way to the front of the queue and passes the keys to the valet. The Taurus buckles and turns off as the valet looks on in disbelief. Cassidy has a saddened expression on her face as she looks at her old junk car."I'm really sorry," Cassidy apologizes to the valet as two other valets start pushing the car out of the way. When the Prestons learn Cassidy is here instead of the charming Richard, their phony grins and arrogant glances morph into frowns and bad posture. There's even a last-minute seat change when she's relocated from right next to the Prestons to the end of the table with the guests who are only here because they're family and couldn't leave. Cassidy sits next to Albert Preston, the black sheep brother on her right, and the Preston's neighbor, who is only there because she threatened to file a noise complaint if she wasn't invited. "I guess we've been relegated to the dinner party's outcast section," Albert says."That appears to be the case; unfortunately for me, if I want a promotion on Monday, I need to complete the deal with the Prestons. The only reason I'm here is because my boss is sick," Cassidy says."Not me, I'm here for the delicious rolls," the neighbor sitting next to Cassidy says as she begins to stuff bread into her purse. To begin the dinner party, Aubrey Preston clinks her class three times."I want to thank everyone for coming tonight; this meal will mark the beginning of the Prestons' second stage of greatness. The three banks we're considering for this billion-dollar loan are all here tonight, including Trust Bank CEO Rosemary Wilkins," Audrey Preston says, motioning to Rosemary, who grins and nods. "Then there's Zoltan Hensley, CEO of Vision Bank, who came here from California," Aubrey Preston continues, motioning with her hand."Unfortunately, Loan America's Richard Seymour couldn't be here tonight, but they sent some kind of bank teller in his place; what was your name again?" Aubrey Preston asks."My name is Cassidy, and I'm the loan manager for Loan America," Cassidy says from across the table in a muted tone that no one can hear."All right then, Felicity, The Lone Ranger or whatever she said, welcome all, let the dinner begin," Aubrey Preston says as she holds her wine glass to the sky. The lights abruptly go out and then back on. Once the lights have turned on, Albert Preston is stabbed in the back with a kitchen knife and is dead on the table. The neighbor next to Cassidy screams, and the cops arrive quickly. When they arrive, they request that none of the guests leave since everyone must be questioned before they are allowed to go. Cassidy is in the bathroom, exhausted, hungry, and disheartened that now that Mark Preston's brother has been murdered, she will never have the opportunity to seal the deal and obtain her promotion. Cassidy looks into the mirror and begins to press the bags beneath her eyes. She is startled to hear a voice."Hey, can you hear what I'm saying?" Albert's voice asks.Cassidy is stunned; she just saw his lifeless body on the table and now she hears his voice in her thoughts."Do you hear what I'm saying?" Albert asks."Oh my God, this is what happens when you only get three hours of sleep a night, Cassidy, you start hearing dead people's voices," she says to herself."No, this isn't a dream," Albert says."Who was it that did this to you?" Cassidy inquires in the mirror."I have no idea, but I've been opposed to this high-rise condo from the beginning. My brother intends to demolish low-income homes to make way for this insane condo," Albert says. "Do you believe one of the other bank CEOs murdered you because they were scared you might jeopardize their deal?" Cassidy asks."That may be, Rosemary Wilkins and I slept together, and I never called her after," Albert says.Cassidy sighs and rolls her eyes."I may have led her to believe that I had more control over loan selection than I actually was," Albert admits. Cassidy emerges from the bathroom, notices Rosemary on her phone, and walks over to strike up a conversation."Isn't this insane?" Cassidy asks."Yeah, and he was sitting right next to you, I would be totally freaking out," Rosemary says."Did you know who he was?" Cassidy asks."I saw him around, but we barely exchanged a few words," Rosemary says."Lie! " Cassidy winces when Albert screams in her ear."Oh, I had heard differently," Cassidy says."It's true, we had a relationship, and I fell deeply for him, but he rejected me," Rosemary adds, breaking down.Cassidy slowly backs away as Rosemary begins to ugly cry and wail loudly. She returns to the bathroom."Do you have any other suggestions, casanova?" Cassidy asks in the mirror."It had to be the other CEO, Zolton; we got into a shouting match because I wanted to add low-income units on the first 20 floors of the 25-story condo," Albert says.Cassidy returns to the party and notices Zolton conversing with other guests. She tries to join in quietly but laughs awkwardly, calling attention to herself."Can we help you?" Zolton asks."Oh, don't mind me; I was just wondering if any of you disliked the deceased?" Cassidy asks hesitantly.Zolton is overcome with emotion."Quite the contrary, Albert was a principled man, sometimes unnecessarily so, but I had a lot of respect for him. He cared; he was the only one looking out for the little guy in this deal. We could all benefit from being a little more like Albert," Zolton remarks, before recognizing Cassidy."Don't I recognize you from somewhere? Didn't you have dog crap on you the last time I saw you?" Zolton asks.Cassidy sheepishly withdraws from the conversation and returns to the bathroom. "Well, we've run out of CEOs; who else could benefit from this loan?" Cassidy asks."Aubrey, my brother's wife," Albert explains, "was the reason he was going forward with the deal despite my objections." "The police are questioning my end of the table, so this might be our last chance, are you sure?" Cassidy asks."I'm certain she's the one," Albert says.Cassidy walks up to Aubrey, who is sitting alone on a chair, staring out the window."Hello, Mrs. Preston," Cassidy says."Oh, hello," Aubrey says."I've heard you and Albert had a disagreement regarding the condo project," Cassidy inquires."Yes, but what are you implying?" Aubrey asks."I'm just going to ask because I'm tired and it's been a long week; did you have Albert murdered?" Cassidy asks."I am outraged by your question; if I wanted Albert dead, why would we surprise him with his 20-story low-income housing concept?" Aubrey says as she holds up a bottle of champagne with a note that says, "thanks for being the level-headed one, love Aubrey and Mark Preston.""We were wrong!" Albert says as the police come out searching for their next person to question. "We're looking for a Mrs. Seymour, the neighbor; has anyone seen Mrs. Seymour?" says the cop."Seymour?" Cassidy says to herself.Cassidy begins to piece everything together; her boss, Richard Seymour's mother, lives next door to the Prestons. It was the reason why a small bank like Loan America was being considered for such a large loan. She murdered Albert so that her son could collect his large payday and retire. Cassidy reports her boss and his mother to the police, and they are both arrested next door binge-watching, "The Neighbor Did It." It cost her the promotion, and all of her hard work was for naught. However, Cassidy helped everyone say goodbye to a man they all loved before Albert faded away. Cassidy impressed the Prestons so much that she was hired as the property manager for the low-income apartments.
[WP] There has been a murder at a dinner party. It's a good thing you're a necromancer so you can speed along the investigation and ask the victim what happened.	You chant your spell as the departed slowly rises. Between two groans, a barely audible "y..you" can be heard by all the guests. Nervous, you keep going; surely there is more to what the decreased has to say. Finally, a loud gasp fills the silent, anticipating room, and your newly reanimated servant stand strongly on her own two feet. "You are such an asshole!" she shouts, with exasperation in her eyes. "Were you just gonna leave me there? Thank God this other guy found me!" "No, I would never! I just got called over, and had to run for a minute, but I promise I was on my way back!" The guests were all standing there, starring blankly at both of you, wondering what you could possibly be arguing about. There was an obvious aura of suspicion in the room, mixed with confusion. Suddenly, from the back of the crowd, a man spoke up: "Surely you wouldn't have reanimated your own victim, necromancer... Could one of you please explain what is going on?" The girl rolled her eyes. "This guy told me he would give me two hundred bucks if I let him practice his necromancing on me. Said something about 'ethical reanimation' and only performing spells on willing victims. I thought the idea of catching a glimpse of the other side enticing, until my soul started hovering away and from above I could see our friend here just walking away from my lifeless body." Again, the guests just stood there, blank, mouths agape. "Well what, did your all think you had stepped into an Agatha Christie novel? I'm sorry, but I don't see figurines on the table, so now that it's settled, can we please just get back to our dinner?" you say, your face hot with nervous anticipation. Because of the sheer ridiculous nature of the event, and because the matter was, in fact, resolved, everyone went back to their earlier activities: at first with much discomfort and sideways glances, then gradually more confidently and naturally. By the end of the night, everyone was well fed and well drunk, and the incident was brushed aside. On your way out, you feel a hand grasp your shoulder. Her cold breath sends shivers down your spine as she whispers in your ear: "You're tripling that two hundred or I'm telling them what really happened."	"for fucks sake Pete!" I cried "I know I've been one to exaggerate before but this isn't something you test" "What?" Pete exclaimed, equally exasperated and still holding the broken bottle in his hand as the corpse lay at his feet "I don't see what the issue is, you say you're a necromancer! You will have her back on her feet in no time! Anyway, she said she wanted a lie-down!" We both stood there, looking down at the corpse. The party was in full swing now, by the sound of the ruckus around us, this wasn't the first broken glass of the evening or even the first person passed on the floor. A lot of things went on at these parties, but we both knew the rapidly increasing pool of blood was going to garner some attention shortly. "Well, what are you waiting for, get going" Pete exclaimed, finally having the decency to dispose of the murder weapon behind a cushion. "It's not that easy, you do know what necromancy is, don't you?" I retorted. "Of course, you bring back dead people" Pete responded, adding, "no, it's not blood, she spilled her wine as she fell, someone's looking for a towel don't worry." to a concerned passer-by. "Not exactly, it's the magic of raising the dead. I can reanimate her corpse, but she'll still be dead." only pausing to add, "and there can be complications!" "Like what?" Pete asked, now looking worried... "Zombies," I said bluntly. "Fuck off, I know you're taking the piss! Come on, get her back on her feet before we have to explain ourselves!" Pete exclaimed "I'm serious, those horror stories of corpses coming back to life and wanting to eat brains. They all come from reanimation spells gone wrong!" I paused "what do you mean, explain ourselves? You clocked her with a wine bottle, I've done nothing wrong here. You don't have to be Sherlock to work out who the murderer is here, but if you insist, we can ask her when she's back on her feet." "Come on! It'll be fine! People are starting to look, get going!" Pete whispered, becoming aware of his surroundings. "Fine," I said, striking the necromancer's pose as I did so. Sure, I could have done it standing still, but there is such a thing as showmanship. Starting to chant, "hmmnummnummnuim!" while waving my arms around, causing a small group of people to turn and watch both Pete and me staring at the yet-to-move body between us. "How long is this supposed to take?" whispered Pete, now visibly nervous. "Something's not right," I replied, "they're usually up and about by now, I don't think she's dead!" "What should we do?" Pete exclaimed, almost as white as the not quite dead body. "Call an ambulance?" I asked "What, no! You still need to prove you're a necromancer, and we'll have to explain what happened to the police" a look of resolution on his face as he spoke, moving back towards the cushion to retrieve the original weapon. "I'll finish it here and now, so we know." One of the onlookers held out his hand, stopping Pete on the way back towards the body "what the fuck is going on here! What are you going to do with that?!" He shouted, pushing Pete away from the body, "you killed her!" "Well, not quite, but you don't understand. It's not what it looks like, he's a necromancer!" Pete replied, having the decency to look abashed. The man stood there looking at Pete. Slowly, he turned to me and said, "You're not worried about a zombie situation?" "A little, but this isn't my idea. Can someone call an ambulance just in case Pete fails to kill her again? Having two chances to kill someone is more than generous!" looking at the shocked faces, I added, "If I can get her back on her feet, I will, but if it doesn't fall within my expertise, we're going to need a medic!" Pete pushes around the man, broken bottle in hand, and gets ready for his second attempt. Meanwhile, the man pulls out his phone "hello, emergency services, I need an ambulance." quickly covering the mic, "how worried are we about zombies?!" - "A little," I responded. The man nodded, uncovering the mic again, "Make sure they turn up with a stake! no! the wooden kind!". "That's vampires!" someone at the back of the now rapidly growing crowd shouted. "Sorry, sorry, forget that we'll need a bulb of garlic instead!" he stammered. "That's still vampires!" came the voice at the back again. "Look, I assure you, we've already eaten. I'm not trying to get you to bring us food. Just send an ambulance as quickly as you can!" the man signed, hanging up. Just then, I sensed a twinge. Looking down at the body and the now very bloodied Pete, I say, "she's dead! We need to wrap this up!" As Pete backed away, I struck the necromancer's pose, albeit more half-heartedly this time, and began humming "hmmnummnummnuim" as the crowd watched on in deathly silence. For a while, nothing happened, and then a twitch of a limb. Slowly, the corpse started to pull itself to its feet as the crowd cheered. As the corpse straightened up, the silence returned. Finally, its head lifted, and its empty eyes began surveying the room. "Fine, I'll accept you're a necromancer. Better call off the ambulance!" Pete said, relieved. "Wait, we should check who did this to her. I need my conscience cleared!" turning to the corpse before me, I ask, "What got us in this mess?" On hearing this, the corpse turned to look at Pete, fixing him with a cold unfocused stare, its mouth starting to move but no sound, until finally with its last breath leaving the body "brains..." "Fuck"
[WP] There has been a murder at a dinner party. It's a good thing you're a necromancer so you can speed along the investigation and ask the victim what happened.	Madison puffed his pipe slowly as his hands worked on the sigils. The crowd from the party watched intently - it was so rare to be able to see a necromancer in action - they weren't nearly as common as invokers, spellbinders or illusionists. The smoke from the pipe mixed with the ritual incense - a lady in the back coughed delicately, but otherwise there was silence. "And now," he said, taking his pipe away from his mouth, "It is time for the dead to speak. Rise, Sir Keran." The sigils began to light up, and the curtains fluttered in the breeze. The room filled with an unnatural light and the fire went out briefly. The body of Sir Keran began to rise from the table and stood up, the muscles seeming strained and unnatural. "Now," said Madison, "Please keep your distance from Sir Keran's body, everyone. Touching him could result in a fatal magical backlash." As he said it, a small bolt of lightning crackled from the body and struck his arm - he waved his hand as if trying to shake off the shock. The body's mouth eased open, and a voice came from within - but the mouth and tongue did not move further. "By the old magic, this body is yours to command. Speak your instructions," it said, "That I might complete them and go to my rest." "Sir Keran," said Madison, placing his pipe under one arm, "You were murdered here tonight by one of the people in this room. Tell me, who was it?" A visible gust of energy blew from the body's mouth across the crowd - it could be seen, but not felt. The body's hand began to rise slowly, pointing up at Jane Keran, his wife. "No!" she said, voice shaking in distress, "Why would I do this? I have always loved you! I would never!" She went to move forward but stopped when a flash of pale blue light sparked from the body, causing her to back off. The police Sergeant moved forward and caught her by the wrist. "It was my wife," the body continued in a ghastly drawl, "She planned to reap the benefits of my will, and flee to Spain. She was the one who passed me the poisoned chalice - her hands alone were the only ones at work." Jane continued to protested but the Sergeant held her firmly and began to drag her out of the room. "No! No!" she cried. But the risen form simply returned to its position on the table, the light faded, and it became still, apparently simply a corpse once more. The room was perfectly as it had been before the ritual, less the Sergeant and Jane Keran. "Most effective," said Lord Radworth, "If only the regular police had access to such skills as yourself! The criminal element would be entirely devoid in our fair city." There was some commotion as the party's guests began to filter out of the room, leaving just Madison and the body. "Well, you old fool," said Madison to the corpse and the empty room, "You and your wife finally got your comeuppance." He snapped his fingers and the runes he had been carefully scribing on the table vanished in a puff of smoke. He waved a hand over his face briefly, allowing himself the briefest indulgence of gloating in private company. His face quickly changed, revealing a different figure entirely. Had the Lord Keran been alive, he would have shot him on sight. "You both should never have crossed an illusionist," he said, and left the room, the guise of the old necromancer falling into place once more.	Mark stood over the body, his sleeves rolled up as high as they could go, and started to hum the incantation he was taught all those years ago. “Buíonn dár slua, thar toinn do ráinig chugainn!” he spat, the other guests gasping as he finished up. For a moment, nothing happened. A woman hummed nervously, whispering to her much older husband that Mark must have been crazy. “That man has a knife in his heart!” she said, looking around the room at no one in particular. “Just you wait,” Mark muttered, glaring at the fabulously dressed Duchess in front of him. “The ambulance is on the way!” Andrew the host shouted, making his way back into the dining hall. “It'll be ten minutes, they said.” Then, as they stood waiting, the body trembled. A little at first, then it shook so violently that the Duchess cried ‘earthquake’ and made a mad dash to hide under the grand piano. The body stopped suddenly, its eyes opened, shining white. Then, it blinked. The white eyes disappeared, replaced by the regular green eyes the man was born with. “My god!” Andrew cried out. “You're a miracle worker, Mark!” Mark blushed, not used to the praise. The crowd surrounded the newly alive man, a Mr Paterson Mark soon found out. Old already, death had made the man look even older and the shock he took when he saw the knife protruding from his chest, Mark was already gearing up to reperform the spell. “What happened?” Mr Paterson moaned, his eyes fixed on the blade. “How am I…” “That would be because of me, Sir,” Mark answered, swaying back and first the balls of his feet as every eye in the room found him once more. “I’m a necromancer you see.” From his peripheral, Mark saw a few looks of misplaced fear among the guests but chose to ignore them. “So I’m not dead?” smiled Mr Paterson. “What will happen if I remove the knife?” “Why don’t you do it and find out?” Mark asked, a sly smile on his lips. Tentatively, like a young nurse, he slowly gripped the knife. At first he only lightly pulled it, afraid of what might happened. Then, growing angry at the sight of the knife, Mr Paterson yanked hard. Only a dribble of blood followed the knife as a few drops spilt onto the hardwood floor. “I don’t understand,” puzzled Andrew, stroking his hairless chin. “Did you do this Mark? Some type of marketing for your powers?” Mark could only shake his head as he helped Mr Paterson to his feet. “I’m afraid not, Andrew. Though I wish that it were the case.” Mark responded, looking around at the horrified and curious faces of those still staring at him. “No I’m afraid there is a killer among us and with any luck Mr Paterson will know who it was.” Those horrified filled eyes left Mark, landing on the old man who looked around him, uncomfortable to find himself surrounded and the centre of attention. “I...I…” he muttered, his breath coming quickly. “I didn’t see a thing, my man.” A wave of disappointment washed over the guests, feeling like their show had been cut short. “I wish I did, of course. I’d kill her if I could!” Mr Paterson hastily added. “But I’m afraid, it’s all rather…” The senior trailed off as Andrew threw his arm around him. “It’s alright, Sir.” Andrew soothed. “The ambulance is on the way. They’ll need to check you. Though, I’m sure…” “Not so fast there, Andrew,” Mark exclaimed, standing in front of the two men who were making for the front of the house. “I just have one question for Mr Paterson.” Mark let his words hang in the air, letting the tension build-up, now able to enjoy the moment. “Why would you say ‘I’d kill her’ instead of ‘them?” Mark wondered, his eyes narrowing, taking in every little detail of the older gentleman. A bruise here, a black spot there. Mr Paterson’s mouth gaped open, then closed and then reopened. “I...I…” he stuttered once more. “I don’t under…” “Because I did it!” a voice called out and every head in the room turned to see the Duchess standing before them. “I did and I’ll do it again.” Before anyone could react, the Duchess had brandished another knife and charged at the old man. Andrew, before she could get too close, lifted her off her feet, forcing her to drop the knife. “Hold on there, Duchess.” he cried out, holding her against the wall. “Now just hold on.” “I won’t hold on,” she cursed, her eyes two daggers that locked onto Mr Paterson. “I’ve waited too long.” She continued to struggle, in vain, against Andrew's grip. “This woman’s a liar.” Mr Paterson snarled, his wrinkled finger pointing at the Duchess. “Everyone knows that! A liar and a gossip!” “Rapist!” she screamed, her face red with rage. “Child molester!” Mark’s mouth dropped open at her words and subconsciously crept away from where Mr Paterson stood, now alone, away from the rest of them. “What?” Andrew answered, looking between the Duchess and the old man. A brief moment of silence was quickly interrupted by the Duchess’s sobs. “He’s a rapist. Touched me…” she cried out, tears streaking down her face. “When I was just a child…” No one spoke. The ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the house seemed to overtake every other noise while the guests looked at one another. Then, thankfully, the sounds of sirens speeding up the driveway forced everyone out of their heads and back to the awful scene in front of them. In barged two first responders, a plastic stretcher in their hands. “Ok, where's the victim?” one of them asked while some guests looked at Mr Paterson and some at the Duchess.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	Doug planned for this day. Imagined what it would be like. How it would feel. Somehow, he miscalculated. He assumed it would be mother nature to bring about his end. Not a bad guess, if one ignores hindsight exists. Doug imagined he would die braving the bitter cold as it swallowed him whole. Or being mauled by a creature of nature. The reason why Doug was less sure about. But the how. Doug thought he had that figured out. Doug was careful, methodical, efficient about his prep-work for fighting back against Antarctica. Every time he went out, he checked his gear three times, never less. And every time he wondered if he would come back, or be lost to Antarctica’s embrace. Naturally, such an active mind could not have foreseen slipping on a bit of butter that someone dropped and forgotten to clean up in the kitchen. And such a mind could not have foreseen leaking out on to said kitchen fall after colliding with metal chair. And metal chair foresaw nothing at all, for it could not think. Yes. Doug was dead. He presumed anyways. How else would one describe the complex sensation of watching one’s own body lifeless on a cold kitchen floor while positioned seemingly about 5 feet above oneself. It would be sickening if one could still feel sick. After an eternity of observing one’s own deceased body, or five minutes since time is for the living not the spirits, Doug began to wonder. Now what? He had the how, he had the why, but he lacked the what now? Should he be whisked to heaven to be judged for his sins? Doug was not sure but decided to wait in case an angel was simply late getting to him. Another eternity later, Doug got bored. He began to explore his newfound perception as a spirit. Arms, check. Legs, check. Sense of touch, not check. Ability to interact with objects, not check. No, Doug realized his earlier conjecture was wrong. He could not interact with objects. But walls, walls were definitely there. He could not just float out of the compound. Now Doug got the spirit equivalent of curious. Doug headed towards the exit out of the compound. The place was his home for many years, and even in this form, he could navigate with his eyes closed. Except he did not have eyes anymore. He came to the outside door, but found it locked tight. Of course, it would be. He himself locked it. And he was methodical. Doug thought to his companions, all sound asleep. Doug had gotten up to grab food in the night. Would any of them notice him gone before morning? How many eternities would he have to wait before that occurs? Doug heard one of the dogs bark outside. Aha. Perhaps that was his answer. He extended his ghostly perception and found the pack of dogs chained up outside. He called to the dogs, who so often treated him with contempt and disdain because he gave the least amount of treats. To his surprise, like a switch, the dogs began to howl. The humans stirred awake. It appeared that they decided that Lee should go check on the dogs. It took Lee precisely four eternities or 20 minutes to put her gear on. Unsurprising to Doug, she did not check on the kitchen. Lee walked to the door and casually unsealed it to emerge outside. Doug rushed to follow but was shocked by the sight unfolding in front of him. Doug bore witness to a sea of endless greens, coniferous trees mixed with the deepest jungle vines. Insects and birds of all variety soared through the air. A kaleidoscope of creatures walked the fertile land of Antarctica below. From the quick glance, Doug observed mammoths, giant sloths, dinosaurs, and the occasional dodo all frolicking in the fields and forests in front of him. Even the birds were species that Doug did not recognize, and he suspected that was because they were extinct like everything else. It was intoxicating and dizzying. And it was gone. Lee had locked the door behind her, dressed for the frigid cold, leaving Spirit Doug still inside.	My name is, was, John. And this is how I died. I was part of an exploratory expedition that had been sent to excavate a pyramid, one that had only been recently discovered by the melting of the ice. I had brought my son and daughter to share in the joy of the discovery of a life time, my ex wife knowing to stay well away from us. After many nights spent pouring over the scribble like markings on the wall and the pictures of tentacled creatures rising from the depths, he finally had a collection of the tales. If the folk lore of this ancient civilization that seemed to flee for warmer climates. Sadly, this was when I met my fate and the temple fell beneath the ice. It was strange seeing my ex lover cry out for me as I sank beneath the ice, cold sapping away my warmth and leaving me little more than a water logged corpse. The sheer terror and the outstretched hand. I am just glad the children weren't there to see. Eveantually I found my eyes closing, i could swear i heard horrid singing, and the sound of frantic flutes piping in my ears. When they opened once again I was floating in warm darkness, unable to see beyond my own hand but with the strange feeling that I was not alone. I took a step forward, not knowing quite what I was expecting but finding firm ground. I made my way for several feet, the feeling of travelling through molasses very prevalent, yet my mind was moving faster than ever. The sound of flutes constantly was right behind me, squelching and wet sounds following my every step, yet I could not stop my feet from moving. Eveantually light gave way, a sickly sort of green but light regardless, the flutes growing louder and singing joining. I could see I was in a large room of some sort, but the walls were not made of stone or any other earthly material. They were made of flesh and wer muscle, my body slower yet my thoughts grew more and more frantic, more desperate to get closer to the light, even though I knew not where it was coming from. More and more I walked, never seeming to reach the opposite wall of viscera, my flesh starting to sag and wrinkle, my teeth blackening and growing sharp. A figure loomed into my sight, which seemed to multiply and extend beyond my skull which already elongated. The figured hand reached out and fingers turned tentacles grasped my own, a smile made of ice and rotted bone meeting me. " Stay with me my child, born of your knowledge and death, of my own blood and want." Her mouth elongated beyond what should have been possible and opened, a door way. I stepped through and the door closed behind me, leaving me in darkness and nothingness.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	"So that's it...?" My fingers were already getting numb, thankfully it was midday and the weather good, for what difference it made. "You should really hurry up, you're so long, it can't be easy to pull the clothes off" The penguin was a few meters away, "Alfred" saw the whole thing and came to explain. I must have looked confused. "Right, hypothermia already got me once" I looked back at my body, you could see the fear frozen in my eyes. It was a horrible way to go, I used to joke about it happening. I was adjusting one of the radio relays, for monitoring the penguins of all things. I should have been more careful, the area hadn't had snow for weeks, but a fresh storm had been by two days ago. By the time I realised what happened I was trapped under the relay, that had been pushed by the sudden buildup of snow. My legs were, are, crushed completely. The sight made me nauseous. "Hurry up Sam" I had the coat on now, I think it bought me the spare time to catch my bearings. "So if I died somewhere else something else would have happened?" Alfred looked at me in the only way a penguin could look disappointed. "Again Sam, yes" "So... Why am I here? How is Antarctica it's own afterlife?" Alfred was looking back at the rest of his waddle, he'd already tried to explain it to me once and clearly had plans for today. "Well, when you've lived here you're whole life, it feels like you've spent an eternity here. How can you imagine being anywhere else?" I was fumbling with my belt, I couldn't wait to get my gloved on. I was still processing my death. It took me about an hour before blood loss and hypothermia got me, it was like a fever dream. Then, darkness. After that I heard a sharp pop and there I was 30 minutes later, naked and freezing quickly, next to my own corpse. "What was it like? The 30 minutes?" "You're just showing off that you can read my watch" Really I was grateful that Alfred was there to witness my death, it was strangely comforting to know I wasn't quite alone. Alfred was comforted to learn the name we gave him, a good trade. "It was... Nice. Quiet" I could feel my fingers burning now I was fully dressed, it's good to know I can feel them. It didn't feel right taking the underwear, it's not a smell that's going to wash out. "But I'm glad it was only for 30 minutes" I wasn't entirely sure what to do now, I can finish the radio, I don't need to worry about the body, I'm sure something will be hungry enough. "Goodbye Sam, it was nice to finally meet you face to face" Just like that he was gone, and I really want to get back to base. I don't have a big enough whiskey stash for this, but I know everyone has one somewhere. I've earned it.	My name is, was, John. And this is how I died. I was part of an exploratory expedition that had been sent to excavate a pyramid, one that had only been recently discovered by the melting of the ice. I had brought my son and daughter to share in the joy of the discovery of a life time, my ex wife knowing to stay well away from us. After many nights spent pouring over the scribble like markings on the wall and the pictures of tentacled creatures rising from the depths, he finally had a collection of the tales. If the folk lore of this ancient civilization that seemed to flee for warmer climates. Sadly, this was when I met my fate and the temple fell beneath the ice. It was strange seeing my ex lover cry out for me as I sank beneath the ice, cold sapping away my warmth and leaving me little more than a water logged corpse. The sheer terror and the outstretched hand. I am just glad the children weren't there to see. Eveantually I found my eyes closing, i could swear i heard horrid singing, and the sound of frantic flutes piping in my ears. When they opened once again I was floating in warm darkness, unable to see beyond my own hand but with the strange feeling that I was not alone. I took a step forward, not knowing quite what I was expecting but finding firm ground. I made my way for several feet, the feeling of travelling through molasses very prevalent, yet my mind was moving faster than ever. The sound of flutes constantly was right behind me, squelching and wet sounds following my every step, yet I could not stop my feet from moving. Eveantually light gave way, a sickly sort of green but light regardless, the flutes growing louder and singing joining. I could see I was in a large room of some sort, but the walls were not made of stone or any other earthly material. They were made of flesh and wer muscle, my body slower yet my thoughts grew more and more frantic, more desperate to get closer to the light, even though I knew not where it was coming from. More and more I walked, never seeming to reach the opposite wall of viscera, my flesh starting to sag and wrinkle, my teeth blackening and growing sharp. A figure loomed into my sight, which seemed to multiply and extend beyond my skull which already elongated. The figured hand reached out and fingers turned tentacles grasped my own, a smile made of ice and rotted bone meeting me. " Stay with me my child, born of your knowledge and death, of my own blood and want." Her mouth elongated beyond what should have been possible and opened, a door way. I stepped through and the door closed behind me, leaving me in darkness and nothingness.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	You wake up after dying. Looking around, you can see walls of thick blue ice and rocklike lumps on the ground. Everywhere you look, you see it. Ice. The air is cold, and you can taste iron and salt on your tongue. &#x200B; As you stand up, you realise you can see other people, and you run over to one. They run towards you and you realise... It's a reflection. Every person you see is a reflection, and you can see how truly terrible you look. You have frozen blood dripping from your nose, and spikes of ice protrude from your shoulders. You look like you have been frozen for a very long time, and when you check your watch you realise it has been almost twenty years. &#x200B; How your watch has charge, you don’t know. But you do know you are dead. So you sit down. The ice is cold, and you realise you can’t stand back up. You try to remove yourself from the ice, but it starts frosting over your arms, your legs, your head. You realise that the lumps, which you thought were just icy rocks, were actually people. Frozen people.	The vastness of swirling snow slowly faded, and was replaced by a vastness of swirling snow. I didn't even notice the transition, visually. I was a bit preoccupied with the whole 'dying' thing. I did notice that I could move, now. More than that, I wasn't cold. I wasn't warm, either, but when you froze to death scant seconds ago, 'not cold' is very much something you'll settle for. The land around was the same, and really seemed like it should have been frigid. I even bent down and grabbed some snow, and took off a glove to feel it. It felt more like sand than anything else, though it clumped like snow. It didn't melt, and wasn't cold, and I had no frame of reference for 'snow, but it's not cold'. Sand was what my brain settled on, and it wasn't that far off. I was, in fact, in the middle of a desert. I began, slowly, to notice changes. The distant buildings were gone, for a start. They'd been miles away, but they were at least some comfort, some hope that my body might eventually be found. They were my anchors to humanity, and they weren't there any more. I looked around, and noticed a much less subtle change. There was a monster. It was tall, but not Kaiju tall. Spiked and lanky, long of claw, slinking around like the shadow of a nightmare. It was a nightmare. It was drawn from my dreams. It had to be. No. Not my dreams. My mind. It was a new place for humanity, a place where few souls had ventured, and few souls had perished. The afterlife was still new and raw, here. Still malleable, still changeable. I had seen what I had seen, shaped what I had shaped. I probably couldn't undo that. But there were other ways of changing the world. I looked down, and I had a sword in my hand. Shorter than I would have thought, and still heavy enough that I needed a fair bit of strength to swing it quickly. Physics still mattered here, it seemed- I couldn't make the sword function like it would in Hollywood, or in a video game. It glowed brightly, and was somehow both threatening and comforting. It was a weapon, but it was my weapon. The monster snarled, an impossible mouth filled with wildly impractical teeth, long and jagged. The monster wasn't meant to eat, it was meant to bite. Best not to give it a chance, then. The fight was long, and wouldn't have been much to watch from the outside. A lot of circling, a lot of pacing, a lot of sudden snaps and lunges that were drawn back as feints. A lot of watching, a lot of waiting, a lot of knowing that the first blow would likely also be the last. The monster lunged. I drew back and parried a claw swipe with my blade, catching a few monstrous fingers in the process. The monster hissed, and the wound sizzled on its horrid hand, the light of my sword burning the creature like banefire. It withdrew to a safer distance, weighed its options, and opted to retreat. I let it, a lack of desire to fight again coupled with the fact that I couldn't have kept pace with its strides even if I wanted to. There were monsters here. This was true. But now I knew that they could be fought. I rested, caught my breath. I did still breathe, which was a little surprising to me. Perhaps that would change with time, but I wasn't eager to try and do anything about it right now. Breathing was centering, and helpful. Because this afterlife was still malleable. I could still change things. I spent some time settling my mind, trying to answer the most important question: What was I fighting for? I was operating under the assumption that my victory was good, that my victory mattered, but why? It seemed like a solid guess that I couldn't die again. Getting ripped to pieces by that thing didn't sound pleasant, but I didn't even have any hard evidence that I could feel pain. I also had no desire to check, just this moment. Perhaps, then, I was fighting for something. Heaven certainly sounded nice. I tried to focus as much as I could on details, give the afterlife as much as I could to work with, but I mostly focused on the idea of it existing. That if you fought, and made your way there, you could be safe, and happy, and content for the rest of your afterlife. I noticed that I had closed my eyes when I opened them again. And when I opened them, I saw the gates of heaven. They were distant, and they were high. I would have to walk miles upon miles upon miles to make it there, and I had no doubt that there would be more monsters lurking. But now I had a goal. I was armed, I was prepared, and I would fight my way to the gates of paradise. I set out on my journey, my first steps toward the rest of eternity.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	"So that's it...?" My fingers were already getting numb, thankfully it was midday and the weather good, for what difference it made. "You should really hurry up, you're so long, it can't be easy to pull the clothes off" The penguin was a few meters away, "Alfred" saw the whole thing and came to explain. I must have looked confused. "Right, hypothermia already got me once" I looked back at my body, you could see the fear frozen in my eyes. It was a horrible way to go, I used to joke about it happening. I was adjusting one of the radio relays, for monitoring the penguins of all things. I should have been more careful, the area hadn't had snow for weeks, but a fresh storm had been by two days ago. By the time I realised what happened I was trapped under the relay, that had been pushed by the sudden buildup of snow. My legs were, are, crushed completely. The sight made me nauseous. "Hurry up Sam" I had the coat on now, I think it bought me the spare time to catch my bearings. "So if I died somewhere else something else would have happened?" Alfred looked at me in the only way a penguin could look disappointed. "Again Sam, yes" "So... Why am I here? How is Antarctica it's own afterlife?" Alfred was looking back at the rest of his waddle, he'd already tried to explain it to me once and clearly had plans for today. "Well, when you've lived here you're whole life, it feels like you've spent an eternity here. How can you imagine being anywhere else?" I was fumbling with my belt, I couldn't wait to get my gloved on. I was still processing my death. It took me about an hour before blood loss and hypothermia got me, it was like a fever dream. Then, darkness. After that I heard a sharp pop and there I was 30 minutes later, naked and freezing quickly, next to my own corpse. "What was it like? The 30 minutes?" "You're just showing off that you can read my watch" Really I was grateful that Alfred was there to witness my death, it was strangely comforting to know I wasn't quite alone. Alfred was comforted to learn the name we gave him, a good trade. "It was... Nice. Quiet" I could feel my fingers burning now I was fully dressed, it's good to know I can feel them. It didn't feel right taking the underwear, it's not a smell that's going to wash out. "But I'm glad it was only for 30 minutes" I wasn't entirely sure what to do now, I can finish the radio, I don't need to worry about the body, I'm sure something will be hungry enough. "Goodbye Sam, it was nice to finally meet you face to face" Just like that he was gone, and I really want to get back to base. I don't have a big enough whiskey stash for this, but I know everyone has one somewhere. I've earned it.	The vastness of swirling snow slowly faded, and was replaced by a vastness of swirling snow. I didn't even notice the transition, visually. I was a bit preoccupied with the whole 'dying' thing. I did notice that I could move, now. More than that, I wasn't cold. I wasn't warm, either, but when you froze to death scant seconds ago, 'not cold' is very much something you'll settle for. The land around was the same, and really seemed like it should have been frigid. I even bent down and grabbed some snow, and took off a glove to feel it. It felt more like sand than anything else, though it clumped like snow. It didn't melt, and wasn't cold, and I had no frame of reference for 'snow, but it's not cold'. Sand was what my brain settled on, and it wasn't that far off. I was, in fact, in the middle of a desert. I began, slowly, to notice changes. The distant buildings were gone, for a start. They'd been miles away, but they were at least some comfort, some hope that my body might eventually be found. They were my anchors to humanity, and they weren't there any more. I looked around, and noticed a much less subtle change. There was a monster. It was tall, but not Kaiju tall. Spiked and lanky, long of claw, slinking around like the shadow of a nightmare. It was a nightmare. It was drawn from my dreams. It had to be. No. Not my dreams. My mind. It was a new place for humanity, a place where few souls had ventured, and few souls had perished. The afterlife was still new and raw, here. Still malleable, still changeable. I had seen what I had seen, shaped what I had shaped. I probably couldn't undo that. But there were other ways of changing the world. I looked down, and I had a sword in my hand. Shorter than I would have thought, and still heavy enough that I needed a fair bit of strength to swing it quickly. Physics still mattered here, it seemed- I couldn't make the sword function like it would in Hollywood, or in a video game. It glowed brightly, and was somehow both threatening and comforting. It was a weapon, but it was my weapon. The monster snarled, an impossible mouth filled with wildly impractical teeth, long and jagged. The monster wasn't meant to eat, it was meant to bite. Best not to give it a chance, then. The fight was long, and wouldn't have been much to watch from the outside. A lot of circling, a lot of pacing, a lot of sudden snaps and lunges that were drawn back as feints. A lot of watching, a lot of waiting, a lot of knowing that the first blow would likely also be the last. The monster lunged. I drew back and parried a claw swipe with my blade, catching a few monstrous fingers in the process. The monster hissed, and the wound sizzled on its horrid hand, the light of my sword burning the creature like banefire. It withdrew to a safer distance, weighed its options, and opted to retreat. I let it, a lack of desire to fight again coupled with the fact that I couldn't have kept pace with its strides even if I wanted to. There were monsters here. This was true. But now I knew that they could be fought. I rested, caught my breath. I did still breathe, which was a little surprising to me. Perhaps that would change with time, but I wasn't eager to try and do anything about it right now. Breathing was centering, and helpful. Because this afterlife was still malleable. I could still change things. I spent some time settling my mind, trying to answer the most important question: What was I fighting for? I was operating under the assumption that my victory was good, that my victory mattered, but why? It seemed like a solid guess that I couldn't die again. Getting ripped to pieces by that thing didn't sound pleasant, but I didn't even have any hard evidence that I could feel pain. I also had no desire to check, just this moment. Perhaps, then, I was fighting for something. Heaven certainly sounded nice. I tried to focus as much as I could on details, give the afterlife as much as I could to work with, but I mostly focused on the idea of it existing. That if you fought, and made your way there, you could be safe, and happy, and content for the rest of your afterlife. I noticed that I had closed my eyes when I opened them again. And when I opened them, I saw the gates of heaven. They were distant, and they were high. I would have to walk miles upon miles upon miles to make it there, and I had no doubt that there would be more monsters lurking. But now I had a goal. I was armed, I was prepared, and I would fight my way to the gates of paradise. I set out on my journey, my first steps toward the rest of eternity.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	You are sleepy. You've been wandering for hours. It was just a quick run from the research building to the shed, but in a terrible snow storm, you lost your way. If you just lay down, for just a second, you can catch your breath, you can give your eyes a rest, you'll be back up... right as rain... you'll... be... You do wake up, shit, you know you're not supposed to fall asleep. You're lucky, the storms passed, it's not even that cold, it's just a dense fog. Soft snow crunches underfoot as you push yourself up. Its far too foggy to see the sun, the light bathes you equally, from all directions. Snow and fog eats sound, but you strain to listen for any noises of the lab - motors running, people yelling, sounds of searching for you. Surprisingly, you do hear something: The popping of a cork, the murmur of quiet conversation, the creaking of wood. You follow the noise, each of your own steps causing the loud crunch of snow. To your amazement, out of the fog, a huge wooden, ancient expedition ship looms. It's completely frozen in the ice. Incredible. You can see the tattered sails hanging long, without wind to stir them. The sounds of conversation is more pronounced now, you hear chairs scraping loudly on wooden floors. Its coming from an open door high on the side of the ship. There's a gangway leading from it, down to the ice where piles of boxes and other supplies lay. There's a man, in a comically huge fur jacket, carrying a box of what looks to be alcohol. "Hello!" You call you. The man almost drops his box he's so startled. He turns to you, lifting his tinted goggles and lowering a scarf, revealing a broad smile. It's disarming how elated he is to see you. He sets down the box, takes off a glove, and comes towards your with an outstretched hand. "Arnold Williamson" he says, "welcome to the Belgica" His accent, his manners, his dress. It's dripping in old world charm. "Umm, Terry Jones... thank you." You respond. You shake the outstretched hand. It's unreasonably large, strong and callused. "Jones 'ey? We've got a fair few Jones.' British?" "Yes." You respond, "but on an international expedition. You don't know where the Princess Elisabeth research station is from here do you?" "I'm afraid you're a long way from there. But we'll get to that. Come with me, I'll introduce you to the crew." He starts to walk you to the ship, but instructs you to pick up the box that he set down. "Grab that, the boy's love it." "Princess Elizabeth, is she British?" He inquires. "No, Belgian I think." "Alright well keep that to yourself." he laughs As you walk up to the gangplank to the ship, you see, carved into the wood the names of countries: Argentina, Chile, Norway, "America", Belgium, Australia, New Zealand, Great Britain (the Great was written particularly boldly). Underneath them is a line of individual scratches. The Australia / New Zealand lines were short, the South American lines longer, then the European lines stretched on and on. Williamson instructs you to wait. He takes out a large knife and walks along some rickety scaffolding beside the ship. He gets to the end of the tally for Britain, and etches in another line. It's now one longer than the Norwegians, with the Belgians not far behind. Williamson gives a hearty laugh as he compares the two lines. "Alright, lets go." He leads you up the gangplank towards what you now recognize as jovial sounds. "Look what I found boys!" Williamson bellows as you make your entrance. The room goes quiet. Tables of men stretch out in every direction. "Awstralian?" comes a thickly accented, but hopeful yell from a small table at the back of the room. The room holds its breath. "British!" Williamson cheers and a large part of the room erupts. Men of all fashions stand and cheer. Tables of other men throw up their hands in good natured, mock anger. As you're passing out what seems like an endless supply of alcohol from table to table, people are asking you all sorts of questions. A man with a European, sort of french accent, asks you where you were working. You tell him the Princess Elizabeth research station. "She British as well?" "No, Belgian" The mans eyes light up, hopeful, "We get a point for that surely!?" "You'll get a point when Her Highness comes aboard." Williamson laughed, but he handed the table a bottle extra, "we already gave you 10 for the ship." The men all laughed, raising their glasses. You could go back for the research station, they're probably worried about you, but what's the rush. You can just take a little rest here. You'll head back in a little while, you think.	The vastness of swirling snow slowly faded, and was replaced by a vastness of swirling snow. I didn't even notice the transition, visually. I was a bit preoccupied with the whole 'dying' thing. I did notice that I could move, now. More than that, I wasn't cold. I wasn't warm, either, but when you froze to death scant seconds ago, 'not cold' is very much something you'll settle for. The land around was the same, and really seemed like it should have been frigid. I even bent down and grabbed some snow, and took off a glove to feel it. It felt more like sand than anything else, though it clumped like snow. It didn't melt, and wasn't cold, and I had no frame of reference for 'snow, but it's not cold'. Sand was what my brain settled on, and it wasn't that far off. I was, in fact, in the middle of a desert. I began, slowly, to notice changes. The distant buildings were gone, for a start. They'd been miles away, but they were at least some comfort, some hope that my body might eventually be found. They were my anchors to humanity, and they weren't there any more. I looked around, and noticed a much less subtle change. There was a monster. It was tall, but not Kaiju tall. Spiked and lanky, long of claw, slinking around like the shadow of a nightmare. It was a nightmare. It was drawn from my dreams. It had to be. No. Not my dreams. My mind. It was a new place for humanity, a place where few souls had ventured, and few souls had perished. The afterlife was still new and raw, here. Still malleable, still changeable. I had seen what I had seen, shaped what I had shaped. I probably couldn't undo that. But there were other ways of changing the world. I looked down, and I had a sword in my hand. Shorter than I would have thought, and still heavy enough that I needed a fair bit of strength to swing it quickly. Physics still mattered here, it seemed- I couldn't make the sword function like it would in Hollywood, or in a video game. It glowed brightly, and was somehow both threatening and comforting. It was a weapon, but it was my weapon. The monster snarled, an impossible mouth filled with wildly impractical teeth, long and jagged. The monster wasn't meant to eat, it was meant to bite. Best not to give it a chance, then. The fight was long, and wouldn't have been much to watch from the outside. A lot of circling, a lot of pacing, a lot of sudden snaps and lunges that were drawn back as feints. A lot of watching, a lot of waiting, a lot of knowing that the first blow would likely also be the last. The monster lunged. I drew back and parried a claw swipe with my blade, catching a few monstrous fingers in the process. The monster hissed, and the wound sizzled on its horrid hand, the light of my sword burning the creature like banefire. It withdrew to a safer distance, weighed its options, and opted to retreat. I let it, a lack of desire to fight again coupled with the fact that I couldn't have kept pace with its strides even if I wanted to. There were monsters here. This was true. But now I knew that they could be fought. I rested, caught my breath. I did still breathe, which was a little surprising to me. Perhaps that would change with time, but I wasn't eager to try and do anything about it right now. Breathing was centering, and helpful. Because this afterlife was still malleable. I could still change things. I spent some time settling my mind, trying to answer the most important question: What was I fighting for? I was operating under the assumption that my victory was good, that my victory mattered, but why? It seemed like a solid guess that I couldn't die again. Getting ripped to pieces by that thing didn't sound pleasant, but I didn't even have any hard evidence that I could feel pain. I also had no desire to check, just this moment. Perhaps, then, I was fighting for something. Heaven certainly sounded nice. I tried to focus as much as I could on details, give the afterlife as much as I could to work with, but I mostly focused on the idea of it existing. That if you fought, and made your way there, you could be safe, and happy, and content for the rest of your afterlife. I noticed that I had closed my eyes when I opened them again. And when I opened them, I saw the gates of heaven. They were distant, and they were high. I would have to walk miles upon miles upon miles to make it there, and I had no doubt that there would be more monsters lurking. But now I had a goal. I was armed, I was prepared, and I would fight my way to the gates of paradise. I set out on my journey, my first steps toward the rest of eternity.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	You are sleepy. You've been wandering for hours. It was just a quick run from the research building to the shed, but in a terrible snow storm, you lost your way. If you just lay down, for just a second, you can catch your breath, you can give your eyes a rest, you'll be back up... right as rain... you'll... be... You do wake up, shit, you know you're not supposed to fall asleep. You're lucky, the storms passed, it's not even that cold, it's just a dense fog. Soft snow crunches underfoot as you push yourself up. Its far too foggy to see the sun, the light bathes you equally, from all directions. Snow and fog eats sound, but you strain to listen for any noises of the lab - motors running, people yelling, sounds of searching for you. Surprisingly, you do hear something: The popping of a cork, the murmur of quiet conversation, the creaking of wood. You follow the noise, each of your own steps causing the loud crunch of snow. To your amazement, out of the fog, a huge wooden, ancient expedition ship looms. It's completely frozen in the ice. Incredible. You can see the tattered sails hanging long, without wind to stir them. The sounds of conversation is more pronounced now, you hear chairs scraping loudly on wooden floors. Its coming from an open door high on the side of the ship. There's a gangway leading from it, down to the ice where piles of boxes and other supplies lay. There's a man, in a comically huge fur jacket, carrying a box of what looks to be alcohol. "Hello!" You call you. The man almost drops his box he's so startled. He turns to you, lifting his tinted goggles and lowering a scarf, revealing a broad smile. It's disarming how elated he is to see you. He sets down the box, takes off a glove, and comes towards your with an outstretched hand. "Arnold Williamson" he says, "welcome to the Belgica" His accent, his manners, his dress. It's dripping in old world charm. "Umm, Terry Jones... thank you." You respond. You shake the outstretched hand. It's unreasonably large, strong and callused. "Jones 'ey? We've got a fair few Jones.' British?" "Yes." You respond, "but on an international expedition. You don't know where the Princess Elisabeth research station is from here do you?" "I'm afraid you're a long way from there. But we'll get to that. Come with me, I'll introduce you to the crew." He starts to walk you to the ship, but instructs you to pick up the box that he set down. "Grab that, the boy's love it." "Princess Elizabeth, is she British?" He inquires. "No, Belgian I think." "Alright well keep that to yourself." he laughs As you walk up to the gangplank to the ship, you see, carved into the wood the names of countries: Argentina, Chile, Norway, "America", Belgium, Australia, New Zealand, Great Britain (the Great was written particularly boldly). Underneath them is a line of individual scratches. The Australia / New Zealand lines were short, the South American lines longer, then the European lines stretched on and on. Williamson instructs you to wait. He takes out a large knife and walks along some rickety scaffolding beside the ship. He gets to the end of the tally for Britain, and etches in another line. It's now one longer than the Norwegians, with the Belgians not far behind. Williamson gives a hearty laugh as he compares the two lines. "Alright, lets go." He leads you up the gangplank towards what you now recognize as jovial sounds. "Look what I found boys!" Williamson bellows as you make your entrance. The room goes quiet. Tables of men stretch out in every direction. "Awstralian?" comes a thickly accented, but hopeful yell from a small table at the back of the room. The room holds its breath. "British!" Williamson cheers and a large part of the room erupts. Men of all fashions stand and cheer. Tables of other men throw up their hands in good natured, mock anger. As you're passing out what seems like an endless supply of alcohol from table to table, people are asking you all sorts of questions. A man with a European, sort of french accent, asks you where you were working. You tell him the Princess Elizabeth research station. "She British as well?" "No, Belgian" The mans eyes light up, hopeful, "We get a point for that surely!?" "You'll get a point when Her Highness comes aboard." Williamson laughed, but he handed the table a bottle extra, "we already gave you 10 for the ship." The men all laughed, raising their glasses. You could go back for the research station, they're probably worried about you, but what's the rush. You can just take a little rest here. You'll head back in a little while, you think.	Oh god. So many penguins. They numbered in the million. Once one saw me they all slowly turned to look at me. I started running as fast as I can. I wanted to go to Antarctica because my friend said it was cool. But didn't realize the skinny dipping in sea lion infested waters was bad. I don't know whether is died from shock or from being ripped apart. Now I was desperately trying to out run an army of penguins. I ran as fast as I could, until I saw a fort in the distance. Gun shots rang from the the fort narrowly missing me. I kept running. Then the door swung open and a man speaking Russian called me in. As the door closed I could hear the banging of penguins on the other side. An English man said in the corner" how the hell did you die like that?". Most of the men in the room were clad in heavy parkas and thick coats and many had firearms and knives. I was wearing nothing and had nothing. "Jesus Christ, put this on" a Dutch man said as he gave me a parka. "Where am I". They all laughed a sad laugh. The Russian said "your in the land of the dead, the first to enter in many moons." So I was in penguin hell.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	When I woke up, I was surrounded by snow. " What...? Did I survive...? " On our trip to Antarctica, I had been caught in a awful unexpected snowstorm. I had caught my leg in a ditch, and unable to move, I asked my friends to leave me behind, but... " I... I can't believe I survived...! " " Sadly, you're wrong. Young man. " A middle aged man wearing some kind of fur suit stepped up to me. " Sorry to inform you, this is the afterlife. " " Wha...? This can't be right. I never thought the afterlife was this... snowy. " I could see penguins waddling around in the distance. I could also see a bunch of people walking towards me. " Do you have a religion? Christianity? Catholic? " " I'm an atheist... " " Well than. There actually is an afterlife. Right here. But the gods you know don't exist here. " " So... there's no Jesus? " " Jesus could probably be around somewhere in this world. But not here sadly. You're destined to stay here forever. " I couldn't believe it. It sounded like bullshit. I mean, an after life with cuddly seals and penguins? " Name's Robert Falcon Scott. Me and my men were the first to come here. " " I thought the guy who came to Antarctica first was- " Robert looked pissed. He straighten his clothes up and cut my words away. " Yes I damned know that. Amundsen, isn't it. I was the first to die here. Came to this place with no one but my guys. " " Oh. All right. Than why is it so... empty out here. " " Well... I guess this land is a clean space. No person before us could even live here because it's a giant ice block. And probably because of that it became a place with no kind of religious influence here. " He suddenly pushed me to the ground. "Hey! Why are you... " I stopped and realised something awful. Robert had a sad smile on his face. " See son. You dont feel any kind of coldness here. Or any kind of pain for that matter. " He was right. I was wearing my favorite jeans and T-shirt, but I couldn't feel any cold or pain at all. Only the soft feeling of burshing against snow and the fact that it was cool. " Well, it isn't that bad here. Not having a god means... we can do anything at our will. " The ground before us shook, and we were inside of an cosy looking living room, live fireplace and everything. " Want some tea? Or coffee? The more recent people mostly preferred coffee. " I thought of a hot cocoa, and without me realizing it, I was holding one in my hands. Robert smiled at me, sipping some green tea. " Fast learner eh? You can will most things into existance and manipulate most things... except for things that others have made or actually manipulating other people. " " Wow. This is... kind of too much to handle. " " Think of it as a bonus chance at life. You could try, do, feel all the things in life. And when you could do everything you wanted and just want everyting to stop... " He paused, a depressed look in his eyes. Something in his eyes told me he had seen a lot of people disappear. " Never mind. Well, now that we're done, let me entroduce you to the community. " " Theres an entire community??? " " Yes. We are only a few though. Come follow me. I'll show you up to the rest of the guys. " As Robert left, I had a feeling that this place... isn't going to be that half bad.	All I could see was deep darkness. All I could feel was biting cold. All I could hear was howling wind. Time felt irrelevant. Had it been one day? A thousand? Where was I? I tried to move, but felt nothing at all. I tried to speak, but found I could not. All I could do was think, and feel. Where was I? What happened? Vague memories filled my mind, as though I was looking at a movie through a smoke screen. Blurred, like a piece of abstract art, all I could know where distant feelings that felt as though they belonged to someone else, but they were mine. A small, prefab building? Snow, and more cold? Two people, a man and a woman. Who are they, what were their names? I tried to know, but the more I tried the further away I was. What happened? All I could feel was cold, stark, burning cold. Most of all I felt tired. So very tired. Nothing seemed real anymore, but the howling winds and the freezing cold. Perhaps I should lay down, and stop thinking so hard. It was tough to do so anyway, and what was the point? I heard something in the wind, something faint. What was it? I heard it again, what is it? A name? Someone shouting in the distance. It sounds like, Ezekiel. Clouds of colors depicted someone marching across a vast expanse of snow and ice. I think I'll see where this goes, before going to sleep. They trudged across the snow, yelling, over and over. There was someone else, too, doing the same. Ezekiel, they called. Must be someone they lost, I thought. Then one of them fell to their knees, and started digging in the snow. How horrible, my heart went out to them. Whoever this Ezekiel fellow was, he certainly had some good friends. Oh well. The person grabbed the corpse in the snow, and I felt hands grab my shoulders. Who's there? I tried to say, tried to speak, but I found I could not. What is this place? Nothing but cold and wind, I wish it would all stop. Perhaps if I laid down for a little bit, I might find a break from it all. Just as I was about to rest, I saw a faint light. I thought to move closer, but I remembered I could feel nothing at all. What a strange, funny thing to happen, to want to move but not be able to. Suddenly, I found myself closer to the light. How did that happen? No matter. The flickering light constantly fought back the darkness in its own strange dance. It looked almost like fire. It was warm near it. The cold still stung, but the fire helped. Who's fire was this? I felt like someone else was here, though I could neither see nor hear them. If I could call out to them I would. Did they light this fire? Now that I see it closer, there's no base, no fuel. Just the fire, floating, in the air. Though it flickered, it did not seem affected by this accursed howling wind. Where did it come from anyways, the wind? What a silly question, it came from... What? I thought I knew, but the idea of even knowing evades me. I thought to follow or chase the wind, but the fire here was warm, and the rest of this place, cold. If only there was some sort of shelter, to hide against this wind, with this fire in it, to fight off the cold, then maybe this place wouldn't be so bad. I suppose I'll just have to make do. There was never anything else but this howling and cold, this fire itself is a respite from that. Wait, no, that's not right. Some obscure feeling tugged at the back of my mind, that there was more than this, but that's not possible. That thought too quickly slipped from my mind. The fire was just a bit warmer, I thought. Did someone throw in some wood? What even was wood? The fire was nice and warm, but I couldn't stop thinking of this incessant howling. It seemed to be coming from somewhere, it must be. I should leave this fire and find out, but I could not move. Then, suddenly, the fire was further away, shrinking until even the light was gone. Just darkness and cold again. The howling grew louder, louder, and louder, but no matter how loud it grew I could never find the source. It was now a scream, less than a howl, with how loud it was. It sounded like a familiar scream. A wisp of a face crossed my mind. Who was that? It sounded as though I knew them. Did I ever know anything but this cold and darkness? Ideas and thoughts drifted across my mind, but it was like trying to see something in the way the light bounced across the bottom of a murky canal. This was all that ever existed, and yet I felt that at some time, some point, something else did. How long had I been here? Minutes? Hours? Years? It did not matter. I was cold and tired and the wind was howling. I ought to close my eyes and sleep. Perhaps then I can forget about the dark, the cold, the wind, and the pain.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	Perhaps it was the loneliness that did me in. The long, unending darkness of the winter made worse by being locked inside a small wooden hut, quarantined because viruses inevitably find their way to the "international continent." Or perhaps it was the penguins. I snuck out because I got word of an emperor penguin colony gathering nearby. That day we had a four-minute window where we'd see the sun rise and fall like a god quickly getting back to bed after noticing it's quite cold. Offset by a tangerine glow, hopping from rock to rock, the sight of these creatures put the northern lights to shame. What's an elegant dance of charged particles compared to the awkward wobbling of chubby black-and-white birds? With a view like that who could think about exploded thesis budgets and endless tubes of ice cores? It was there, watching the penguins, that I decided Antarctica wasn't all that bad. And it was there, watching the penguins, that Antarctica made me aware that the feeling wasn't mutual. A large male growled and flip-flopped towards me and I panicked. The sun had nearly set and I couldn't see where I was going. So I went the wrong way. I went into the icy waters. And that was where I stayed, until I woke up. "Settle down," I heard a voice say. "It's just another hairless ape." When I opened my eyes I saw a creature with green, leathery skin looking down on me. It was accompanied by a chorus of hisses coming from all sides. "What's going on?" I said. "Forgive me, dear ape. I am the Silurian ambassador here in Sossoko. And I must apologize on behalf of my sisters and brethren. We still have hope, you see, that our ancestors are prospering in the new world." I would've made a run for it but I didn't know where I'd even go. Judging by the scorching sun overhead this wasn't Antarctica. This was someplace else. Sossoko, if the reptile were to be believed. "What is this world?" I asked. The ambassador gave me a strange look; a mix of pride and disgust. "Why, Sossoko of course! The great afterlife. A paradise with juicy bugs flying all around and a pleasant climate. "Pleasant?" I whispered. The heat was an assault on my senses. Still wearing my expedition gear I stripped down to jeans and t-shirt. "She sheds her skin! Just like us," said a reptilian. Slithery nods flew in my direction and I got some pats on my back. They were surprisingly humanoid, except for their gecko-like faces and their tails. "To have earned your stay here you must have been a valorous ape. Were you perhaps a chieftain?" "N-No," I said. "I was a scientist." "Ah, precisely," said the ambassador. "Just like our very own Zaldarh over here. Come over, boy. Don't be shy." A reptilian, short of stature, emerged from the crowd. "Is it alright," he said, "if we talk in private?" Not finding myself in a position to refuse, I agreed. We went for a short walk across the tropical landscape of Sossoko. Every so often Zaldarh would stick out his tongue and grab hold of a fly with it at a speed that at first alarmed me. "Unlike the rest," he said finally, "I hail from Crisis Period of the Silurian Kingdom. I don't have the cold-blooded heart to tell them the truth. They believe that our kind still roam the planet." He sighed. "The optimism of the Industrial Age proved to be infectious. Even if I told them I'm sure few would even believe that we triggered our own downfall." "Crisis Period?" I said. "A planetary warming," said Zaldarh. "A cataclysm spurred to life by our own folly." Climate change? Had I been transported to a different planet with the same problems as ours? I thought back to what I knew about hyperthermal events. Then a thought struck me. "Wait," I said. "Could you be talking about the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum?" Gobbling a fly, he said, "That term means nothing to me, I'm afraid." "Oh! Solar eclipses. Do you know about them?" He frowned at me. "Of course. What scientist wouldn't?" That settled the matter. The Silurian Kingdom had once existed on Earth. And if my hunch was right, it did so approximately 55.5 million years ago. I let out a squeal of excitement. "Guess what kind of scientist I was," I said. Zaldarh gave me a blank stare. "A climate scientist." He gasped. "So that means that you too ..." "Yup," I said. "We fucked it all up as well." "To think even harmless apes would be capable of such a thing. It truly is a marvel." We returned to the encampment and I noticed that on the way Zaldarh didn't eat a single bug. I wondered whether I had upset him. Then I imagined spending 60 million years in this place only to meet an industrialized ferret who told me they'd made the exact same mistakes as us. It was a depressing thought, to be honest. Wait. Would I be spending an eternity here? What would I even ... do? "Ms. Ape Scientist, we have been talking amongst ourselves and were wondering whether you'd like to partake in an event precious to us? We cannot guarantee it would be to your liking, as we haven't met many of your kind, but it is something which brings us a great deal of joy." If I was stuck here I might as well learn to adapt. "Sure," I said. "I'd like that." More slithery nods. "Very well, then. Follow us." After walking for a while we arrived at a vast shoreline. At first I couldn't believe it. "We are quite fond of these creatures, you see." An enormous colony of Emperor penguins. They hopped from rock to rock and wobbled about. A wave of bliss washed over me and I thought to myself that an eternity spent in Sossoko might not be so bad after all. "They are rather chubby," said the ambassador and I saw a faint trace of rogue flash across his scales. "They really are," I answered. We sat together in silence, watching the penguins, until sunrise. It was beautiful. --- If you enjoyed this story, feel free to head over to my subreddit, /r/Hemingbird, for more. [A Pair of Crows](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hemingbird/comments/qj2uus/a_pair_of_crows/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=usertext&utm_name=Hemingbird&utm_content=t3_qmkapy) and [Samsaragenetics](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hemingbird/comments/q2rc2r/samsaragenetics/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=usertext&utm_name=Hemingbird&utm_content=t3_qmkapy) have similar vibes to this one. See you there!	All I could see was deep darkness. All I could feel was biting cold. All I could hear was howling wind. Time felt irrelevant. Had it been one day? A thousand? Where was I? I tried to move, but felt nothing at all. I tried to speak, but found I could not. All I could do was think, and feel. Where was I? What happened? Vague memories filled my mind, as though I was looking at a movie through a smoke screen. Blurred, like a piece of abstract art, all I could know where distant feelings that felt as though they belonged to someone else, but they were mine. A small, prefab building? Snow, and more cold? Two people, a man and a woman. Who are they, what were their names? I tried to know, but the more I tried the further away I was. What happened? All I could feel was cold, stark, burning cold. Most of all I felt tired. So very tired. Nothing seemed real anymore, but the howling winds and the freezing cold. Perhaps I should lay down, and stop thinking so hard. It was tough to do so anyway, and what was the point? I heard something in the wind, something faint. What was it? I heard it again, what is it? A name? Someone shouting in the distance. It sounds like, Ezekiel. Clouds of colors depicted someone marching across a vast expanse of snow and ice. I think I'll see where this goes, before going to sleep. They trudged across the snow, yelling, over and over. There was someone else, too, doing the same. Ezekiel, they called. Must be someone they lost, I thought. Then one of them fell to their knees, and started digging in the snow. How horrible, my heart went out to them. Whoever this Ezekiel fellow was, he certainly had some good friends. Oh well. The person grabbed the corpse in the snow, and I felt hands grab my shoulders. Who's there? I tried to say, tried to speak, but I found I could not. What is this place? Nothing but cold and wind, I wish it would all stop. Perhaps if I laid down for a little bit, I might find a break from it all. Just as I was about to rest, I saw a faint light. I thought to move closer, but I remembered I could feel nothing at all. What a strange, funny thing to happen, to want to move but not be able to. Suddenly, I found myself closer to the light. How did that happen? No matter. The flickering light constantly fought back the darkness in its own strange dance. It looked almost like fire. It was warm near it. The cold still stung, but the fire helped. Who's fire was this? I felt like someone else was here, though I could neither see nor hear them. If I could call out to them I would. Did they light this fire? Now that I see it closer, there's no base, no fuel. Just the fire, floating, in the air. Though it flickered, it did not seem affected by this accursed howling wind. Where did it come from anyways, the wind? What a silly question, it came from... What? I thought I knew, but the idea of even knowing evades me. I thought to follow or chase the wind, but the fire here was warm, and the rest of this place, cold. If only there was some sort of shelter, to hide against this wind, with this fire in it, to fight off the cold, then maybe this place wouldn't be so bad. I suppose I'll just have to make do. There was never anything else but this howling and cold, this fire itself is a respite from that. Wait, no, that's not right. Some obscure feeling tugged at the back of my mind, that there was more than this, but that's not possible. That thought too quickly slipped from my mind. The fire was just a bit warmer, I thought. Did someone throw in some wood? What even was wood? The fire was nice and warm, but I couldn't stop thinking of this incessant howling. It seemed to be coming from somewhere, it must be. I should leave this fire and find out, but I could not move. Then, suddenly, the fire was further away, shrinking until even the light was gone. Just darkness and cold again. The howling grew louder, louder, and louder, but no matter how loud it grew I could never find the source. It was now a scream, less than a howl, with how loud it was. It sounded like a familiar scream. A wisp of a face crossed my mind. Who was that? It sounded as though I knew them. Did I ever know anything but this cold and darkness? Ideas and thoughts drifted across my mind, but it was like trying to see something in the way the light bounced across the bottom of a murky canal. This was all that ever existed, and yet I felt that at some time, some point, something else did. How long had I been here? Minutes? Hours? Years? It did not matter. I was cold and tired and the wind was howling. I ought to close my eyes and sleep. Perhaps then I can forget about the dark, the cold, the wind, and the pain.
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica.	Perhaps it was the loneliness that did me in. The long, unending darkness of the winter made worse by being locked inside a small wooden hut, quarantined because viruses inevitably find their way to the "international continent." Or perhaps it was the penguins. I snuck out because I got word of an emperor penguin colony gathering nearby. That day we had a four-minute window where we'd see the sun rise and fall like a god quickly getting back to bed after noticing it's quite cold. Offset by a tangerine glow, hopping from rock to rock, the sight of these creatures put the northern lights to shame. What's an elegant dance of charged particles compared to the awkward wobbling of chubby black-and-white birds? With a view like that who could think about exploded thesis budgets and endless tubes of ice cores? It was there, watching the penguins, that I decided Antarctica wasn't all that bad. And it was there, watching the penguins, that Antarctica made me aware that the feeling wasn't mutual. A large male growled and flip-flopped towards me and I panicked. The sun had nearly set and I couldn't see where I was going. So I went the wrong way. I went into the icy waters. And that was where I stayed, until I woke up. "Settle down," I heard a voice say. "It's just another hairless ape." When I opened my eyes I saw a creature with green, leathery skin looking down on me. It was accompanied by a chorus of hisses coming from all sides. "What's going on?" I said. "Forgive me, dear ape. I am the Silurian ambassador here in Sossoko. And I must apologize on behalf of my sisters and brethren. We still have hope, you see, that our ancestors are prospering in the new world." I would've made a run for it but I didn't know where I'd even go. Judging by the scorching sun overhead this wasn't Antarctica. This was someplace else. Sossoko, if the reptile were to be believed. "What is this world?" I asked. The ambassador gave me a strange look; a mix of pride and disgust. "Why, Sossoko of course! The great afterlife. A paradise with juicy bugs flying all around and a pleasant climate. "Pleasant?" I whispered. The heat was an assault on my senses. Still wearing my expedition gear I stripped down to jeans and t-shirt. "She sheds her skin! Just like us," said a reptilian. Slithery nods flew in my direction and I got some pats on my back. They were surprisingly humanoid, except for their gecko-like faces and their tails. "To have earned your stay here you must have been a valorous ape. Were you perhaps a chieftain?" "N-No," I said. "I was a scientist." "Ah, precisely," said the ambassador. "Just like our very own Zaldarh over here. Come over, boy. Don't be shy." A reptilian, short of stature, emerged from the crowd. "Is it alright," he said, "if we talk in private?" Not finding myself in a position to refuse, I agreed. We went for a short walk across the tropical landscape of Sossoko. Every so often Zaldarh would stick out his tongue and grab hold of a fly with it at a speed that at first alarmed me. "Unlike the rest," he said finally, "I hail from Crisis Period of the Silurian Kingdom. I don't have the cold-blooded heart to tell them the truth. They believe that our kind still roam the planet." He sighed. "The optimism of the Industrial Age proved to be infectious. Even if I told them I'm sure few would even believe that we triggered our own downfall." "Crisis Period?" I said. "A planetary warming," said Zaldarh. "A cataclysm spurred to life by our own folly." Climate change? Had I been transported to a different planet with the same problems as ours? I thought back to what I knew about hyperthermal events. Then a thought struck me. "Wait," I said. "Could you be talking about the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum?" Gobbling a fly, he said, "That term means nothing to me, I'm afraid." "Oh! Solar eclipses. Do you know about them?" He frowned at me. "Of course. What scientist wouldn't?" That settled the matter. The Silurian Kingdom had once existed on Earth. And if my hunch was right, it did so approximately 55.5 million years ago. I let out a squeal of excitement. "Guess what kind of scientist I was," I said. Zaldarh gave me a blank stare. "A climate scientist." He gasped. "So that means that you too ..." "Yup," I said. "We fucked it all up as well." "To think even harmless apes would be capable of such a thing. It truly is a marvel." We returned to the encampment and I noticed that on the way Zaldarh didn't eat a single bug. I wondered whether I had upset him. Then I imagined spending 60 million years in this place only to meet an industrialized ferret who told me they'd made the exact same mistakes as us. It was a depressing thought, to be honest. Wait. Would I be spending an eternity here? What would I even ... do? "Ms. Ape Scientist, we have been talking amongst ourselves and were wondering whether you'd like to partake in an event precious to us? We cannot guarantee it would be to your liking, as we haven't met many of your kind, but it is something which brings us a great deal of joy." If I was stuck here I might as well learn to adapt. "Sure," I said. "I'd like that." More slithery nods. "Very well, then. Follow us." After walking for a while we arrived at a vast shoreline. At first I couldn't believe it. "We are quite fond of these creatures, you see." An enormous colony of Emperor penguins. They hopped from rock to rock and wobbled about. A wave of bliss washed over me and I thought to myself that an eternity spent in Sossoko might not be so bad after all. "They are rather chubby," said the ambassador and I saw a faint trace of rogue flash across his scales. "They really are," I answered. We sat together in silence, watching the penguins, until sunrise. It was beautiful. --- If you enjoyed this story, feel free to head over to my subreddit, /r/Hemingbird, for more. [A Pair of Crows](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hemingbird/comments/qj2uus/a_pair_of_crows/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=usertext&utm_name=Hemingbird&utm_content=t3_qmkapy) and [Samsaragenetics](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hemingbird/comments/q2rc2r/samsaragenetics/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=usertext&utm_name=Hemingbird&utm_content=t3_qmkapy) have similar vibes to this one. See you there!	When I woke up, I was surrounded by snow. " What...? Did I survive...? " On our trip to Antarctica, I had been caught in a awful unexpected snowstorm. I had caught my leg in a ditch, and unable to move, I asked my friends to leave me behind, but... " I... I can't believe I survived...! " " Sadly, you're wrong. Young man. " A middle aged man wearing some kind of fur suit stepped up to me. " Sorry to inform you, this is the afterlife. " " Wha...? This can't be right. I never thought the afterlife was this... snowy. " I could see penguins waddling around in the distance. I could also see a bunch of people walking towards me. " Do you have a religion? Christianity? Catholic? " " I'm an atheist... " " Well than. There actually is an afterlife. Right here. But the gods you know don't exist here. " " So... there's no Jesus? " " Jesus could probably be around somewhere in this world. But not here sadly. You're destined to stay here forever. " I couldn't believe it. It sounded like bullshit. I mean, an after life with cuddly seals and penguins? " Name's Robert Falcon Scott. Me and my men were the first to come here. " " I thought the guy who came to Antarctica first was- " Robert looked pissed. He straighten his clothes up and cut my words away. " Yes I damned know that. Amundsen, isn't it. I was the first to die here. Came to this place with no one but my guys. " " Oh. All right. Than why is it so... empty out here. " " Well... I guess this land is a clean space. No person before us could even live here because it's a giant ice block. And probably because of that it became a place with no kind of religious influence here. " He suddenly pushed me to the ground. "Hey! Why are you... " I stopped and realised something awful. Robert had a sad smile on his face. " See son. You dont feel any kind of coldness here. Or any kind of pain for that matter. " He was right. I was wearing my favorite jeans and T-shirt, but I couldn't feel any cold or pain at all. Only the soft feeling of burshing against snow and the fact that it was cool. " Well, it isn't that bad here. Not having a god means... we can do anything at our will. " The ground before us shook, and we were inside of an cosy looking living room, live fireplace and everything. " Want some tea? Or coffee? The more recent people mostly preferred coffee. " I thought of a hot cocoa, and without me realizing it, I was holding one in my hands. Robert smiled at me, sipping some green tea. " Fast learner eh? You can will most things into existance and manipulate most things... except for things that others have made or actually manipulating other people. " " Wow. This is... kind of too much to handle. " " Think of it as a bonus chance at life. You could try, do, feel all the things in life. And when you could do everything you wanted and just want everyting to stop... " He paused, a depressed look in his eyes. Something in his eyes told me he had seen a lot of people disappear. " Never mind. Well, now that we're done, let me entroduce you to the community. " " Theres an entire community??? " " Yes. We are only a few though. Come follow me. I'll show you up to the rest of the guys. " As Robert left, I had a feeling that this place... isn't going to be that half bad.
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”	asked Karth, the new recruit to the border guard. He and Claw-Leader Tovath patrolled along the palisade that stretched clear across the valley, covering the southern exit of the human reservation. "What do you mean, they build weapons?" he asked again. Tovath sighed and pinched his snout between two fingers. "Listen, rookie, all of you come here and expect that these hairless apes are just going to run away, but they don't." he gestured at the cleared space before the forest edge. "They've survived on this planet for hundreds of thousands of years, on a world that in many ways actively tries to kill them. They worked out pretty early on how to enhance those 'dull claws' by putting a rock in them". "and when you need to hit something with a rock that's further away than you can throw it, or it's too big for a small rock to damage? well they work out ways of making bigger rocks go further" he jabbed a finger at a number of distressingly large rocks that looked like they'd skidded to a halt just short of the wall. "That's what they do! We rose up after electricity died and took away their clothes, their guns, their technology, and they just make primitive versions of the same things, in fact.." He was cut off as a whooshing sound came from the treeline, he grabbed Karth and hauled him below the wall as a shattering noise sounded and then hundreds of tiny impacts thudded into the wood. Torvath looked over. "Oh, oh that's just great, now they've worked out that slate is like shrapnel..."	Title: The change "Humans are weak" - One of the oldest known facts in the entire universe. They lack armored skin, horns, fangs… so much so that their claws are tiny and flat. So, it was nothing new when krrik and blad sat together with their snacks and were making fun of humans. Then, out of nowhere, their not so smart friend; dauf came running on all sixes and crashed next to them… They were annoyed but they had nowhere else to be. “Another snack time going to be wasted listening to dauf’s unintelligent and needy stories” was the common thought running through both their distributed yet connected brains. Dauf caught his breath and said at once “Humans have been making weapons and vehicles going into space, the council has decreed to convene at once and decide on when to declare war on humans’ planet, come let’s go quickly” and grabbed a jelly like limb of blad’s snack to shove into his bottom mouth. Krrik pulled his snack closer and composed himself to just say “They’re making what now!!!?” All the three started running to the vast hall of the elders to see what was going on. It was pandemonium there. Everyone was worried. Many elites had already started the hiring process for their private armies to go to war against the humans. Citizens were huddled in groups discussing in hushed tones. The council itself was trying to calm everyone. All the council members were ordering their troops to calm their people. The leader was trying to connect to the planet’s conscience to look for advice. All the three joined their respective troops while hurriedly trying to finish their snacks. The planet boomed through each council member at once “HUMANS ARE WEAK”. The whole vast hall erupted into cackles and screeches of laughter again. “BUT ONLY IN BRUTE STRENGTH” boomed the collective intelligence once again. “WHAT THEY LACK IN BRUTE FORCE, THEY MAKE UP FOR IN GENIUS AND CREATIVITY. THEY HAVE BEEN BUILDING WEAPONS FOR INDIVIDUAL AS WELL AS MASS WARFARE THROUGHOUOT THE PAST MILLENIA. IF WE GO TO WAR WITH THEM NOW, WE SHALL LOSE” said, the planet. Everyone’s face fell and the murmurs started rising again. The leader bowed to no one in particular and asked “Then shall we make peace with them?” The vast hall shook while everybody tried to hang on to what ever they could find. “PEACE IT SHALL BE” said the planet and everything became silent once again. Krrik and blad looked at each other and ran to their master elite, Eglaf. She looked at them inquisitively. They both said in unison, “we want to be on your journey to the humans’ planet”. She looked at them with intent and then an evil grin spread across her face showing her inner mandibles. She said to them “arm up, we the glats are never the ones to make peace. We shall strike first”. Their faces lit up as they were running out of the vast hall and into the armory. They would be having a war of their lifetimes…. For all they knew.
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”	The 45,083rd Galactic Council Meeting was a special one. It was only the 12th time that all the 4,269 members were called in to attend at the same time. In routine it usually comprised of local systems along with some others that had something to say, a trade agreement to sign, a war to declare. For its significance, it was called on the outskirts of Sagittarius A, for being easily accessible to all member systems. However, the Centauris - Who had called this Special GCM, demanded that it should not be called anywhere near Sagittarius. Their demands were shot down because it looked like they wanted some place easier to reach from their home system. "Centaurians, you have called this special session of GCM providing that humans should be 'taken care of' as your reason. Furthermore, you tried to change the venue of this meeting illegally by saying things like mortal danger. Please elaborate as to why this GCM isn't just a means to dispel rumors of your war plans?" Kronos initiated the session. A hush fell in the hall as soon as he spoke. All eyes were now on the representatives from Centari. "Yes, these rumors, you will be pleased to know that we plan to address them here today" piped the representative from Centauri. He had a bald head, a height of 4.5 ft and a fat figure that made it look like he wouldn't nearly be as athletic as he really was. "For some time now, we have been assessing the situation over at Earth" a groan filled the hall. "I swear if you've brought us all here to discuss humans I will send you into Sagittarius myself" Kronos threatened. "There will be no need for that, if you allow me to continue". "As I was saying, we have been monitoring earth for some time now. But it appears that we cannot in good conscious keep this from every esteemed member of this council. To cut the long story short, in light of what we have gathered, I think now is the time to address the threat posed by humans. Whether we should eliminate them in one combined attack, or let them in this council and hope that they do not take too much offense at the ignorance with which we have dealt with them in the past" The hall got filled with chatter. Kronos put his head in his claws contemplating whether he should destroy Centaurian's ability to monitor humans. Their obsession with humans was downright childish it seemed. "CENTAURIANS" a deafening bellow from the lord Horte himself silenced the room. "What is this new information that you say you've gathered? You do not tell and say that a human, could pose a threat to you? You could easily pass through one of them, or even a dozen of them with your thick heads. What do the humans have? Nothing! A claw that could barely gnaw at a nut." "That is why they build weapons" "They do what now?" Kronos looked up "Weapons" declared the Centarian. "They called them weapons. Our obsession with them started millennia ago when they started using some form of metal sticks to enhance their claws. No longer could we fight a human who has a weapon and is ready to face us. They could as easily take us down, as any of us could do to them. It was for this reason that all tourism was banned and a research post placed instead." "All seemed well for a while, but few hundred years ago, they made their first magic weapon" "A fucking what now? How is it possible for them to wield magic?" a random voice yelled throughout the hall, possible from one of the nebula systems. "Ah yes, we were surprised as well. Unfortunately, that is when we were placed in probation so we couldn't speak out freely, except for calling a special GCM session." Centaurian explained. "It is similar to your weapon in the sense that they leave a lot of smoke, when they use it, but, once again, it is a weapon, not attached to their body like a claw or something." "You take us for fools? Next you are going to say they can fly" Horte let out a chuckle, the only system that had mastered the craft of ariel attacks was his world, where thick atmosphere and large gravity made his species incredibly agile on other worlds. Kronos and Horte were from this world "Oh it gets even better, mere 100 years ago, the first human pioneered the air for the first time. Today, at any given moment you can find millions of humans flying about, and they fly at speed of sound at the height where mountains look like this Till I'm standing on" Centaurian said in a tone that made everyone pay attention to him once again. "How can they do that?" Horte looked concerned. Another species, possibly as strong as his own? How could they have missed them? "It is their damn weapons. They do not make one weapon, and give it to everyone and be done with it. Gone are the times where you could find a human with a metal stick. Now they have metal tubes, that shoot a metal bullet farther, more accurately than any archer here can. But they did not just stop there, they made something called an aircraft, to fly, and put metal tubes on this aircraft so they can kill while high up the air. They made their aircraft faster, and made their tubes fire faster. But about 70 years ago they made a bomb, which blasts away entire cities at a time" "We got scared and pulled our research teams off planet. We hid them behind their moon, but you know what, we didn't realize that they were again building more weapons, weapons that could look behind their moon, while sitting in their homes. They merely detected the rock on which our team had a base, so we quickly retreated completely." The Centaurian was trying with all his might to explain why they were so obsessed with humans. They had been ridiculed over it in the past but couldn't tell it to the audience. "If what you're saying is right, then it appears they will soon be too powerful to fight. Shall we challenge them to a duel?" Horte asked "I'm not entirely sure if that is even possible, few decades ago their weapon 'telescope' could only detect our rock behind their moon. But the reason why we called this meeting was that few years ago, they looked into the EYE itself" . "Explain" said Horte "Their telescope is so strong, that they can probably see us here near the EYE! Which is exactly why we didn't want to meet here." "Are you sure they can see us here?" Horte asked concerned. "They call it their Event Horizon Telescope. They looked at the EYE and let every single human see it like it was in front of them. Even we here cannot see it for it is both too bright and too dark at the same time, but they could nearly see inside the EYE, without even going away from Earth"	Title: The change "Humans are weak" - One of the oldest known facts in the entire universe. They lack armored skin, horns, fangs… so much so that their claws are tiny and flat. So, it was nothing new when krrik and blad sat together with their snacks and were making fun of humans. Then, out of nowhere, their not so smart friend; dauf came running on all sixes and crashed next to them… They were annoyed but they had nowhere else to be. “Another snack time going to be wasted listening to dauf’s unintelligent and needy stories” was the common thought running through both their distributed yet connected brains. Dauf caught his breath and said at once “Humans have been making weapons and vehicles going into space, the council has decreed to convene at once and decide on when to declare war on humans’ planet, come let’s go quickly” and grabbed a jelly like limb of blad’s snack to shove into his bottom mouth. Krrik pulled his snack closer and composed himself to just say “They’re making what now!!!?” All the three started running to the vast hall of the elders to see what was going on. It was pandemonium there. Everyone was worried. Many elites had already started the hiring process for their private armies to go to war against the humans. Citizens were huddled in groups discussing in hushed tones. The council itself was trying to calm everyone. All the council members were ordering their troops to calm their people. The leader was trying to connect to the planet’s conscience to look for advice. All the three joined their respective troops while hurriedly trying to finish their snacks. The planet boomed through each council member at once “HUMANS ARE WEAK”. The whole vast hall erupted into cackles and screeches of laughter again. “BUT ONLY IN BRUTE STRENGTH” boomed the collective intelligence once again. “WHAT THEY LACK IN BRUTE FORCE, THEY MAKE UP FOR IN GENIUS AND CREATIVITY. THEY HAVE BEEN BUILDING WEAPONS FOR INDIVIDUAL AS WELL AS MASS WARFARE THROUGHOUOT THE PAST MILLENIA. IF WE GO TO WAR WITH THEM NOW, WE SHALL LOSE” said, the planet. Everyone’s face fell and the murmurs started rising again. The leader bowed to no one in particular and asked “Then shall we make peace with them?” The vast hall shook while everybody tried to hang on to what ever they could find. “PEACE IT SHALL BE” said the planet and everything became silent once again. Krrik and blad looked at each other and ran to their master elite, Eglaf. She looked at them inquisitively. They both said in unison, “we want to be on your journey to the humans’ planet”. She looked at them with intent and then an evil grin spread across her face showing her inner mandibles. She said to them “arm up, we the glats are never the ones to make peace. We shall strike first”. Their faces lit up as they were running out of the vast hall and into the armory. They would be having a war of their lifetimes…. For all they knew.
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”	I sat under a hill, lying face down in the dirt like a corpse. I knew my breathing gave me away, the steady rise and fall of my back. I hoped they wouldn't notice. The sounds of explosions surrounded us. I heard their loud clomping and their ugly guttural language. It was utterly unintelligible. I braced myself for an end, surely that should have given me away, but no, they all moved past. I'm not sure how long I lay there, frozen with fear of being noticed. I listened to them leaving me behind, surrounded by the bodies of my people. It stand of death. Biles releasing from their bodies. Natural things, things we evolved to fight each other with honor and glory. I felt the ground as I gripped the ground with my craws, felt my teeth, things strong enough to bite through their strongest armor with ease. I could lift one of their vehicles and throw it with ease. None of it mattered. The didn't fight with honor. The shot metal that flew at impossible speeds. Hid in metal boxes and shot explosives. flew in things that moved faster than any bird could dream to match. They had no honor. They murdered in mass. No sanctuary of service for concessions, no evolution of ideas as the powerful dominated and taught the weak pushing everyone forward. Death, their tools didn't allow for any other end. I waited for night to finally get up and move. The humans went east, but our base was north. They were blind, unable to dominate because they never offered safety. This war would go on for years pointlessly. The sun was rising as I finally made it back. "Humans are weak." I heard a war captain say. "Their claws can not even cut nuts. Their muscles struggle with even the lightest of-" He noticed me then. Everyone noticed. I was covered in dirt. I'd been lying face down in the dirt and wasn't taken as a servant. It was a clear shame for a warrior to to dominated in battle, forced to lie in the dirt, and not be deemed deadly enough to kill or worthy enough to take into service. It was meant for parents, servants, and children to ensure their lives not be taken in battle. For it to happen to a warrior was to consider the warrior equal to that of a pacifist. And here I was, my stomach and face covered in dirt. "The humans don't have a sense of honor or mercy." I told them. "Many offered themselves as servants and were killed. They don't fight with muscle or claw. Not venom or poison. They fight the monsters fight, using weapons to kill. Weapons that don't require you to offer risk to yourself because it expects you to stand fields apart from your victim." I felt a lump form and struggled to say these next words. "This is not a war or honor or glory. This is a war of monster and atrocities. A war we can not win. They have taken progress and have perverted it for killing. Humans have dull claws and weak muscles. but they should be feared. They are monsters."	Title: The change "Humans are weak" - One of the oldest known facts in the entire universe. They lack armored skin, horns, fangs… so much so that their claws are tiny and flat. So, it was nothing new when krrik and blad sat together with their snacks and were making fun of humans. Then, out of nowhere, their not so smart friend; dauf came running on all sixes and crashed next to them… They were annoyed but they had nowhere else to be. “Another snack time going to be wasted listening to dauf’s unintelligent and needy stories” was the common thought running through both their distributed yet connected brains. Dauf caught his breath and said at once “Humans have been making weapons and vehicles going into space, the council has decreed to convene at once and decide on when to declare war on humans’ planet, come let’s go quickly” and grabbed a jelly like limb of blad’s snack to shove into his bottom mouth. Krrik pulled his snack closer and composed himself to just say “They’re making what now!!!?” All the three started running to the vast hall of the elders to see what was going on. It was pandemonium there. Everyone was worried. Many elites had already started the hiring process for their private armies to go to war against the humans. Citizens were huddled in groups discussing in hushed tones. The council itself was trying to calm everyone. All the council members were ordering their troops to calm their people. The leader was trying to connect to the planet’s conscience to look for advice. All the three joined their respective troops while hurriedly trying to finish their snacks. The planet boomed through each council member at once “HUMANS ARE WEAK”. The whole vast hall erupted into cackles and screeches of laughter again. “BUT ONLY IN BRUTE STRENGTH” boomed the collective intelligence once again. “WHAT THEY LACK IN BRUTE FORCE, THEY MAKE UP FOR IN GENIUS AND CREATIVITY. THEY HAVE BEEN BUILDING WEAPONS FOR INDIVIDUAL AS WELL AS MASS WARFARE THROUGHOUOT THE PAST MILLENIA. IF WE GO TO WAR WITH THEM NOW, WE SHALL LOSE” said, the planet. Everyone’s face fell and the murmurs started rising again. The leader bowed to no one in particular and asked “Then shall we make peace with them?” The vast hall shook while everybody tried to hang on to what ever they could find. “PEACE IT SHALL BE” said the planet and everything became silent once again. Krrik and blad looked at each other and ran to their master elite, Eglaf. She looked at them inquisitively. They both said in unison, “we want to be on your journey to the humans’ planet”. She looked at them with intent and then an evil grin spread across her face showing her inner mandibles. She said to them “arm up, we the glats are never the ones to make peace. We shall strike first”. Their faces lit up as they were running out of the vast hall and into the armory. They would be having a war of their lifetimes…. For all they knew.
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”	Kv'lon blinked his topmost pair of eyes. While the Caprun mind is well known for its swift reaction times to threats in the wild, untamed worlds of its home system, they are as a species one of the slower ones to actually think. Given their razor-sharp claws that they carry on all four hands, this fact is often best left unspoken in their presence. "So…like rocks? Sharp sticks?" Kv'lon flexed his palms. "I have crushed the iron bones of War Turtles with my bare hands in the depths of Orion V. This will not be a problem." He grinned a toothy smile to the assorted species of the briefing hall. Lieutenant T'ch raised her eyebrow, and willed her acid glands to stop flaring in annoyance. By comparison, her people the Oids looked rather frail, lacking many of the bristling claws, fangs, and talons most of the Multilateral Empire carried naturally. In prior attempts to conquer her species, this was frequently something an invading force would joke about before a swift spray of acid reduced them to a puddle of goo. "Weapons like kinetic launchers, phase beam emitters, and sharpened metal 'battering rams'. That they can hold…" she paused for effect. "in their hands." The room went silent. Many species had experimented over the centuries with artificial additions to their bodies with little success. The Tw'angh for example had attempted to arm their elite shadow task force with an experimental kinetic high-density orb launcher (humans would likely note it resembled a crude slingshot). While this initially gave the task force a distinct tactical advantage at a distance, it was quickly discovered that razor-sharp talons, rubber-based weapons, and flammable projectiles rarely mixed. "Wasn't this the same species whom was reported to have reached the stars only a few decades ago?" muttered a rock-like creature in the back, using one of it's arm-like appendages to scratch its hard body. T'ch continued. "The same. We have reason to believe the technology they used to reach orbit was…combustion based. It was otherwise a hollow metal tube, used to protect their sickly-looking bodies from the cold vacuum of space." Half the room erupted in laughter, the same half which frankly enjoyed the occasional jaunt in zero gravity outside of their ships' hulls on long voyages. Many of their ancestors had managed to leave the atmosphere of their homeworlds with little more than a crude anti-gravity platform and a bag of snacks. While there were several species that needed protection from the long-term effects of the vacuum of space, it was more of a nuisance than a life-threatening environment. "And so, beyond the 'weapons' issue, we believe our joint task force should be able to subjugate the planet for the Empire in a matter of hours." This was met with a mixture of cheers and groans; it was a disappointment for many that they would have spent more time en route then actually fighting. A diminutive Oid entered the room, saluted, then whispered in T'ch's ear. "I understand we just arrived in orbit. Make your way to your drop-platforms, and enjoy the heat as you enter their thin atmosphere. Don't forget to keep a fraction of the population alive for study. I don't care how squishy they are; with a little effort, we can get them to share the secrets of their technology for our own benefit." The room chortled. The Oid who arrived seemed to remember something, then leaned over to whisper again. "Ah, in that case, platforms won't be necessary. It looks like the humans have decided to make their last stand in space. New orders: depart from the nearest airlock and prepare to be boarded." This got the horde excited again, and their pace quickened. She shook her head and sighed. "They're either brave or foolhardy to fight us on our own ship." She turned her attention to her podium as the pounding of hooves, feet, and other appendages created a fading cacophony against the metal floor. Pulling up her console, she switched over to the long-range cameras. Zooming in, she could see it for herself: hundreds of little metal cylinders, probably each carrying a human, hurtling at high speed towards her ship. It was an insultingly low number of combatants. T'ch switched to a different view, and watched her forces gather on the hull, eager for the arrival of their victims. This was how wars in space used to be fought: ship to ship, being to being. Their magnetic boots allowed them to navigate, though she noticed that a Caprun (probably Kv'lon) had already managed to smack one of his own kind off the hull, jockying for the best position on one of the projected arrival points of the human spacecraft. She felt her acid glands flaring in annoyance again. The lieutenant brought up a tactical view of the approaching metal tubes. They had come from all over the planet, perhaps sending the best of their kind in a fool-hardy attempt to deal with their sudden arrival. They were certainly traveling fast; she wondered if they would even survive. T'ch zoomed in on one of the tubes in fascination, trying to make out where the human had entered the spacecraft. She didn't see a door, but some human lettering on the side caught her attention: ICBM.	Title: The change "Humans are weak" - One of the oldest known facts in the entire universe. They lack armored skin, horns, fangs… so much so that their claws are tiny and flat. So, it was nothing new when krrik and blad sat together with their snacks and were making fun of humans. Then, out of nowhere, their not so smart friend; dauf came running on all sixes and crashed next to them… They were annoyed but they had nowhere else to be. “Another snack time going to be wasted listening to dauf’s unintelligent and needy stories” was the common thought running through both their distributed yet connected brains. Dauf caught his breath and said at once “Humans have been making weapons and vehicles going into space, the council has decreed to convene at once and decide on when to declare war on humans’ planet, come let’s go quickly” and grabbed a jelly like limb of blad’s snack to shove into his bottom mouth. Krrik pulled his snack closer and composed himself to just say “They’re making what now!!!?” All the three started running to the vast hall of the elders to see what was going on. It was pandemonium there. Everyone was worried. Many elites had already started the hiring process for their private armies to go to war against the humans. Citizens were huddled in groups discussing in hushed tones. The council itself was trying to calm everyone. All the council members were ordering their troops to calm their people. The leader was trying to connect to the planet’s conscience to look for advice. All the three joined their respective troops while hurriedly trying to finish their snacks. The planet boomed through each council member at once “HUMANS ARE WEAK”. The whole vast hall erupted into cackles and screeches of laughter again. “BUT ONLY IN BRUTE STRENGTH” boomed the collective intelligence once again. “WHAT THEY LACK IN BRUTE FORCE, THEY MAKE UP FOR IN GENIUS AND CREATIVITY. THEY HAVE BEEN BUILDING WEAPONS FOR INDIVIDUAL AS WELL AS MASS WARFARE THROUGHOUOT THE PAST MILLENIA. IF WE GO TO WAR WITH THEM NOW, WE SHALL LOSE” said, the planet. Everyone’s face fell and the murmurs started rising again. The leader bowed to no one in particular and asked “Then shall we make peace with them?” The vast hall shook while everybody tried to hang on to what ever they could find. “PEACE IT SHALL BE” said the planet and everything became silent once again. Krrik and blad looked at each other and ran to their master elite, Eglaf. She looked at them inquisitively. They both said in unison, “we want to be on your journey to the humans’ planet”. She looked at them with intent and then an evil grin spread across her face showing her inner mandibles. She said to them “arm up, we the glats are never the ones to make peace. We shall strike first”. Their faces lit up as they were running out of the vast hall and into the armory. They would be having a war of their lifetimes…. For all they knew.
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”	I sat under a hill, lying face down in the dirt like a corpse. I knew my breathing gave me away, the steady rise and fall of my back. I hoped they wouldn't notice. The sounds of explosions surrounded us. I heard their loud clomping and their ugly guttural language. It was utterly unintelligible. I braced myself for an end, surely that should have given me away, but no, they all moved past. I'm not sure how long I lay there, frozen with fear of being noticed. I listened to them leaving me behind, surrounded by the bodies of my people. It stand of death. Biles releasing from their bodies. Natural things, things we evolved to fight each other with honor and glory. I felt the ground as I gripped the ground with my craws, felt my teeth, things strong enough to bite through their strongest armor with ease. I could lift one of their vehicles and throw it with ease. None of it mattered. The didn't fight with honor. The shot metal that flew at impossible speeds. Hid in metal boxes and shot explosives. flew in things that moved faster than any bird could dream to match. They had no honor. They murdered in mass. No sanctuary of service for concessions, no evolution of ideas as the powerful dominated and taught the weak pushing everyone forward. Death, their tools didn't allow for any other end. I waited for night to finally get up and move. The humans went east, but our base was north. They were blind, unable to dominate because they never offered safety. This war would go on for years pointlessly. The sun was rising as I finally made it back. "Humans are weak." I heard a war captain say. "Their claws can not even cut nuts. Their muscles struggle with even the lightest of-" He noticed me then. Everyone noticed. I was covered in dirt. I'd been lying face down in the dirt and wasn't taken as a servant. It was a clear shame for a warrior to to dominated in battle, forced to lie in the dirt, and not be deemed deadly enough to kill or worthy enough to take into service. It was meant for parents, servants, and children to ensure their lives not be taken in battle. For it to happen to a warrior was to consider the warrior equal to that of a pacifist. And here I was, my stomach and face covered in dirt. "The humans don't have a sense of honor or mercy." I told them. "Many offered themselves as servants and were killed. They don't fight with muscle or claw. Not venom or poison. They fight the monsters fight, using weapons to kill. Weapons that don't require you to offer risk to yourself because it expects you to stand fields apart from your victim." I felt a lump form and struggled to say these next words. "This is not a war or honor or glory. This is a war of monster and atrocities. A war we can not win. They have taken progress and have perverted it for killing. Humans have dull claws and weak muscles. but they should be feared. They are monsters."	When the growing Galactic Empire first locked on to Earth, there was little of interest of their life. The myraid of plants and animals did little to peak their minds, and even what seemed to be the dominant species, humans, were unimpressive at first. Limbs that ended in what could barely be called claws, barely any natural protections, and stats that across the board were underwhelming. The heads of the council discounted the blue ball and continued looking, only sending a single ship to claim the planet for an outpost and small team of researchers with a drip feed of funds. The planet was forgotten about as the Empire looked elsewhere for worthy additions for their ranks. That was centuries ago, and now the Scout-class DES Tey'Cull had reached the Milky Way, the stasis systems that kept the ship's crew alive in suspended animation started to begin to wake them. The hundred or so soldiers found themselves waking with groans as they started to head towards their battle stations. The captain of the vessel was no different as she got out of her pod and moved to check the on-board computers. "Ahoy Captain Fatius. We are drawing within the range of the ship's warp drive to the target." The ship's on-board Navigational Assistant spoke in an even tone, before preparing a stimulant for the Captain and pulled up the revevant files for her to review. "As such, it is required to give your directions for the creation of the Empire's outpost. In addition, we must call back to the Homeword and report our position." Fatius gave a sleepy nod as she checked herself over. Standing a little over 6' 5", she belonged to a race akin to bipedal dogs, well known for their ferocity and strength. She was no exception as her brown-furred form hid both sizable muscle and dozens of scars. Her single green eye shot open as she was injected with the stimulant, the other lost to glory, as she let out a howl. Fully awakened, she looked the computer over with a nod. "I know, Ona. We have done this quite a lot. You even had my proper dose ready. Nothing of issue happened while we took the budget express here, right?" The even tone from before vanished as Ona replied, the computer suddenly a lot more annoyed. "Nothing at all. You'd thing they would send their big hero off to do something more helpful to the expansion, but we are stuck here with-" A ding cut off the computer's voice, before it returned to the even tone from before. "We have an incoming call from KX-9, Home Base. Shall we answer?" Fatius nodded with a hidden grin. The call could not have come at a better time. Ona systems could develop quirks over time, and the one on her ship would gush about its captain every chance it got. A call from a Home Base was not a chance. Within moments, another screen flickered to life as a mass of tentacles covered the screen. The other side's face seemed to be missing from the feed, but a high-pitched "Good" was enough for Fatius to know the otherside was coming in nicely. "This is Captain Fatius of the DES Tey'Cull, First Fang of the Empire. May I ask why you are calling now?" The mass shook as the voice answered. "Oh good, the right ship was on file. The mission for the Gaia output has gotten a bit complicated in the coming years." "Nothing could be worse then having to take this slow way to my mission objective." Fatius answered. "But do explain." "The furless, weaponless, beasts that are the so-called 'apex predators' of the planet?" Ona asked as the files reappeared on its screens. "What could possibly be this issue." The voice on the other end seemed to hesitate as Fatius looked through her version of the files, before she noticed how the other line was silent. "How outdated is our information? 100 years? 300?" "More like it was wrong from the start." The voice said shaking. "Not even a week after our first observations that got you your mission, we observed them making and weilding pointed sticks to hunt and large stones to read... something in the sky." "Okay. This is still within our parameters. What is the-" "As of now, they have a surplus of ballistic weaponry, both via powders and with magnetics, have harnessed Nuclear weaponry, tried chemical weapons on massive scales, and are at the point they train their young in combat as younglings for sport." Fatius gave a groan unfitting of her station. "Lovely. Have you relayed this information to anyone else?" "The council, but since it's been so long, no one even remembers you were out here, let alone the codes to cancel your mission and allow you to return." "Wonderful. Can't do the mission, can't abort the mission, what good news do you have?" Fatius asked as she opened her mission file again. "The 'Front Line' of your time has been quelled. The last battle was about 40 years ago." The voice said with a tint of hopefulness. "That was rhetorical. Just beam me the up-to-date info and continue your research." "Yes, Ma'am!" The call clicker off as Fatius let out a sigh and looked over her mission. The new information came in a few minutes later with a ding. The screen changed to a display for a shipwide broadcast as Ona spoke once more. "Captain. We will need to alert the crew before they set our jump. I'm sure we can finish this and get you reassigned to somewhere you can do some real carnage like before." However, as Fatius read more, a grin formed on her face. "Of course, but this might not be as bad as we first thought." She pushed the button for the broadcast, before giving her Crew a massive grin. "Attention, all hands: Our mission has changed slighty. "I hope you all can handle more idle time. We have a vacation coming!"
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”	Kv'lon blinked his topmost pair of eyes. While the Caprun mind is well known for its swift reaction times to threats in the wild, untamed worlds of its home system, they are as a species one of the slower ones to actually think. Given their razor-sharp claws that they carry on all four hands, this fact is often best left unspoken in their presence. "So…like rocks? Sharp sticks?" Kv'lon flexed his palms. "I have crushed the iron bones of War Turtles with my bare hands in the depths of Orion V. This will not be a problem." He grinned a toothy smile to the assorted species of the briefing hall. Lieutenant T'ch raised her eyebrow, and willed her acid glands to stop flaring in annoyance. By comparison, her people the Oids looked rather frail, lacking many of the bristling claws, fangs, and talons most of the Multilateral Empire carried naturally. In prior attempts to conquer her species, this was frequently something an invading force would joke about before a swift spray of acid reduced them to a puddle of goo. "Weapons like kinetic launchers, phase beam emitters, and sharpened metal 'battering rams'. That they can hold…" she paused for effect. "in their hands." The room went silent. Many species had experimented over the centuries with artificial additions to their bodies with little success. The Tw'angh for example had attempted to arm their elite shadow task force with an experimental kinetic high-density orb launcher (humans would likely note it resembled a crude slingshot). While this initially gave the task force a distinct tactical advantage at a distance, it was quickly discovered that razor-sharp talons, rubber-based weapons, and flammable projectiles rarely mixed. "Wasn't this the same species whom was reported to have reached the stars only a few decades ago?" muttered a rock-like creature in the back, using one of it's arm-like appendages to scratch its hard body. T'ch continued. "The same. We have reason to believe the technology they used to reach orbit was…combustion based. It was otherwise a hollow metal tube, used to protect their sickly-looking bodies from the cold vacuum of space." Half the room erupted in laughter, the same half which frankly enjoyed the occasional jaunt in zero gravity outside of their ships' hulls on long voyages. Many of their ancestors had managed to leave the atmosphere of their homeworlds with little more than a crude anti-gravity platform and a bag of snacks. While there were several species that needed protection from the long-term effects of the vacuum of space, it was more of a nuisance than a life-threatening environment. "And so, beyond the 'weapons' issue, we believe our joint task force should be able to subjugate the planet for the Empire in a matter of hours." This was met with a mixture of cheers and groans; it was a disappointment for many that they would have spent more time en route then actually fighting. A diminutive Oid entered the room, saluted, then whispered in T'ch's ear. "I understand we just arrived in orbit. Make your way to your drop-platforms, and enjoy the heat as you enter their thin atmosphere. Don't forget to keep a fraction of the population alive for study. I don't care how squishy they are; with a little effort, we can get them to share the secrets of their technology for our own benefit." The room chortled. The Oid who arrived seemed to remember something, then leaned over to whisper again. "Ah, in that case, platforms won't be necessary. It looks like the humans have decided to make their last stand in space. New orders: depart from the nearest airlock and prepare to be boarded." This got the horde excited again, and their pace quickened. She shook her head and sighed. "They're either brave or foolhardy to fight us on our own ship." She turned her attention to her podium as the pounding of hooves, feet, and other appendages created a fading cacophony against the metal floor. Pulling up her console, she switched over to the long-range cameras. Zooming in, she could see it for herself: hundreds of little metal cylinders, probably each carrying a human, hurtling at high speed towards her ship. It was an insultingly low number of combatants. T'ch switched to a different view, and watched her forces gather on the hull, eager for the arrival of their victims. This was how wars in space used to be fought: ship to ship, being to being. Their magnetic boots allowed them to navigate, though she noticed that a Caprun (probably Kv'lon) had already managed to smack one of his own kind off the hull, jockying for the best position on one of the projected arrival points of the human spacecraft. She felt her acid glands flaring in annoyance again. The lieutenant brought up a tactical view of the approaching metal tubes. They had come from all over the planet, perhaps sending the best of their kind in a fool-hardy attempt to deal with their sudden arrival. They were certainly traveling fast; she wondered if they would even survive. T'ch zoomed in on one of the tubes in fascination, trying to make out where the human had entered the spacecraft. She didn't see a door, but some human lettering on the side caught her attention: ICBM.	When the growing Galactic Empire first locked on to Earth, there was little of interest of their life. The myraid of plants and animals did little to peak their minds, and even what seemed to be the dominant species, humans, were unimpressive at first. Limbs that ended in what could barely be called claws, barely any natural protections, and stats that across the board were underwhelming. The heads of the council discounted the blue ball and continued looking, only sending a single ship to claim the planet for an outpost and small team of researchers with a drip feed of funds. The planet was forgotten about as the Empire looked elsewhere for worthy additions for their ranks. That was centuries ago, and now the Scout-class DES Tey'Cull had reached the Milky Way, the stasis systems that kept the ship's crew alive in suspended animation started to begin to wake them. The hundred or so soldiers found themselves waking with groans as they started to head towards their battle stations. The captain of the vessel was no different as she got out of her pod and moved to check the on-board computers. "Ahoy Captain Fatius. We are drawing within the range of the ship's warp drive to the target." The ship's on-board Navigational Assistant spoke in an even tone, before preparing a stimulant for the Captain and pulled up the revevant files for her to review. "As such, it is required to give your directions for the creation of the Empire's outpost. In addition, we must call back to the Homeword and report our position." Fatius gave a sleepy nod as she checked herself over. Standing a little over 6' 5", she belonged to a race akin to bipedal dogs, well known for their ferocity and strength. She was no exception as her brown-furred form hid both sizable muscle and dozens of scars. Her single green eye shot open as she was injected with the stimulant, the other lost to glory, as she let out a howl. Fully awakened, she looked the computer over with a nod. "I know, Ona. We have done this quite a lot. You even had my proper dose ready. Nothing of issue happened while we took the budget express here, right?" The even tone from before vanished as Ona replied, the computer suddenly a lot more annoyed. "Nothing at all. You'd thing they would send their big hero off to do something more helpful to the expansion, but we are stuck here with-" A ding cut off the computer's voice, before it returned to the even tone from before. "We have an incoming call from KX-9, Home Base. Shall we answer?" Fatius nodded with a hidden grin. The call could not have come at a better time. Ona systems could develop quirks over time, and the one on her ship would gush about its captain every chance it got. A call from a Home Base was not a chance. Within moments, another screen flickered to life as a mass of tentacles covered the screen. The other side's face seemed to be missing from the feed, but a high-pitched "Good" was enough for Fatius to know the otherside was coming in nicely. "This is Captain Fatius of the DES Tey'Cull, First Fang of the Empire. May I ask why you are calling now?" The mass shook as the voice answered. "Oh good, the right ship was on file. The mission for the Gaia output has gotten a bit complicated in the coming years." "Nothing could be worse then having to take this slow way to my mission objective." Fatius answered. "But do explain." "The furless, weaponless, beasts that are the so-called 'apex predators' of the planet?" Ona asked as the files reappeared on its screens. "What could possibly be this issue." The voice on the other end seemed to hesitate as Fatius looked through her version of the files, before she noticed how the other line was silent. "How outdated is our information? 100 years? 300?" "More like it was wrong from the start." The voice said shaking. "Not even a week after our first observations that got you your mission, we observed them making and weilding pointed sticks to hunt and large stones to read... something in the sky." "Okay. This is still within our parameters. What is the-" "As of now, they have a surplus of ballistic weaponry, both via powders and with magnetics, have harnessed Nuclear weaponry, tried chemical weapons on massive scales, and are at the point they train their young in combat as younglings for sport." Fatius gave a groan unfitting of her station. "Lovely. Have you relayed this information to anyone else?" "The council, but since it's been so long, no one even remembers you were out here, let alone the codes to cancel your mission and allow you to return." "Wonderful. Can't do the mission, can't abort the mission, what good news do you have?" Fatius asked as she opened her mission file again. "The 'Front Line' of your time has been quelled. The last battle was about 40 years ago." The voice said with a tint of hopefulness. "That was rhetorical. Just beam me the up-to-date info and continue your research." "Yes, Ma'am!" The call clicker off as Fatius let out a sigh and looked over her mission. The new information came in a few minutes later with a ding. The screen changed to a display for a shipwide broadcast as Ona spoke once more. "Captain. We will need to alert the crew before they set our jump. I'm sure we can finish this and get you reassigned to somewhere you can do some real carnage like before." However, as Fatius read more, a grin formed on her face. "Of course, but this might not be as bad as we first thought." She pushed the button for the broadcast, before giving her Crew a massive grin. "Attention, all hands: Our mission has changed slighty. "I hope you all can handle more idle time. We have a vacation coming!"
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”	Kv'lon blinked his topmost pair of eyes. While the Caprun mind is well known for its swift reaction times to threats in the wild, untamed worlds of its home system, they are as a species one of the slower ones to actually think. Given their razor-sharp claws that they carry on all four hands, this fact is often best left unspoken in their presence. "So…like rocks? Sharp sticks?" Kv'lon flexed his palms. "I have crushed the iron bones of War Turtles with my bare hands in the depths of Orion V. This will not be a problem." He grinned a toothy smile to the assorted species of the briefing hall. Lieutenant T'ch raised her eyebrow, and willed her acid glands to stop flaring in annoyance. By comparison, her people the Oids looked rather frail, lacking many of the bristling claws, fangs, and talons most of the Multilateral Empire carried naturally. In prior attempts to conquer her species, this was frequently something an invading force would joke about before a swift spray of acid reduced them to a puddle of goo. "Weapons like kinetic launchers, phase beam emitters, and sharpened metal 'battering rams'. That they can hold…" she paused for effect. "in their hands." The room went silent. Many species had experimented over the centuries with artificial additions to their bodies with little success. The Tw'angh for example had attempted to arm their elite shadow task force with an experimental kinetic high-density orb launcher (humans would likely note it resembled a crude slingshot). While this initially gave the task force a distinct tactical advantage at a distance, it was quickly discovered that razor-sharp talons, rubber-based weapons, and flammable projectiles rarely mixed. "Wasn't this the same species whom was reported to have reached the stars only a few decades ago?" muttered a rock-like creature in the back, using one of it's arm-like appendages to scratch its hard body. T'ch continued. "The same. We have reason to believe the technology they used to reach orbit was…combustion based. It was otherwise a hollow metal tube, used to protect their sickly-looking bodies from the cold vacuum of space." Half the room erupted in laughter, the same half which frankly enjoyed the occasional jaunt in zero gravity outside of their ships' hulls on long voyages. Many of their ancestors had managed to leave the atmosphere of their homeworlds with little more than a crude anti-gravity platform and a bag of snacks. While there were several species that needed protection from the long-term effects of the vacuum of space, it was more of a nuisance than a life-threatening environment. "And so, beyond the 'weapons' issue, we believe our joint task force should be able to subjugate the planet for the Empire in a matter of hours." This was met with a mixture of cheers and groans; it was a disappointment for many that they would have spent more time en route then actually fighting. A diminutive Oid entered the room, saluted, then whispered in T'ch's ear. "I understand we just arrived in orbit. Make your way to your drop-platforms, and enjoy the heat as you enter their thin atmosphere. Don't forget to keep a fraction of the population alive for study. I don't care how squishy they are; with a little effort, we can get them to share the secrets of their technology for our own benefit." The room chortled. The Oid who arrived seemed to remember something, then leaned over to whisper again. "Ah, in that case, platforms won't be necessary. It looks like the humans have decided to make their last stand in space. New orders: depart from the nearest airlock and prepare to be boarded." This got the horde excited again, and their pace quickened. She shook her head and sighed. "They're either brave or foolhardy to fight us on our own ship." She turned her attention to her podium as the pounding of hooves, feet, and other appendages created a fading cacophony against the metal floor. Pulling up her console, she switched over to the long-range cameras. Zooming in, she could see it for herself: hundreds of little metal cylinders, probably each carrying a human, hurtling at high speed towards her ship. It was an insultingly low number of combatants. T'ch switched to a different view, and watched her forces gather on the hull, eager for the arrival of their victims. This was how wars in space used to be fought: ship to ship, being to being. Their magnetic boots allowed them to navigate, though she noticed that a Caprun (probably Kv'lon) had already managed to smack one of his own kind off the hull, jockying for the best position on one of the projected arrival points of the human spacecraft. She felt her acid glands flaring in annoyance again. The lieutenant brought up a tactical view of the approaching metal tubes. They had come from all over the planet, perhaps sending the best of their kind in a fool-hardy attempt to deal with their sudden arrival. They were certainly traveling fast; she wondered if they would even survive. T'ch zoomed in on one of the tubes in fascination, trying to make out where the human had entered the spacecraft. She didn't see a door, but some human lettering on the side caught her attention: ICBM.	I sat under a hill, lying face down in the dirt like a corpse. I knew my breathing gave me away, the steady rise and fall of my back. I hoped they wouldn't notice. The sounds of explosions surrounded us. I heard their loud clomping and their ugly guttural language. It was utterly unintelligible. I braced myself for an end, surely that should have given me away, but no, they all moved past. I'm not sure how long I lay there, frozen with fear of being noticed. I listened to them leaving me behind, surrounded by the bodies of my people. It stand of death. Biles releasing from their bodies. Natural things, things we evolved to fight each other with honor and glory. I felt the ground as I gripped the ground with my craws, felt my teeth, things strong enough to bite through their strongest armor with ease. I could lift one of their vehicles and throw it with ease. None of it mattered. The didn't fight with honor. The shot metal that flew at impossible speeds. Hid in metal boxes and shot explosives. flew in things that moved faster than any bird could dream to match. They had no honor. They murdered in mass. No sanctuary of service for concessions, no evolution of ideas as the powerful dominated and taught the weak pushing everyone forward. Death, their tools didn't allow for any other end. I waited for night to finally get up and move. The humans went east, but our base was north. They were blind, unable to dominate because they never offered safety. This war would go on for years pointlessly. The sun was rising as I finally made it back. "Humans are weak." I heard a war captain say. "Their claws can not even cut nuts. Their muscles struggle with even the lightest of-" He noticed me then. Everyone noticed. I was covered in dirt. I'd been lying face down in the dirt and wasn't taken as a servant. It was a clear shame for a warrior to to dominated in battle, forced to lie in the dirt, and not be deemed deadly enough to kill or worthy enough to take into service. It was meant for parents, servants, and children to ensure their lives not be taken in battle. For it to happen to a warrior was to consider the warrior equal to that of a pacifist. And here I was, my stomach and face covered in dirt. "The humans don't have a sense of honor or mercy." I told them. "Many offered themselves as servants and were killed. They don't fight with muscle or claw. Not venom or poison. They fight the monsters fight, using weapons to kill. Weapons that don't require you to offer risk to yourself because it expects you to stand fields apart from your victim." I felt a lump form and struggled to say these next words. "This is not a war or honor or glory. This is a war of monster and atrocities. A war we can not win. They have taken progress and have perverted it for killing. Humans have dull claws and weak muscles. but they should be feared. They are monsters."
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant	They destroyed me. My people. The innocents I protected. They burned and pillaged and ravaged and... So be it. I will hear their blood-wreathed prayers. Accept their perverse offerings of sacrifice. They cry out to the void to be rid of me- and thus, they shall have their wish fulfilled. The others amongst the divine held their tongues. My would-be murderers, in their cleverness, had left only the smallest of holes in their machinations to have me undone. Only the smallest. My new "followers" would get their due. It began with the dust and dirt in their homes. Spotless and clean, they saw themselves reflected purely in their reflection, and for a moment I allowed them a small sense of satisfaction that they had triumphed. Then, I took the little things they noticed about their loved ones. The way the light catches her eyes, the way he touches her shoulder to say 'I love you'. Next were the little lies they told others. I did not pause to take joy in watching the fabric of their lives fray and unravel for lack of a little tact. I withheld from them the little joys- no birdsong to soften the morning, no gentle breeze to caress their cheek. Not knowing they had placed themselves under my dominion, they spoke little prayers, seeking small comforts in their renewed faith. Small acts of worship that would reach noone, small comforts they would never find. Within a week, their relationships had soured. A month, and their lives were in shambles. They would have been spared so much hardship, had they been shown some small measure of forgiveness, some momentary kindness. Such a shame they had wished those small things gone from their lives. I waited, patiently, until I could remove from my unwitting devotees the last thing I could take from them- until their hope dwindled enough to become mine.	[Poem] Desecrated altars every way Thy own scholars lay limp, Cut down by those who could not say Taunted and teased by imps And though they may feel righteous Murder without consequence I am the God of the Miniscule, Threads of guilt blossom in sequence A chain of motion set abound Darkness eats at thy heart Lives begin to crumble down This delicious work of art Men driven mad lose their heads, From nigh but a spark. As they descend wailing remorse, I chuckle in the Dark. Edit: It's 4 stanzas of 4 lines I haven't posted on here before so not sure why the formatting came out like this
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant	The blood dripped from the altar. I felt the pain of a broken body - the body of my priestess, a young girl who was last to die. My last follower. Taking her body was the last thing I did before there were no more humans believing in me - and that meant, I was no longer a deity. Still, I was a being of pure power, accumulated over millenia of worship. It's not like they expect God of small things to intervene in mortal realm, send storms and blessings, do things my kin would usually do. Still, all that faith was bound to add up. I gazed around the temple. It was quite a beautiful, if rustic, place while it stood. Now it was a gory mess of a room: desecrated frescoes, broken pews, bodies of my followers and clergy, mutilated and thrown around as dolls. "I guess, the Inquisition of Kairos doesn't like being opposed, after all" - I muttered, slowly turning to the exit. Kairos is... Was my brother. The Wolf-god. God of warriors. He was the first of us to forget about this world after it became a boring toy, yet it seems that, ironically, his cult became the strongest. Was that because they didn't receive any divine blessings and had to depend on themselves or just because the cult attracted cutthroats, veterans and other martial types? I've walked outside, wrapping myself in a cloak I've picked from one of the bodies. I've felt it clinging to my body with wetness of the blood, felt the cold wind blowing through the holes. I've walked into the night, knowing that behind me the village around the temple was being razed and pillaged. That wasn't right, but I didn't have much time. Every moment in this world took more energy from my reserves to sustain this body, and I needed a whole lot of energy for what I had planned. I've walked into the woods, only to emerge a few minutes later with a walking staff. A few weeks of travel later I stood before the gates of Wolfenheim. A fortress-city of the Inquisition, the place that fed and supplied its headquarters. The heart of the Wolf. I didn't need to get in. In fact, even coming to the gates was excessive: I could do the same from a distance. Still, it was somewhat important for me to get inside. The guards didn't bother me much, as long as they knew, I was just another leper. After dealing with them, I've entered the walls. The city was awful. It was made of poverty, crime and despair as much as it was built of timber, clay and stone. While making my way to the main square, I was a target of a robbery thrice, each time robbers running in fear after I raised my hood. I didn't waste any bit of my reserves to prevent decay of the body. My journey ended on the main square, before the keep and towers of the Inquisition. There, I've broken my staff upon my knee. I've took the remaining half and broke it again. And again. And again. Staff to stick to chip to splinter... I broke the now-invisible piece of wood again and again, making it smaller and smaller with every iteration. Finally, I've collected some power and broke the pieces last time, each one falling apart in 21 pieces. In my head I've heard the words of my brother, Cosmos, who've taught me this trick: "No, stop! You'll...". His words faded as I've channeled all of my energy into splitting every single atom, the smallest of all things know to me. It was my domain, after all.	[Poem] Desecrated altars every way Thy own scholars lay limp, Cut down by those who could not say Taunted and teased by imps And though they may feel righteous Murder without consequence I am the God of the Miniscule, Threads of guilt blossom in sequence A chain of motion set abound Darkness eats at thy heart Lives begin to crumble down This delicious work of art Men driven mad lose their heads, From nigh but a spark. As they descend wailing remorse, I chuckle in the Dark. Edit: It's 4 stanzas of 4 lines I haven't posted on here before so not sure why the formatting came out like this
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant	Upon seeing the horrors that befell my subjects, my beloved followers, I rushed into the hall of the greater gods. Pleading with the king of gods I said, “please, oh greatest of gods, he who in omnipresent and omnipotent, I beg of thee. Tell me who hath slain my priests and my priestesses. With your great knowledge surely you must know.” And to this he replied, “foolish being, you cannot see that it was I, and the other gods within this hall, that destroyed your temples? You are not fit to be a god. You lack both godly ambition and godly talent. As such we had to take your execution into our own hands, although we believed losing your followers would be enough. Perhaps, like your domain, you refuse to die easily.” Upon his thundering words the other gods in the hall each prepared to finish the job. And in my rage I cared not for their retribution as I shouted one divine order over my domain “go forth, my children, leave no man nor woman alive, show these impudent humans the price of their sins, turn their temples to rubble and their people to bones. Let this day be engraved in the very history of the world as the day when every man, woman, elder, and child feared the plague, and the swarm that brought it.” And so the gods struck me down with their great weapons, but as they did thousands of beast, from rat to spider, crawled out of their holes and went forth in one unified swarm to siege each city and leave no man alive. And so that day the greatest gods and all their followers were consumed. And no such fool remained. And when, at last, those who worshipped no god began to rebuild what had been lost they remembered one true warning from the divine text. Nothing, no matter how small, was insignificant.	[Poem] Desecrated altars every way Thy own scholars lay limp, Cut down by those who could not say Taunted and teased by imps And though they may feel righteous Murder without consequence I am the God of the Miniscule, Threads of guilt blossom in sequence A chain of motion set abound Darkness eats at thy heart Lives begin to crumble down This delicious work of art Men driven mad lose their heads, From nigh but a spark. As they descend wailing remorse, I chuckle in the Dark. Edit: It's 4 stanzas of 4 lines I haven't posted on here before so not sure why the formatting came out like this
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant	“What troubles you, old friend?” Came the melodious voice of the older man. He sat sipping tea from a roughly hewn wooden cup in a rather small, but modest shrine, one with little room for fancy, but tastefully adorned with gifts from children, carvings showing happy scenes, and quaint little offerings that would have otherwise been discarded by the other Gods. “I’m not sure what to do…” the God before him started shakily. “I am but the God of small things, of whispers in the wind, of the breeze in the trees, so why, why would they damage this shrine?! To no longer give offerings, fine, I can accept that as a God who rules over so little, but why would they they not leave me in peace? Why would they wish me harm? Do they value such quaintness so lowly?” The older man sat pondering, steam gently rising from his cup, the sweet scent emanating from that which he cradled as though it were a delicate chalice, the holy grail even. He truly did love these little things, for which the God across from him always downplayed their importance. “Give it time old friend, our friends will make amends. Brothers may kill brothers for now, friends may make enemies of each other, but such grudges are not built to last.” The older man took another sip, as though to create a waiting time, a suspense, something which the God in front of him was more than familiar with, and cherished as it meant more time - if only a little - with his oldest, dearest friend. “Time is a funny thing you know? It’s always worked slightly differently in this shrine. Seasons pass, harvests come and go, sometimes good, sometimes bad, but one thing shall always prevail. You know exactly what I’m talking about, old friend. When you leave, all will be as it was, They will take care of it.” The God looked up from his own cup, lost as he was in his own downturned musing, it was as though he just now remembered who he was speaking to. “They? Your disciples?” The older man chuckled. “Not my disciples, my friends. You’re not forgetting what I rule over now are you?” “Ah… of course, the God of Unbreakable Bonds and Everlasting Friendships.” “Indeed, and who I would I be, in his time of need, if I were to refuse my oldest friend, the God of Arepo?”	[Poem] Desecrated altars every way Thy own scholars lay limp, Cut down by those who could not say Taunted and teased by imps And though they may feel righteous Murder without consequence I am the God of the Miniscule, Threads of guilt blossom in sequence A chain of motion set abound Darkness eats at thy heart Lives begin to crumble down This delicious work of art Men driven mad lose their heads, From nigh but a spark. As they descend wailing remorse, I chuckle in the Dark. Edit: It's 4 stanzas of 4 lines I haven't posted on here before so not sure why the formatting came out like this
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant	For years, nay, millenia, I watched and waited. They forgot that we came from small things; atoms, molecules, single-celled organisms. I gave that all up and I gave it up willingly, happy to share the burden of responsibility with my brothers and sisters. When my temple, my people, my sanctuary was desecrated, they were sympathetic. But there were no punishments. And I realized later, that it’s because they’d forgotten. They forgot the power of small things, and that forgetting, I vowed, would be their undoing. It’s not because I’m inherently vengeful. Well, not anymore. I’ll admit that the 1300’s weren’t my finest years. I try not to talk about it. No, I actually want the world to flourish. I want change. I want evolution! But like any creator, I want respect for what I’ve done. No bowing, no scraping, nothing more than a general acknowledgement. I think my siblings have become too much like the mortals they so deeply care about. I think they’re too enmeshed. I think… I think they’ve changed. So I started to encourage some of their people. Nudge them a little here and there. And I’ll admit again, I was careless with the first – and I regret that, I really do. That delightful French woman, Marie? She deserved so much more. Baekland was a right prick, but he served his purpose. Oh, and then there was Oppenheimer. Great name. I think that’s why I chose him, because I could make up funny little songs while he was working. Once they’d accomplished their tasks, I started to think a bit ‘bigger.’ Not too big, mind you, I’m still the Goddess of Small Things. But many small things can turn into a big thing. Janssen’s been brilliant. The Sacklers were my pride and joy, until they got greedy. Delta didn’t quite succeed, which was… disappointing. But then things like bacteria and viruses are much trickier than drugs and molecules. They have a mind of their own. I’m patient. I can wait. Someone new will come along and I’ll be there, whispering into their ear while they look into a microscope or poke something with a needle. Even if the world ends with a bang, I’ll know. It wasn’t the plane, the bomb, the lab, or the scientist. It was me, in the smallest things.	[Poem] Desecrated altars every way Thy own scholars lay limp, Cut down by those who could not say Taunted and teased by imps And though they may feel righteous Murder without consequence I am the God of the Miniscule, Threads of guilt blossom in sequence A chain of motion set abound Darkness eats at thy heart Lives begin to crumble down This delicious work of art Men driven mad lose their heads, From nigh but a spark. As they descend wailing remorse, I chuckle in the Dark. Edit: It's 4 stanzas of 4 lines I haven't posted on here before so not sure why the formatting came out like this
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant	“What troubles you, old friend?” Came the melodious voice of the older man. He sat sipping tea from a roughly hewn wooden cup in a rather small, but modest shrine, one with little room for fancy, but tastefully adorned with gifts from children, carvings showing happy scenes, and quaint little offerings that would have otherwise been discarded by the other Gods. “I’m not sure what to do…” the God before him started shakily. “I am but the God of small things, of whispers in the wind, of the breeze in the trees, so why, why would they damage this shrine?! To no longer give offerings, fine, I can accept that as a God who rules over so little, but why would they they not leave me in peace? Why would they wish me harm? Do they value such quaintness so lowly?” The older man sat pondering, steam gently rising from his cup, the sweet scent emanating from that which he cradled as though it were a delicate chalice, the holy grail even. He truly did love these little things, for which the God across from him always downplayed their importance. “Give it time old friend, our friends will make amends. Brothers may kill brothers for now, friends may make enemies of each other, but such grudges are not built to last.” The older man took another sip, as though to create a waiting time, a suspense, something which the God in front of him was more than familiar with, and cherished as it meant more time - if only a little - with his oldest, dearest friend. “Time is a funny thing you know? It’s always worked slightly differently in this shrine. Seasons pass, harvests come and go, sometimes good, sometimes bad, but one thing shall always prevail. You know exactly what I’m talking about, old friend. When you leave, all will be as it was, They will take care of it.” The God looked up from his own cup, lost as he was in his own downturned musing, it was as though he just now remembered who he was speaking to. “They? Your disciples?” The older man chuckled. “Not my disciples, my friends. You’re not forgetting what I rule over now are you?” “Ah… of course, the God of Unbreakable Bonds and Everlasting Friendships.” “Indeed, and who I would I be, in his time of need, if I were to refuse my oldest friend, the God of Arepo?”	Upon seeing the horrors that befell my subjects, my beloved followers, I rushed into the hall of the greater gods. Pleading with the king of gods I said, “please, oh greatest of gods, he who in omnipresent and omnipotent, I beg of thee. Tell me who hath slain my priests and my priestesses. With your great knowledge surely you must know.” And to this he replied, “foolish being, you cannot see that it was I, and the other gods within this hall, that destroyed your temples? You are not fit to be a god. You lack both godly ambition and godly talent. As such we had to take your execution into our own hands, although we believed losing your followers would be enough. Perhaps, like your domain, you refuse to die easily.” Upon his thundering words the other gods in the hall each prepared to finish the job. And in my rage I cared not for their retribution as I shouted one divine order over my domain “go forth, my children, leave no man nor woman alive, show these impudent humans the price of their sins, turn their temples to rubble and their people to bones. Let this day be engraved in the very history of the world as the day when every man, woman, elder, and child feared the plague, and the swarm that brought it.” And so the gods struck me down with their great weapons, but as they did thousands of beast, from rat to spider, crawled out of their holes and went forth in one unified swarm to siege each city and leave no man alive. And so that day the greatest gods and all their followers were consumed. And no such fool remained. And when, at last, those who worshipped no god began to rebuild what had been lost they remembered one true warning from the divine text. Nothing, no matter how small, was insignificant.
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant	For years, nay, millenia, I watched and waited. They forgot that we came from small things; atoms, molecules, single-celled organisms. I gave that all up and I gave it up willingly, happy to share the burden of responsibility with my brothers and sisters. When my temple, my people, my sanctuary was desecrated, they were sympathetic. But there were no punishments. And I realized later, that it’s because they’d forgotten. They forgot the power of small things, and that forgetting, I vowed, would be their undoing. It’s not because I’m inherently vengeful. Well, not anymore. I’ll admit that the 1300’s weren’t my finest years. I try not to talk about it. No, I actually want the world to flourish. I want change. I want evolution! But like any creator, I want respect for what I’ve done. No bowing, no scraping, nothing more than a general acknowledgement. I think my siblings have become too much like the mortals they so deeply care about. I think they’re too enmeshed. I think… I think they’ve changed. So I started to encourage some of their people. Nudge them a little here and there. And I’ll admit again, I was careless with the first – and I regret that, I really do. That delightful French woman, Marie? She deserved so much more. Baekland was a right prick, but he served his purpose. Oh, and then there was Oppenheimer. Great name. I think that’s why I chose him, because I could make up funny little songs while he was working. Once they’d accomplished their tasks, I started to think a bit ‘bigger.’ Not too big, mind you, I’m still the Goddess of Small Things. But many small things can turn into a big thing. Janssen’s been brilliant. The Sacklers were my pride and joy, until they got greedy. Delta didn’t quite succeed, which was… disappointing. But then things like bacteria and viruses are much trickier than drugs and molecules. They have a mind of their own. I’m patient. I can wait. Someone new will come along and I’ll be there, whispering into their ear while they look into a microscope or poke something with a needle. Even if the world ends with a bang, I’ll know. It wasn’t the plane, the bomb, the lab, or the scientist. It was me, in the smallest things.	Upon seeing the horrors that befell my subjects, my beloved followers, I rushed into the hall of the greater gods. Pleading with the king of gods I said, “please, oh greatest of gods, he who in omnipresent and omnipotent, I beg of thee. Tell me who hath slain my priests and my priestesses. With your great knowledge surely you must know.” And to this he replied, “foolish being, you cannot see that it was I, and the other gods within this hall, that destroyed your temples? You are not fit to be a god. You lack both godly ambition and godly talent. As such we had to take your execution into our own hands, although we believed losing your followers would be enough. Perhaps, like your domain, you refuse to die easily.” Upon his thundering words the other gods in the hall each prepared to finish the job. And in my rage I cared not for their retribution as I shouted one divine order over my domain “go forth, my children, leave no man nor woman alive, show these impudent humans the price of their sins, turn their temples to rubble and their people to bones. Let this day be engraved in the very history of the world as the day when every man, woman, elder, and child feared the plague, and the swarm that brought it.” And so the gods struck me down with their great weapons, but as they did thousands of beast, from rat to spider, crawled out of their holes and went forth in one unified swarm to siege each city and leave no man alive. And so that day the greatest gods and all their followers were consumed. And no such fool remained. And when, at last, those who worshipped no god began to rebuild what had been lost they remembered one true warning from the divine text. Nothing, no matter how small, was insignificant.
[WP] After staring out the train's window at the changing view for an hour, you get up for the bathroom - then realize: the train was standing still this whole time.	The ever rushing trees and plants zipping by were an incredible sight to behold. So many swirling colours and different landscapes. For the past hour there hadn’t been a dull moment. Swirling shades of verdant greens, the flashes of brightly coloured wildflowers. All of it offset by the stunning blue sky. It was impossible to look away from, unfortunately my body had other ideas. With a deep regret I tore my eyes away from the beautiful mosaic of colours and light and stood up. For the first time I looked at the other passengers. It was strange, they had no reactions to the beauty wizzing by! None of them were even looking out their windows! How could they be so blind? Staring at their blank impatient faces made me realise something strange. There were no sounds of the train along the tracks. No noise you’d expect from a moving train at all! Hell there wasn’t even any mild swaying. It was then realisation struck. They weren’t moving, yet how could I see such majesty? I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair and cursed softly. “I really need to stop smoking random things I find on the floor.”	I finally let out a breath as the shining nighttime silhouette of the city inched away in the distance, it had been just about an hour since the train pulled out of Central Station, and with every passing minute, I was further and further away from that hellscape. “Finally, safety,” I whispered, peeling myself away from the window. Standing up and stretching I looked around the train car, the couple other passengers were all asleep. It felt as good a time as any to visit the bathroom, yet on my way, I couldn’t help but feel that something was off... The train car was remarkably stable. Far too stable. Fearing the worst I slid over to one of the windows and opened it. The illusion was broken. Instead of the city and rolling countryside, there was an infinite void filled with piercing pure white eyes that all stared directly at me. “Well, that’s just perfect. I was running out of nightmare fuel for a moment there. Runt, where the fuck are we!?” “Hey now,” A voice called out in the back of my mind, “It’s not my fault you got sucked into this newfangled eldritch bullshit, besides I told you we should stay away from all sealed transportation methods!” Runt took control of your neck and poked you out the window. There was nothing below you but pure darkness and eyes. “Whoa, holy shit!” I said, trying to pull myself back inside, “Cut it out, Runt!” “Fine, calm down geez.” “What the hell was that about?” I say, hand clutching my thumping chest. “Just checking how high the drop is. Gotta see if it’s worth a jump you know.” “Worth a jump?! Are you insane?” “No, but you are if you think we’re staying here buddy. Now come on, open that bitch up we gotta go!” He said as he leaped from my shadow and clean out the window. “Jeronimooooo!”
[WP] The clown painting in the basement has always been very creepy, your parents have also always reminded you to keep the basement door shut at all times, until one day you left the door open and the clown in the painting is gone.	I was never afraid of clowns, except for one--that smug bitch who sat with her hands folded like the Mona Lisa in the painting at the far end of the basement. She had wide eyes and a fake buck-toothed smile that was anything but mysterious. There had always been something familiar about the clown's face, but I could never pin it down. Whatever it was gave me a funny feeling. I didn't like that at all. One day I'd finally told my folks that the clown was scaring me, and I was told that the painting was very old and valuable, passed down on my mom's side since Victorian times until finally being given to my mother. "It will be given to you some day," they'd said. I told them I didn't want it. In spite of the painting and its eeriness, I'd taken up an interest in clowning as a career high school. That's when things didn't start to add up. The clown picture was no antique. The outfit was all wrong. Face painted in a modern style. Wig too curly and purple. On top of that, it was a velvet painting. But when I brought it up to my mom, she just repeated what she'd said before: the painting was very old, very valuable, and I'd be given it someday. I wish I'd thought to connect the basement door with the clown painting sooner. We'd kept it closed most of the time. As I stared at the now-blank velvet canvas, I realized my parents' insistence was to keep more than just the heat from escaping into the house. "Is she gone?" Dad asked as I walked back into the kitchen. "Yes," I said. "Figures," he said. I couldn't blame him for his hopeless expression. He'd woken up to find mom dressed to the nines in full clown attire. Actually, she'd woken him up with a spray of seltzer and a belly laugh that could have made a tightrope walker's knees buckle. Then she'd darted off into the city shouting something about orchestrating The Greatest Show On Earth. "Do you think she'll be back?" I asked. "With reinforcements," he said, grabbing his childhood aluminum bat from one of the storage shelves. "How could this have happened?" I asked. "It's happened before." "It has?" "You know how in old movies bad things happen when people build things on Indian Burial Grounds?" I pulled a face. "Well, it's halfway true," he continued. "Turns out evil things happen if you build over Carny Burial Grounds. And the burial grounds here were even built on an old fairground, so they've got twice the power." "Surely you can't be serious," I said. "I am serious, and don't call me Shirley." I froze with my fingertips grazing the handle of an old sledgehammer. Dad was a jokester, but at a time like this... I slowly turned around. Snaking its way out of Dad's upper lip was a thick handlebar mustache with curled ends. He stared at his baseball bat as it twisted itself into a huge barrel-ended dumbbell. For a moment, its weight dragged him towards the ground, then the muscles on his arms and legs ballooned and he lifted the weight high above his head with the might of a thousand burly sailor men. With eyes as round as saucers, he turned to face me and spoke one word: "Run." The thoughts in my head swirled like a cotton candy machine. Just what had I unleashed? Why was it being kept in our basement? And what kind of evil was so awful it would take the form of a velvet painting!? I'll drive out to the next town, I thought. No burial ground could be *that* big. But when I got to the driveway, my car was less than a quarter of its original size. I cursed myself for having put off practicing my contortion for the last five years and darted to the side of my house to hop on my bike. No good. It had become a sleek and stylish unicycle. There was little trace of the world I knew as I tore through the once-sleepy streets. Joggers jumped into the air and started backflipping down the streets. Poodles stood on their hind legs and tap danced. An organ grinder played "The Merry Go Round Broke Down" on his hurdy-gurdy in front of the record store. The WalMart, always ugly and out-of-place, had been replaced by a lone peanut stand. I don't know what made me slow to a stop. Maybe it was the aroma of elephant ears. Maybe it was the actual elephant, lumbering around the children's playground. Or maybe it was the realization that no matter how fast I ran, I'd never reach the city limits in time to escape this big top catastrophe. Whatever the case, it was pause enough for someone I knew to pin me to the ground. "You," I said. "Howdy-ho, buddy!" said the painting clown, hokey buck-teeth glimmering in the heat of the afternoon sun as she beamed at me. "You did this," I said. "Oh, no, no, no. You did this," she said. She tilted her head in a coquettish way. "Don'tcha remember? You--" "You're not gonna make me feel guilty about this," I said. "All I did was leave a door open. You did everything else." The clown gave one of those ugly guttural laughs and pushed down even harder on my wrists. "Aren't you just a silly-billy?" she asked. "Yes you are. Yes you are a silly-billy." She leaned closer to me. I swallowed. There had always been something familiar about the clown's face, but I could never pin it down. Now, staring into the depths of my own eyes, I realized I'd known the answer all along. For more weirdness, check out r/OctOpusTales !	“It couldn’t be gone right? Paintings don’t just disappear like that” Was all Andy could think to himself as he stared at the blank spot where that blasted clown painting was once hung. He hated that thing, the way its blank expression just stared at him. His fists clenched as his mind raced with explanations for why it was gone, until there was a sudden thump from upstairs. Dread filled him as he slowly turned around, the slow steps he took feeling agonizing. He finally reached the top and looked around, “H-hello?” He called out, stammering as he did so. The lights were off, they weren’t off when he came down. His heartbeat quickened, “Oh god oh god what the hell is happening? Was it because I didn’t close the door? I knew something was wrong with that paint-” His thoughts were suddenly cut short as he heard a crash coming from the kitchen. This was it, this was how he died, Andy Clarke was about to die to a stupid clown painting. He began to walk towards the kitchen, his heartbeat higher than ever before. As he rounded the corner, the painting of the clown suddenly filled his vision alongside a psychotic laugh filling his ears. “Hello Andy” Andy screamed and scrambled back onto the floor, holding his arms up in front of his face to block whatever attack the painting would throw at him. As he closed his eyes he at least prayed his corpse would be recognizable, but nothing happened. Andy opened his eyes, confused then angered at what he was seeing. It was his idiot brother laughing his ass off holding the painting. “You son of a-” He started but his brother stopped him. “Ah ah no swearing in the house, man you should’ve seen the look on your face! I wish I got a picture of that” He continued to laugh as he began to head to the basement, intending to put the painting back. Andy got up and followed him, very pissed but also happy that it was just a harmless prank. “ "I’ll make it up to you, we can head out to eat something, anything you want” His brother smiled at him. Andy wasn’t gonna say no to free food so he nodded, “How’d you get that laugh so good? You should be a voice actor” Andy chuckled. His brother looked confused as he hung up the painting, “I didn’t say anything when I popped out, what are you talking about?” Andy froze, “W-what? Oh haha it must’ve been my imagination then” He awkwardly chuckled. But if it wasn’t him then who was it? He shivered as he remembered that laugh and the way it spoke to him. His brother gave him a pat on the shoulder, “Come on let’s go.” Andy followed, more than happy to get out of there. As he slowly closed the door, he looked at the painting one last time and froze. “Andy come on! I won’t be treating you anymore if you're this slow!” His brother called from above. “Coming!” Andy closed the door. It was just a prank it was just a stupid prank, there’s nothing wrong with that painting. Then why was it smiling now?
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."	Another uneventful Saturday Night. Another night of hitting the bottle. Another night of loneliness. It was almost routine at this point. It was three years to the day I had started drinking heavily, the day she left. That one time to cope with the pain turned into another and another, and soon enough it turned into a routine to cope with the pain of my life. I stumbled into my apartment around two or so, ready to fall asleep and continue my self-destructive cycle again when a glimmer of gold caught my eye on a shelf. That lamp. That stupid fucking lamp. The last memories I had of her. Nothing but grief and rage as I saw her leave to go be with some fucking big shot lawyer on the other side of the country. Why did she even leave it here? I wanted nothing to do with her. In a fit of drunken rage, I threw it to the other side of the room with a loud thud as it bounced off the wall and settled on the floor. I stepped into my room, grabbing the last of the bottle of whiskey I left by my bed and downed it in a single swig before collapsing on my bed. Tears welled up in my eyes as I started thinking about the anniversary of the worst day of my life, the day things spiraled out of control, the day I lost everything. Another Sunday morning hangover. Another morning spent puking up the contents of last nights drunkenness. Another day of doing nothing at all. To some, a day of doing nothing seems fun, but when most of your days feel like days of doing nothing, you start to feel like nothing. And I had plenty of days of feeling like nothing. I gargled some mouthwash to get that taste of vomit out of my mouth and stepped into my living room, completely oblivious for all but a moment until I heard a voice from the back corner of the room. “Well good morning, sunshine!” Startled, I turned to face the man who spoke to me, although to call him a man wouldn’t have been correct. He had deep blue skin, a long but well-kept beard that matched his dark hair, and stood taller than I did, although I couldn’t tell as he sat on my couch watching the news on my TV. “Tough night for the Braves, huh? Sheesh.” “Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you here?” He simply laughed as he stood up and walked over to me, freezing as I instinctively stepped back. “Relax, Greg . I’m not gonna hurt you. You are Greg, right? Greg Reynolds?” I cautiously nodded back to him. “That’s me. Who are you?” “My name is- well, I actually don’t have one. And I am a genie. I’m here to grant you three wishes.” I blankly stared back at him for a few moments, wondering if I was just experiencing a drunken or I had actually summoned a genie in my living room. The same glimmer that caught my eye last night caught my eye again as the pieces all started to come together. “Oh Jesus Christ. That lamp…” “I didn’t want to mention it, but I did half-consider throwing your house around to see how you liked it. Buuuut, seeing as there are other people living in this here building, I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. Fair?” “Right, sorry about that.” I nodded back to him, walking towards my couch and collapsing on it, staring blankly at the news that all in all, I really didn’t care about. I just needed a second to process the events that had happened those last five minutes. I reached for the bottle of bourbon on my coffee table as a large blue hand swatted it away. “Come on! It’s 11 AM on a Sunday and you have a genie! You can wish for almost anything! And you’re just going to drink the day away?” I took a moment to think about what he just told me. “What do you mean, almost anything?” “Three rules. No wishing people dead. No wishing people back from the dead. And no wishing for someone to fall in love with you. And no wishing for more wishes. So I guess it’s four rules. Ah screw it, you know what I mean.” I looked at the bottle of bourbon in my hand. One wish could give me all the alcohol I wanted. I could have fancy bourbon and whiskey all over my house. I’d never need to spend money at a bar or liquor store again. But then I just continue being the same sorry sack of shit I’ve been, only more so now that I don’t need to worry about running out of booze. I can just drink the day and night away every day. Or, I could make a proper change in my life. This could be the chance I get to be someone new, or someone I was. “Genie, I wish my life was like what it was like before it spiraled out of control. No drinking problem, no debts, still with Grace, just no mess.” “Done.” He snapped his fingers and bright flash of white followed. Just as fast as it had appeared, it disappeared. The room looked brighter. Beer cans no longer littered the room. The bottle of bourbon was replaced with a glass of water. Even my clothes, previously wrinkled and dirty from the night before, were now clean and not smelling like vomit. I grinned, getting up from the couch and running into our room. The grin faded away from my face as soon as I realized that the bedroom was still clearly mine, just cleaner. No sign of her at all. “Where’s Grace?” I asked him as I walked back in. Clearly annoyed, he glanced back at me before sighing. “Didn’t you listen? I can’t make anyone fall in love with you. That includes people who loved you and don’t love you anymore.” That last sentence pierced my heart like a dagger. I sat down on the couch next to him, hanging my head in disappointment. “Right. Sorry about that.” “No, I’m sorry. That was harsh of me to say. This Grace, she was a wife? A girlfriend?” “Fiancée.” I corrected him, “We were two months away from the wedding, I found out she was sleeping with this lawyer who was here on business. When he left town, she left with him. That day led my life to where it was today.” “I see. And is that her in the picture?” He pointed to a picture of us at Myrtle Beach, where I had proposed to her. “That’s her. Best day of my life. I thought she was my soulmate.” I grumbled back to him. The two of us stayed silent for a minute or so as a thought crossed my mind. “Genie, what if I met my soulmate? I’m not asking for her to love me, but what if I could just meet her? Do the rules say anything about that?” He stared at the ceiling, scratching his beard as he pondered my request before simply shrugging back to me. “I don’t see why not. However, Greg. I must warn you. Love is a very powerful emotion. I want you to consider the potential consequences of this wish.” I thought about it for all of a moment before nodding to him in confirmation. “Do it.” “Very well.” He snapped once again and another bright flash filled the room. As it dissipated, there stood a woman just as tall as I am if not a half inch shorter. She had straight brown hair that reached halfway down her back and bright green eyes, just like Grace. However, this woman was very clearly not Grace. She was adorned in beautiful gold and silver jewelry all over her body. “Greetings Mortals. I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!” The woman said to the two of us. The two of us stare back at the literal goddess of a woman standing in my living room, jaws dropped. The two of us turn to each other as I finally break the silence. “Genie. Is she-“ “It would appear so.”	"Greetings, mortal. I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. Tillie looked at the surprisingly flustered genie. "Is she…?" Bruce, still looking a little embarrassed but rapidly recovering, replied with his trademark smirk. "Yep. She's your soulmate." "Huh." \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Funny how life works, isn't it? You can live your whole life doing the same things in the same way and get the same results. Nice and comfortable. But sometimes – take Tuesday last week, for example – life likes to surprise you. So. Tuesday. It was a beautiful day, not too hot and not too cold. Tillie Saunders had the day off work, and her usual plans for her days off were either housework or visiting thrift stores. The day was far too lovely to spend cooped up cleaning the bathroom tiles, so she went into town. She was looking for something like a little brass bowl to sit in a gap between two plants. It was an enjoyable if unfruitful morning. Neither the local Salvos or Vinnies had what she was after, nor did the independent thrift shops. As she sat in her car after the last store, she resigned herself to either getting something possibly unsuitable from eBay or Amazon, or living with the gap. 'Hmmm... Etsy might have something,' Tillie realised. She headed home and hopped online. Small brass décor is what she typed into Etsy's search function, and... "Wow! Why did I not do this sooner?" Brass animals, vases, jugs, shells, candleholders, mirrors ... heck, there was even a little brass boot figurine for sale! But as Tillie kept opening taps, she found what looked like a stereotypical genie lamp. "Ohhh, that is perfect!" The lamp was bought – along with a couple of other things that she just couldn't say no to – and it was Mission Accomplished before lunch time.
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."	I couldn't believe my luck. I had bought this Italian villa in an extremely rural (even for Italy) village. My goal was to just escape the modern rat race. I had met my neighbors who were all old enough that if they were in the States, they'd probably be living in a retirement home. Here, they thrived by gardening and drinking red wine. I was excited to join them. I was digging up my long since ignored "yard" to plant a garden for myself. It was about halfway through my tilling, I hit the box. The box required a bit more digging and I was shocked to find some gold, silver and bronze coins and an oil lamp inside. I told NO ONE. I brought the box into the house and pulled the lamp out. It was brass and had fancy etchings all over it. I decided to rub it as a joke to myself. "oooohh a Genie is going to come out and grant me wishes!" I said to myself. That's when the smoke started pouring out. "I'm here! I'm Here! Roll out the Carpets and Ring all the Bells! I'm here!" said a jovial looking man. Well the top half of him. the bottom half was obscured in a smoke tornado that led back to the lamp. "Uh... Dude, that's from a cartoon in the 1940s or so." I was now very confused. "Oh, I know, I thought it was hilarious when I saw it in a movie house. Do they still have those? How long has it been? Time doesn't work the same... in there." He pointed at the lamp. "Also, this seems not to be New York, or even OLD York. " He peered out the window, "I end up places after the 3rd wish, speaking of... For setting me free, you get three wishes! How exciting is that for YOU?" He seemed absolutely giddy. "Well, I want an extremely high speed Internet connection here, in my home, but accessable by me anywhere in town, and free access, with unlimited data. That's my first wish." "I'm not sure what all that means, but since you know it, I'm gonna use your intent. Granted" with a puff of smoke, there was a black box that showed up next to my computer desk that had an antenna on it. "Your new in Ter Net Connection. It's evidently as fast as the government uses in all the secret places. The guy that installed it in the time it took for you to blink your eyes said not to dig in the area that the cable was laid down in your front garden." I pulled out my phone and saw my Wi-Fi had changed to GeneNet. I then did a speed test. 100 GB speed! "Excellent! Well Done!" I quipped. "For my second wish, since I live here in what is really kind of a paradise already I want to be able to understand the languages used around here and speak them without being misunderstood." "Done!" a puff of smoke and I picked up the local newspaper that had been wrapped around my daily grocery order. It felt like I was reading in English, although I knew I was not. "Oh, nice! Gratzie!" I was grinning from ear to ear. Life was going to be so much easier. "Finally, I wish to find my soulmate here in my little italian village so that I might grow old with them." "No wishing for love... " He gave me a stern look. "Is that a rule?" I asked. "No, it is not. However, messing with those sorts of things with wishes can be very dangerous and since you've been really easy so far, I'm trying to help you out. You might think you aren't wishing for love asking for a soulmate, " he scoffed, " but understand... THAT is a wish for someone to love you." "No, it isn't." I lied to them, and myself. "Okay, well, I've been here 5 minutes and you are almost done, so this gets me back to my home dimension. So, DONE!" With that, there was a puff of smoke, and the genie and the lamp were gone. Next to the box was a note... "Not sure who left the gold. Enjoy it. It can help fund your retirement here." And, nothing. I looked around my living room. I was still by myself. Oh wait, they are somewhere in the village. I had been hot and sweaty from all the digging, so I went and took a shower and got dressed in some nice clothes to go and wander around the village and use my new language skills. I opened my front door to see a woman in her 30s (ish) with beautiful olive toned skin, ruddy hair and green eyes standing in front of it. She was wearing what looked like a toga or some sort of robes. I had never seen her before around town. I decided to try my Italiano... "Hello, nice to meet you. How can I help you?" I gave a big warm smile and held out my hand for a handshake. "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods from Mt. Olympus. You summoned me here." her English was impeccable without a hint of accent. I heard a bamf sound behind me and turned to see the Genie back in my living room. "Is that..." I whispered. Which didn't make sense, because she was 3 feet away from me. "Yes, she is..." He paused afraid to say the next words, "Your soulmate." "Dude, she's MARRIED!" I said to him, afraid to look back at the woman patiently standing at my door.	He hadn’t expected much when he had picked up the lamp. It was dirty, beaten, and dented nearly all over. Still, he didn’t want it to stay in the channel, and maybe he could make it presentable enough to actually sell one day? He definitely needed the money, he thought to himself as he picked up a piece of cloth to vibe the dirt away. The break up with his now ex-girlfriend had been quite messy, and taken its toll on him emotionally. It had been bad enough that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to try the dating scene again, especially not after the date he had been on yesterday. He shuttered from the thought of it. The less said about it, the better. The shudder did make his thumb rup across the metal though. In a matter of seconds, the metal began to heat in his hands. Shocked by this, he threw the lamp away from him, and backed away from it. He was about to run for something to kill a possible fire with when smoke began to emanate from the tip of the lamp. The smoke slowly moved upwards, slowly coalescing into a human form, which then transitioned into a distinctively female form. The woman that materialized from the bottle had wide seductive curves, and long purple hair that had been set up in a long ponytail. “Greetings Master. I am Shina, the humble servant of this lamp,” Shina said as she opened her eyes and locked them with his. “For freeing me, I will grant you three wishes.” She continued, her smile and posture leading to him getting a very good look at her cleavage. “So, what is your first wish, Master?” He was stunned. Here in front of him he had a genie. A very pretty genie. “You’re… a genie?” He asked, his voice cracking from disbelief. The genie smiled, revealing her teeth. “Yes Master, I’m a genie. Yours to be more precise.” she said as she floated closer to him. “I should perhaps mention that you can’t wish for immortality, infinite wishes…” “... and love?” he finished, his face turning sour. Shina floated closer. “I take it you have had troubles with love, Master?” He didn’t trust his voice, so he merely nodded. “My ex left me.” he added after some long silent moments. Shina looked down at the floor as she gently made contact with it. “I’m sorry to hear, Master, but I can’t make someone fall in love with you…” Of course she can’t… he thought to himself, the bitterness from the breakup returning with a vengeance. “... But I might still be able to help you find your soulmate.” That caught his attention. “What do you mean? I thought you just said you can’t make people fall in love with me?” “I can’t, Master, but through a wish, I can make it so you’ll be able to meet them!” Could it be? He didn’t know what to do. Did he want to meet his soulmate? Was he ready to meet them? Heck, what if his soulmate was his ex? Getting up, he looked at his genie, smiling as she had done all the time she had been there. Taking a deep breath, he made his decision. “Genie, I wish I would meet my soulmate!” He said as convicted as he could muster. “Very well, Master.” Shina said before her eyes began to glow as she floated away from the floor. He didn’t know what to expect when the genie suddenly muttered “Oh…”. Before he could react, the light blinded him with a flash. There still was a bright light in the room as his eyes opened again, he saw Shina kneel in front of him, offering him a hand. As he took it, he turned his head and found the most stunning and regal woman floating above the floor in his apartment. "Greetings Mortal,” The glowing woman said. “I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" You looked at your flustered genie in sheer disbelief, asking her "Is she really… ?" Shina nodded, her features filled with embarrassment. "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."

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