I started crying when we saw the new TARDIS. I was so worried the rumours that it was going to be accessible would just be rumours, BUT THEY’RE TRUE!!! It’s fully 100% wheelchair accessible and that means SO SO SO much to me. When I was a little kid I thought there was no way I could be a companion because of my wheelchair but now there’s an accessible TARDIS and a UNIT agent WITH ROCKETS IN HER WHEELCHAIR!!! I feel so loved by this show and that means the world!

Meet Altynay: Chapter One

(I’d put it under a cut, but I’m on mobile)

Altynay propped her head up on a mountainous stack of pillows, aching to be outside, or anywhere else really, instead of having to hold her baby sister in a stuffy hospital that smelled like alcohol and pee.

The moonlight sparkled on her sister’s red face, permanently fixed in a squabble, even though she was asleep. The clock ticked on the wall.

three am…

When will they be back?

Altynay didn’t let her mind wander for too long, and took out her homework, juggling her workbooks and pencil among the cords that were helping to keep her sister alive.

Your parents need sleep too!! She chided herself. Stop being ungrateful!!

Ungrateful. Ungrateful. Ungrateful. Ever since her sister had been born a month prior, that seemed to be the only word adults used to describe Altynay. If they even noticed her. Usually they went straight for the baby.

Altynay was ungrateful for crying when her mom left in the middle of the night to take her sister back to the emergency room, and she was ungrateful for being upset when the only food in the house happened to be Mayo and a single slice of cheese. She was ungrateful on her birthday when she stormed into her room because everyone brought presents for her sister, but didn’t bring any for her. She was ungrateful. Ungrateful. Ungrateful.

Tears dotted the rough paper of her math notebook as she realized she couldn’t do any of it. She hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past week, and must have zoned out during math class.

“If you don’t do this, you’re going to get another demerit and have to move your behavior clip down to red!!” She gritted her teeth. Her teacher didn’t make exceptions.

Truthfully, the math homework would have been easy on any other day, at home, with a clear mind and some sleep, even without the instruction. Before her sister was born, math was Altynay’s favorite subject, and she could do equations up to Algebra 2.

Altynay took a couple deep breaths and focused back on her worksheet.

“See? It’s just times tables.” She told herself, “You like times tables.”

She finished her homework just as a nurse Altynay didn’t recognize walked into the room.

Altynay gave a small wave. “She’s not had any major changes. She got air in her line a couple minutes ago and I fixed it because the beeping was upsetting me, I hope that’s alright?”

The nurse looked around and gave a dramatic sigh. “Where are your parents??”

Altynay anxiously bit her lip. “They’re in the family room. Mama hasn’t slept in three days, and papa is taking care of her. We have to hold my sister up at an angle or else she aspirates.”

“It’s against policy for children to be left unattended.” The nurse gave Altynay a look as if she should know that.

Altynay did know that as an avid worrier and sign reader, but she had done this before. “The nice charge nurse with the maple leaf scrubs lets me hold her while my parents rest. She says I’m very smart and careful.”

Altynay contemplated asking the nurse if she needed an Advil and some coffee, as that always seemed to soften her parents’ frustration, especially these days, but the nurse was already out the door, no doubt on her way to the family room.

The pit in Altynay’s stomach grew when Mama and Papa appeared in the doorway, the harsh yellow lights in the hallway illuminating just how tired they were.

“I’m sorry.” Altynay whispered, handing her sister over to her dad, as her mom pushed the suitcases together and created a makeshift bed.

Her dad gave her a wretched look before mustering a curt “go play” followed by a “somewhere that’s not in this room” and a “I’ll find you around six am to take you to school.”

Altynay hurriedly shoved an outfit from her suitcase into her school bag before leaving the room. She would change in the school bathroom.

The lights buzzed over Altynay’s head, and her eyes stung from the sudden change from dark to light. Gurneys and wheelchairs pushed past her, all accompanied by herds of people.

But Altynay was alone.

She felt small as she shrunk into a corner of the larger than life elevator. Was she invisible?

“What floor?” A tired looking doctor asked.

At least that was confirmation that she wasn’t completely invisible.

“Five.” She let him punch the number for her. She didn’t actually have a floor in mind. She knew her father would expect to find her on the ground level, or the family services level, but Altynay didn’t want to be findable right then.

Altynay learned quickly that as long as you didn’t look lost, scared or suspicious, that most doctors would brush past you. She wandered the fifth floor, filing the diagrams posted on the wall into her photographic memory, and listening in on conversations. The hospital wasn’t all bad. Altynay wanted to be a surgeon, and she often told herself that this was just a head start.

Sometime later, Altynay found herself being shaken awake by a concerned face. She must have crashed on one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, most certainly not by choice.

“Do you know where your parents are?” The face most certainly didn’t mean to be imposing, and the gentle smile that accompanied the question squashed any off handed remark a rudely awakened Altynay may have otherwise come up with. “Don’t make me go back up there.” Altynay groaned. “I’m not lost, just tired. And I’m not a runaway patient, before you go accusing me of that. My sister is the one who keeps trying to die.”

“I see. Well, why don’t you walk with me?” The doctor held out his hand.

Altynay suspiciously took it. “I’m not going back to my parents. Or my sister. Or that nurse. They’re all mean and I hate them.”

“Are you hungry?” The doctor asked.

Altynay looked up at him, trying to remember the last time she ate. “Maybe. Please no more popsicles, I haven’t had any fruit except that time when my friend’s dad packed her a bushel of bananas for lunch. I want fruit.”

The doctor chuckled. “I can do that.”

Altynay didn’t know why she found herself babbling to someone she barely knew. Normally she was shy and skeptical, but the nice doctor actually seemed to care about her. He didn’t call her ungrateful, or yell at her for trying to help. He found her a fruit salad and tucked her into an unoccupied bed. Altynay didn’t realize how much she missed being treated like a kid. It felt wrong to wish for life before her sister was born, but it was hard for nine-year-old Altynay not to, when days and nights were spent in the hospital, and she could barely remember what her own bedroom looked like. Altynay fell asleep almost immediately, surrounded in swirling images of her baby sister’s unused crib, and all the “can nots” that came shortly after her sister’s birth.

9:00 AM.

Altynay begrudgingly peeled herself out of bed. Late again. At least her homework was done.

Altynay texted Papa on the flip phone her parents gifted her, which was already on its last legs, despite it being “For Emergencies Only.”

Sorry for being late, can you take me to school please? xoxo

She put on her change of clothes as she waited for his reply, thankful that her tardiness meant she wouldn’t have to change in the school bathrooms.

Sorry pumpkin, your sister had a bad night. I should stay here with your mom. Take the bus again? I’ll make it up to you.

Altynay felt a pang of guilt. While she was sleeping, her sister was struggling to stay alive. Mama probably didn’t get the sleep she needed, she thought.

Her eyes stung with tears as she boarded the bus. Papa always said it wasn’t her job to worry about them, but she couldn’t help but feel responsible. She pushed her ball of upset back down, imagining it rolling out of the bus, never to be seen again. It seemed to have grown trifold in the past months.

What mattered now was school. Altynay couldn’t slip, no matter what happened. Afterall, like her teacher said, there were no exceptions.

Deep Breath - Doctor Who blog (New Doctor, Same Bullshit)

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I was very cross going into Deep Breath back in 2014, and before I talk about this episode, I’d like to quickly address all the bullshit that surrounded the buildup to the Twelfth Doctor.

Moffat kept saying how Series 8 was going to represent a brand new direction for the series and that this new Doctor would be so different to any we’ve seen before. He even hinted at the possibility of a female and/or non-white Doctor, saying there was no reason why it couldn’t happen. Who did we end up with? Peter Capaldi! Wow! A middle aged white guy?! Never seen one of those before!

Now before @furrychimp has a go at me, I’ve got nothing against Peter Capaldi. He’s a brilliant actor and I was confident he’d be great in the role. That’s not the issue. The problem I had was that Peter Capaldi was the only actor auditioned for the role. Moffat didn’t even try to think outside the box or look elsewhere. I’m not angry because Capaldi was cast in the role. I’m angry because of the wasted opportunity here. It was a year after the 50th anniversary. A chance to break new ground and try something different, and Moffat didn’t take it. If Moffat knew a non-white, non male Doctor wasn’t on the cards, why in God’s name did he keep banging on about it? It’s like I said in my review of A Good Man Goes To War, he’s more concerned with looking progressive than actually being progressive. Anyone can say there needs to be more diversity or that there needs to be change, but unless someone within the industry actually pulls their finger out and does something about it, those are just empty, meaningless words.

‘Oh but Capaldi is a lot older than previous Doctors.’

Bollocks! He was 55! That’s not old! And besides, we’ve had older Doctors before. He’s not even the first actor to play an older Doctor in New Who, or have we all conveniently forgotten about John Hurt all of a sudden? This is nothing new or original. And while I’m on the subject of his age, good God how fucking patronising were the press at the time? Listening to them, you’d think Capaldi was a 200 year old corpse that had arisen from his tomb and was at risk of collapsing into a pile of bones by the end of the series. The whole obsession with his age was seriously odd on both sides (those who thought this was some kind of cheap novelty and those who thought Capaldi was so weak and frail that he wouldn’t be able to get around the TARDIS without the use of a motorised wheelchair).

And then there’s the promise that the show was going to get a lot darker than it was before, to the point where the BBC pushed the show further back in the schedules so that you knew how dark this was going to get. This isn’t teatime entertainment anymore. It has to be broadcast at 8:00pm because it’s going to be so much daaaaaarker. 

Well... we’ve all seen Deep Breath. We all know that was bollocks.

Seriously, how is this any different from an episode in the Matt Smith era? (apart from the fact that Peter Capaldi is less zany and more tolerable than Matt Smith was). It still has the same goofiness and forced whimsey to it (more on that later). In fact some of the humour is actually worse than the Matt Smith era’s. When Madame Vastra tricks the Doctor into forming a psychic link with her so she can put him to sleep, they actually had the fucking nerve to add a comedy cartoon sound effect when he falls unconscious. How fucking desperate can you get?!

But what really strikes me about Deep Breath is how utterly unoriginal it all is. The clockwork robots are back from the overrated Girl In the Fireplace and they’re basically just doing the same shit as they did before only with an extra helping of stupid sprinkled onto them for good measure. ‘Don’t breathe’ is basically the same gimmick as ‘don’t blink’, but whereas ‘don’t blink’ made the Weeping Angels bloody terrifying, ‘don’t breathe’ just makes the clockwork robots laughably inept. A lot of the plot is similar to The Talons Of Weng-Chiang and we’ve seen dinosaurs in London before in Invasion of The Dinosaurs. Not to mention all the lines taken straight from the classic series that Moffat is determined to grind into the dirt (I swear if I hear the ‘you’ve redecorated’ gag one more time, I’m going to scream). Is this what constitutes a brave new direction now? Rehashing plots and concepts from previous stories rather than coming up with your own ideas? Moffat, go stick one of your BAFTAs up your arse. Best place for it as far as I’m concerned.

What’s worse is that this episode has been extended to an hour and 15 minutes, most of which seems to consist of extra scenes of the Paternoster Gang being their usual unfunny selves. At this point it’s not just that they’re boring, underdeveloped and utterly uninteresting characters that bothers me, but also that they are making the Doctor’s universe too small. The man has travelled all across time and space, Surely he must know some other people who would be willing to help him. Why do we keep having to come back to the Paternosters? Strax is still fucking irritating (how can he not tell the difference between an eye and a mouth? Humans and Sontarans aren’t that different. And what was even the fucking point of that medical checkup anyway other than to pad out the runtime?), and I really take issue with how Vastra and Jenny are written. I’ve taken issue with how Moffat presents LGBT characters in his stories before, but this just takes the cake. The episode constantly finds ways to patronise and objectify Jenny while Vastra plays a ‘man with boobs’ type role. And it gets worse when Clara gets involved and we see Vastra start to morph into the predatory lesbian stereotype. Call me picky, but I think we deserve better representation that that. And don’t get me started on that bullshit ‘oxygen share’ kiss. Doctor Who has never been apologetic about two heterosexuals kissing, so why should it treat two homosexuals any differently? It’s just wrong! If they’re open and okay about same sex marriage, why are they being so coy about two lesbian partners being intimate with each other?

So let’s talk about the Twelfth Doctor. Despite my anger and frustration towards the circumstances surrounding his casting, I knew Capaldi would make a great Doctor and he does do a good job in the role for the most part. I liked the stuff at the beginning where the Doctor is really confused and was having memory problems. You could almost draw parallels between him and someone suffering from a memory disorder like Alzheimer’s and it’s genuinely unnerving to see the Doctor in such a high level of distress. I also really liked his final confrontation with the robot and the moral ambiguity of whether or not he pushed him. This is a very different Doctor from Matt Smith and I’m curious to see where they take him (remember I haven’t seen any episodes past Kill The Moon, so I genuinely have no idea what happens to him). Unfortunately all of this is punctured by the usual shit you find in post regeneration episodes. A lot of crazy goofiness and pondering over whether or not this is the same man as before. Admittedly the latter was interesting at first, and The Christmas Invasion did add some dramatic weight to it what with the Doctor being the last of his race and therefore having a more personal connection with Rose than he did with any other companion as a result, but after the twelfth time you’ve done it, you’re just bored by this point. Is the Doctor the same person as before? Er... Kind of. That should be firmly established by now considering the number of bloody times the show has asked this question. Can we move on?

A lot of times I feel Capaldi is scuppered by the humour. He can be a great comedic actor, but this sort of material just doesn’t work with him. It’s too whimsical and eccentric, like the whole sequence with the horse or him calling the dinosaur a big sexy woman. It feels like Moffat is still writing for Matt Smith and it just doesn’t sound right coming out of Capaldi’s mouth. And then there’s the painfully obvious metaphors. There’s a lot you could interpret about the Doctor from what you see on screen. The similarities between him and the robot, and how they both change and replace body parts to the point where you could argue they’re not the same people they originally were. The similarities between him and Vastra, both hiding behind some kind of mask in order to feel accepted. All potentially interesting, but what ruins it is Moffat’s need to fucking spell it out for us. How about crediting your audience with some intelligence?

I really hope Chris Chibnall doesn’t go through all this shit when Jodie Whittaker takes over. In my view, all post regeneration episodes should be like The Eleventh Hour. New body, new personality and then it’s business as usual.

But by far the worst aspect of Deep Breath is Clara. I can understand being worried about the Doctor’s memory problems and state of mind, but that’s clearly not the case at all. Clara is more concerned that the Doctor has gotten visibly older, which is beyond absurd. She’s seen all of the previous Doctors. She’s met the War Doctor. Why should the Twelfth Doctor be a shock to her? Vastra says it’s because the Doctor is no longer young and sexy and, no matter how much Clara tries to deny it, that’s pretty much the only reason I can think of why she’d be angry at the Doctor. I honestly can’t see any other alternative. It doesn’t make any sense why she would be this shocked about the Doctor’s regeneration. At one point she even asks how they change him back. It just makes her come across as really shallow and selfish (not a narcissist or an egomaniac. Seriously Moffat, try browsing a dictionary some time). But what really gets me is that the episode clearly expects you to be on Clara’s side, even going so far as to try to imply that the Doctor is so different now that he has at one point abandoned Clara and left her to die, which I didn’t buy for a second. The First Doctor may well have done that, but he’s a very different man by now. Does she have to stay as the companion? They even wheel out Matt Smith again for yet another goodbye speech to reassure her about Peter Capaldi, which was just plain silly. I suspect the BBC were a little worried that people wouldn’t accept an older, less romantic Doctor. I think the BBC need to have a bit more faith in the audience. May I remind everyone that Doctor Who lasted nearly 30 years without the need to shove in any Doctor/companion romances or snogging and people loved it?

And finally we get Michelle Gomez pissing about in a garden. Who is this mysterious and clearly crazy woman who appears to have intimate knowledge of the Doctor? Gee, it couldn’t be the Master, could it? Oh no! Of course not! The Master is a man! And besides, Moffat would NEVER do a plot twist that bloody obvious.

So what is the Promised Land? I don’t know and I don’t really care to tell you the truth. i’ve become so sick and tired of Moffat’s convoluted series arcs and endless intrigue that I honestly can’t even muster up the energy to even be mildly curious about it.

Deep Breath is an uncreative, boring and lazy start to Series 8. That being said, the Twelfth Doctor does show promise. We’ll see where they go from here.

Your Biggest Fan 4 (Commission)

The following is a commission. Mature content is within.

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Your Biggest Fan - Part Four Captain Gonzales was deathly silent, staring down at the files in front of her on her desk. Across from her, Gary sat, Lisa to his right, watching, waiting, for the Captain to say something. Captain Gonzales was the type to wait to speak until she felt she needed to. Her silence tended to convey her thoughts for her, but she could easily talk up a storm if the need arose. Typically, she was a reserved woman, maintaining a cold, distant demeanor with those around her, hence the reason for Erik’s ‘steely’ Latina joke. She didn’t let her emotions show except for very specific, very rare circumstances. Such as the current moment, where she didn’t bother hiding her genuine disdain for the subject at hand. “I had a feeling,” Captain Gonzales said, “that The Fan would return eventually. Someone like that, they’re not going to just up and disappear. That sort never does.” “What do you want us to do?” Lisa asked, leaning forward. Gary could tell that Lisa respected Captain Gonzales. She held the woman in a lot of regard, and Gary couldn’t exactly blame her for it, either. The Captain had been at the precinct for almost twenty solid years, working her way up from beat cop to detective to the rank she currently held, and she had done it by herself, through hard work and a whole lot of determination, even with the various odds stacked against her. Gary knew from experience the kinds of shit the Captain faced. Racism due to her being a Mexican American, born from illegal immigrants that came to the States looking for a better life. Sexism, due to being a woman trying to be a cop. Gary heard horror stories of the way others treated her, how many had gone out of their way to try and make her quit or to make her see that her place was at a desk, not in the field. But through it all, the Captain kept going, kept persevering, until it finally paid off. She was worthy of admiration. But now wasn’t the time for that line of thinking, Gary knew. He focused instead on watching the Captain’s face, noting the subtle shifts as she Captain closed her eyes and sighed. “I want all four of you to go back to the Grand Flora,” she said. “You two talk to the manager, find out everything you can, including why he decided it was the best course of action to tamper with a crime scene before the police arrived. Arrest him if you have to. Get Benson and Carter to interview the staff, I want to know everything about that room the day of and the day before. Check security, everything.” That was all the Captain was going to say on the matter. Gary could tell by the look in her eyes, as she shifted her gaze back to the files. The Captain was going to dig into The Fan with everything she could, probably going to pull every bit of evidence she could find on them. Gary believed it. So, he nodded and exited the room, Lisa following right behind him. Erik was busy filling in his partner, Davis Carter, on the events that he had missed. Davis was a good man – African American, born in New York, but moved to Los Angeles ten years prior. He was smart, and cool, and calculated, though the biggest flaw that Davis had was the fact he seemed to always be late to the party, no matter what. Davis liked to joke that he wasn’t late, but that he preferred making an entrance at the ‘perfect time.’ Gary had seen him do it, a few times, in fact, though it didn’t stop him from teasing the man about his tardiness. Granted, when you had a wife and three kids to look after, it was to be expected that you would be late at times. Everyone understood his reasons, it just didn’t spare him from the teasing and the banter often aimed his way. “Ah, Davis,” Gary said, coming to stand beside Erik’s desk. “Nice of you to join us today.” Davis waved him off. “Slept through my alarm, what can you do, huh?” “Get a louder alarm,” Lisa said. Davis grinned. “And ruin my beauty sleep?” “Is that what they call it these days?” Gary asked. “Hey, you’re one to talk, my man,” Davis said. “Look like you could use some yourself. Anyone ever tell you you’ve got the face of a bulldog?” Gary rolled his eyes. When it came to appearances, Gary was more or less what you’d expect from someone in his line of duty: he was average. Average height, average build, average everything. His hair was dark and short, often semi-neatly combed – when Gary had the time, of course, otherwise it was a bit of a mess, but nothing too out there. His eyes were green, his skin an average tone with the slightest of tans going on. But yes, as Davis pointed out, he wasn’t skinny. True, he wasn’t quite as big of a man as Erik was, but he wasn’t a twig, either. The past few years had been rough for Detective Frost, and he had let himself go – just a bit, of course. It wasn’t enough to make him unattractive or even unappealing to be near, and it certainly hadn’t affected his physical prowess in any way. But, as Davis was poked fun of for his tardiness, Gary was teased either for this fact, or because of his icy demeanor, hence the Snowman moniker. Everyone had something, even the Captain. Lisa was the only one without something to tease her for, but Gary was certain that would change in due time. “We heading out?” Erik asked, breaking the silence. “Yeah,” Gary said. “Back to the Grand Flora. You two are on the staff and security details, Lisa and I have the honor of dealing with this idiot of a manager.” The other two men stood and gathered their things. All four sauntered toward the elevator together. “The Fan, huh?” Davis said as they entered, Davis pressing the button to go down. “I don’t know who the hell they are, but they are a piece of work, that’s for damn sure.” “Piece of something else, too,” Lisa added, shaking her head in disgust. “What the fuck kind of sicko cuts off a person’s tits? Or hands? Or ears? Seriously, that’s like something out of a Stephen King book, not reality.” “What I don’t get is why they just vanished for a year,” Erik said. “Most of the monsters and psychos we’ve dealt with don’t stop and take a damn vacation.” The elevator doors opened, and the four of them stepped out. “Something’s off about this whole situation. I’m not going to say it isn’t The Fan, but for them to randomly stop and then start up again out of the blue like this?” Gary shrugged. “Not every killer is linear in how they think, Erik. This isn’t a horror movie or a comic book. People are way more complicated than that.” Erik gave a half nod. “I guess so, but it still bugs me.” “We can figure it out later,” Davis said. “Let’s get to the hotel. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of the Grand Flora. Heard great things.” “Eh, it’s not that great,” Lisa said. “Kind of boring, honestly.” “Not enough eye candy, Petrucci?” Davis asked, cocking an eyebrow. Lisa smirked. “Not the right kind for me.” Gary and Lisa climbed into their police cruiser, Erik and Davis into theirs, and the four drove off toward their destination. “So were there ever any big name suspects?” Lisa asked after a moment of silence. She snuck a look at Gary, studying him. “I can’t wrap my head around the idea that someone like this could just go around killing people without someone being a big suspect.” Gary nodded. “Four years ago, we had three major suspects that we investigated. Put a lot of time and energy into delving into everything we could find about them.” “Who were they?” “The first was Abraham Baldwin,” Gary said. He could recall all the details about the man, from face to personality, with near perfect clarity. “Baldwin fit a lot of the bill for what we were looking for at the time. He was young and athletic, had a few previous arrests for stalking and breaking and entering, and we knew he had a history with at least two of the victims. Guy had a shady side to him, and there was just something about him that made me think he might’ve been The Fan.” Lisa waited, listening. Gary sighed. “But, then he got hit by a car. Paralyzed him. He’s been confined to a wheelchair ever since, and this was only midway through The Fan’s spree. So, he was off the list.” “Shit,” Lisa said. “Next was Karen Moore. A bit older, but no less dangerous and no less crazy.” Gary’s lips twitched. “She had a history of mental illness, and an obsessive behavioral pattern when it came to people she deemed worth her time. She would start getting delusions about famous people, believing them to be friends, family, lovers, you name it. Led to a lot of problems with the law, and a lot of problems with the media when they heard about it.” “You thought she could be The Fan?” Lisa asked. “At first, yes,” Gary said. He paused to flick his turn signal on. “But then, she was removed from the pile when it became clear the woman’s mental health was getting worse over time. She wound up getting admitted to a hospital and stayed there till she died from a stroke. This was after The Fan killed their fifth victim, right before the sixth.” Lisa shook her head. “Fuck. And the last suspect?” “Aaron Roderick,” Gary said. His expression darkened. Of the three suspects, Roderick had been the one Gary truly believed to be The Fan. He was always nearby the murder scenes, had interacted with each of the victims at least once that was known in public, and he never had a solid alibi despite his frequent insistence that he was innocent. Not only that, but there was a way about him, the way the man carried himself, walked, talked, and just… looked. Not on the outside, no, but the way he looked at others, with a level of dispassion and disdain, the sort of look someone who could take a life might look. Aaron Roderick gave Gary the air of a man who could break at any moment. He genuinely thought that Roderick was The Fan given his past, a past drenched in a whole lot of stalking and obsession with famous people. That, and an overzealous hatred for the famous – Aaron hated them with a passion, because he wanted what they had. He wanted the wealth, the fame. Gary knew it the moment he and Aaron first spoke. He could tell these things without Aaron openly admitting them. That had been why he was so certain that Roderick was the killer. “What happened?” Lisa asked. “Did he die, too?” “No.” “Get paralyzed somehow?” “No.” Lisa scowled. “So then what? How’d he go from being the number one suspect to, you know, not?” Gary stared at the road as he made another turn, the hotel looming in the distance. He came to a stop, parking the car. He unbuckled and glanced at Lisa. “Because the day when we finally felt we had enough evidence to arrest him on the charges of all the murders, the day that I thought we had found The Fan once and for all, the day when it seemed so certain this monster was caught, everything was shot to hell when we got to Roderick’s place to pick him up.” “Why?” Lisa asked. “What happened?” “He was dead,” Gary said. “The Fan murdered him.”

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