A Haunted Hunt: A Nightbound Halloween Special (Part 1/2)
Summary: Leah’s first Halloween in New Orleans as Nik’s partner, and they get more than they bargain for at their latest job. Written purely for fun. Featuring entire Nightbound gang. Main pairing: Nik x MC.
A/N: This was originally supposed to be a oneshot...but then it got too long and I got my ass handed to me by school (like more than usual) so it’s now a two-shot with the first part posted right on Halloween night. Tagging everyone who is also on my Anything tag list because yooo here I am, alive and still writing for Nightbound just very, very slowly and most times a little late. I promise I’ll update it, but for now here’s another fic! Hope you like it and let me know what you think :)
Masterlist
It was a dark and stormy night--
“Rook, hurry up!”
“Ugh, Nik, you interrupted my narration!”
“We can’t be late and it’s not even raining!”
For a dark but not-so-stormy night, the streets of New Orleans were sure bright. Nighthunter duo extraordinaire Nik Ryder and Leah Mendoza were in their natural habitat: on the way to a dangerous yet well-paying job. Their jobs always involved fighting what was buried in secret or across the veil; but that night nothing was hidden and for good reason.
“What’s Halloween to you anyway?” Nik asked, shaking his head as the two bee-lined their way around children in colorful costumes and drunk party-goers, mortal and supernatural alike. “You literally hunt monsters for a living.”
“It’s my first Halloween in New Orleans! Isn’t that a thing that the supernatural celebrate?” Leah laughed as they passed a banana and a Spongebob passionately making out. “Come on, can’t you have fun with the supernatural thing for once, Mr. Grumpy Pants?”
Nik rolled his eyes and smoothly tugged her away from a group of passing frat guys, pulling her protectively by his side. “I do have fun with the supernatural; I’m with you, aren’t I? Just Halloween makes the job harder, since everyone looks supernatural tonight.”
The half-Fae let the gesture slide with a discrete grin; she would never admit it, but sometimes she loved how he still acted like her bodyguard, even if she did have magic glowy hands. “I bet you didn’t dress up as a kid because you said it was too lame. But just you wait, I’ll get you to have fun at least once tonight.”
Nik scoffed and squeezed her hand intertwined with his, the pair reaching their destination: an abandoned mansion with some weird noises and things going bump in the night. Maybe the occasional scream of anguish. Typical. Leah turned to Nik.
“Five bucks it’s haunted.”
“No dice, it’s definitely haunted. And stop making bets.”
Leah grinned slyly, reminiscing about the time she lost $5 but at Nik’s non-financial expense. Poor guy was totally whipped and she’d say that’s why he let her stick around. “Awww scared you’re gonna lose again, darlin’?”
“Ugh you two are so gross.” A feminine voice suddenly reverberated behind them. Usually the two would have turned around with their weapons ready to defend, but instead Leah smiled and waved and Nik just groaned.
“Jesus Christ, you’re not taking our catch again tonight, Katy.” Katherine raised an eyebrow, amusement dying down.
“I’m not taking anything, Ryder. I’m working.”
Nik and Katherine stared each other down, animosity fueling between them. Leah watched with an almost bored expression on her face; since she moved to New Orleans, the two had a begrudging almost-friendship now (who wouldn’t after almost dying several times in one week?), but the rivalry was still strong and the ability to do something stupid even stronger. It was those times she found herself actually being the rational one. “I think there’s a mistake, Katherine. We were told to come here tonight.”
Katherine turned to her friend. “I was told to come here tonight too. Said he’d pay generously for my services.”
“That indeed,” a light, tenor voice rang out as a portly old man stepped out of the shadows. Leah noted the Armani suit and obnoxious gold-encrusted cane; he would definitely pay generously. “Perfect! Don’t worry, you’ll all be paid handsomely for your work tonight.”
Nik stepped forward. “Nik Ryder and Leah Mendoza at your service, sir.”
Katherine rolled her eyes at him. “And I’m Katherine. How can I be of assistance?”
The old man smiled and clapped his hands, his cane glittering in the candle light. “Perfect! You’re all perfect for this! And please, none of that ‘sir’ stuff; you can call me Don.”
“So, Don…” Leah began. “What do you want us to do?”
“Oh, you see, this house is a bit haunted,” he sighed, waving his arms around dramatically. “There’s about a hundred ghosts living here and I need them caught.”
All three pairs of eyes went wide. Nik spoke first. “You…you want us to hunt 100 ghosts?!”
“About that number, yeah,” Don clarified. “But if you don’t think you can do it--”
“I can do it,” Katherine interjected. “Maybe he can’t, but I can.”
Before Nik could retaliate, Don clapped his hands again, grinning. “Perfect! I’ll be back at midnight!”
He set down a sack of one hundred pocket-sized flasks in front of the three Nighthunters and walked out of the house with a spring in his step. Why he wanted each ghost to be individually packed was beyond them. Leah couldn’t complain; she’d seen weirder jobs and clients, including the Fate herself.
“Dammit, Katy, you really had to embarrass me in front of the client?” Nik grumbled, stuffing flasks into his jacket pockets.
“Not like it’s hard or anything.”
“Katherine…” Leah warned, a feeling of dread coursing through her veins. It never ended well when Katherine and Nik played out their rivalry.
“I can out-catch you any day, you--”
“Nik!”
“Please, I’m a better Nighthunter than you and I don’t need a partner while I’m at it.”
“I was damn excellent even before Leah came into the picture.”
“Ugh, will you two stop fighting like children and get back to work!” Leah shouted out, slightly offended. But they didn’t seem to hear her.
“In fact, betcha I can catch more ghosts than you without Leah.” Nik declared, ignoring his lover/business partner.
Katherine scoffed, the usually calm and calculated Nighthunter refusing to back down from a challenge of pride. “You’re on.”
Katherine and Nik took off in opposite directions of the house. Leah groaned. She irritatedly stuffed some flasks into her cherry red jacket and raced after Nik into the darkness.
Meanwhile…
In a nondescript cabin in the woods, a werewolf and a woman with a deadly family curse enjoyed a cup of tea. The fire in the fireplace kept the two friends warm as they pleasantly made conversation.
“Thanks again for letting me stay with you, Cal.” Vera smiled and sipped her tea, white gloved hands matching her red polka dot dress and round black mouse ears. “Much better than staying in a hotel.”
“Anything for a friend.” Cal grinned, his teeth sharper that night due to the full moon but his demeanor largely unchanged. “I hope Donny wasn’t too much trouble, what with him basically having heart eyes for you. I’m just glad you’re making headway in breaking your curse.”
“Oh he’s a teenager; it’s perfectly normal. Ivy and Luc have been so great, and I get to spend Halloween with all of you in New Orleans this year!” Vera laughed and talked giddily, her Minnie Mouse ears flopping within her curls.
“It would be nice to hang out with everyone, especially with Donny under Octavia’s watch tonight with the other teens. People would just think this is a costume.” Cal gestured to his half-shifted form, which was what he was most comfortable in during a full moon. “Any word from the others when they get off from work?”
Vera started to shake her head, but then her phone buzzed with a text message.
Back to our main idi--er, characters...
“Seriously, Nik?” Leah glared at the man in question as they stalked down a hallway of the large house. “Whatever happened to ‘we’re a team or ‘stop making bets’?!”
Nik had the sense to look guilty. “Look, rook, it’s my pride on the line here as a Nighthunter. And I can’t just let Katherine win! I’m sorry, but you have to understand.”
“Oh I understand perfectly.” Leah’s voice was sweet as a rose and she stepped close to him, grasping the lapels of his jacket and moving face closer to his. Nik instinctively leaned in until she spoke again. “I understand that the rookie’s gonna beat both your asses.”
“Rook, I--” Nik began, but she was already gone in a flash. He raced in the same direction as he heard several clatters of metal. The man couldn’t help but grin at the fire in his partner; this was going to be interesting.
=========================================================
Tagging: @furiouscloddonutpeanut @nighthunterkatherine @saivilo @samara-rani @god-save-the-keen @xxdangerouscapri15xx @inlovewithrebels @malakbesharah
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What do you love about Trials of Apollo and why? How'd you get into the series? What do you hope/think will happen in books 4 and 5?
Thanks so much for asking! This got really long so I’m putting it below. I guess it’s also sort of like an about me also in regards to the fandom, for anyone who wants to talk Trials (please do, I’m obsessed)
How did I get into Trials?
I read PJO a long time ago back when it was new, fresh, and super popular, and instantly fell in love with the series (like everyone else) but fell off the boat a bit after the first Heroes book came out (I guess, also like everyone else). It’s not that I didn’t like it, I was busy at the time, and since The Lost Hero had just come out, I lost track of waiting for the next books to come out and somehow just forgot about them as a whole (No I still haven’t read them all (oops). Yes, I’ve been stuck on the “It’s Percy! Oh my gods he has amnesia!” cliffhanger for years now).
It’s been a long time since then, and I thought I’d pretty much made peace with the series. But for some reason I was smacked over the head with nostalgia after someone I know mentioned how fun it would be to play a powered by the apocalypse game in a PJO setting (I’m a pretty huge tabletop rpg nerd). Naturally that thought sent me down a rabbit hole and I decided I was going to literally build a big homebrew system for PJO (which I still am, currently), despite the fact that I hadn’t engaged with the series in years. My memory was far from perfect, and I ended up doing a ton of research-sifting through wikis and even rereading some parts of the books-and while I looked around I noticed there was a new series being written. I read the synopsis and instantly fell in love. I’m a huge fan of the tropes present in trials, and the more I thought about what ridiculous shenanigans were possible from the idea, the more I absolutely could not resist reading them. I came to be entertained and stayed for the heart wrenching character development, but I’m sure we’re all the same.
Which brings me to your first question! What do I love about Trials?
First and foremost I am a real sucker for the whole general concept. Like, taking one of the gods and making them a pathetic mortal teenager?? Making it PJO’s Apollo of all gods??? I don’t think I would have ever said I needed that absolutely horrific and yet genius concept, but here we are. I was also under the impression this was a freakishly fun spinoff series (RIP me), and I mean, it kind of was, for like…half of book one.
And then, oh gods, I realized Rick had made this self important asshole likeable. In fact, even more than that, he had made him a sympathetic and compelling asshole. Where it was completely fine and fun to relish in Apollo’s hilarious punishment in book one, suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore (ok maybe just a little)-it was heartbreaking (Rick you monster, stop making him wet his pants!). But hey, that’s good writing for you.
So basically I really love the concept and, well, I just really love Apollo. The books are executed so good you don’t even realize you are completely rooting for the kid you were laughing at two books ago (because, like YIKES man, that ego!), and gladly die for him (No? Just me?) and the character development is such a subtle and delicate change, but it’s noticeable, really effective, and extremely compelling (and heartbreaking, mostly, in a good way). The comedy is on point (Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Apollo’s taste in pop culture is just bad and cringey or if it’s Rick. The truth is that it’s both and thanks, I hate it) and all of the characters, both new and old, are nostalgic and fun, and there are real reasons you can understand for every action they take and thing they say. The plot doesn’t let you down with twists and turns, but also easy to grasp and follow, and keeps you turning the page even if it’s 3am and you have class at 8. I found that TOA’s books seemed to be more focused, every encounter, no matter how seemingly random, pushes the protagonists in a way that progresses something meaningful, whether it’s the plot or their own development. It’s also really nice to see Rick return to his first person roots, especially when he does it so damn well.
It’s a fresh take on a series I grew up with and it’s just as enchanting now as it was when I was a kid. I do have some gripes with a few things in the series (Listen, I didn’t even read HoO but I loved Jason) but overall it does what it’s set out to do really well, and Rick sure knows what he’s doing (for better or worse).
What are my hopes or predictions for the rest of the series?
Oh boy. Honestly, the overall plot of Trials being “Will Apollo be restored to godhood or not?” is probably the worst plot for my heart, since I don’t even know, ever? We all know it’s going to be a yes, but at the same time…
I didn’t read HoO, though I know the general plot of it, so I can’t really do any elaborate theorycrafting in regards to Camp Jupiter or the roman demigods, but here are my thoughts on the big plot themes:
Promises Kept: Rick’s made it really clear that Apollo didn’t give a flying hoot about promises or oaths before Trials, but it’s quickly evolved into one of the biggest themes in the books. Apollo will keep his promises, maybe even regardless of the cost, and I think we’ll really see that shift in the next two books given the ending lines of book 3. This sort of also bleeds into Apollo considering the weight of life and his own heart, and the whole idea of him trying to change to make amends for his past behavior. I think by the end of this, we really might just have #1 Dad (and God) Apollo (I’m very hopeful).
Choice of Mortality: Heavily foreshadowed in book 2 (looking at you, cal), there’s going to be some crazy stuff in the coming books regarding this. We got a small glimpse of it near the end of book 3 when Apollo was questioning that, if given the option, would he go back to Olympus and abandon his friends in that moment? With circumstances debating, it’s really the heart of the plot and the series and I think we’ll see him questioning Olympus in general. The similarities between Zeus and Nero, and in turn, Apollo and Meg, are made incredibly clear in the series. Apollo would never let Meg return to Nero-it’s his goal to help her to free her from his influence and guide her through her trauma-and yet Apollo is in the same exact situation, the stakes are just, arguably, a lot less black and white. Meg will most definitely not return to Nero and overcome his manipulation, and in turn, I think it will inspire Apollo-making the choice harder than it already is.
There’s no doubt Apollo will ultimately return to Olympus, but that doesn’t made the ride any easier. While there’s no hope of Meg coming to terms with Nero (And I’m not saying there should be (please kill Nero)), Zeus is a problem that isn’t going to go away, and I hope that at the very least, Apollo can overcome his abusive relationship with his own father at the end, and maybe even revolutionize Olympus. It would make a great resolution to the series, and I think that’s what it’s pushing for and heading towards, the complete opposite of what the gods are doing now, and Apollo may just be the one to start it.
Misc predictions and wants:
>Meg and Apollo will HUG (godsdammit, even if I have to force them myself!) And for the love of the gods, can we please get a clear cut reference to their relationship regarding the SUN and PLANTS. LISTEN MAN,
>Someone else is going to die. If they don’t, they will come extremely close, and be saved by Apollo (solidifying his character development regarding the effects of his actions on others) in some intense true self sacrificial way that can’t be debated (i.e., Apollo’s excuses for being able to stabbing himself in the chest). And…the Styx is hungry.
>I have no idea what Annabeth’s up to in MC, but I’m hoping that she will make an appearance (and hopefully along with percy?). I’d also guess that camp jupiter and half-blood will come together again, but that’s just purely hoping (Don’t look at me like that, I have no idea what funk was in HoO).
>REUNION WITH ARTEMIS. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS.
>I really want more camp half blood life. I really, really, really do. We’re sure as hell not going to get it. But oh, what I wouldn’t do for Apollo’s extended stay at camp, or even just, camp in general for anyone. Please!
>Everyone is going to hate the shit out of Apollo for Jason’s death (arguably, they should be upset at Rick and not my stupid, stupid son…) and oh boy is he going to have a fun time with that. I initially thought that Apollo didn’t react nearly as strong to Jason’s death as he should have (was it just me or did he mourned Crest harder than Jason?? You could argue unreliable narrator, but come on), but oh boy, I think it may be because the worst is yet to come regarding that.
>Probably some shitty forced romance for Apollo. I do not want this. I really do not want this (does ANYONE want this???). But the arguments predicting this are pretty darn hard to refute, sadly. One can only pray.
At the end of the series I really want Apollo to be like “Fuck you guys, I’m the god of demigods now. Fuck you. Especially you Zeus. I’m protecting everyone in this bitch. You can’t stop me.” and proceed to aggressively aid demigods everywhere wearing the camp half-blood shirt. Also if he moved in to camp, I sure as hell would not complain. I also wouldn’t complain if he gave driving lessons to his kids in the sun chariot. Or if he made amends with everyone he’s ever hurt. Or if he kept aspects of Lester’s appearance (like those love handles) because hey, he doesn’t have to be insecure anymore and you know what, it’s cute dammit, abs are so out. Or…well, you get the idea I’m gonna stop myself there.
That was long (LIKE, FOUR FREAKING PAGES LONG) but I hope I answered your questions!
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Preview of “Impunity” by E. Rohan
Chapter 1: Six Feet Under, One Hundred Feet Above
Erik
The alarms blared every morning at six a.m. Slowly, with the broken shuffle acquired by all of those who are oppressed, everyone in the Phantom District would make their way to the breakfast tables, where many of us had little more than tasteless “sludge” that the Presidency assured us was filled with all the essential nutrients needed to get us through the work day. On the morning of September 5th, 2104, I pulled a candy bar from the locked wooden chest beneath my bed and tiptoed over to my little sister’s room. She was still fast asleep, her raven hair masking her entire face. I sat on the edge of her bed and gently shook her awake, a smile creeping onto my face.
“Ari,” I whispered. “Ariadne, wake up.”
She groaned and raked her hair out of her face as her eyes struggled to focus on me. “Erik? The alarm already go off?” She yanked her thin blanket over her head to block out the growing sunlight leaking in from her window.
“Yeah, it did. And, since it’s your first day, I brought you something special to get you through it.” She slowly brought the blanket back down just enough to uncover her eyes. I grinned and held out the candy bar, which had been crudely re-wrapped in cheap paper. Still, it was considered a treasure here. No one here could afford any sweets, and even if they could, they would never find any in the Phantom District. The Presidency made sure that us laborers never knew any pleasure; if we knew what we were missing out on, then we just might get enough willpower to fight for it.
Ari shot up from her bed and threw her arms around me, giggling uncontrollably. She pulled back and planted a big kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best big brother, I swear it.” She slowly unwrapped the candy bar, as if it would crumble after one wrong move, and carefully broke off a small piece. Her eyes darted to me, searching for some form of permission, and, when I laughed in response, she placed the piece in her mouth. A slow grin spread across her face that evolved into excited laughter before she sprung up from her bed and began dancing around her room.
Like all little twelve year-olds should.
I tried to give Ari all that I could since I knew that Mom and Dad worked themselves to death just to keep the two of us alive. It was too late for my childhood to be salvaged, but I wouldn’t let Ari turn into one of those broken workers, the ones that stumbled down the streets every morning to one of the countless factories to earn the family’s pitiful rations until the day the Government decided she was useless and shut her down. I couldn’t let her become one of their drones.
I wouldn’t tell her how I got the candy bar, mostly because I didn’t want her to know that I traded my old radio for it. I knew that was a total rip-off, but the guy knew I was a sucker for my sister and would pay whatever he demanded. I led her to her closet and helped her pick out her clothes for her first day of Conditioning – a Government-mandated program for the labor class meant to educate (brainwash) our population on the proper procedures and conduct (how to keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told) in the workplace and, overall, in the Labor District.
The Phantom District isn’t really the proper name. It was originally called the Labor District, but, after seeing how thin and gaunt we had all become from endless working and malnutrition, the Golden District had taken to calling us “phantoms,” and the name stuck. I guess they weren’t totally off; after about ten, twenty years of this routine, most people lost the will to live. But, suicide isn’t as easy as it used to be.
I walked Ari to the Conditioning Center after choking down another bowlful of the nutrient sludge that Mom and Dad had left out for us; they always left for work right when the alarm sounded. Once we were a block away from home, I knelt down and told Ari to climb onto my back; outside of here, it wasn’t safe. Fights constantly broke out, and anyone and everyone could get dragged in at any time. When my dad was a kid, street fights were rare where he grew up, and, if you lost, you probably died soon after. But here and now, if you were the loser, you were left to bleed out for hours until a Sentinel found you. They would either rip you open and switch you off, or they would crudely seal you back up and send you on your way.
It was often the former.
I prayed to whatever god would listen that Ari wouldn’t have to see any fights today. For a while, all seemed quiet and peaceful, and I dared to hope we would get through unscathed. But, when we had gone about three blocks, Old Sam jumped out from one of the alleyways and seized the front of my jacket, making Ari scream. I gasped and held Ari’s legs as tight as I could to keep her from falling. This wasn’t the first time that Old Sam had accosted me on the way to the Conditioning Center, but his eyes seemed even darker than before, and the cords in his neck jutted out like cables. He started yanking me back and forth, whispering frantically.
“C’mon, man, just do me a solid.” He nervously licked his lips and panted in my face. His breath reeked of charcoal, like everything else here. “You gotta help me out. No one else will. Here, I’ll even get you started.” He pulled a small, rusted blade out of his pocket and put it into my hand. “Right here.” He drew a vertical line from the bottom of his sternum to his bellybutton. “It’s real quick. Just cut and reach straight in. Don’t stop until you feel the switch. You can’t miss it. Just make it quick. You gotta help me. No one else will.”
We’d been going through this routine the past few years, and, each day, Sam grew more desperate. I peeled his hands from my jacket as calmly as possible and put the blade back into his hand. “I can’t help you, Sam. I’m sorry. I’ve gotta take Ari to the Conditioning Center.”
He started to scream, tears pouring down his face. Spit flew from his mouth onto my face, and I felt Ari turn away. “It’ll be quick! I promise! Just slice and switch. It’s real easy! I did it for a buddy of mine during the war! Just slice and switch! Slice and switch, dammit!”
I turned my head back towards Ari, who had buried her face between my shoulder blades. I told her to cover her ears until I told her to stop. I pulled away from Sam again and kept walking without looking back at him as he kept screaming “slice and switch!” When there was no more sign of Sam, I nudged Ari, who responded by removing her hands from her ears. She didn’t say anything, only wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and buried her face in my hair.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I said softly. She shook her head and said nothing. I cut through the middle of the road and picked up the pace until I could see the chain link fence of the Conditioning Center. Finally, Ari asked, “Why do they call him ‘Old Sam?’ He doesn’t look that old.”
“He’s had the OS in him since 2030.”
“Is that when they first started the program?”
“Yeah, he was one of the first ones they did it to.”
“Just like Dad?”
“Yeah, just like Dad.”
Our father had been a teenager when the technology had first been announced. Of course, a group of scientists had been trying to conquer death for years, but this was the first time they actually had something to show for it. The Government approved human trial runs, and they proved successful. Combining man with machinery allowed them to prevent decay and to keep cell reproduction optimized; in simple terms, it prevented aging, prevented death.
As the technology was tweaked and improved, it made even injuries and illnesses a worry of the past, and immortality was finally in our hands. Once Newman entered her third term as president, she became an example for the country by getting the technology surgically installed herself, and she vowed to lead the nation into a period of prosperity. And, just like that, she sealed her position as our leader for eternity, and she earned the title of “The Presidency.” With a wicked smile, she swayed Congress (it still existed in those days) to pass the act to require the installation of this technology – the OS-R15 – in all people between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four, and our father was one of them.
He didn’t meet our mother until 2080, when she was eighteen and underwent the surgery as well. They married a few years later (though, by that time, marriage was more of a pat on the back than a traditional celebration), and, in 2087, during one of the procreation periods, they had me. I had been one of the first test-tube babies, as they realized that the technology’s pre-installed settings couldn’t handle the instability of pregnancy at that time. Improvements weren’t made until five years later, when Ari was born.
“Do you remember being in a tube?” Ari asked, tugging on my hair to get my attention. I laughed and shook my head.
“No. I was the same as you. Just different containers.”
“Oh. Why was I born and you weren’t?”
“A bunch of the people in the Golden District were complaining that they were being robbed of “the miracle of childbirth,” so, to shut them up, the Presidency ordered the scientists to make adjustments to their liking.” I took a right and walked across the street, kicking trash out of my way as I went. “They used some of us to test it out, and Mom wanted to be able to give birth to you. You were one of the first successes.”
I felt her smile into my hair. “How did Mom get pregnant anyhow?”
I started laughing uncontrollably. Whether I told her or not, Conditioning would fill her in by next week. In the Phantom District, any sex during a non-procreation period was punishable by death. Of course, that didn’t stop many of the teens from partaking. Everything I knew about sex was from Cal, who didn’t give a damn who knew he was having sex; as far as he was concerned, life without it wasn’t worth living. I finally told Ari, “She took a special medicine. Sort of like the seeds you plant in a garden.”
“Where did she get the seeds from?”
I couldn’t control my grin. “Dad.”
The Conditioning Center was now within view, and I felt Ari’s grip grow tighter with every step I took. Conditioning was nothing to look forward to; it was glorified brainwashing that programmed us to be nothing more than less than content factory workers. There was a reason we were the Labor District: we did all of the work, and the Commerce District – well, no one called it that; we nicknamed it “The Golden District,” just as they had nicknamed us – reaped all of the benefits. Our sole purpose of existence was to get our hands dirty and make sure the wheels kept turning.
Sure, there were other professions we would occasionally get recruited for, but none of them were pleasant to discuss, so I’ll keep my mouth shut for now. I could only cross my fingers and hope that, with Ari’s intellect, she could perhaps be recruited to do work for the science division, possibly help program the IntelliChips (anyone in the Golden District who couldn’t be bothered to crack a book could, for a hefty price, just plug their knowledge right in; this, of course, came with flaws, as the intelligence was very one-dimensional and pre-programmed, but this did not harm sales in the slightest).
I knew what I was destined for: as soon as I turned eighteen, I would get the OS-R15 installed, and then I would be sent off to work on the oil rig. Boys who were seen as dispensable were condemned to the rigs. The OS-R15 was, of course, the very key to our world’s limited success.
It was our pocketful of immortality.
It all went back to the stem cell research. A major breakthrough by a college graduate led to the development in this technology: a small, time-release pump that released stem cells into our system. It was programmed to match the speed of biological decay; the faster our cells died, the more it pumped out. This prevented a slow in the cell regeneration, the very slow that led to us growing older, approaching death. This was our philosopher’s stone.
To us, it wasn’t salvation; it was a sentence. It condemned us to decades upon decades of endless labor and abuse, and, when the day came for our shut-down notice, we would be hauled from our homes and off to the Graveyard. When taken there, we would labor for a while, cleaning up bodies and recycling OS-R15s from the corpses, and then it would be our turn. We would be switched off then shot on sight. Our OS-R15s would be pillaged from our bodies, and then we would be burned. There would be no funerals, no remembrances, only fire.
Wasn’t that simply Hell?
At least I wouldn’t ever have to see that day; most of us on the oil rigs died out there, accidental deaths, bodies lost in that cesspool of an ocean. A large part of me was okay with that. It meant that I would never have to see the day my parents got their notices, or the day Ari got hers. And they would never have to see mine.
Two more months. Then the OS-R15. Then the rig. It was all laid out before me.
But, in the meantime, I kept my grip tight around my little sister’s legs as I carried her to the Conditioning Center and hoped that her brains took her farther than I could ever go. Far away from here, where we all begged for a swift death. Immortality hadn’t made us eternal gods; it had made us the walking dead.
We reached the gates of the Conditioning Center, where a line formed behind the scanner sat at the front of the entrance. We would hold out our arms, where the ID would be scanned to permit us, and then Ari and I would part ways for the day. I whispered reassuring thoughts into her ear, about how she could make friends during her Nutrition Hour, and she nodded absently in response. She had seen the life this place turned out; she had little faith.
She had yet to crack a smile until two large, strong arms swooped her off the ground and cradled her to a familiar chest. She grinned up at my best friend, Cal, who playfully swung her to and fro and kissed the top of her head. He set her back down on the ground and smiled warmly at her.
“How’s my best girl doing?” he asked. He was always the charmer, the Adonis of this hellhole, but he never spoke as sweetly to any girl as he did to my little sister. Being an only child had made him a softie, and there was no one in the world who had him wrapped around their finger like Ari did. She was, quite positively, his favorite person in the world.
She beamed up at him and held his hand in her left and held mine in her right. “I’m doing pretty good. I’ve got the best-looking boys in the Nation on each side.”
Cal smirked at me and ran his hand through his golden hair. “Well, you do have the best-looking guy on your left, I can give you that, but I don’t know about this scruffy-lookin’ one. Reminds me of a stray.” He ruffled my hair, messing it up even more.
I attempted to flatten it, in vain. “Not everyone has the stamina to maintain such a flawless image as you,” I said. Cal preened as he jerked his head towards the tall, dark-haired girl in front of us.
“Guess who I got a date with?” he said.
“No one as beautiful as me,” a voice quipped behind us. We turned just in time to see Lorelai throw her arm around Cal’s neck and plant a kiss on his cheek, bold as ever. Now that was a gorgeous, dark-haired girl. Porcelain skin and shockingly blue eyes. Enough to knock anyone off their feet. Cal ducked his head, and I swore that I saw him blush. He playfully shrugged her off.
“That’s a given, Lor, but I was talkin’ about,” he jerked his head towards the girl again. Lorelai looked over at her and then rolled her eyes.
“You really are an idiot.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Gwen walked up at that moment and punched Cal in the arm. “Because, idiot, that’s Leila’s sister.”
Cal’s face fell. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”
Gwen looked over at me. “How? How do you deal with him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have a whole lot of options around here.”
Cal turned to Lorelai. “Is that seriously Leila’s sister?”
Lorelai was already ignoring him. “Hey, Gwen, I heard someone had a late night last night.”
Gwen scowled. “Well, sounds like someone is full of shit.”
I leaned in. “Wait, what? Again?”
“Again?” Lorelai exclaimed. Gwen shot me a dirty look.
“You’re dead, Brady.”
“How long has this been going on?” Lorelai asked.
“Erik, is she seriously Leila’s sister?”
“Do you mean like first date? Or first kiss?” I asked. “If we’re talking date, then six months. If we’re talking kiss, then it’s been over a y–”
“Will someone tell me if she’s Leila’s sister?” Cal shouted. People in front and behind us quieted down and stared at Cal. The dark-haired girl turned around and looked at him, eyebrows raised. Cal waved nervously, and she flipped him the bird and turned back around.
“So much for your date,” Gwen laughed.
“It’s okay. Gwen’s going on enough dates for everyone,” I joked.
“Would you shut up?”
Cal smiled at her and said, “So, when’s the wedding? Has Jacob set a date? Where’s my invitation?”
“It’s up you’re a–”
I managed to cover Ari’s ears just in time.
“Then he’ll have quite a time finding it,” Lorelai laughed.
“Why, why…” Cal was searching for words and finding none. The line continued to move towards the scanner, but we didn’t really notice. “Why does this always turn on me?”
“Because it’s easy,” Lorelai said. She was making Ari’s hair into a French braid, as Lorelai often had her hair. Ari was beaming at the prospect of being modeled into a mini-Lorelai.
“Much like Cal,” I added. I cupped my hands and aimed my shout at a girl in front of us. “Right, Elise?”
She whipped around, blank, blue eyes staring into us. Always the deer in headlights. “Huh?”
Lorelai had to smother a snicker. It was no secret that Elise wouldn’t be working in any labs anytime soon. Cal had gone on a date with her two weeks prior and said they ought to do it again sometime. Empty words. I smiled sweetly at Elise. “Oh, Cal was just saying he’s really looking forward to your next date.”
A slow, bright smile spread across Elise’s face as her eyes shifted to Cal. “Really? Well, I’m free tonight!”
“What a coincidence! So is Cal!” Lorelai said.
Cal’s mouth dropped open as I pushed him towards Elise. He frantically whispered, “Don’t make me talk to her. Please. I don’t have brain cells to spare.”
Once within a three-foot radius, Cal was in Elise’s grasp. He mouthed, “I have no friends” as she wrapped her hands around his arm and began excitedly planning their date. He occasionally shot glares back at us, and we snickered at his misery. Gwen whispered in my ear, “If he’d man up and ask Lor out, he wouldn’t be ridiculed so much.”
“He’s not asking Lor out until he is disinfected and exorcised,” I said. Gwen laughed. She started peering through the sea of people, eyes hopeful as they darted from smudged face to smudged face. She turned back to the front, defeated.
“Who you lookin’ for?” Lorelai teased.
“No one.”
“Really? Because I could have sworn I saw a cute guy standing just over there.” Lorelai pointed three people behind her where, sure enough, Jacob was standing, also peering through the crowd behind him. A smile briefly flashed across Gwen’s face before she recomposed herself and acted uninterested.
“Big whoop. He made it another day in this hellhole. He’s as accomplished as half the six year-olds around here.”
“He’s your six year-old,” I said.
“Oh, oh no,” Lor said, shaking her head. “Don’t say that. Ever.”
“Yeah, that was a mistake.”
We weren’t given any time to continue tormenting Gwen; the scanner was right in front of us, its menacing glare reflected onto our skin by the unrelenting sunlight. I motioned for Ari to watch as I rolled up my sleeve and placed my ID – the number tattooed onto my arm at birth – under the scanner. It beeped its approval and blinked a command for me to move forward.
I looked back over my shoulder at Ari, now at the scanner. She looked at me, then copied my earlier movements, rolling up her sleeve and showing her ID to the scanner. It beeped once more and had her move forward. I leaned over and kissed her on the temple before saying, “All right, we’re going to have to split up here; younger kids go left, fifteen and up go right. I’ll see you at Nutrition.”
Ari squeezed my hand tight before nodding and following her peers. Cal came up right behind me in time to blow Ari a kiss. She giggled and waved back at him before disappearing around the corner. Gwen, Cal, Lor, and I moved down the hall together, dragging our feet a bit to extend our time together.
“I’m beginning to think that little girl is the only one you’ll ever be loyal to,” Lor said. Cal grinned at her and flung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him.
“Well, if you’d go on a date with me, I could prove you wrong.”
“I’ll go on a date with you the day that Gwen admits she’s seeing Jacob.”
Cal flashed a hopeful look at Gwen, who snorted in response. “Please, I’m not seeing Jacob.”
Lorelai smiled sweetly at Cal and patted him on the cheek. “Better luck next time.”
The girls split from us a minute later; Lorelai and Gwen went into the room for those with a bit more potential – people who would be overseeing operations rather than getting their hands quite so dirty – while Cal and I went into the hopeless room – the one for those destined for the sketchy jobs that led to shortened lifespans.
Not that I’m complaining.
Conditioning wasn’t like traditional schools; there was no instructor and there were no desks. Each room was lined with row after row of metal chairs with a semicircle connected from the headrest, settling right in front of our eyes. Cal and I found chairs next to each other and sat down. The moderator came by and checked our settings as we hooked ourselves up. Gloves on, earbuds in, and settings calibrated by the moderator; we were ready to go.
Conditioning for the first few years covered basic subject education, just as traditional schools had. There were actual desks and discussions involved. In the Golden District, that education continued and expanded into more complex subjects, but in the Phantom District, it was all channeled towards labor and factory work. Those who did well in the first few years ended up where Gwen and Lor were: among the intelligent that might actually be able to do the dirty management work that the big business heads in the Golden District didn’t want to deal with. Some even went on to do some research with the scientists and engineers in the Golden District. But, the last time that happened was over six years ago.
Those who didn’t do so well ended up where Cal and I were, which had us running simulations to familiarize ourselves with the workplace and the different hazards around. It took a while to train laborers, so they tried to prepare us as much as possible. Cal and I spent hours on the virtual reality machines, running around the oil rig and trying not to get ourselves into a nasty accident. The ocean was beyond polluted and foul, and years of dumping our waste into it had begun to have an effect on the ocean life. Falling in the water was a death sentence.
The virtual reality went by quickly, though, and the much-anticipated Nutrition Hour was soon upon us. We met up with Ari in the courtyard and sat with her while we ate. Ari already loved Conditioning, being surrounded by kids her age and finally getting to learn at least a little something; since books were banned around here, she was constantly looking towards her imagination to entertain her, but with the little knowledge she had access to, she often found herself drawing a blank, endlessly stumped. We spent the hour laughing and joking around, even catcalling at Gwen as she shyly made her way towards Jacob, who stood grinning and waiting for her.
Maybe our world wasn’t perfect. Maybe it was downright horrifying. But, if I’d known how good I’d had it then, I don’t know if I could have ever imagined giving it up.
I wasn’t ready for it to be taken from me.
Rose
“Vince just made a deal with Adam, the one down on Fifth,” Jane announced to everyone at the table. She radiated pride as she touched her husband’s arm and raved on his accomplishments of the week. Everyone ate up their affection for each other. They had the fairytale ending, love found in a twisted, modern matchmaking system. The way they gazed at each other, eyes round with adoration and glistening with that eternal youth that their body lapped up so eagerly from the gadget wired into their spines. It was beautiful to watch.
And completely and utterly fictitious.
I was the only one Jane had confided in. The sisterly bond we shared was, perhaps, the only thing in her life that wasn’t a façade. She hated her husband with every fiber of her being, just as he hated her, which he’d made clear with every lash of his hand across her face and every flick of the wrist that sent a glass of bourbon sailing towards her head. These outbursts of his had become more and more frequent in recent weeks as the stress level of his job skyrocketed. And the kids that Jane insisted on – but, according to an impartial judge, may very well be the results of marital rape on his end – were constant nuisances, and why couldn’t she have been of better breeding, that stupid, useless –
“Rose, aren’t you going to congratulate Vincent on his success?” Mother said. Her elbow was wedged sharply between my ribs, daring me to provide any other response other than what was textbook. I put on my sweetest smile and, through gritted teeth, congratulated my brother-in-law on his fabulous accomplishment. He dipped his head in acceptance, his eyes as careful as ever. Oh, he suspected my knowledge. Perhaps he didn’t know for certain the extent of it, but he was fairly positive that I knew something.
“So, Rose, have you any intentions of furthering your studies?” Vince asked. He was trying to build tension. Yes, quite a touchy subject.
“Well, I had wanted–”
“We thought,” Mother said, hand touching Father’s shoulder, “that her focus be better trained on the upcoming Selection Week and the proper role of a wife rather than wasting her energy in time-consuming fields.”
Thought so. I stabbed my fork into my meat and kept my mouth shut.
“That’s the wiser decision,” Vince said. He took a long drink from his wine glass before furthering his point. “I mean, women are hardly ever happy or fulfilled in those fields as they are when caring for their own children or tending to the home. Janie can tell you just how happy the home life has made her.” He wrapped his thin fingers around her delicate ones and squeezed – too tight, it seemed – and Jane smiled weakly. Her eyes darted to mine as she nodded shortly. No way; get out while you still can.
“See? What a loving brother, looking out for your best interests,” Mother crooned. If Vince had been born to her instead of me, she’d have likely been much happier.
Then again, that’d be a hell of a marriage, even for this twisted city.
I shrugged. “Seems a bit outdated to me. Tracked backwards quite a–”
“Rose!” Mother pulled me to the side and whispered, “Mind your opinion. It’s rude.”
Ah, yes. Disagreement is conflict. Conflict is unharmonious.
And harmony is our goal.
I was thinking more along the lines of–
“So! Richard, tell me about the oil business. Productive as ever?” Vince kept the conversation rolling. He was satisfied with my silencing. He had caused me to bow my head for the evening.
Two out of two, Vince. Got both sisters tonight.
I retired to my room early. I really didn’t want to sit through the after-dinner drinks. The inane blabber about the oil business and the engineering of OS-R15s was the last thing I wanted consuming my evening. I closed the door to my room and punched in the lock. A satisfying sher-klunk followed. I exhaled. Finally alone.
I stripped off my clothes and threw on the slightly comfortable nightgown I’d gotten on my birthday last year. It was probably one of the only comfortable things my parents allowed me to own. I threw open the balcony windows – the only things in the house that I loved – and felt the breeze blow through the gown’s soft fabric. I stepped out, feeling the cold stone beneath my feet and allowing my eyes to flutter shut. The view I imagined was much better than what was before me: tall, unfeeling buildings gleaming with far too many lights and making far too much noise. In my mind’s eye, I was looking at a sparkling ocean, clean and clear as it had been long before I was born. I could smell fresh air, untainted by smog. There were boats – actual boats, not the industrial cruisers they sent out to the rigs – floating across the water, bobbing up and down peacefully. I smiled.
But then my eyes opened.
Nothing had changed. I was still in the Commerce District, “The Golden District,” as the Phantoms loved to call it. We all had it so easy over here. I scoffed. Yes, the Labor District was horribly abused, but at least it was recognizably evil, something that the Government somewhat attempted to cover up. What we had here in the GD wasn’t recognizable; it was regulated. It was accepted.
I looked over my shoulder at the calendar displayed on my wall. The new week, starting tomorrow, was highlighted in blue, with bold text reading, “selection week” scrolling across the screen. My stomach clenched, and my brain flew into overdrive; illness suspended the Selection Week, didn’t it? For a maximum of two days, yes, it did. Two days wasn’t enough. If anything, it would make the entire ordeal ten times worse. The anticipation might just kill me.
Might just…
I glanced over the railing of the balcony. Ten stories up. Was that enough? With our medicine, it was incredible what we could be brought back from. Then again, that was with the OS-R15 keeping us alive, and I was sixteen – sans OS-R15. It was true that kids in the Golden District could get the device early, but it may screw with growth rates and all that, so, it was still the norm to get it at the age of eighteen or so. So, I was still about as mortal as it got. Ten stories…
Seemed like enough.
I placed my feet at the bottom of the railing and wrapped my hands around the top, bracing myself as I leaned as far over the edge as I could. My heart ricocheted off my ribs. It didn’t want any part in this; it wanted to bail on me before I took it down with me. Nope, gotta squish it all if I’m going to get my free pass on Selection Week.
So close now. My palms were sweaty.
Just a little farther.
“Rosie?”
My door creaked open, and I flew back from the railing and onto solid ground. My legs were still weak from the nerves, so I collapsed and fell on my butt on the balcony. Groaning, I turned to see Jane peeking around my door. She held her key to my door in her hand and had a tentative smile on her face. It quickly changed to amusement.
“What are you doing, Goose?”
I smiled innocently. “I was seeing what it would be like to fly.”
The smile faded from her face. “Not even wings will get you out of here, Goosey.”
Jane closed the door quietly behind her and moved over to my bed. I sat beside her as she wrapped her arm around me and pulled me into her. My sister had the porcelain complexion my parents craved, the beautiful, straight auburn hair that made her so mesmerizing, and the gentle beauty that made her so desirable to every controlling man in this damned district. Vincent, in particular. And then there was me: the pasty, ginger mistake.
“How’re you doing, Jane?”
She tilted her head to rest on the top of mine. “Same as ever.”
“How’s Tommy? And Mary?”
I felt her smile into my hair, the wavy, red mess that it was. “Mary’s the sweetest baby there ever was. She’s so happy all the time. And Tommy… he’s just like you. He’s always cracking me up. I try to– to keep him away from Vince…”
I squeezed her hand. “I know.”
Jane let out a long sigh and sat with me in silence for a few minutes. Then, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“How can anyone be ready for that?”
“You can’t be,” Jane said. “But you have to be.”
I nodded and let out a shuddering breath. Don’t cry, don’t cry…
“Hey, Jane?”
“Hm?”
“Do you… do you think they’re right? Do we really have it so much better over here? Are we the monsters?”
“I… I don’t know,” she said. She began stroking my hair, trying to provide whatever comfort she could. “I don’t really think what you have determines your monstrosity. I think it’s what you do with it.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” I squeezed her tight just as I heard the familiar, heavy footsteps of Vince. The door opened sharply just as I pulled away, and Vince ducked his head in, his teeth bared.
Or was it a smile? I couldn’t tell.
“Jane, darling, it’s time to go home. Tommy and Mary need putting to bed.” The words came out sweet, but I could hear the venom inside. Jane rose, obedient, and flashed a small smile down at me. She dared to squeeze my hand just before she exited out the doors. Vince threw one last sneer at me. “Enjoy tomorrow, Freckles. Maybe someone will throw you a bone; some people are into…well, that.” He crudely gestured to all of me with the hand holding his bottle. That damn gin bottle.
“Well, you got a match after your…oh, fourth time through or so, so I know there’s hope for me,” I shot back.
Vince scowled. “Well, look at the bright side: it’ll be the most action you’ll have ever gotten. Caresses don’t need to be loving to get you off.” He took his hand off the door and skulked after Jane. “Isn’t that right, love?”
The door fell shut.
I fell back onto my mattress, a shudder shaking through my body. God forbid… if someone as gorgeous and gentle as Jane got that scumbag, then what the hell was I in for? Life here wasn’t perfect; in fact, it was far from it. But, tomorrow, I would be walking into the unknown, very likely walking straight into a life of misery, a life of abuse, far from this balcony, my only refuge. I wasn’t ready for it.
I wasn’t ready for it to be taken from me.
Not too far away… just two miles from where Rose sat in her room and one mile from where Erik sat in his…
Marcus – Commerce District
“‘M fuck’n’ bored, man,” Jayce said, flicking his cigarette ash into John’s hair. John jumped to his feet and frantically patted at his hair, because heaven forbid that his carefully constructed look was harmed in the slightest. Han rolled his eyes, puffed out a ring of smoke, and watched it expand and dissipate into thin air. He couldn’t deny it; he’d been bored, too.
“‘Ey, I’ve got an idea,” Ian purred. He smirked and jerked his head towards the south, where the border of the Labor District was. He tossed his cigarette off the side of the roof and teasingly tilted his head, his teeth bared. Man, he was scary when he got like this. “Let’s go pound a Phantom.”
“Too easy,” John said. “They barely hold themselves together. It’d be like beating down paper n’ twigs.” Ian took a swing at John, just barely cuffing his ear. John whined and rubbed the injury as he shot a glare over at Ian. No remorse.
“It’s not easy if we grab a group of ‘em. They try to scatter and duck out. Rule is: not one gets away. Deal?”
John sighed but grudgingly agreed, not wanting another boxing. We all put our smokes out and climbed down from our perch. It was easy, slipping past the Sentinels. If they saw your clothes weren’t falling apart, they knew you were from the Golden District; they knew what we were doing and would look the other way.
Ian could sniff them out. Always could. When that bloodlust lit up his eyes, there was no stopping him until it was sated. He ducked around the corner of a crumbling building and into an alley, where five, scrappy Phantoms sat in a circle, playing cards. Han whistled a tune as we approached them, grinning ear to ear. They looked up at us, eyes wide. Five of them, five of us. Ian sauntered forward, stepping on the scattered cards, and looked down at the dealer. Probably about twelve or so. No more than a kid.
That didn’t matter. Ian grabbed him by the arm and twisted until he heard that sickening snap. A grin flashed across his face just as the child howled.
And then everyone went in.
John always had his bat on him, so he dove in right after Ian, swinging with that expert arm of his, and connected straight on with another kid’s skull. It sounded like a home run, the crack rang through the entire stadium, and John took his sweet time, because no team comes back from a hit like that. He flicked the blood off of his bat and wound up again, this time hitting the kid in the side, probably obliterating his ribs.
Jayce always approached the good ol’ fashioned way: bare hands. He hit his victim again and again in the face, turning his face first red, then purple, then, slowly, a bluish white. I couldn’t even tell what was what on the mess of a head anymore; it had all run together in some mushy lump. Jayce told him to beg; man, he got off on that. The kid tried to speak as much as he could, but nothing but a hollow noise came out, sorta sounded like a cow. Jayce ripped one of his fingers backwards and asked him to speak up. The broken digit hung pathetically as the kid cried again. Not good enough. Another punishment. Kid only had so many attempts, so many fingers.
Han was the surgeon; he liked discovering their anatomy. He flicked out his blade and carefully cut open his squirming, screaming specimen. He shushed them softly and went to work, cutting and snipping through various tissues. But a surgeon was not all he was. I had to turn away as I heard the familiar sounds of his first course, and the scream that joined it in a twisted duet. Ian, whose victim was holding together flaps of his skin onto his face, turned back to me, expecting some sort of participation. He pointed to my target, who was scrambling away from our hall of horrors. I nodded at Ian and booked it after the kid, deep into the darkness of the Phantom District.
When we were out of sight, I upped my speed, just on the boy’s tail. I swooped down and scooped him up. He screamed frantically as I threw him over my shoulder and kept running, far, far away from that massacre. When I felt we were safe, I set him down and knelt down to his eye-level. Tears streaked through his dirt-coated face, vomit stuck to the corners of his mouth, and his hiccupping sobs echoed against the building walls.
“Run,” I said. “Run, and don’t look back. Go home, or find somewhere to hide. And don’t come out at night again. Go!”
The kid didn’t have time to nod. He blinked, a sign of thanks, and spun around, high-tailing it to the shack he called home. Now it was my turn, my turn to cry, my turn to vomit. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear Ian calling me.
“Marcus! You need a hand? Mine was weak! He already cried unkle! He’s all dried up! Yo! Marcus!”
Ian skidded around the corner, John’s bat swung lazily over his shoulder. He was wearing his war paint: the splattered blood of his victim. He was grinning from ear-to-ear as he loped up to me and shoved me lightly on the shoulder.
“Aw, skittish prey. It’s all right. He probably woulda lasted two seconds anyway.”
Ian turned on his heel and led me back over the border, where the others were waiting. They entertained themselves on the way back by calling me every variation of “pussy” in the book. I shrugged it off. I was used to it. All I wanted was to get home, to get out of these clothes and forget everything I had seen.
And prepare for the Selection tomorrow.
---
I hope you enjoyed this selection and it helped you decide whether you wanted to get the novel for yourself. I had a great time writing this story, and I hope you all enjoy it as well.
- Em
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