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#this story has been rotating in my mind like the dEVIL for MONTHS after I posted it

nebulanewts · 2 years

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Hi,I don’t rlly have much to add besides here’s some random LL related thoughts that have been on my mind lately :]

• So I’ve been reading every Nijigasaki bond story,and first off I’ve been really enjoying them! Like they’re making me appreciate these girls and this group more than I did before BUT that’s not what I was going to say…I’ve noticed a bit of a pattern about each album because of them and this pattern has given me a theory

- Tokimeki Runners : These solo songs are essentially their image songs,each song given to each girl fits their personality / character and goals the most. They serve as an introduction to each character

- Love U My Friends : In the bond stories,the girls write and make these songs for Yuu / us. Yuu even helps them write some (like how we help write Karin’s and Shizuku’s I think) hence the name of the album “Love U My Friends”,Yuu / us being the friend

- Just Believe!!! : Again,in the bond stories when we unlock this set of solos,they focus on making fan clubs and performing them for their fans. Of course WE could also be the fans in this scenario,but they perform them specifically for the fans in the fan club in the stories so that’s kind of what I think the theme of this album is fndjdj

- L!L!L! (Love the Life We Live!) : Once again in the bond stories where we unlock this set of solos,the whole thing is there’s a film festival going on and each member has been selected to make the theme song for a different club’s film. Hence why each song is wildly different from what we’ve heard so far,they’re themed after a another club’s film for the festival

- So this brings me to what I think the “theme” will be for their 5th (non anime) solos…bear with me idk how to explain this properly I kind of think that the theme for the bond stories and these solos will KIND OF be a style / concept swap?? Like obviously they won’t just be singing each other’s songs but more like swapping concepts with another member idk like Ai doing something more traditional sounding like a Shioriko solo,maybe Shizuku doing a more cutesy little devil-y type song like a Kasumi solo,etc. But they also would still put their own spin on it so it sounds like THEIR take on another girls song…idk if that makes sense (this would also spark new interactions / friendships in the bond stories which I’d be ALL about)

• Second and less wordy…it has been a MINUTE since we’ve gotten a Kotori UR in SIFAS like this new rotation has been all out of wack to me we’ve gotten FOUR Ai URs in the past few months,at least two Nico URs that throw off the current Muse rotation and didn’t Rin just get a UR last month??? Kotori hasn’t gotten a UR since February WHERE IS SHE MYNET????? WHERE???

• And lastly idk if y’all have seen this

But apparently,for the 9th SIF anniversary Liella is doing a collab song with SIF and even doing an outfit contest with the theme being “little devil”…and all I have to say about that is if Mei and Sumire AREN’T the UR pair or at least one of them isn’t the UR I will yell so loud that is all

#love live!#love live #llsif #llsifas #long post #kind of??#mars babbling

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missdutch21md · 4 years

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Music of the Night | 3

A/N: Hello Lovelies!! Here is part 3!!! Some background and general angst?? Not sure how you guys will like it honestly;; Anyways as rough as this chapter can be, I hope you still enjoy this look in Taehyung’s mind.. bc. holy cow, i went there. I was listening to sappy music and got into writing and this was born!! Sorry for being late with this chapter, I know I promised it last night but after Be got released I literally couldn’t function. My apologies and please forgive me and accept this chapter as a token of my love. 💖💖

Summary: The time is 1856. Location: Paris, France at the Opera Populaire. Taehyung is living his life when who should stumble into his life than the most beautiful singer he has ever heard? She was the missing instrument to his orchestra. She would complete the score for his… Music of the Night.

Pairing: Opera Ghost! Taehyung x Singer! Ballet Dancer! MC

Genre: Angst 🥺

Rating: Mature 🔞

Length: 1.2k

Characters: rich! Seokjin, rich! Yoongi, dance instructor! hoseok, officer! Jimin, stagehand! Jungkook, chorus girl! BlackPink

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of religion, stalking, abuse, (would you guys consider PotO as disabled--idk how to write this really in a pc way), body image issues, self deprecation, fear of abandonment, slight yandere themes

Please keep in mind this is a work of FICTION this in no way reflects on any BTS members or Taehyung as a person. This is simply a story for the imagination.

Go b a c k | Turn p a g e | M.L i s t

Taehyung found that while the Opera was busy bustling with excitement, he could not match their jovial feelings. He had gone about his usual morning routine of ensuring his pupil had awakened at a decent hour. He always blushed and told himself, he only did this to help her, it was surely not to catch sight of her in nothing but a thin shift. He would never.

The ensemble had gone through countless rehearsals already, and the quizzical man found himself losing interest, even with the way his little pupil huffed, and flushed from the vigor of her dancing. He was intrigued again when she scampered off to see the costumers, and was content to watch her from the holes in the walls as she worked diligently. She seemed to fit in everywhere she went. Easily sliding into conversation with poise and always being so well mannered.

He often thought of their deep conversations and smiled ruefully at his memories of just the night before when she was so tired and yet still adamant to meet him for her lessons.

Taehyung didn’t think himself a particularly cruel man, but still, he expected a certain amount of dedication from the young woman. She was meant to complete his music after all, though she wasn’t exactly privy to his intentions, yet.

He blinked when he realized that the young woman had scampered off without his noticing, the older women spoke of luncheon, and he hastily made his way to the mess hall, sure that he would find her there. And find her he did, flushed and beautiful as ever while her friends teased her.

“Finish quickly so you can come back to us!” the girl with long, dark tresses urged his pupil.

“Besides I think Hoseok misses you,” the younger girl laughed in a liting tone.

Taehyung had noticed that the male dancer had become somewhat of a mentor to her, taking her under his wing. It was clear on one occasion that his little pupil wasn’t completely immune to the older man’s charm and appeal. He watched as she shook her head but the light blush dusting her features deepened at their persistence. The girls continued their teasing for a bit longer and the blonde, (Taehyung never cared to learn their names. They were not his pupil, so why should he really care, was his logic. though he remembered she was the youngest girl of the group) even acted out a scene where she, as his pupil, would swoon in the brunette’s arms as though they were Hoseok’s waiting arms. At this, the dancer he was so keen on had turned so unapologetically red, one of the other girls began to speak. But Taehyung could stomach no more, with one final glance at the petite dancer, his pupil, and he was positive she would faint. His stomach tightened, and his mind was racing, so he did the only thing he could think to do while tears stung the backs of his eyes and a few even rolled hotly down his cheeks.

He left.

He would not hear how Jennie playfully called him the true desire of his pupil. He probably never would guess in a million years, even if he had stayed. All he could hear was a loud ringing in his ears, and the voices of all those who had scorned him. Devil Child, Evil, Hell’s Spawn.

You name it, he was branded it at one time or another.

Taehyung anguished as he descended back into the belly of the Opera House, his past traumas endured kept coming in wave after wave. He could never be the desire of his beloved; of that he was certainly sure. How could he be? He didn’t even have the courage to stand before her. It took so much out of him to even speak to her. That had left him shaken for a week before he roused the courage to speak to her again. His face was another thing entirely, while the left side of his face looked like that of an angel, chiseled to form the finest, most shockingly beautiful face. The right side of his face was marred, he knew that at one look at his entire face, the dancer he so longed for would reject him. The revelation, though it was hardly a revelation at all, was constantly at the forefront of his mind. He was painstakingly aware of his ‘deformity’ as others would call it. He knew he could not compare to the charm of Jung Hoseok. Not only was the man his older, but he was also a force to be reckoned with. Minnie spoke of him constantly to Taehyung.

Down, down, down he descended back into the darkness. Back to his solace, once he arrived to his dwelling, he couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked his body. He mourned for the life he yearned for. He was a man with great mind, and superior skills than the average man but he was doomed to be forever alone. His thoughts took another turn at that word. Alone.

He growled out and lashed at a project he was working on. He through the pages of his manuscript over the floor. He tore off the beautiful fabrics that he dressed himself in. He knelt down and wept, collapsing in on himself, the pain he felt becoming too great knowing that one day, his little pupil would one day leave him too. His mother left him with her death, his only friend he had known, Minnie, had left too.

The little ballerina girl who had saved him all those years ago, how tragic was it that Minnie had to leave. He had mourned her, yes, certainly. She was his friend. He told her to not accept the advances of the drifting stage hands that seemed to rotate with every production. But she had said it was true love, how sorely mistaken she had been. She only cried to Taehyung one month ago. And here he was now, without his companion and without anyone to lean on. It was only inevitable that the beautiful singer he so doted on now would one day meet the same road to lead her out of his life.

Taehyung did not stir the rest of the day, until well into the night. After the music had died down, and it was hours after when Taehyung was sure that the Opera house was asleep. The evening was bleeding into the next morning as he silently made his way up to the chapel. He hadn’t bothered to dress properly after his fit of rage and hurt. His shift was barely covering his toned chest and hanging onto his shoulders and barely tucked into his trousers anymore.

In the chapel, he gasped at the sight that greeted him. His eyes snapped to catch the velvet ribbon he had bestowed upon his pupil, he had rid her of the ghastly and tattered maroon fabric, and the luxurious fabric sat tied into a beautiful bow around a parchment near the window where he would watch her from during their nights of tutelage. Was her natural talent enough to recognize where his voice was really coming from?

He opened the letter with shaky fingers and felt his heart shatter in an entirely different way. Her writing was shaky, still unpracticed and unsure, he thought back on the night before and how he was urging her to try writing. Possibly, she was nervous? In her scrawling script, he saw that she tried desperately to imitate his long and precise strokes. He hungrily devoured the words and poured over the details over and over for there were only a few words.

I apologize fore displeezing you, Master

X ______

Taehyung sighed as he held the paper close to his heart. He didn’t care that it was 4 AM. He had to go and see her. And so, he did. She was sleeping, though not peacefully, he lamented. How he longed to press a tender kiss to her furrowed brow. He didn’t it was likely one of the other girls would wake, and he couldn’t have that. He settled for scrawling a note back to her and leaving it by her vanity to find once she woke with the velvet ribbon resting back in its rightful place.

Go b a c k | Turn p a g e

#Kim taehyung #taehyungxreader #btsxreader #Kimtaehyung x reader #music of the night #motn #btsxmc #taehyungxmc

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excelsi-or · 4 years

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17/01/19 - jealous (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 2.1k (lol longer than i thought)

A/N: who doesn’t love a jealous woozi?

December 27/28/29, 2018

January 17, 2019

She rolls her eyes at Taehyung’s dumb expression, a smile on her face despite her exasperation. “Stop. We really need to finish this report.”

“We’ve been here for hours,” Taehyung whines, his chin dropping to the table. “We’ve read so many papers. Are you even retaining anything?”

“Not a matter of retaining, it’s a matter of getting it on the page.”

Taehyung huffs. “All I’m saying is that maybe we should call it a day.” He motions out the library window. “It’s dark out.”

She sighs, conceding to his point. Their formal lab report was taking longer than either of them expected. With all the references that the professor wanted to back up their evidence, their eyes were starting to go cross-eyed. And to be fair, she’d lost focus long before Taehyung had.

As they exit the school library, Taehyung promises that he’ll get the conclusion done by Friday morning so they can go over it on Saturday.

“No, no,” she snorts. “Done by Thursday morning so we can look over it Friday and hand it in by midnight.”

“Right,” he chuckles. “I’m just teasing.”

They’re about to part ways, as she’s planning to meet Jihoon. “So I’ll see you in class tomorrow? As in are you planning on showing up?”

“Missing me in microbi?” Taehyung snorts. “I’m sure Chim is keeping you company.”

“Since Ara came along, that man isn’t talking to anyone else in that class.”

Taehyung smiles wide and she slows for the pathway to the music building. From this distance, she can see Jihoon locking up.

“So you are missing me,” Taehyung chuckles.

She waves her goodbyes and turns to Jihoon when he saunters up. His eyes watch Taehyung’s retreating figure as he heads towards the parking lot. Taehyung is one of those lucky students that has his own vehicle. Jihoon gives her a once over, but says nothing.

“You ready to go?” she asks him, adjusting her backpack straps.

Jihoon offers his hand, but remains mute; which is fine. It tends to happen when Jihoon hasn’t slept much. With graduation looming, he’s been skimping on sleep. She thinks that his trip down to Busan has also sapped a lot of his energy. From all the stories he returned with, it didn’t sound as if the man had had much time to rest. So she fills the silence for the both of them, talking about how the work session with Taehyung had gone and how much of an idiot he is for skipping classes.

“Least he shows up to lab every week,” she mutters. They get off at her bus stop. Seungkwan has been raving about his mom’s food that she’d sent. His mom’s made so much that Seungkwan is inviting everyone over to share.

She’s pretty sure she and Jihoon are the last to arrive.

“Are you okay?” she asks him as they get into the elevator. Jihoon’s a quiet man, but he’s unusually quiet tonight.

Jihoon squeezes her fingers and rests his head on hers as they watch the floors light up.

“Are you and hyung fighting?” Seungkwan asks after everyone’s gone home. Hansol insisted on staying the night. He’s made himself comfy on the couch and refuses to get up anymore. She brings Seungkwan a stack of dirty plates.

“No, why?”

“I don’t know. You guys weren’t acting like you usually do.”

She stops from collecting the cups together. With rapid-fire speed, she breezes through the night. Jihoon had been distant most of the night, but also hadn’t really left her side. If anything, he’d been more touchy than usual, his hand always on her somewhere even when they were playing board games.

Hansol groans from his spot on the couch, stretching his arms over his head. He curls around a couch pillow. “Seungkwanie is just overanalyzing again.”

“He wasn’t his usual annoying self. That’s all I’m saying,” Seungkwan says.

She passes him the cups over the counter. Resting her chin in her hands, she frowns. “I didn’t really notice anything and he hasn’t said anything.”

“Well, that’s good,” Seungkwan replies quickly. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“I think we’re good.”

“You know best.” Seungkwan’s voice is definitive. “If nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong.”

Except maybe Seungkwan wasn’t wrong. After dinner at their apartment, Jihoon has been near unreachable. He responds to texts if she sends them, but each time she extends an invitation for dinner, the man claims he’s busy. From what she’s learned of Jihoon the last four months is that he likes the idea of relationships, but struggles with actually having them. So it’s been a learning curve for her to figure out where the boundaries are and what boundaries Jihoon will let her cross.

At this point in time, she wonders if Jihoon’s keeping his distance to reflect on their relationship. A lot of her friends were still in the honeymoon phase nearly a year in, so four months feels extremely soon to be reevaluating. But Jihoon has proven time and time again to be doing this relationship differently. So she knows that once he’s ready to come find her, he will.

“Taehyung, focus!” she laughs. “You asked me to help you study and you’re being impossible.”

Taehyung grins at her and adjusts himself in his seat, leaning forward to demonstrate that he’s listening. She shows him the molecule again and explains how there are two sigma d symmetry planes.

He stares hard at her drawing, but she recognizes that there is no understanding there. So she pulls out the Play-Doh, something that she figured would also help his focus. She passes him the purple-lidded tub. Then she pulls out a handful of toothpicks.

“It’s easier to make the molecule and since the set is expensive, I found this cheap alternative works too.”

Taehyung is already busy making a tiny snowman, but rather than scolding him again, she uses the small balls he’s made to use as atoms. Once he’s made enough, she shows him the molecule in 3D. His jaw drops.

“Oh my god, I can see it now!” He takes it from her and rotates it so that they’re looking down the plane. “You’re a literal genius.”

She snorts. “Genius, no. Decent teacher and patient friend, yeah.”

Taehyung rests his face against her arm and she pats his head. “This is game changing.”

“It is. So let’s do the other ones.”

When they leave the café, Taehyung asks, “So how’s your boyfriend?”

“Jihoon? He’s good.” Probably.

Taehyung smiles his kilowatt smile. “That’s good. Jungkook keeps suggesting a double date since apparently I rave about how fun studying with you is.”

She throws her head back with a laugh. “I’ll mention it to Ji next time I see him.”

He offers to walk her home since the café is near her place. She doesn’t argue, as she’s missed having someone walk her home. She hadn’t realized how accustomed to Jihoon she’d gotten until she had started making the bus ride home on her own again. It made all the dark alleys a little bit darker.

“How’s all his music going? I know Yoongi hyung was at his wit’s end near graduation.”

She shrugs. “Ji’s good under pressure. He’ll suddenly whip up four songs without blinking. Real genius at work.”

“Speak of the devil,” Taehyung says as they wander up to her apartment. Sitting on the front steps is Jihoon. Taehyung smiles at the man, but Jihoon barely musters anything in return. Taehyung shoots her a pitying smile, which must mean that he assumes Jihoon’s exhausted.

But she knows that look on Jihoon’s face. He’s mad.

Taehyung wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

She hugs him back and nods. “Yes, because you’re showing up to class.”

“I’m showing up to class,” he promises. He waves over his shoulder.

“Text me when you’re home!”

“Shall do!”

Then she turns to her angry boyfriend. He’s not mad very often, but the tightness in his jaw and the dark circles under his eyes tells her he’s also sleep deprived.

She stands there, hands on the straps of her backpack. Jihoon’s eyes are on his hands and she waits him out. Jihoon doesn’t waste words when he’s angry.

But they wind up sitting in silence for so long that her fingers start to go numb. She buries her hands in her pockets and studies him. If anger were visible, she can imagine ripples of anger on his spine.

“You’re mad,” she finally states.

Jihoon’s eyes lift to hers.

“It’s keeping you up at the studio all night.”

He waits.

“And you’ve stopped answering my texts all together, so it’s probably my fault you’re mad.”

Her mind whirs. He’s gonna make her work for it. He’s cut off communication for about a week and a half. A few days before that, she’d told him that she was going to study with—

“You’re jealous, Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon frowns and looks away, his jaw clenching again.

Tentatively, she takes a few steps towards him and takes a seat. She leaves space between them, because she knows that Jihoon fires off if he’s angry enough. They haven’t had enough arguments for her to gauge how angry he is right now.

“Is that why you’re avoiding me? Because of Taehyung?”

“I wanted to think,” he mumbles. His voice comes out gravelly as if he hasn’t really used it much.

“And what have you been thinking about?”

“That maybe…”

She holds a hand up to stop him. “If the thought was that I’d run off with beautiful Taehyung, then Ji, you have nothing to worry about.”

“How do I have nothing to worry about?” he exclaims. Jihoon turns to her, his eyes sharp and his hair falling messily out of his face. She wants to run her hands through it desperately, but now is not the time. “He’s tall and good looking and your type.”

She blinks in surprise at the last part. “My type? I didn’t know I had a type.” She smiles slightly. “And if I had one, it’s you, Ji.”

This seems to stun him. She quickly explains. “Taehyung is beautiful, in all sense of the word. I like him; he’s a good friend to have around. But Taehyung is a lot of maintenance.” Jihoon sits up a bit straighter as she talks. “But I adore you, Lee Jihoon.” They’ve been dancing around the ‘L’ word, neither of them quite ready to drop it, but feeling it all the same. She’s put off by the weight of it; he’s scared of the commitment in it.

“I adore you and that’s not going to change just because a beautiful man breezes through my life.” Gently, she reaches for his hand and he lets her intertwine their fingers. “I have you, my own perfectly beautiful human, to entertain me.”

Jihoon snorts at the phrasing. “I’m a play thing?”

“Mm, but you don’t care, do you?” she teases.

Jihoon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I just… I don’t like feeling as if I’m competing for your attention.”

“Then tell me what you want, Ji.” Jihoon tilts his head at the request. “I’m testing boundaries with you. If you know what you want, tell me.”

“I… what I really want is for you to stop talking to him.” From her expression, he quickly adds, “But I know that’s not fair. I don’t know what I want. I want…” He lets the end of the sentence hang in the air.

She brings the back of his hand to her lips and she gets up, her bum already numb. “Are you gonna come in?”

“Seungkwan home?” Jihoon stands.

“He’s home,” she confirms.

Jihoon nods and lets her lead him into the apartment. His arms wrap around her waist in the elevator, his head knocking back into the wall. “You’re getting into bed when we get upstairs,” she tells him.

Jihoon hums.

Her hand disentangles them and she tugs him after her to the door.

“Seungkwanie!” she calls, though the man is sitting at their dining table. “Ji’s here.”

“Hi hyung!”

Jihoon grumbles a response and heads straight for her room. Seungkwan watches him shuffle across the room and the light doesn’t turn on when he goes inside. Seungkwan glances back at her. “It’s only 6:30.”

“He hasn’t been sleeping,” she informs him. She places her backpack in the chair directly across from him. “Apparently we were fighting.”

Seungkwan lifts a curious eyebrow.

“Resolved now, but he’s been fighting all alone. I didn’t even know.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Couples. I’ll never understand.”

“Don’t worry, Seungkwanie, I don’t either.”

Next: January 24, 2019

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt #lee jihoon scenarios #tabilrn

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motherofoliver · 4 years

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Lost on You (Chapter 1)

(AO3)

Summary: After over a year on a roller coaster ride, Kaneki leaves prison and attempts to make amends for his mistakes.

Word Count: 2,118

*****

“Here are your things. You may exit through that door.” The guard slid Kaneki his things through a small opening in the glass and pointed towards the metal door leading to the outside world. He put on his jacket, bloodstains still on it.

That’s gonna be a bitch to dry clean.

After checking his wallet, Kaneki pushed the metal door open and walked outside to find a vintage red Mustang with a familiar face standing besides it.

“Where’s Touka?”

“I missed you too, buddy. Please try to contain your excitement at seeing me.” Hide chuckled as he came up closer and embraced the dark-haired man. It took a while for Kaneki to hug him back. He wasn’t sure when the last time he was held by anyone was. Definitely over a month. Maybe over three months. Not since T…

“You smell like shit.” Hide wrinkled his nose and stepped back while comically waving his hand.

“Yeah, prison can do that to you.” Kaneki made his way to the front seat of the car and leaned it back.

“Did they make you shower with expired chicken stock?” Hide got into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. Pop music blared from the radio as he reversed the car and sped onto the main street. “My place is closer than yours, we’ll stop there so you can shower and have a change of clothes.”

“Just take me home.” Kaneki sounded exhausted. He slid down his seat and placed his arm over his eyes.

“No can do. Akira wants to see you.”

Kaneki groaned. “I just got out. I can’t attend a work meeting right now.”

“Hey man, it’s the least you could do. She busted her ass to get you out.” Hide sounded playful but Kaneki knew him well enough to know there was a tinge of reproach in his voice. Akira must have pulled a lot of strings she did not want to pull. The familiar wave of guilt washed over him and his throat tightened.

“Will Touka be there?” And would she speak to me if she was?

“I don’t know, I think she’s been busy with a new client.” Hide was tapping his fingers against the wheel with the music but Kaneki could feel his eyes glancing at him with concern. “I thought guys got buff in jail, how did you manage to get thinner?” Hide tried to cheer up the atmosphere by teasing him but his mind was already elsewhere.

“Yeah, well, prison food tastes like shit.” Kaneki replied absentmindedly. He couldn’t actually remember what prison food tasted like or if he even ate it. He couldn’t remember much of anything besides the thoughts that kept a watchful rotation in his head like a music worm you can’t hum your way out of.

“Don’t worry about that. Tonight I’ll take you out for the best meal of your life. It’ll be a mukbang of all your favorite foods. Gotta celebrate you surviving prison.”

Kaneki didn’t react. He was already humming his tune.

***

Breaking news! Our favorite hot mess, Ken Kaneki, is out of prison after only serving one month of his prison sentence! Insider sources tell us a deal was mediated with the prosecution and the actor was released on parole this morning! We contacted his agency for a statement on the release of the famous one eyed dragon but they have yet to reach out. Do you think he got off easy? Share your thoughts with us on our social media at…

Akira closed her browser tab and took a deep sigh. She could already feel a headache forming behind her eyes and she was positive it will get worse within the next few hours. She pressed her intercom button “Hairu, could you please get me some water and Paracetamol before Kaneki gets here?”

“Yes, ma’am” The reply was quick and Akira immediately heard the sound of Hairu leaving her desk to the communal office area.

How will we spin this one?

Throughout the last year, working as Kaneki’s publicist meant she has had to bend over backwards and use every trick up her sleeve to maintain a modicum of a career for him. Paying exuberant amounts of money to cover up his drug use, settlements, bribes, killing stories and videos of his repeated arrests, convincing prostitutes not to post photos of him snorting cocaine off them on their Instagram, negotiating with producers and directors to keep him on their movies even though he’s consistently 6 hours late to set and doesn’t even know his lines.

It’s just a phase; he’s going through a difficult time.

Or so she kept telling herself as he punched and kicked and snorted his way through the five stages of grief. It took less than 3 months to change his reputation from the ‘wholesome child star who made it’ into a violent drug addict who couldn’t stay sober for a five minutes morning statement of apology. His childhood portraits turned into snarky memes on social media mocking his downward spiral. Tabloids competed to come up with the most outrageous story of the day about him, and they didn’t have to work too hard to find them.

Hairu knocked at the door. Akira nodded for her to enter. She placed a sheet of pills and a water bottle on her desk then moved out. Akira interrupted her at the door “Is Touka in the office today?”

“No, ma’am. She went to Italy yesterday for the photoshoot.”

Thank God. “Thank you, Hairu.” At least that will be one less outburst to deal with today. Hairu nodded and closed the door behind her.

Kaneki would definitely make a scene if Touka was around. He has managed to botch every interaction they had ever since they broke up and Touka has been through enough last few months. There was no need to add the burden of handling Kaneki just yet.

Speak of the devil.

Akira’s phone lit up with a message from Hide: “Just dropped Kaneki off. He’s all yours.”

Akira took a deep breath and reached for the pills.

***

Kaneki felt every eye in the hall on him. He had hoped his entry would be inconspicuous but looking at his reflection in the elevator, he realized he may have overdone it a bit with the black. He looked like a modern day rendition of the grim reaper if he wanted to start a goth band. Kaneki clicked the 14th floor button, Creative Celebrity Globe.

What a dumb fucking name.

Unconsciously, Kaneki started tapping his foot. He wasn’t sure what to expect with Akira but he doubted it will be anything good. But that wasn’t the thing making him nervous.

What if Touka is in her office? I should go say hi. Right? She wouldn’t mind that. It’s only being civil.

The elevator doors opened and Kaneki instinctually went to the right, room 1407. The door was locked and the lights were out. He looked inside and Touka’s bag wasn’t on the table by the window. Music wasn’t playing on her computer. His eyes searched for the bunny calendar he got her but it wasn’t on the wall next to the desk. Kaneki felt a pit in his stomach at the thought she might have thrown it away.

“Kaneki! Glad to have you back.” Akira’s voice snapped Kaneki out of his thoughts. Akira gestured towards her office with a formal smile on her face. The dark circles around her eyes had deepened since the last time she visited him in prison. She followed him as he made his way into her office and closed the door behind them.

“I’m sure you didn’t want to come here today but we need to discuss our plan from now on.” Akira said matter-of-factly as she pulled a few folders from her drawer. “There will be a shit storm next couple of weeks so it’s best if you lay low. That means no social media, no going out, no smoking, no alcohol, no drugs, no midnight visits from attentive women, alright?”

Kaneki rolled his eyes. “Why not just tie me to a chair and be done with it?”

“Will that be necessary?” Akira’s glare was hard. Kaneki wanted to glare back but he felt too ashamed to try it.

Akira continued. “After that, I have set some volunteer activities for you to join. We’ll leak photos after you prove your presence with the other volunteers. If we feel the time is right, Hairu will start posting on your social media to begin rehabilitating your image and …”

“Isn’t it best if Touka does that?” Kaneki interrupted. “She is more familiar with my personal brand.”

Akira’s look would have been almost condescending if not for the pity. “You don’t have a personal brand left, and Touka no longer works on your team.” Akira said slowly, as if she was talking to a child. “Hairu is more than competent enough for this task.”

Kaneki’s foot started tapping aggressively but he didn’t say anything.

“If all goes right, we might be able to get you a role on a Netflix show set to start production in 6 months. I’m personal friends with the director and he would be willing to hire you as a favor for me.” Akira placed her fists beneath her chin. “That is if you get your act together.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?” Kaneki asked defiantly. He had been feeling like a puppet steered by the people around him for the last month and he wasn’t looking forward to being that puppet for the next six months.

“Don’t want what? To get your act together?” Akira’s eyebrow rose. “I’m afraid that’s implied in your parole.” She leaned back in her chair with crossed hands.

“No, I mean acting. I mean this whole life. Can’t I just retire now? I’ve done my time.” Kaneki was getting antsy in his seat. The room felt as it was getting smaller. Akira’s voice was becoming distant. His foot was basically shaking now instead of tapping. He wanted to go back to Touka’s office and look for the calendar. She wouldn’t have thrown it away.

“With whose money do you plan to do that?” Akira’s question was like a jolt of electricity.

“What do you mean whose money? Mine of course!” Kaneki’s voice rose on the last word.

“Would that be the money you spent on drugs? Or travels? Or lawyers? Or settlements?” Akira dropped one of the folders in front of him. “You still have fees and settlements worth millions to pay. You can’t afford to retire unless you’re willing to go back to jail for much longer than you were sentenced.” Akira opened the folder and pointed to a signature line. “That’s why I need you to sign here. We’re selling your apartment.”

Akira’s voice grew distant again. Kaneki’s choices for the last year fell crashing on him and his breath stopped in his chest. “I can’t do that.” He managed to croak out.

He really couldn’t. That apartment was the first thing he ever bought with his money. He bought it for himself and Touka. He decorated it with Touka. That apartment was where they spent their first night together. Even after they broke up, he didn’t let any other woman in there. That place was his and Touka’s, together. Selling it would mean letting go of that final thread holding them together.

“You have to, Kaneki.” Akira’s tone was sympathetic but firm. “You could be sued if you don’t pay some of those fees and your royalties right now won’t cut it. People are still mad at you and won’t show your movies or buy them.”

“Isn’t there any work I can do right now? I’ll do anything.” Kaneki was quietly pleading. “Can’t I take money from the trust fund?”

“No, Arima was very clear in his will that you cannot access that till you’re 30. I already asked the lawyers.” Akira felt a hitch in her throat at the mention of Arima, and looking at Kaneki, she could tell he felt the same.

Kaneki’s tone became stern “I’ll have to think about this before I sign.” He stood up. “Where are my keys?” He extended his hand.

“You won’t be staying at your place. Too many photographers.” She handed him the folder. “You’ll stay at Hide’s place till you finish the Netflix production.”

Kaneki snatched the folder from Akira’s hand and walked outside. He couldn’t hide the anger in his step. He pressed the elevator’s button as if it offended him personally. He took another look at the document inside the folder before throwing the whole thing in the trash.

#my writing #fanfic #Tokyo Ghoul #TG #TGRE #Touken #touka kirishima #ken kaneki #kaneki ken #kirishima touka #kaneki x touka #kanetou

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 5 years

Text

Broken Edges- Part 4

This is my version of fluff so enjoy it while it lasts! I wish I could apologize for the cliffhanger but it was so much fun to write...Who do you think is with our dear Y/N?

Catch up HERE

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: language, kidnap, flangst (if you squint)

***********************************************

“What the hell are you doin on the floor, pal?” Bucky’s voice sounded foggy as the message transmitted to Steve’s sensitive ears. He couldn’t hear anything above the high-pitched ring vibrating through his canals and taste the blood from biting the inside of his cheek. He was frozen, not in fear, but shame, humiliation, and unexplainable uncertainty.

Steven Grant Rogers was officially the world’s biggest fuck up. Usually he could talk his way out of any troubling situation merely with his persuasive smile and easy-going personality, but Y/N destroyed him with her ingenuously quick tipped words. Steve kept thinking about the despondent look in her eyes before she abruptly slammed the door in his face. It was guaranteed to torment him not only during his waking hours but without question in the lingering night terrors yet to come.

Out of the blue, a large hand lingered upon his shoulder before the intruder cautiously shook him alerting him of the stranger’s very close proximity; “Steve, everything alright man?” It was Bucky. The only other person in this god forsaken building that probably didn’t want him flayed alive…at least not yet.

“Can I uh, ask why you are on the ground?”

Still stunned from his previous interaction with Y/N; he had no other choice but to man up to what he’d done. The words were like molting lava ready to escape a treacherous terrain but he reverted to simplistic quacking getting to the meat of the breakup. All confidence disappearing, Steve murmured;

“She dumped me.”

Steve felt Bucky’s grasp tighten against his right shoulder, giving him a hard pat for good measure before proceeding onward; “Well, she was pretty upset when I saw her this morning. That girl talks in code majority of the time so I didn’t really get the full story. I guess it didn’t end well based off the dumbfounded expression etched onto your face right now, hmm?”

Rapidly turning his head to meet another set of familiar baby blues, Steve no longer had control of what spewed from his lips at that very moment; “You don’t know shit, Bucky. I thought you were on my side.”

Exasperated, Bucky refuted back quicker than lightning; “Hey man, don’t take your frustrations out on me. I’ll always be on your side but I also have no freaking idea what really is going. So, please enlighten me to what the hell is exactly happening.”

Grunting, Steve no longer saw any point to hiding his demons. Sooner or later, the entire team would know how much of a dick he truly was. Might as well get ahead of the game.

“I slept with Nat. I made a colossal lapse in judgment and carelessly shattered Y/N. That’s what happened.”

Bucky backed away from his friend, unaware of how to process the information he was given. Thinking back to his earlier conversation with Y/N, Bucky finally started to connect the dots and align the context clues. The wheels in his mind rotated on full speed wondering just how Captain America found himself in such a predicament. He tapped his knee in hopes of getting the super soldier up and out of the hallway so they could continue this discussion in private. He definitely needed the gaps filled in for him even if he had to twist his best friend’s arm. Bucky was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Y/N’s POV:

The cooling sensation of the door felt wonderful against Y/N’s tense back muscles. Her head clonked against the surface reminding her that she indeed had just kicked Steve Rogers out of her sight, and it felt fucking superb. She sauntered towards her bed faceplanting into an array of cush pillows aligning her headboard. Y/N wasn’t much for history but at that exact moment she felt like an amazon warrior; powerful and assertive. Throughout history, falling in love never got an easy reputation. Lives destroyed, homes ruined, families broken due to people’s selfish belief in the power of love. No one dared speak of its real consequences caged in the darkest corners of humanity. Awaiting the broken hearted like thorny vines on a rose bush; enticing from afar luring in its prey before singe-handedly attacking in the name of devoted adoration. That was certainly one way to lure the gullible and weak minded.

She was neither, at least not anymore. Y/N rolled over gazing at her ceiling. For once the pressure in her chest dissipated, oxygen flowing into her airways. She was able to breath for the first time in months. She should’ve done this sooner. Y/N was now beginning to understand who her knight in shining armor truly was…the woman she had always been. Thinking back on Steve’s trepidation, Y/N spotted that her problem was she allowed herself to be wanted so badly, she couldn’t tell it wasn’t love at all. Initially noticing the beautiful wrapping paper that entailed her gift before understanding who really was layered within Steve Rogers.

Y/N didn’t let herself off the hook that easily. It takes two to tango when dancing with the devil and she eagerly obliged him. She settled for his pretentious impression of friendship permitting it to linger towards sex because she wanted him. Revenge was far too personal but vengeance, vengeance was cunning, detrimental, and brought a sickening grin to Y/N’s rosy lips.

So long to the girl who was sweet and simple. Y/N refused to be what people tell her to be. That Y/N was long dead. But, before she could concoct her masterplan her brain swam mindlessly begging for sleep, her lids weighed heavily as Y/N found her eyes closing and her surroundings go black.

When Y/N awoke, her bones ached in a lethargic manner and she was in desperate demand of vodka; the perfect numbing agent. Her limbs riddled from stress; she stretched, a loud yawn escaping its way out. It was then Y/N realized she wasn’t alone in her room. Impossible. After giving Steve the boot, she had made sure Jarvis had secured all locks and rejected all wandering guests.

A calm red glow caught her attention in the corner of her room. Wanda. Though intrusive, Wanda’s company was pacifically soothing and exactly what Y/N yearned for.

Wanda watched intuitively staring in Y/N’s direction unwillingly to break the peaceful calm.

“Wanda, I’m not blind. I can clearly see you creeping in the corner.”

Wanda sassed back at rapid fire; “Oh my god, she speaks! Wow, for a second I thought you were dead.”

A giggle passed Y/N’s lips, it felt refreshing to laugh; “I thought you read minds. Didn’t you get the memo I’m in mourning?”

Clearly amused, Wanda accepted Y/N’s bait; “Hmm, who died?”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip thinking twice before speaking; “The old Y/N. She’s dead and gone.”

“Interesting. And who is gracing my presence as we speak?”

“A badass bitch who no longer has a filter to deal with Captain America’s bullshit. That’s who.”

Instinctively, Wanda blushed unable to stop her powers from intruding upon Y/N’s thoughts.

“I’m sooo sorry, Y/N. I freaking slipped and please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to…”

Wanda neared her bed sitting at the corners edge, not to close but just enough. Knowing her darkest fruition finally felt quite liberating even if she hated to admit it. Of course, Y/N was irritated that Wanda unintentionally read her most secretive thoughts, she couldn’t fathom being mad at her friend for trying to help.

“I can’t believe him! Out of all people and Nat knew how you felt about him? I’m all about keeping the peace…but this is unacceptable.”

A breath whooshed through Y/N’s chest as she gathered herself; “You’re telling me…Steve almost said he loved me before I stopped him. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. But honestly, I hated knowing he’d been inside of her…given her such an intimate part of himself. Please tell me I’m not crazy?”

Y/N hated bringing Wanda, the idealistic middle (wo)man into this brass situation, but the white elephant in the room needed to be addressed at some point or another.

“Я понимаю мою любовь.” (I understand my love)

“я чувствую себя таким разбитым” (I feel so broken)

“You don’t have to explain. I literally…. get it. I just want to punch him in that rightful nose of his. Jesus! That man is infuriating.”

“He wasn’t always that way. Trust me.”

“But you love hi—”

“No….: Shaking her head in vast disagreement. “No. No. No. Please don’t say that, please.”

“…if you insist Y/N. I’m on your side regardless but I’m also bipartisan if Stark asks.”

Y/N couldn’t deny the inevitable; “Thank you…. Thank you for being a friend, Wanda.”

------

Y/N’s resounding feelings were more than Wanda could handle without alcohol’s boost of influence. So, she stupidly made her way towards Tony’s lounge promising Wanda they’d catch up later. Nothing better than a little peace and quiet Y/N prayed, banking on its abandoned state.

Upon entrance, Y/N’s mouth watered, her throat parched as she appreciated the overly stocked bar Stark was so keen on maintaining. Vodka soda with extra lime was her main pick of poison. She reveled in the slow burn down into her lungs, she moaned with pleasure.

This was exactly what the doctor ordered. Y/N started to worry about being left alone with her thoughts for too long would be a bad thing, or a more challenging way of figuring her shit out.

Of course, Tony chose the finest of leather couches who’s price she probably didn’t dare guess. Y/N fell right into its cushiony heaven trying to not spill her drink in the process. She brought the chilled glass to her lips before gulping the remainder of the iced beverage no longer in existence. With her heels kicked up and feelings at bay for the meantime, Y/N briefly closed her eyes welcoming the darkness.

An enigmatic voice came out of the corner like a ghost lingering in the shadows, startling Y/N.

“Y/N. So very nice to see you again.”

A voice morphed from her very own nightmares.

“Hail Hydra моя милая богиня” (my sweet girl).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @kaithezaftig @awesomefanficlover @marvelfansworld @sergeantjbuckybarnes @hista-girl @calwitch @silent-loucidity@flightofthefantasies @lovely-geek @shannon124 @hulksmashin-bannerpackin@siren-queen03 @heyiamthatbitch @bake-motherfucka-bake @girls-inred @kielemarie @donner5822 @sophiria @iluvsumbucky @xstevenat

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #fanfic #my writing #broken edges #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader angst #avengers imagine #avengers #mcu

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

EPIC INTERNET CAFE STORY 1 : READERS DIGEST

Here is another story from my youth, a good 20 or so years ago when I went to university I got a summer job during semesters at a local internet cafe. I've posted other stories under other subs so check them out.

Backstory:

I went to university in a large town, town mind you not a city. Situated in the valley of two rather large hills, either way you walked was uphill at some point.

I had just completed my first year and suffered a bereavement in the family, I lost my sister to cancer and took some time out from studies to gather myself before entering the 2nd year.

Needing money to survive I ended up getting a job at a local internet cafe. Yes this is the time of internet cafes. High speed broadband was super rare in the country.

Domestic broadband was barely reaching 1Mb in speed and this is the time of the infamous NTL acceptable usage policy(an ISP of the time which eventually got brought out by Richard Branson's Virgin)

This internet cafe had a T1 line. It was super-fast and had a special gaming floor usually filled with local children who loved to play CS. Unlimited use per hour paid. The floor was sticky, it smelled of BO and smoke. But it was the best games floor you could imagine. 20 odd high specced computers running lot of multiplayer games from Counterstrike to Red Alert. Heaven for a guy like me.

I started this job as a regular employee, it was just me and the manager. He and I got on really well, we had fun hosting late night and sometimes all-nighter gaming sessions.

Much of the time we would just goof around on the internet and help ourselves to some chocolate bars and these new things call energy drinks. Man those were good.

Business rules allowed us a couple of snacks and drinks during our shifts as long as we didn't take the piss and eat the whole store.

Various things happened here over the time I was employed in this establishment, a lot in a little over 8 months.

This is just one of those stories, it's the main one involving my Start of employment and interaction with the Owner and my ultimate parting with the company.

There is some overlap in the future stories, so you can refer to this when I write them. There will be some timeline post so you can read them in order.

Cast:

Cool Manager: CoolManager

Ass hole manager: ManagerA

Owner: OwnerJ

Owners Sister: SisterO

And Me, dear reader if you don't know who this is then stop reading now.

TL:DR at the end.

Various people come and go as I tell this, I shall just refer to them as and when they arrive.

Part 1: Changing of the guard.

I had been working in the cafe for a couple of months now. Let’s call the shop "Particles"

On this day CoolManager and I worked a full day and were just closing the shop. I went to get the signs from outside the store. One was located right outside the shop and the other 2 were at each end of the alleyway where the store was located. Jeffery, if you are reading this you know who you are.

I bring the signs into the store and CoolManager tells me he has something to tell me. So I sit down and he tells me that he is quitting and has given his 1 months’ notice.

Bummed by this news, I ask why but all he will say is that he wants to move on. Little did I know at the time was that he was suffering abuse from the Owner of the store, OwnerJ, regarding the owners sister. They had been dating, unbeknownst to anyone else and OwnerJ had found out and threatened to fire CoolManager or at least make his life hell as he was very protective over her.

OwnerJ was an ass, he owned 3 stores, called "Particles" , in total and would visit each one on a rotating weekly basis, taking the 4th week each month to go on holiday or some other task.

One of OwnerJ's best "motivational" tactics was to tell the store that he was currently visiting that the other 2 were doing better than this store was. He did that to all 3.

We knew this was a lie as CoolManager had found the performance report one time and saw that our store was consistently the best, we had the largest gaming floor and this attracted a lot of gamers from the Uni and college. The other 2 stores took it in turns to be the worst as their main focus was the cafe aspect which would generate less revenue based on other factors. Not heavy gaming revenue for them. They were more café than internet.

So OwnerJ was making CoolManager's life hell and CoolManager wanted to move on. I could understand that and we had a couple of adventures before he finally left. More on that in another story.

One fateful day I turned up at the store for my shift, I was on later than CoolManager and so he was the one opening up. I walk down the passage to the store and see a long queue of people. It's about 11am and the store opens at 8am, people start complaining at me for the long wait, I ask if CoolManager has not turned up and no one knows where he is.

CoolManager only handed in his notice less than 2 weeks prior, he had another 2 weeks to go so I opened the store, got the customers settled, made a few coffees and gave them to people on the house as an apology, I wouldn't charge them.

I tried to call CoolManager but he wasn't answering his phone. I tried all day to call him but he never answered. I was left to run the store the whole day.

He was supposed to work the split shift, work the morning and then take midday to afternoon off and come back for the evening till close at 8/9pm. So I end up doing the whole day. I log my hours and at the end of the day I close the shop.

When I got home I got a call from SisterO, she apologised for the mess that happened that day and said that CoolManager would not be coming back. I was in charge till they could find a replacement.

I would need to open and close the store each day but she would step in and take the afternoon shift. I was upset that CoolManager would leave me in a position like this but I was also happy as she said I could put it down as overtime. I needed the money, my student loan company had messed me around and I really needed the cash. So I accepted.

Thus began my new appointment to "manager of the store".

Part 2: The devil is in the details.

I worked with SisterO for about a month and a half, she was nice to be around but not as fun as CoolManager. She never mentioned CoolManager, even though I knew those two were still seeing each other, I never brought it up. We took on another member of staff about 5 weeks after I became manager and SisterO stayed for a week more to train them before moving on. each week she got more and more depressed. I later found out OwnerJ had been threatening her with her job and making her life hell as she wouldn't stop seeing CoolManager. he would say he would get the board of directors to fire her and her assets with the company would be forfeit.

So there we are: Me and the new guy, hence forth NewGuy. He doesn't play much part in this but you know there is someone else around now. I'm not a one man band anymore.

The summer is a hot one, and we are very, very busy, new games are coming out and it was my responsibility to ensure we had the correct number of CD's to run them. Licences are a bitch.

OwnerJ had been in the store this week and he tells us that we will soon be getting the new console from Microsoft, the XBOX. Wow, this was a big deal. we had only really been a PC game kind of store, to get something this big would be awesome. New signs had been brought to reflect that we would stock the machine for our gamers to play.

The weeks roll on and so do the questions regarding the Xbox. we had not received a single console, OwnerJ kept telling me that we would get them soon , but non ever materialised.

Our signs outside still advertised them, and I was getting pissed off with the constant customer complaints. So one afternoon I took some black electrical tape and covered over the parts of the signs that had anything Xbox related.

A couple of days pass and I get a call from OwnerJ. he demands that I take off the tape and advertise the Xbox again. I tell him that we are advertising a service we don't have, it's not good and all the complaints are just making the store look bad. He sticks to his guns and tells me to take off the tape. gritting my teeth I agree and he ends the call.

I could not help but think we were breaking the law somehow, we had nothing of the sort in our store, no Xboxes, no games for the Xbox and it had been weeks since we were promised them, all the posters and signage was there with XBOX in big letters. but no XBOX.

So I roll into the store the next day, I’m really tired the long shifts are starting to take their toll on me. I inform NewGuy of the rule and like me he thinks it's crazy. but we do as we are told. It is then that I get an idea in my head, I print out a bunch of "coming soon" signs and stick them over the posters for the Xbox just like a movie theatre would do.

I thought I had solved our issues but no, I get a call from OwnerJ and he tells me to take those down as well. I can't get a break, I had to do something about this... justice had to be served but how....

Part 3: Don't go towards the light T3chn0G1bb0n

Another week rolls by and I host an all-nighter with the local kids, CS and AVP2 (alien vs predator 2) and Unreal Tournament. Much fun was had at this, it was a welcome break from the rest of the time there recently. The only complaint I had is there were a couple of kids who insisted on using their own keyboards and mice. I offered to go get a torch so they could see under the desks to plug them in. It took a little longer to find than normal as the kids had chucked their bags in the cupboard and I could not reach the toolbox without moving them.

I find the torch and walk half way up the stairs to the gaming floor to hear the room in a panic, someone had the bright idea to use a cig lighter to illuminate the underside of the benches to plug in their mouse, not waiting for me to bring the torch.

They allowed people to smoke indoors back in those days. The game floor always stank of stale smoke. The poor air con unit barely coped to purify the air. With all the dust, grime and nicotine stains and cig ash I would regularly keep it going over night and all day to clear out the smell and ash particles, yes this floor got pretty dirty during the week and we only had one cleaner, once a week.

I tried my best but there wasn’t enough time in a day to monitor the store and clean it , it really needed a deep clean and our cleaner did the bare minimum.

Something sweet and sticky that was around suddenly decided to catch fire. Like I said I’m about halfway up the stairs when I see a kid grab the fire extinguisher at the top of the stairs.

My first thought was oh shit fire, but then I realised that the particular fire extinguishers we had in the store were not Co2 but H2O. Fuck, fuck , fuck……

I move at close to the speed of light and grab the fire extinguisher off the kid before he has the chance to pull out the safety pin. Water and electricity don't mix don’t ya know!

I grab the fire blanket off the wall and use that to put out the fire. in hindsight it was not a very big fire but 14 year old kids don't know any better. being only 18 myself this was a shock. I give the kids a bollocking for using a lighter and put the fire extinguisher back on the hook.

We end our gaming session early after a couple more hours, with all the excitement, it has worn us all out. I make a note to call OwnerJ about this issue in the morning and go home.

Much to my surprise the following day OwnerJ is in the store, I had completely forgotten about it being his week in the store as he hadn't turned up recently.

I walk over to OwnerJ and ask him about the fire extinguisher and tell him about the accident that happened the night before. OwnerJ isn't really giving me much attention to my complaint.

I tell him we really should have Co2 and not H2O extinguishers for the exact reason I prevented last night. He scoffs and tells me we don't actually need to have them as the store is exempt from needing extinguishers. I thought to myself that this can't be true, surely there is one thing to have no fire extinguishers as you are exempt, but another to have the complete incorrect ones for the business purposes. I offer to remove them and put them in the cupboard for staff only use and explained to him that a customer was the one who grabbed the water extinguisher and could have gotten electrocuted with its use. Again he scoffs and tells me to not touch them, we are exempt from needing them so they can stay.

I was livid at this, no concern what so ever for the customer or my safety. this didn't sit well with me at all. I was determined to do some research into this as it couldn’t possibly be true.

A plan began to formulate in my head....

Part 4: Bay leafs

Two days later, I am sitting at home as it's my day off, A sunny Saturday and NewGuy is taking the shift for the day. I needed some R&R, working 7 days a week was hard.

My phone rings. it's NewGuy.

"Umm", he says, "You need to get here now, there are 3 big fuck off bailiffs here demanding to see OwnerJ and they won't leave. I cannot reach OwnerJ on his phone and they are making all these threats about taking stuff away. customers are leaving the store over it."

I tell him to lock up the gaming floor and any other door and hide the keys, the less they can access the better. I make it down to the store like a student who ate a vindaloo the night before and now needs the toilet. Gasping for breath I enter into the store and ask WTH is going on.

“We want to see OwnerJ”, they keep telling me. And I keep telling them “he isn't here”.

The bailiffs disappear outside when their phone rings. OwnerJ had returned their call and they spend the next 20 minutes on the phone to him. He must have been in his car when he called them back as he appeared at the front door some 20 minutes later hence.

Hushed mutterings and waving of arms are all that can be seen and heard from where NewGuy and I are standing, behind the staff counter looking out the window.

Then suddenly it all stopped and the bailiffs left. OwnerJ came into the store and said that they had gone and we were to tidy up and open the store again. The bailiffs had begun to take things when they were taking inventory, not caring where they put stuff when they moved it.

I asked OwnerJ what had happened only to have him respond with , "mind your own business", ooooh you are going to meet my wrath soon OwnerJ.....

OwnerJ leaves and NewGuy and I do as we are told, does not take long for the store to open up. I reminded myself that I would get the last laugh, I should just wait and bide my time for the right moment to spring the trap...

I found out that OwnerJ had not been paying the council his business rates and taxes for months, he had been going on all these holidays with the money that should have been spent on council tax and rates.

The council were in the final stages of court proceedings and if nothing was done that day, we would have had the store stripped of goods to pay off the debt. not good.

Couple of hours later when the store is open, a few kids had heard of the events from earlier on and were making a lot of fuss out on the shop floor trying to ask me questions.

I take them out the back with NewGuy and explain what was going on and how OwnerJ had screwed the pooch with the council. I apologised to NewGuy for the horrible experience, those bailiffs were really rude and they were very intimidating, I told NewGuy he could go home early and I would finish up. I was upset at OwnerJ, not only had he not apologised for what had happened he was just out right rude and there was not even an excuse from him. I was not happy with OwnerJ and I expressed that fully in front of NewGuy my thoughts on the matter. I thought being outside in the alley was safe to speak.....

Out of the corner of my eye I see a lady get up out of her seat and leave the store... I rush after her as she has not paid, but I fail to catch her. Who was she? I would find out a few weeks later.

Part 5: Out with the old in with the new.

It wasn't long after the incident with the bailiffs that things began to change. I was hard at work trying to find any legislation on the regulations for our store. those fire extinguishers were on my mind all the time. Hitting brick wall after brick wall, back then government and local council websites were short and very brief, not much more than a geocities style website. good old web rings.

OwnerJ walks into the store and introduces a guy who was going to be the new manager, this is our ManagerA ladies and gents. He was tall , skinny and had a crew cut hair style.

I move out of my chair to shake this guy’s hand and welcome him, he was cold and uninterested, and I had a weird vibe about him, couldn't place my finger on what it was at the time.

Demotivated at the loss of my role as manager , I knew deep down it wouldn't last. I was due to go back to University in a couple of months so I could not maintain the position for ever.

ManagerA and I never seemed to get on, there was no chemistry between us, he just wanted to do his job and go home. for the most part he was ok but this was about to change.

One day, one of the computers failed, hdd failure or something, it was constantly crashing. I was diagnosing the problem when ManagerA asks me what is wrong.

“It's being Ghey” (read: gay) I said.

Now at this time gay in our kid slang "gay" didn't refer to anyone of the homosexual persuasion but rather it was more akin to "lame". times were changing and to use this word in a derogatory sense was quickly becoming wrong speak then but it wasn't fully mainstream yet. Now whilst I don't condone homophobic slurs, it wasn't the same back then, language was changing and I would not intentionally use a slur like that, and today I refrain from it totally. But back then, it was common slang, it was acceptable and we didn't mean anything bad to those of the homosexual persuasion by using it. Just as Gay originally was synonymous with "good, happy", the kid thing of using opposites to mean something was common, like wicked to mean great etc. A friend had dodged a bullet recently from a GM in an online game recently where he said "gay" in voice chat, he received a complaint followed by a temp ban, it could have gone worse if it was 2019

ManagerA flipped his lid, "what did you say?".

Remembering this with some rapid thinking, the word "Ghey" could be just another play on words. quickly reacting…

"Ghey, I said the pc is being Ghey, G H E Y, it's not doing what it's supposed to do"

This got the side eye from ManagerA at me, daggers pointing in my direction. I technically had not done anything wrong. he just misheard me, /click. And thus began the quick and sudden downfall of our relationship. He changed into the ass hole manager of this story. Turns out he was gay. He was keeping it hidden in case of any trouble, it was a student town, but being out and gay was still quite unheard of back then. Many encounters following this, saved for another story.

Later that week I was due to host another all night gaming session, it was a tournament I had been planning for a while when ManagerA tells me that he will be hosting the tournament. I said I was actually going to compete and that I would want to host it. he said no and that I was “not going to host it let alone compete on company time”. He would run the store and stay down stairs surfing the web etc. whilst it went on.

Bullshitting liar he was. I found out that he took part in the tournament and was not downstairs once ever during that night. mother fucker screwed me over. his smug face will forever be etched into my mind.

I never spoke a word to him about it. To this day I hate his guts for it. He wasn't going to be the target for my revenge but I would make sure he suffered in the fallout.....

Part 6: the end of an era

I turn up for my shift, it's mid-week, and a busy one, kids will be going back to school soon so things should quieten down. I would be due to go back to uni for the 2nd year come end of October and I had just celebrated my birthday. I had booked the day off and had a great time at Pizza Hut. Refreshed I walk into the store. I greet Manager A and get to work.

ManagerA is sitting at the customer side of the store browsing the web. When someone piques my interest, there’s a tall bald guy, built like a brick shit house sitting at another desk deep in thought staring at his screen. He’s new it’s normally the usual regulars about this time of day.

I had been drafting my resignation recently and was going to give my 1 months’ notice in the next couple of days, so I sat at the staff computer and began to finish up its final details. I printed out the document when the Big Bald Brick Shit House Guy, got up and requested ManagerA meet him outside for a chat. I shrugged and gathered my recently printed document.

ManagerA walks back into the store and says to me, "hey T3chn0G1bb0n, ummm, I don't know how to say this but, you're fired, gather your things and leave"

Quicker than I’ve ever reacted before, I reach for my paperwork and hand it to him, to this day I don't know why I reacted this way, instinct I assume, and I gave ManagerA my resignation.

"you can't fire me, I quit" I say.

Puzzled, ManagerA looks at me, looks at my paperwork for a while and slumps back on his heels. I grab my bag and leave. In my letter of resignation I had spilled the beans on everything, all the shitty things that went on whilst I was there that I have not detailed in this story and how I was treated. I had enough evidence to shut the business down for all the dodgy practices and the health and safety violations. My time spent researching had paid off.

I get a call from ManagerA a couple of days later, inviting me for an exit interview and to pick up my last pay cheque. I'm intrigued because I was expecting my cheque in the mail like all the others.

I turn up at the store, expecting it to be packed with customers, but no, it was empty. ManagerA gestures for me to follow him up to the gaming floor.

Who should be sitting there but none other than Big Bald Brick Shit House Guy. What was he doing here? Remember the woman who ran out when I was in the alleyway talking to NewGuy and the kids? She was OwnerJ's wife! She had heard my rant to NewGuy about the time with the bailiffs and had blabbed to OwnerJ about it. Without any more proof than her words they would have to have taken time to gather evidence to fire me, Bringing in ManagerA was a stop gap to make sure the place didn't fall apart in my wake. And the Ghey remark was at the top of the list of reasons for my dismissal. How petty.

Big Bald Brick Shit House Guy and ManagerA grill me for an hour, in my naivety I stayed and listened to it all, but I know now I should have left there and then. They referred to my letter and how they had evidence that I was behind the dodgy practices as I was the manager at the time. Telling me they had cctv evidence. Knowing enough even back then that they were bluffing I called their bluff. They backed down. They didn’t have any cctv and they knew I knew. I'm not sure what the real purpose of the meeting was but they were very nervous, angry nervous, you could tell the anger was a cover.

In the end they let me go, with a veiled threat of court action if I pursued any complaint against them on the things I listed in my resignation letter. Telling me they would bankrupt me in court as they had more money than I did and it would take me everything I had to defend myself.

As it happened, my plan was already coming to fruition. I had been meeting with CoolManager, remember him? Since the incident regarding the fire extinguishers. I found out he had left early due to getting in a punch up with OwnerJ the day before mentioned earlier in this story. He had to lay low for a while.

He had let me in on some regulation that did stipulate the store required fire extinguishers, and not just any fire extinguishers, but specifically CO2 because we had so much electrical equipment they had to be the correct type to deal with the very incident with the lighter on that games night.

I had reported the company to the council around the time after the bailiff visit. An investigation had then been triggered and they had started to investigate the other stores before mine.

They had found several health code violations in the stores for food safety, the stores had very bad hygiene and it was found that a few cases of food poisoning of customers had come from those stores. Although they had not been subject to the fire extinguisher problem, they had the correct ones, our store definitely had the wrong ones per some regulation I forget. They already had concerns over the store following the problems with the council tax and rates. but this was the icing on the cake and they used their full powers to……..

My store was shut down for 2 months whilst they brought it up to code. They had electricians in who found many code violations with the wiring. they found small burns in the cables under the desks, kids had been using lighters all the time to light up the area to see, even from before I started working there, and that the fire I experienced was not the first in the place.

Long ago fire engines had to be called out after a kid did exactly the same with me , and the games room was apparently damaged by the resulting fire, blackened with smoke, it was repainted to all black and blinds were put up to cover the burns on the walls etc. I never noticed the smoke smell because of the cig smell.

All the desks had to be ripped out and replaced with fire resistant wood. they were originally some form of chipboard which was a major fire hazard because of the glue they used.

It cost OwnerJ a small fortune in repairs. On top of that OwnerJ was slapped with a very hefty fine by the council, they had to let NewGuy and ManagerA go (told you ManagerA I would get the last laugh!). But I feel sorry for NewGuy and when I saw him I apologised when he told me all the details I now provide to you dear reader.

SisterO cut ties with OwnerJ, she had sold her shares of the company to Big Bald Brick Shit House Guy and had married CoolManager. They moved out of the town to start a new life. Explains why Big Bald Brick Shit House Guy suddenly came on the scene.

I ended up completing my 2nd year of Uni but suffered a mental break down due to the death of my sister the year before which caused me to leave and move back home. I had buried myself into this job the right after her death to block out the anguish and grief I felt.

But on this day , I was the one who triumphed.

Fuck you OwnerJ. Fuck you Big Bald Brick Shit House Guy, fuck you ManagerA and fuck you Particles.

TL:DR, just read the story, it’s great.

T3chn0G1bb0n

(source) story by (/u/T3chn0G1bb0n)

#prorevenge #by /u/T3chn0G1bb0n #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Text

Commission Receipt: Soler’s Story Ch. 2

@solerwolf21 once again returned to have a part 1′er of the next chapter, it was very fun to work on and I’m glad I got the opportunity to have his Sonic OC Soler shine again!

Time: After a brief discussion about what story elements he wanted and what plot points were to be addressed in this chapter, I began work and development on the story. It took only a day to write out a basic plot which he requested to see and approved. Then it took a few months for the completion and editing.

Review: @solerwolf21 - First, yes I have read it and not gonna lie there were at least two to three times I was scared for (how) things were going (to) go lol. I was too scared for Soler and Sally’s relationship and Shay was terrifying and his mom was wonderous and pops is cold. I also enjoyed the hints of depth behind certain actions or things said like Sally stopping Soler from making a promise, or Shadow’s lack of insight on familial ties, really good touches. Overall great work! Also I love love love the characterization! The contrast of thought of how Soler handles situations compared to Sally, Shadow, and his retrospective on Soler. Heck their whole relationship as a whole and its evolution. I just loved Shadow in this so so much.

Paid amount: After deciding on a price, I was surprised to find that he actually paid for more in the end! I was really touched, and at first, worried he may have overspent and contacted him to alert him of the situation. He told me he put in more and so I gave him more, it was around 50$, and I’m very grateful that he enjoyed the story! It was fun to write for him again!

With permission from the customer, here is the rough draft of the finished product for your viewing pleasures:

Soler's Sequel: Chaos Panic.

Ch. 2

A story for Solerwolf21!

By: Cutegirlmayra

New Mobotroplis was centered with a bright, yellowish castle for the Acorn's to rule in peace, but nowadays, it is a military fortress for the headquarters of the Freedom Fighters.

It's princess, Sally Acorn, continued to lead the Freedom Fighters time and again against the Eggman Empire, who threatened to destroy all organic things into robotic slaves for his mad ambitions of power and control.

However, Eggman's forces began to grow and increase in unspeakable ways... a new ally had aligned themselves to Eggman, choosing to be on the power-hungry side that seemed to be winning, instead of freedom-bound heroes. These heroes wouldn't cease in doing good, fighting for those who couldn't, and protecting all Mobians from certain peril and robotization.

Sally carefully counted inside the freedom force's food storage warehouse facility, tapping her pen in the air as she went through each box and marked to check off each category on her clipboard. "There!" she giddily swiped the last check mark onto it's corresponding box. "After this hostage rescue, we should have enough supplies to keep them well fed for a few months or so. At least until our next harvest and supply run." She nodded to herself until she heard an alarm go off. "Huh?"

Turning to see Rotor waving for her outside, she felt her anxiety spike and quickly ran back out as the large, almost barn-like doors began to automatically close behind her.

"What's going on?" She inquired, her voice sounding serious and her eyes showing the leadership fixed in them like a fire lit on the spot.

"Nothing." Rotor calmed her, letting her know it wasn't that serious. Still, it put Sally on edge, and she had to calm herself into a gentler state of mind again.

"Go on." After a short breath, she straightened out and loosened up a bit. Though, the tension in her muscles seemed to be unending... such was the life of a benevolent ruler in times of war.

"Soler set off another security alarm again," Rotor chuckled, noticing her demeanor had returned to being somewhat normal, for now. "He's training with his power again... he used to go so far out of our radar that he'd be gone for a few days or so, training remotely. Now? He doesn't mind just blasting his power all over the place without a single thought!" Rotor lifted up his arms and shook them about, but the action only made Sally smile.

It was true that Soler had a hard time training within New Mobotroplis. He was constantly in panic that he'd do something wrong, or hurt someone... It took a lot of time for him to trust himself, but Sally was glad to hold his hand through it all.

She was happy he was comfortable around everyone now, but still worried about their alarms...

"He's just so used to controlling them now, he's not as afraid to use them as he was before." Sally was still mostly glad, he was showing some confidence, and that meant that everyone's efforts for him to feel included within the Freedom Fighters had not failed in fail. He was slowly coming out more, being more lively and talkative. He was still somewhat lazy, but at least he was lazy with others now... Though, she was upset that he was triggering off their alarms so frequently. Poor Nicole...

"I'll go talk to him."

"You know, he hangs around a lot more because of you." Rotor gave her a sly look and put his hands on his hips, "I'll get back to my equipment inspections but,... Something tells me there's more going on between you two then just causal dating..."

Her face turned a little brighter, but she batted his prying away, "Dating is dating, don't make unnecessary assumptions!" she didn't like her values being questioned, but it was true that Soler had been hanging around a lot closer to base lately...

She had just never supposed it could have been because... because of how close they had gotten to one another.

"I wasn't saying that, but it's interesting that that's what you thought. I wouldn't dream of it!" Rotor shook his hands out with a goofy grin on his face, teasing her. "I just meant... maybe you two are more committed than you think?"

"Alright, enough teasing." Sally pushed her finger against his nose to move his face out from trying to read her own. "I'll go check on him. Which way?"

"The little chaos engine is southward." he pointed behind him. "Turn just a little west, and good luck!" He laughed, clutching his belly and swinging his leg up a moment to really give his teasing a good kick into Sally's pride. "He's letting all the new recruit's legends and stories about him get to his head!"

"L-legends?" A bead of sweat trailed down from her forehead, but she wiped it off, trying not to worry. "I'll see what the fuss is all about."

"Just his popularity, that's all." Rotor waved her off, moving on and placing a leisurely hand by his tool belt. "Try and stay calm, Sal. It's better for your health!"

"Not in these times..."

As she made her way towards where Soler usually trained nowadays, she stopped in a jolt. "Oh, wait!"

She remembered something and quickly turned to Rotor, seeing he had already moved quite a bit aways from her. "Really, quick!" she ran back and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, grabbing his attention again as he turned to look at her curiously. "For the night operation... the village is covered in dense fog, correct?"

"Very much so." Rotor confirmed. "Make sure your operation is covert. We can't have anyone disappearing on us. If the village is being rounded up for roboticization, then we don't have a huge window for error. We can't lose anyone again, Sally..." He looked distraught, and Sally comforted him with a few pats on his back. "Shard and Sonic are off on reconnaissance. Espio, Rouge, and Shadow are spying on different Eggman fleets. Bunny is still with Anton... I'm afraid all we have is a handful of us left." She shrugged, showing that they were worn pretty thin at the moment when it came to available, capable hands. "Soler and Nicole are all we got so far. Maybe Tails will be willing to come. His twin tails could push some of the fog away?" she seemed to be stretching it, squinting her eyes and shrinking down a bit, as though embarrassed to have to question her own tactics.

"Eh, it's a team. I'll see what I can do on my end, too." Rotor nodded, patting her shoulder, "Hey, Sal. You're doing good." He encouraged her, giving her some much needed confidence in her abilities too. "Go and get'em back safe."

"Will do." Sally nodded, taking his advice in. She felt a sense of pride then, telling her that she could do this, but hoping to not have a cost. One life meant so much to Sally, saving so many would be wonderful, but... losing even one Freedom Fighter... Sally didn't want to think about it anymore, or have to live through the consequences of one wrong move. She placed her hand to her chest and took three breaths, telling herself it was in the past and she could do this. "I'll talk to Soler, see if he has any ideas..." She began to head off again, pushing back the sorrow she had learned some hard lessons from.

Soler was powering up as much chaos energy as he could, having it jet through his power and manifest as white aura all around him. He let it course through his veins and rise in large quantities throughout his whole body, spiking his power range up and trying for a Chaos Break, hoping to hold it for a longer period of time than he was used too.

If he could somewhat master retaining chaos energy in his body, instead of always having to expel it because of the limits on his physical form... he could do a lot of good for a set of minutes.

And more good, meant more people saved.

A few recruits were watching, interested in what he was doing as he tried to concentrate. He moved his hands, almost as though practicing martial arts, but kept his eyes closed. The aura moved like misty clouds around his hands and body, seeming to spin like steam as he rotated it around him. A small dust devil formed at his center as he took deep, calming, focused breaths to try and lessen the pain of holding onto to chaos energy and trying to store it in and not let it out all at once either. Making chaos energy out of nothing would have a severe toll on his body, but with little measurements of success like this, he could maybe one day hold a massive amount, and finally give Eggman's army what's coming to them.

One of the on-lookers was a young girl, she swung her legs as she sat on some wooden crates, watching the strange sight in excitement and curiosity. "Is that him? The guy who rose in rank in just one month?"

"Yeah! They say that Shadow trained him!" Another dude piped up, moving up on the crates to answer her and share in the amazement. He gripped the edge of her crate and wagged his tail, seeming to be a fan of the stories about Soler's missions and adventures.

"Shadow?" Someone else turned to the boy, a young boy having a ponytail for his long, extensive hair. It seemed they were all fairly new recruits, still in intensive training. "But I thought he's scary!"

"He's just anti-social. That must speak volumes for this guy! If he had to have Shadow train him, he must be powerful!" A girl threw her arms up, as though showing her support for Soler as she watched to see what he'd do next for his training. She wore pigtails that spun as she admired the powerful energy surge around Soler's dust-devil effect.

"Wow..." the original recruit that spoke up stopped dangling her legs and watched him more closely, amazed by what she was hearing. "So what will he do now?"

Soler took a controlled section of chaos and forwarded it to his hand,... gliding his hand down, he felt the physical pressure of the moment, and grunted slightly as he felt more and more exhausted from just trying to force the chaos energy to one part of his body. He took a deep breath, and began hitting the air with rapid fast reflexes, jumping into a back-flip and spinning into a kick. The misty clouds shot forward, as though wind being propelled. He was training his memory, making sure his body knew what to do, and all the while channeling chaos energy throughout his movements. It was much more fluid and easier to move than before, and chaos energy wasn't so frightening to him, mostly because he knew he wouldn't hurt any curious gawkers like the kids on the crates. He could feel their energy, but it wasn't anything like chaos.

After a few more acrobatic fleets of strength, precision, and mastery over his chaos energy in Chaos Break, the effects wore off and he fell to a knee, panting strongly from it's toll on his body.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, his muscles ached and waned to keep him up on one knee. He even felt his body tremor a few times, unused to having to hold that much chaos before.

Still, training was training, he'd have to build the stamina for it, one day at a time...

"You keep that up, and you won't have any chaos energy stored up for the mission tonight." Sally stepped up and placed her hands on her hips, proud to see him showing off for the younger recruits.

He smiled, eyes still closed and hunched over, gripping his knee before pulling himself back up like he had a pair of wings, beating fiercely to look impressive. Though it was all in his head, he felt like a hero rising from the ground, and acted as much. "I'll be ready." he turned to look over his shoulder at her, another smoldering look of affection that let her know—without words—what she meant to him. "You doing alright?"

She couldn't help it, moving quickly over to him, she gave him a warm, tight hug as he returned the gesture with as much gratitude as she had. "Look at you, you've grown so much since then..." she remembered with a slight hint of teasing, tightening the hug a moment in gratitude. "You haven't had a bad dream in a while, or a walking one... for that matter." her arms wrapped around his neck before slowly loosening to let him go.

But as if not wanting her to release him, he held her at the same intensity, before pulling his head back and staring into her deep blue eyes...

"I recall a sweet moment where you used to say you'd never let me slip out of your embrace... what happened to those days?" He was amusing himself with these games, and she pushed him away from her, unable to hide her blushing grin.

"Maybe someone should move forward at a pace I can keep up with." She was acting a little shy, but he found that adorable. She folded her arms, then fiddled a moment with her muddy, scarlet hair. "Your powers... they're easier for you now?"

"Much easier to handle." Soler confirmed, dusting off his chest a moment from all the dirt he had kicked up onto himself during his workout. "Though I'm trying to figure out how to grow them stronger." he gripped his fists together, looking each over with every turn of his head, examining them. "I feel I've got the hang of it,... but I also feel there's so much more there that I haven't quite tapped into... I'm not sure how to go into the next level, as Sonic calls it, you know?"

She turned around and pointed straight at him, "Ha! You're nervous!" she laughed, "You know?" She teased, and walked back over to take his balled up hands and delicately place her own over them. "Listen, Soler... Things take time. Even using your power more strains you, right? I know you probably feel nervous about what's buried deeper inside you... but we'll worry about that together." she saw him move his hands and rub his wrists, not hiding the fact that it was a lot on him, but he was just glad he had gotten the hang of it this far.

"Thanks, Sally... but strength is strength. I'm making progress!" he flexed his arms up, "Aren't ya proud of me?" He joked. "I bet Shadow won't even recognize me when he gets back!" Striking a Hercules pose, it was clear he was only trying to impress her and the watching recruits. They all gave him an awestruck reaction, and Sally just rolled her eyes to it.

She giggled, "Immensely," and wrapped her arm around his own, "But let's not praise that 'can-do' spirit too much... might go to your stubborn head." she laughed at her own joke, but that wrinkle in her nose always made him fall deeper in love with her. She wanted to get him away from influencing the younger recruits too much... wouldn't want them setting off alarms, either...

"I love the way you laugh..." he sighed, catching her off-guard as she let his arm go and scooted back slightly. Her original plan seemed to falter as now, he was the one holding the reins.

"You're just saying that." she smiled to the ground, but he came a little closer, not wanting the distance between them to break so much.

"No, I mean it. I may be headstrong, but I'm also headfirst in love with you, Sally." His words were tender, but they were overwhelming her as she touched her redden cheeks.

"I-... I-I told you Sonic wasn't much for showing his emotions, and Monkey Khan, well... I-I'm just not used to your forwardness, sometimes." she fidgeted with her feet and then stroked her hair down over one eye, "B-b-but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it." she humbly looked back up into his eyes...

"Well, it's hard for me not to compliment... something that strikes me as beautiful." He took on the heroic persona once more, leaning back and mimicking Sonic as he put his hand to his hip, trying to look down into her gaze to hopefully have her swoon again.

Then a recruit whistled.

Soler pulled Sally to him, instinctively, seeing their encouragements. He knew Sally would get more embarrassed though, so he held up a hand to the recruit, "Chaooosss-!" he threatened a blast.

The recruits all ran in terror but Sally just covered her face. It was a humorous scene, as they all toppled over one another and flipped over the crates to escape.

Soler put down his hand and turned back to Sally, "Sorry, I'll try and save those moments and comments for when we're alone." He lightly kissed her forehead.

"I highly doubt that." She peeked up through her fingers at him, and all at once, his heart melted again.

"Aww... you're right, you're just too cute not to say anything... I can't wait till we're alone, it's too long a time!" he hoisted her up into the air and held her swinging with his arms, around and around she went in glee.

"Ahh-! Soler-! Wooah, haha!" she clung to him, a kind gesture that put her at ease. With the audience gone, she relaxed a little bit more too. Slowly, he slipped her back down into his embrace, "I can't seem to get enough of you. There's too much to take in." She looked just as lovesick as he was, and his muzzle showed his joy at accomplishing his mission.

"There it is." He chuckled lightly, "I'll not not to say how... how that smile makes me feel... all the time." He nuzzled her nose very lightly.

"Heh," She tried to remain still, but he knew he shouldn't push his luck just yet. She needed time to adjust to... well, to how out of control he was when it came to how madly in love he was with her.

He ducked his head down, "Y-you're right. I should take it easy..." He gently, though retreating his arms to do so, let her go unwillingly. "I'm just... really happy we're together more, Sally." He scratched behind his head, mentally scolding himself and saying he should cool the engines a bit.

Sally also ducked her head, then took some courage, and lightly placed her nose to his again. "Me too..." She liked the compliments and affection, but just wasn't used to it. To not set him off, she dashed away, hoping that the subtle return of affection would be enough to show her reciprocated love. Still, she was too shy to do anything more, "I'll-! I'll see you as we head out! Please remember to be stealthy!" she called back behind her. "The mission is launching out tonight!"

"Will do." he lightly touched his nose with two fingers, then grinned from ear to ear, feeling the slight hurt on his cheeks from how happy he was. "Smiling never hurt this much... not like before." He looked out towards the sun. "...I hope this never changes..." and with that sad reminder of the doubts that filled his fate, he continued onward, preparing for the stakes that tonight would bring.

Taking on a serious demeanor, he decided to meditate, giving his body a chance to renew his chaos energy supply.

Later that night...

Eggman robots were stationed right outside the perimeter of the village's main townhouse. Their lights remained dormant of life, but vibrant in the quiet of the night. They held their forms like soldiers, grasping their metallic, flat fingers on their other arm's machine gun. Sinister sentinels, protecting nothing but serving all evils...

Shadows moved swiftly around the stagnant metal husks as the Freedom Fighters made their way to the roof of the where they guarded. Moving like silent ninjas in the night, they got to a secure wall and using ropes and jumping from a partner's hands laid together and palm facing up, they were able to make it well onto the top without being detected. However, before they did so, a figure flew up and dropped a small device that sparked as it fell to the roof. The sparks fizzled out any detection system, and finally... the shadows landed one at a time upon the roof.

A few cameras also were sparked... but they remained unaffected, slowly turning to hide their glares but watch the crew closely...

The shadows all landed one after another, before one removed his black scarf around his mouth, revealing white tuff protruding by his cheeks.

Tails's beaming face looked pretty pumped his device had worked, "Looks like there were trip wires and security detection measures on." He whispered to Sally, who also removed her black scarf from around her mouth.

"Good work, Tails. I'm glad we have you this time around." She lovingly ruffled his hair, still unable to help the feeling like he was a cute kid. "Okay, let's go with Plan B now."

But as Sally turned around to instruct the rest of the crew, Soler was out of sight. Panicky, she looked around and then peeked down the roof, seeing him moving behind one of the Eggman robots.

She let out a quiet groan of disapproval, this wasn't the first time this had happened. But still, he knew the costs, why would he act so recklessly!? In the past, he would follow orders simply because he was worried his power could act up if he didn't watch himself. But now... he was more cocky than ever! Even Sonic would sneer with pride. She turned to the others, knowing she needed to be a leader, and not risking the rest of them. She gestured the plan, using code signs to let them know what was going on, and started quietly taking the roof apart to make a small opening... hoping with all her heart that Soler wasn't going to be rash and do something to jeopardize the whole of the mission.

'He wouldn't risk innocent lives like that.' she told herself, 'I have to start trusting his instincts. I have to.' she repeated to herself as she carried on and dared not to look back. 'Be careful, Soler... Please.' her silent prayer was mingled with her frustrated clamp of her teeth, gritting through the stress of trying to keep the tools from making noises as they performed their incision on the roof.

Soler sneaked up behind one of the guarding robots, his red shoes with black X's lightly whipped up the loose dust upon the ground with each careful footstep. Using his expert knock-out techniques he had learned form Shadow, he dug the side of his hand into their little slit around the round, bulbous head's gap that made their neck. He was careful to observe some broken Eggman robots on his last missions, and studying their mechanize, it seemed that some essential wires were just under the head. Protected by both the chrome dome of their head and the heavy plating around their body. 'Too bad Eggman never gave them any bulky shoulders, this will be easy to penetrate!' Soler had already won in his mink, smirking in the dark. Summoning the chaos energy to his hand, he caught a quickly formed, sharp Chaos Spear and struck it precisely into the gap he had found in his studying. Rotor and Tails were helpful in teaching him about robotics, but it was all worth it when he could single-handedly take one out. It short-circuited and collapsed on itself, looking like an egg that fell in on it's pegged stand. Wires flickered a moment like a sparkler, but with no power left, the eyes blipped and then were out like a car's blinker.

Feeling pretty good about his technique, he continued to do the same with the others, but none were reacting to him. He'd jump, stab, and roll back into the shadows, and like dominoes, they all soon collapsed on themselves. It was like something straight out of Alice in Wonderland, but instead of folding cards, its crushed Eggbots. "Huh?" he noticed they were all strangely still... no alarms, nothing.

It was too quiet...

The night had no sound, so with all the robots downed, he walked just a little bit out of the shadows, holding his Chaos Spear in hand, having to surround it in chaos energy so it didn't burn his hand.

'A trap?' he quickly looked back up at the roof. 'Could it be..? Why else were they all... Oh no...'

His eyes widened in fear, "Sally..." he uttered, and took off to climb back up the townhouse.

Soler was used to thinking fast, over-complicating things was sadly a knack of his. His mind raced with rescue strategies in case this really was a bait, but people needed him... and he hadn't forgotten his main objective: Protect those who can't.

He raced up the wall, clawing it just enough to not make too much sound but still scale it efficiently. His reflexes helped him leap over some cameras and then kick them out. 'Cameras..? There's only two of them...' he shot the chaos spear still in his hand at the second one, watching it fizzle out and shoot out like a blown firecracker. "Not my friends you don't." he bit on his teeth, glaring, and moved towards the hole in the roof.

He stuck his head down into the gap his team had made, and looked frantically around to make sure they weren't in danger. So far, so good. He saw them rounding up the villagers, before a hand grabbed the tuff of his chest and spooked him out of his cautious observations.

Sally pulled him to her, making him wobble a second like a swung clock part.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sally had his face right up in front of her own, clearly showing him she was in warrior princess mode, and he wasn't doing as he was told...

He weakly smiled, knowing he was going to get pretty harshly scolded, "M-making sure you're all alright?" his voice shook in his delivery.

Conflicted, Sally let him go, swinging him back as his legs wiggled a moment and then he flipped them down to land.

"I'm glad you want to help at all costs, but going AWOL on a covert mission is highly hazardous!" she looked about ready to whack him, but held it back. Her whispering reprimand made it sound like she was hissing at him, and he rubbed his head apologetically, ducking his head down as she kept coming at him. "I'm worried you don't take orders well. We've done countless missions! You always aren't cautious enough!"

Ironic, he was coming back because he was being cautious...

Still, he knew she was right. He just wanted to make sure their exit plan went out without a hitch.

Unknown to them... cameras moved from the rafters to look at where Soler and Sally were talking to one another from... They bent like mechanical arms, hiding themselves, and not stationary like the well-hidden roof ones that Soler had taken out previously... The cameras on the outside, also undetected by the others, carefully watched through the windows. They rotated themselves and zoomed in on Sally and Soler... then turned to the sparking robots and the jammed chaos spears wedged into their openings by their non-existent necks. The spears flashed and the robots further exploded as Soler clutched his fist to release his control over them while Sally scolded him, distracting him from keeping the chaos hidden and silent. The robots loose wires flailed around before all light disappeared from the area.

The cameras turned back to the inside of the house... all but one... who mechanically moved to zoom in on the evidence of Soler's power...

"It'll be alright, it always is, in the end." He winked to her, trying to calm her racing nerves. "I prom-" his words were cut off as Sally clasped her hand over his mouth, pulling herself over to him and getting up on her toes to look him dead in the eye.

"Don't ever say that to me." She stated, fiercely. "Don't ever make a promise you aren't sure you can keep."

His eyes bent, seeing the pain in her eyes at saying those words. The moonlight extenuated the gloss in her eyes... Something painful had happened with a promise left unkempt, and he wouldn't pry further into it tonight.

Everyone worked well and efficiently, those tension was still lingering in Soler at the solitary guardbots all remaining motionless in the far too quiet dark, he decided to let it go since the villagers were eager to get away anyway. Gathering each mobian and placing them in a pulley system, they hoisted them up through the hole and then raced them off into the forest. Once again, Soler reflected on the easy rescue... it didn't sit right with him, and he knew from Sally's expression that she was on-guard about it too.

Why was the night so still..?

However, there was still some celebration to be had. Everyone was rescue without a single scratch or skirmish.

But then again...

The camera's feedback blitzed in a frizzy light upon a screen in an extremely dark room... scratchy static finally visualized the figure of Soler, moving in blocky images upon the frame. Many eyes reflected the light of this secluded viewing... The camera showed Soler summoning a Chaos Spear, grabbing it before it shot out of his hand, and stabbing the Robot from behind.

"It doesn't seem possible, boss." One spoke, much older in years it seemed. "But it's definitely a chaos energy attack." The man had his arms folded, a deep husky voice. He then turned to bow down to the leader. "We hoped to stage this hostage situation to learn more about the FF's tactics of rescue... but I find this a lot more alarming..."

Two figures suddenly approached the light of the screen, and one seemed to smile in wicked fascination of the image. "So, it's not just me out there, is it, Dad?"

"Quiet." The father spoke, glaring at the image. "This is an anomaly. Eggman won't be pleased if we don't perfectly execute this attack. We need to know what they have..."

"Ah, come on! We can go in, guns-a-blazin', and handle whatever their little acorn-hole can throw at us!" the son seemed pumped but the father punched his side.

"When I say quiet... I mean it." He removed his fist, "I thought I had taught you that by now." He moved his cloak to the side, covering his arm that he used to thrust his fist into his son earlier. "Assemble some more intelligence. I want to look over this footage carefully... I don't like... the blue in his quills..." The father glared heavily at the frozen image of Soler, still blurred out on the screen. "...It looks too familiar..." he almost growled in a lowered tone, and then proceeded to storm away.

The son, barely hunched over, straightened up and still held a frightening smile, "Ow... Daddy seems amiss." He turned in a joking manner to a woman who had just entered with a pitcher of water, pouring it in a cup and the leftovers onto a plant. She turned to address the boy calling her, her face hidden in her raggedy brown cloak before spilling the pitcher at the image she glanced at on the screen. Her eyes shook, as if she'd seen a ghost, recognizing the blue in his quills...

The past... had finally returned. But should it be a return?

"Oh? Still so concerned for me after all these years, dear mother?" The son moved over to her, holding some of her quills in his hand. He must have thought her reaction was from the previous punch, since he was still holding his side... "Such useless compassion..." He let it go and walked on.

She held her panting to a minimum, not wanting to raise any alarms as she pulled her ragged cloak around her more. 'Better now than never... I have to do this... for the sake of so many, and for once... myself.' she whispered, her eyes narrowing in resolve but watery with fear. It was her compassion that would never leave her, even after all these years of servitude and self-pity. Her voice came out almost like opening a creaky, dusty wardrobe. It was as though she hadn't spoken in years, "It was compassion... that poured the tea, my son." her voice seemed dry and starved for life. She took the cup she had just poured, drank as much as she could, and began to cover herself as she made her way through another corridor...

He watched her exit, but said nothing. Simply moved on, as though he was simply speaking to a memory.

Watching some guards patrol by, she then took her chance and grabbed a decorated, golden, steel conduct opening and began to tug it out. It creaked loudly at her attempts, and she looked around frantically to make sure no one was watching or coming to investigate.

She was lucky, she had studied there ways for so long, hoping for a moment to escape.

Finally, after years of tugging on it behind her husband's back, it rusted enough to come out.

She had poured water and other corroding materials onto it in hopes of breaking free and now was her chance, so she crawled through the square pipe and shut the steel behind her.

Men turned the corner, as was their routine, but paid no mind to the steel lid. She peeked through its gaped design, and then slowly... backed into the drain...

-Back at New Mobotropolis-

"Nicole," Soler typed in some things, "What would make an Eggman fleet malfunction?" He was still concerned about the stillness of the robots he had encountered...

Nicole materialized and gave a kind bow to him, "If there function was disrupted, but... why do you ask?" she seemed curious, "There are many ways to malfunction a robot."

"No, I mean... without-" He held his tongue, "Nevermind." he shook the feeling off, "We made it all back safe and that's what matters." He loosened up and smiled to Nicole. "Did you scan the villagers?"

"All are healthy and well. A few sick here and there, but nothing more than a common cold." She happily relayed. "It seems the townhouse was a great shelter for them in the end, they were there for a couple of hours..." She informed, and then hovered over by him, her pixels lighting up his fur. "Soler... everyone is waiting for you in the celebration hall... are you not dining this evening?"

"O-oh, I forgot! Y-yeah, I'll be there. Can't miss my own celebratory party, now can I, ya know?" he seemed nervous... but quickly straightened himself up and went out, trying to look more cheery. He was jittery, mostly because he now had a reputation to maintain, but that didn't make his uneasiness any less apparent...

Nicole watched him intently, before shrugging it off as a human strangeness and continuing on her way back into her computer.

"There's the man!" a few fighters hoisted Soler up the second he walked in, letting him be thrown up on their arms as they cheered, "Oh, he's a jolly good fellow!"

He felt awkward at the praise, but did like the confidence boost. "W-what's this all about? Why just me?"

Tails covered his mouth a moment, chuckling. "We saw the Eggman robots you single-handedly took out! It was so impressive, we decided to toast to you!" Tails picked up a drink and handed it to Soler.

Soler tried to lean over and reach for it, but with all the commotion,... someone threw him up again and Tails toppled over, having the drink slip through his gloved fingers and begin to fly through the air. As though making it look easy, Sally miraculously caught it, her hand moving in a precise and skilled fashion to do so. To add to the sensational catch, she swirled the water with her pinkie out, and then walked over to Tails.

"Be more careful with the cups, Tails." She lovingly instructed, helping him up. "What were you doing?"

"Trying to hand it to Soler, but..." He smiled to her and then awkwardly looked back to Soler, who was being hoisted away.

"H-hey!" he tried to protest a bit, seeing Sally and wanting to join her.

Her face fell a little flat as though not in the spirit of things, thinking it ridiculous to give Soler so much credit when it was clearly a 'team' effort. "They're lifting him up into the air for being reckless?"

"That's a bit cruel, Sally." Tails's ears lowered, "He made sure we'd all get through successfully. Nothing was left to stop us!" Tails cheered, "Why don't you praise him too? He's being kinda humble about it all, isn't that worth praising? Just a tiny... bit..?" He withdrew from her after seeing her harsh features on her face, and pulled back from continuing the peer pressure.

"...I don't think it's something that should be praised." she sighed, moving away from the scene. "It's good that nothing bad happened, but with how we set things up, he shouldn't have acted on his own like that. It wasn't necessary and could have jeopardized the mission, the villagers, and us all. What if it didn't work out, Tails? Then what?" She sat down and lowered the glass down gently. "I can't help but feel like this is all going to go to his head more..." He had only just began mastering what he could of his powers, and Sally didn't feel it right to give him such an ego boost when she knew he needed more time to adjust.

Tails sat down by her, worried, before he saw Soler speed his way over to her quickly, panting. "Whoo! What a rush!" he laughed, sitting down beside her. He had gripped the table, feeling the slippery floor and trying to not let his lightheaded feeling get the better of his balance. "I finally convinced them to put me down!" he reached over for the drink in her hand and took it after a moment of skimming her hand. Knowing she wasn't used to him yet, he tried to be gentle and subtle about it, before chugging the water down and laughing that it was milk. "Now that's something." he chuckled to himself, banging the glass down. "Still, I'll take another!"

Sally rolled her eyes, "Half the recruits here are underage, you really think we'd serve anything more than this?" She raised her hand and a man rolled down the glass of milk to her. "Besides, it'd get unruly. I'd rather have my friends with sharp minds than a bunch of half-there, half-not hooligans."

It did sound a bit harsh, and Tails just gave Soler a look like she wasn't in a good mood.

Sally did see the gesture of his hand though, and not watching their subtle, muted conversation... she moved her hands around her own glass and rubbed her fingers lightly, biting her tongue. She was about to scold him, but stopped herself, deciding there would be a better time soon, anyway...

"You haven't slept yet." Sally decided to go with concern, watching as the waiter brought a few more drinks over, and passed one to Tails.

"Nah, been too much fun." Soler calmly responded, taking the drink and giving it a light twist with his fingers in a corkscrew way on the ground, not drinking it yet as he noticed Sally's hesitancy about something. "Something troubling you?" he finally did a sip, and she tried to compose herself.

"You know how I felt about you disobeying orders." She took a small sip as well, mostly to calm herself down. She didn't like the situation, but she wanted to be a good role model to Tails too... she couldn't favor anyone over the other, and she needed to be strict about Soler coming on missions. It was almost like a role reversal, now that Shadow wasn't acting as his mentor much anymore, Sally seemed to inherit disciplining Soler in a new skill he was unfamiliar with. Controlling himself in high risk situations... he had power over his chaos energy, but what about his headstrong behavior? "Jeopardizing the mission shouldn't be praised for the results turning out alright, it should be from the execution of the assignment."

"You sound like my teacher." he smirked, winking to her as he referenced Shadow. Seemed he was catching on to her inner-monologue...

She touched her face, was it that obvious?

She grew shy and embarrassed, losing her leader-like apparence as Tails also chuckled into his hand, looking to Soler. He had flipped the scene in a matter of moments, just being his charming self again.

"All about the process, he says." Speaking of Shadow, he took another sip of the non-alcoholic beverage, having gestured for the drink to the man passing them around.

"...I'm not happy about this, Soler." she finally stated, and then looked to Tails. "Tails..."

He got the message, nodding and bouncing up from his seat. He could tell Sally was holding herself to a standard, and appeased her by flying off, "See you Sally, Soler!" he waved. Sally was someone everyone looked up too, so he respected that she didn't want to appear too kind to Soler... though it was obvious she and him weren't so formal.

She nodded to Tails's sympathetic kindness and turned back to Soler, a serious expression of weariness on her face, "I understand how you must feel. You were a hero today, but a true hero thinks of everyone, even the rescuers' safety."

"Do we have to confront this now?" Soler knew what she was saying, but wasn't in the mood to be reprimanded. "Can't we just enjoy the morning..? Maybe we do need sleep." he pulled her stool closer to his, making her wobble and grip her hands to the table. He put a loving arm around her and then his head to her shoulder, "Suddenly... I'm so sleepy..." he cooed, teasing playfully as he went limp.

"Oh, you." she did find that cute, but tried to get him off. "This isn't the time for that... and besides, we're in public..." Her eyes shifted around nervously. Was she like Sonic? Worried about images all of a sudden..?

"Emm... So comfy..." he continued the act and she finally giggled as he rubbed his nose under her cheek.

She'd have to get used to it. He loved her too much to not tease, and with all the tension she was carrying, he had to do something to put her at ease.

"That's not fair! You know I'm ticklish! This isn't going to get you out of- ah-! Ahahaa!" she laughed when he tickled her stomach and she tried to weakly push him away.

"You advise me all the time, it's about time I advise you to relax." he teased, but then a harsh wind opened the doors of the hall as a woman in muddy rags coughed and stumbled against the side of it, looking around frantically to get her bearings straight.

A few people were rushing after her, but stopped when they saw she had opened many different buildings, seeming to be searching for something...

Everyone remained still a moment, not sure where this had come from.

A rescued person suddenly got up, "Weren't you... the one that was with those abductors?"

The Freedom Fighter's all turned around, surprised to hear this, to say the least.

"Abductors?" Rotor immediately stomped forward, "Okay, lady. Who are you and what are you doing here?" he took out his taser wrench, but watched as she fell to her knees and just didn't have the heart to look intimidating. "Woah! Lady!" he threw the weapon back and used his free hand to reach out to her.

She continued to breathe hard, "I'm... not with them... I was forced to be with them... but I'm not." she explained through heavy, soggy breaths.

"She's lying!" another rescued member stood up, slamming his hands to the table, "I personally saw them from my village!"

"Your village?" Another Freedom Fighter turned to the individual, "You mean... You're not from the village we just saved?"

"N-no..." A village boy seemed timid, but wanted to help out with the misunderstanding. "Not all of us. My Ma and Pa were taken from the city..."

Another rescuer got stepped forward, one of the pursuers, "We chased her from the walls, she used her bare hands to climb it, this is no ordinary woman!"

An elder rose then, ignoring the woman and commotion to speak truth as well. He stomped his walking stick to the ground, making himself known, "I was taken from several miles away from their village. I haven't stepped foot in that village before then! the abductions are happening more and more frequently, but I never thought they'd come to the monastery's shelter!"

"They're taking everyone!"

"They're ruining our lives!"

"She's with those monsters!"

"I-I... had to reach him..." The woman in rags coughed, trying to spit out the dirt from her mouth. "I had to... I must..." her arms trembled as she tried to upright herself. Her old knees wobbled, malnourished and like old sticks, but somehow, they kept her going.

"It's not just here?" Sally's eyes shrank and shook with the horror of what she was hearing. "Why hasn't anyone spoken up about this before? And this woman... she's apart of it? But how is that possible, she's not a robot..." she slowly got up to examine the woman, but stopped a few steps away as someone else spoke up. Soler remained by Sally's side, standing behind her and keeping a hand in her own.

"It's not just where you're Freedom Fighters' are stationed! There are hostages all over the different bases!" another woman, holding a child stated in a cry that could only mean she was desperate to have them understand their plight.

"We..." Sally found herself compromised, unable to hold back the terror in her tears, realizing she hadn't truly saved anyone. "We have to alert the other zones! Contact them through Nicole, she can travel faster. If hostages are being moved around then that has to be a trap!" she quickly took charge, turning off her emotions as quickly as they had come and harshly ripping her hand out of Soler's.

This left him worried about her, the vacancy in his hand making him feel like he was being left behind. 'No... Sally.' he wanted to be by her side, wanted to fight with her. Did she not trust him? Was his actions today too reckless for her to include him now? 'Don't do this alone, let me help you.' he kept trying to keep up with her, but the woman had crawled her way over to Soler and grabbed his now freed hand.

"H-huh?" He looked down, shocked she would take it as she pulled her hoodie back, and stared at him in wonder.

The first thing he noticed... was the blue streaks in her quills... and the gentle fall back they had. Then the pristine, porcelain white that was dirtied and matted with clots of earth... leaves... icky green grass stains...

What had happened to this poor woman?

His heart was immediately softened, but caution and the unknown swarmed quickly into his judgement like a pipe being turned on and filling up his thoughts.

"They must know where we are." Sally started up, pulling Soler's mind away from the desperate woman, but she began to speak just after her, guiding Soler back to her longing, anxious gaze.

"Your defenses are too much for them to take on, without the proper information, they won't know how to storm New Mobotroplis... you're all in grave danger... but safe, for a very small window of time." she had caught herself, brought some form of power into her voice that gave envy to Sally and admiration in Soler. She slowly moved up from her knees, looking Soler over and then deeply into his eyes, as though moved by a painting. Her hands wavered slightly by his face, but dared not touch.

"What did you say..?" Sally spun around, before seeing the strangeness of her behavior towards Soler.

Not wanting to be rude, Soler allowed her to cling to him, remaining still. However, it was extremely awkward... before he noticed the similar colors and style of her quills compared to his own again, and marveled at the oddity of it all. 'Do all hedgehogs have some common genes?' he wondered, knowing Sonic was blue and Shadow had red streaks in his quills, but shook off the thought since Shadow was bio-engineered, and Sonic... was just blue.

His eyes made a squint of confusion, and he suddenly realized this woman was examining the same things as he was in his appearance. '"A-ah..." he moved his other hand up, trying to stop her from looking at his features so much...

It was a very peculiar, having someone judge your appearance this obviously...

"I'm glad you kept this blue..." she smiled as though relieved, looking to the stripes of blue in his quills and gesturing up towards the ceiling, but the movement was unknown to Soler and so he got a little creeped out. "...Ha... I hope there's more of me in you, that it's a sign of good things." Her eyes sparkled with hope and pride as she looked down and gripped her raggedy brown tarp over her more, "Finally... the Mercenaries will at last meet their match... and Conor will realize he's created his own doom... in me." she glared suddenly in great hurt.

She turned to Sally, "They're setting up for intelligence scans, trying to read your strategies. They'll ambush you after their tactical assessment is complete. But with my escape, it may be now or never." she turned back to Soler, "Only you can defeat a Stratus," she cupped her hands gently by his face, "My... Son."

His whole body felt a surge of electrical, chaos-like lightning at her touch, freezing him before he felt a shard of static explode at his chest, making it hard to breathe.

There was a quiet as Sally's face configured into a deeper seeded confusion, but her protectiveness kicked in and she moved over to Soler, pulling him lightly away from the woman. "I'm sorry... but until we get this situation figured out-"

"She has no shame!" A rescued woman called out, pointing accusingly to her from the door. "She's part of them! A spy! Come to infiltrate the only safe place we have now!"

"Hear, hear!" another man stepped forward, this time from within the once giddy hall, shaking his fist.

While the argument commenced intensely throughout the room, Soler felt an abrupt presence wash over him like a mountainous wave, sucking him under as thoughts of the orphanage and the caretakers returned to him... He was abandoned, unwanted, and left on the steps of their humble institution. Before, he had always thought of Luna's village but now... Memories just gushed over his senses, leaving him in a darkened place with his mind. He felt strangely null here, and that was comforting for the time being.

The caretakers always assured him he was meant for big things, wonderful and amazing things that were left to be uncovered when he was older. The younger kids hid behind him from the older, more ruthless children and he would take beatings on their behalf, then get scolded for the fighting by the caretakers. Still... he never once questioned it. While the other children sobbed over the loss of parents, or the missing of family, he never had such emotions... but he was always curious. 'Maybe someday, I'll find them.' he thought to himself, countless times before his powers started to turn dangerous, and he left the orphanage with one goal in mind: To master them.

He explored and helped people when he could as a nomad until Luna's village... a real home. The only thing that consumed his thoughts beforehand,... before Sally saved him from himself.

But with this woman's appearance, nothing but the orphanage's memories came to mind. All those young souls praying for their mothers and fathers to return... while Soler feared the powers he was beginning to manifest.

"Well, this party was a bust." A sarcastic voice rang through the hall as everyone turned to the familiar silhouette of three, spiked quills off to the side... "Come on! Where's the merriment?"

Sonic The Hedgehog had finally returned, and with him, many of the Freedom Fighters. Shard looked cautiously around him, then dashed over to stop people who had started brawling in their wild emotions.

"We come back to celebrate and tell of our spoils, and look! Others are spoiling it for us!" Shard kid, separating the fighting individuals by flying halfway across the room with his jetpack-like engine.

Sally was still unsure of where to even begin to describe to Sonic and Shard what had occurred, and looking at Soler's expression... she definitely knew he was in no state to respond.

"We'll continue this later." She instructed, looking to others behind her. "Get everyone to bed. Nicole will run a scan on the woman. We'll investigate her later, as well. Make sure everyone has what they need today."

"Woah, so serious." Sonic raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. "You getting enough R&R lately, Sal?" He looked to Soler, as if accusing him of something.

"Sonic," Sally scolded, placing a foot forward as he smiled and held up his hands in a fake surrender.

"Right, right. Take care of things." He winked in a friendly manner, but nothing that would be seen as romantic. That ship had long left the harbor and sank, "Knuckles?"

Knuckles nodded, pointing swiftly to Rotor and Tails. To Rotor, he gestured to Shard trying to calm down the brawling, and to Tails, the woman clinging as though in a dream to Soler.

They nodded, then split up into teams as Tails calmly gestured for the woman in rags to come with him.

"N-no, I must speak with you more." She resisted, struggling a bit and moving back towards Sally and Soler. Sally flinched back, but noticed as she tried to move Soler, that he was like frozen stone... His feet planted firmly to the ground.

"This isn't the time." Sally stood in front of him, hoping this wasn't another trigger moment like with Luna... "You stated a warning to us, for that, we'll give you the benefit of the doubt." She looked to Tails, "For now." she nodded to him.

There was something awful about how this made her feel. When, at last, she thought Soler's only troubles were his natural tendency to go solo when he needed to stay with the team, but now...

Tails heard the urgency and command in her tone, so he nodded back and continued to help the woman begin to move away and out the doors. Slightly dragging her, she wouldn't remove her eyes from Soler... so much emotion in those eyes... like marbles with galaxies of knowledge hidden inside of them... they held Soler suspended.

"You don't understand!" She once again fought, but Tails was soon helped by more of her pursuers, wanting justice for not catching her in the first place. She had many arms grabbing and looping around her, and in a mournful cry, she reached for Soler. "They could track you through your transmissions!"

Soler immediately reached out, so quickly in fact, that only Sonic could see his reflex was powered by chaos energy. He sparked the ground just lightly and Sonic watched with a little bit of surprise.

"...Well, that's interesting." Sonic narrowed his eyes on it as it was all done in a blink of an eye. He wondered how Soler was able to do such a fleet so fast, "Almost looked involuntary for the guy..." he pondered out loud, "Friction? Perhaps?" but followed up by walking over to Sally. "Lots of things I should know about?" He actually was resisting the urge to try and make static with his own feet moving that fast, but held it in. Time for fun later, right now, the Freedom Fighters needed him.

"Most definitely." she sighed, "Soler-" trying to get him back on their side, she began to move towards him like the leader of the Freedom Fighters, not a girlfriend.

She touched his arm, "Whatever this woman is or isn't... we need to discuss the matter more fully later." she squeezed lightly on his arm.

She lightly moved her hand down to then grasp his trembling hand, feeling a little electrical zap from it, but figured it was from her fingers gliding over his fur.

However, Soler's hand felt the woman's, her fingers curling around his own and then clinging as though for life to his own, outstretched mercy. In that moment, he knew... he knew with certainty that she was someone in need. Someone he needed to help.

"Set off the alarms." he finally spoke, but it was more like a breathy whisper.

"What?" Sally gently moved closer, leaning her ear towards him, but keeping her eyes on his ghostly white countenance.

Two different forces of pressure. One gentle, in one hand... the other in great need, unable to loosen their powerful grip, not even by one bit. Was all hope truly lost for this woman? Was she that desperate for him..?

"...We've been breached." he finally admitted to himself, not just about New Mobotroplis, but within his own being as well.

Suddenly, Sally's eyes widened, realizing that if this older woman could get in so easily then...

Why hadn't the alarms gone off?

She looked to the woman, "How did you get in here without setting off the defenses?"

The woman's eyes began to tear up, blinking fast as she gritted her teeth and kept her hold on Soler, not responding to anything. Her mouth trembled in her quiet crying...

Sally immediately held herself up, a princess with a job to do, and headed straight out the door. Picking up Nicole's computer, she flipped it open, just like the old days. It was an ancient device at this point, but a good communicator, nonetheless. "Nicole, this is Sally. We've been breached!"

It wasn't long until Sally was able to set up an interview with the woman, claiming to be Sophia Stratus. The interrogation room was mostly a one-way mirror like in any police station, but this time, the room was more like a small living space than just a empty feel with one table and two chairs.

"So let me get this straight..." Sally rubbed her hands through her silk-thin hair, having it flow by her shoulders in her exhaustion from pulling an all-nighter and now working into the afternoon. She was mostly slouched on the table, trying to get answers but too exhausted to record them. Instead, Soler was in charge of writing what she said down, and it was some pretty disturbing stuff about the mercenaries. Still,... why wasn't Sally asking the real question that she knew he wanted to know?

Sally had some paper with notes scribbled onto it, seeing that indeed, Nicole had run a few blood sample tests and the woman did appear to be Soler's mother. She purposefully didn't question that, and continued to avoid the topic. "You're an arranged marriage that went horribly wrong, and now you're trying to make things right?" she seemed incredulous at that statement. "Why now? Why not run away beforehand if this is all really true?"

She hadn't told Soler... that this was, in fact, his mother.

How could she? This woman may use that as leverage for something.

How would the mercenaries know about Soler and even accurately identify his mother? Besides the looks and blood tests, it's unlikely they'd go to that extreme.

But she was keeping it an option, nonetheless, for Soler's sake. She'd seen crazier anomalies in the past...

But this one was highly unexpected.

"You seem more than a friend." Sophia pointed out, "But I'm glad he has someone to guide him..."

She saw the look of tenderness in the mother's eyes, but also of hurt, and shook off the spooky feeling. She knew Soler was listening, and didn't want to give him any more reason to freeze up. He didn't deserve this, who did? Finding out your family is some-kind of sick breeding nest for evil? She kept her thoughts to herself, maybe she was losing grip of her true nature due to her fatigue?

She couldn't be affected by this woman, no matter what she said or did, for Soler's sake... Everything she was doing was for Soler and for New Mobotroplis.

"You warned us before that it isn't safe here? Could you elaborate on that." She knew they were being recorded too, and adjusted the mic towards her. Soler wrote some more notes down but soon tossed the paper to the side and intently listened in, growing more and more frustrated that Sally wasn't asking her directly about her statement claiming to be his mother. His hands spread out on the table as his nose was inches away from the viewing, one-way mirror.

'Sal...' he bit on his teeth, grinding them slightly. 'Why are you avoiding it..?'

"We're just trying to learn the truth." Sally put her hands together, seeing the woman look off from her and stare at a painting of the sky, brimming with green rolling hills littered with feathered, hair-like grass and ferns beneath it.

"I'd only risk death by fleeing if it meant keeping my hidden son safe." Her voice seemed older now, as though aging rapidly now that she was finally out of that abusive situation. She finally looked to Sally, acknowledging her hesitancy in not asking about it beforehand. "If you don't mind, I'd like to tell my child personally... why his life has been the way it has."

Sally looked down at the paper, flipping it over to cover it's specific details of truth and shook her head. "I don't think that's best." There was already enough on their plates as was. It may seem crucial now, but everyone's safety was greater than that.

She blew out from her mouth after stating that, leaning up a bit to carry on with her conversation, trying to fight the her weariness.

She hoped Soler felt the same... And that he'd do the right thing.

But then, a large bashing crashed through the room as the door was swung open, and Soler stepped inside the interrogation room.

"Soler-!" Sally's chair scooted back, seeing him barge in and not even look at her, but fold his arms. He held himself higher, as though trying to desperately seem alright, and moved by her to the woman. "You can't just-!" Sally continued to protest but he simply didn't listen.

"I'm here. So, go on." Soler stated quite forwardly, as though not leaving room for Sally to object any further.

Heartbroken by him once again disobeying direct orders, she sighed and sat down. He was already here, but his emotions were rampant. She didn't know if she could trust him to think of everyone's safety over his own curiosity, but she also knew it must be challenging. She did know it was his mother... so maybe that instinctual knowledge was driving him to behave this way... even though she knew that he was aware of how much she wanted him to remain in control over himself.

It just wasn't possible for a situation like this...

There was a moment of thought between everyone, as though silence in the world was like a cacophony of words left in the mind.

After a moment, Sophia finally had the strength to speak up, and took each word carefully, speaking slowly.

"What is the earliest memory you can recall?" Sophia Stratus stated, "I would like a decent starting point."

"Nothing you would know." He coldly stated, and Sally placed a gentle hand on his arm. He took a deep breath, "First, let's see if you know where you left me."

"The Sun-Side Orphanage. Though it's name changed after the war." She explained without hesitation. "You left, like I hoped you would. But I had prayed you'd see better days... away from this mess." She looked solemnly down to the ground, "I had to leave you... Could you imagine what would have happened if he made you like-" she cut herself off, as though being cut physically with a knife, and turned away. "I'm sorry..."

As she collected herself, she closed her eyes, "My first son... Shay Stratus... was such a sweet boy." she began, "But when his chaos abilities began to formulate into wonderful displays of art and beauty,... my husband tortured him, beat him down until Shay turned his gift into a monstrous weapon..." she could see the shadow of her son rise in her eyes, and burning flames conquering up the rest of the spaces in her mind... "He can no longer go back... to gentle tea time moments with his mother..."

She took a deep breath, opening her eyes to see Sally and Soler looking entranced at her words, "...I couldn't let that same fate... no matter how hard I tried to preserve my first son... befall my secret blessing." she once again covered her eyes in the darkness behind her eyelids, as though transporting to another place in reality.

"I ran in the night..." A young woman's eyes opened, a seamless transition that burst through the curtains of her eyes, as though a memory lost long ago. A hidden tragedy... but that lead to such hope.

"I held you tightly in my arms... and hoped the ever-free skies would connect us again, linking us through the never-ending circle that created the orb upon which we reside..." The younger Sophia, showing now that she was once beautiful, and her colors radiant... placed the baby in a hurried haste down on the porch, before about to take off. "But then I noticed... how similarly our quills were." The wind blew harshly, and as she covered her face, the bundle of cloth that swaddled the baby suddenly blew off, revealing his crying face. "I had been so distressed... since last feeding you, I had barely checked to truly see what you looked like... worried I would find his face in yours... I was brought to my knees at the sight... of those ever-free blue streaks of sky still reigning in your appearance... and that your blood may one day defeat the sinister, underling devil of the blood you were mixed with." Seeing the boy's face, the mother fell to her knees and wept silently, about to grab the boy. "But it was not meant to be..." She paused and flinched at the click of a door, staring wide-eyed as someone was coming out. "Fate would not let me turn back on my decision... and for that, I am grateful. For my temptation, at first seeing you, my son... was too great a trial to have gone uninterrupted."

The woman fled into the snow, hiding as best she could as she dug herself into the cold. Soler was picked up by some nurses and monks, who looked around to see who had left the baby there.

"We've got another one, Misses!" A man cried out, smiling gleefully at the little boy. "A munchkin, indeed, he is! He's as white as the winter that brought him, and as blue streaked like the tears that forged him!" He billowed a laugh, as though so used to this scenario that it wasn't sad anymore. "Oh? Lookie 'ere. Soler... What a name! A fine name! Think we'll keep this one?" He turned back to enter the door, "Soler... yeah, let's keep it. It's got a destiny to it, me finks." the man disappeared through the door as the women all crowded to see the new arrival, and as the child's cries shredded through the blistering cold, the door was finally shut to everything now...

But awakened one last hope in the young woman's bawling, brokenhearted eyes.

Sophia opened her now stained, red eyes as though feeling that cold alive again. Those harsh, but true words resounded in every bone, forcing those fading cries through the night into a great sense of empathy.

And thusly, Soler and Sally too had glossy eyes, feeling each hit that her words gave them, and remaining in reverent, sorrowful silence.

"Shay is stronger, due to his years of experience over you, my son." It was the sentence that broke the tension, but there was still a thick mist of deception around Sally. Could she really believe this story? It struck her heart, but what if it was fabricated by the mercenaries? Blood doesn't lie... but still. She wouldn't falter her resolve to learn everything first, then provide the trust later. However,... her true nature wanted to comfort the woman... "But if even a little of that power resides in you, you must use it to defend mobian lives... that shade of blue you wear." Sophia gestured to her own, looking finally into Soler's eyes, but weakly so, as if the emotions were too great to bear again. "Is what will stop the Stratus's from their murders and secret combinations of the infernal pit!" she pat out the words, as though hatred had singed her motherly love into burnt coal. "Stratus... that accursed word... meaning to send a continuous streak of horizontal grey against the ever-free skies... blocking out freedom. The blue color that symbolizes the blood of a free man, and the value upon which good, harmony, and peace live upon... the air is free, the clouds steal from the seas... the skies are open, but the clouds are clever blankets of pure white that shield such a view... making it seem an illusion that there is something greater beyond them... that it's somehow out of reach." She opened her hands up, "When really... we are all apart of the sky... it only ends at the ground." she took a deep breath, as if sucking in more freedom to remain courageous and steadfast in telling them the information. To her, it was vital to keep going, though it was like watching a woman tear herself apart trying to speak such hidden truths she had kept silent for so many years...

Sally finally turned to Soler, and noticed the ghostly expression, as though his soul was hovering on every word, and his mind carried in her visions she described.

"That freedom has always been a value of mine... and I'm glad to see it carried in you." She nodded to him, but he was already so deep in her world, he felt like he was transported and hovering upon the skies she described... "Until it was compromised... when I learned that Conor Stratus was no man of value or worth, but one of deception and ruthlessness... Now my skies have been grey, with never-ending... torturous memories of snow... and the rainstorms your father has kept me trapped in... for so... so long."

She looked truly weighed down by her life's sorrows, but a strong, subtle strength remained present in her nobility too. "It broke me to leave you there... but I vowed to never let my values be compromised again. Nor will I allow him to find you. That was the strength that drove me to finally take my leave, and risk everything, Miss Acorn. The strength that pulled me out of my wet self-pity, and into the sun of a brighter morning to come." She wiped her tears and stood up, which in return, made Sally stand up with her... almost as if a reflex of her princess-training years... this woman... was acting like a dethroned queen.

"You are not Conor's son." she boldly stated, as though giving Soler a knightly honor to uphold. She ignored Sally a moment, who refused to leave the situation, and kept watching Soler as he seemed strangely influenced immensely by her words. Sally had already come to her senses, her suspicions reactivated again as she saw the hypnotizing trance this woman had on Soler, and looked to her with narrowed eyes now... "You are mine,... and as such, I beg of you to uphold your truth! Save them all, please... and blow harshly against the grey lining of the clouds that dare to blur the skyward eyes... that search for a world without tyranny... or malice!" she hissed the last words out, and then felt herself overwhelmed as she sat back down, clutching her heart.

Nicole's voice immediately set in as the woman gripped the desk and fell over, "Sally! Her heart-! She's-! It's a heart attack!"

Almost stuck in spot, Sally's sudden feeling of being tricked dissipated in disbelief of what Nicole had stated. Was it jealousy? But rapidly now, Sally's compassion flooded her senses and she wanted to believe what was really happening, but did that mean those emotions from before that she bore were that great? How could that be? Could her want to protect Soler cloud her tenderness for poor, elderly woman?

Soler fell to his knees, grabbing the woman and pulling her to him. That value had been instilled in him at such a young age... he never thought he could actually be born with that. That he could have inherited it... from his... "Mother..?" he breathed out, unable to form the words due to their unnatural tendency to be spoken.

His mother was breathing with great gasps, her face looking pulled back as though being tugged by an invisible force as she shook slightly and struggled to remain in the moment, "I.. thought I'd... never see you again... I didn't know.. I still had... tears... left to sh-e-e-e-ed." The attack began to make her shake more violently than before, her eyes rolling.

Soler looked to Sally with tears, and she knew he believed her... but she still hesitated.

"Nicole, send in medical aid!" she called out, before turning to him. Bending down to his level, she went to reach a hand to his shoulder. "Soler..." but he scooped Sophia up in his arms and moved passed her, seeing her not move in time to help her and instead, reach for him. It was impulsive anger that spiked in him. He'd have to ask her later, why she was being so distant from a woman who clearly was in need.

"Help! I need a medic!" he cried out, as Sally reached and stroked a bit of his back and quills as he bulldozed out of the room. Longing to explain herself... knowing... he saw her lose this battle...

She looked at the paper on the table.

"But maybe not the war." she knew there was only one other person that could confirm such a tale and prove that Sally's suspicions were justified to some degree, and one who knew Soler's silent tears beyond her own knowledge. "I need a Shadow in the snow..."

Thinking it a possible ruse, though knowing the blood-test was still accurate, Sally still couldn't throw off the feeling of a planted spy or disrupter. "Am I being silly? Overthinking it all?" She bit her nails, speaking to Shadow through Nicole's signals. She was worried about what Sophia said before, in fact, everything she had said. But the part about the mercenaries possibly tracking their calls? She couldn't take the risk...

Still, a part of her wanted to believe her. However, she had to be absolutely certain that Soler's mother was on their side, like her words and story suggested...

"...You're doing this behind Soler's back?" Shadow seemed to be amused at that. "Then yes, you're too dead set on this being his evil mother who's come to finish the job and thereby somehow disrupting his purpose in life. You need to stop his possible father and brother from needlessly destroying freedom for gain, that's the ultimate takeaway from all this. It doesn't matter whether he believes it's his missing link to his family or not... all that should matter to you, right now, is the safety of your people and stopping Eggman's forces from staging another attack on New Mobotroplis."

His words made sense, but she didn't think it right to just abandon the dilemma now.

"It... It is his family." she finally admitted, both to Shadow and to herself, "But he's already so far gone... he doesn't follow orders and I'm worried that if his mother asks him to do something, he would..." Would his loyalty so quickly change?

"Then this is about control?" Shadow's voice seemed to rise in accusation against Sally. "They're apart of the abductions. I've found out where they are... and they're moving quickly like a swarm of ants... I think this activity could be directly from this Sophia's escape... If that helps you to trust her, maybe it's enough to take her at face-value... for now." Shadow warned.

Sally felt the sting of his words but nodded, "Maybe it is my pride." she tried to confess, "But I'm also just so worried about him being manipulated..."

"Soler has always felt two values in his life... protecting those who can't, and mastering his abilities to defeat those that have wronged him. He has already completed the latter... but he'll never fully be satisfied with the first. If this mother-figure is triggering his first and foremost value, then it's possible she could control him over you."

"So then I'm not crazy and an overly protective girlfriend?" Sally seemed to be showing her feminine anxiety, and Shadow sighed loudly into the mic at it. It was like a funny reminder for her to stay—professionally—the Princess. "Right, sorry. I'll try and... not power-struggle too much with her. I just want Soler to be alright." she turned tender towards the end, and Shadow conceded that that was enough.

"You have every right to be worried about him... after all, you were the one that helped his fears in resolving his second value... you helping him through this... this behavior of yours is very much what I'd expect of you. If you love him as much as you seem too." He gave her a slight pick-me-up and she smiled fondly in recognition of it.

"Thank you, Shadow..." she lightly stated.

"It's not wrong of you to concern yourself in his life, but perhaps making him apart of his own life's concerns with you wouldn't be a bad idea, either... this isn't just your battle to fight. Soler is emotionally reckless..." he seemed to say that last line with the same disappointment a loving mentor would, "But that is exactly why he needs you to stabilize him. Don't call again." With that usual 'anti-social' and 'anti-hero' persona that Sally has come to love in Shadow, he hung up on her and she knew he was done talking about emotions for one day.

"Guess I'm not on my own after all." She held the phone, knowing she needed to tell Soler the truth. With a heavy heart, she texted him the truth, and said she needed to attend defenses since the mercenaries were moving and they needed to save the other hostages...

When Soler received the text, he was laying in his room, having been told to take a day off; which he found hard to enjoy. After reading it, he felt his soul quake with a slight bit of anger that Sally didn't speak with him personally.

'Why didn't she tell me herself!? I know she's busy, but...' he got up and rubbed his eyes from having stared at the ceiling in thought for so many hours... Now, the woman he had met really was his mother, and Sally had texted the document of their DNA test to prove it. Nicole had even stated some interesting facts about his mother's blood, but he wasn't going to pour through it yet. He wasn't ready, though acceptance was coming...

"Sally..." He smushed his fingers around his face, just disgruntled. "Saallllyyy..!" he fell back onto his firm bed, tossing a bit as he just wanted to see her, talk to her about all this.

It was hard... but he knew what everyone was trying to do, and it was less about him than those suffering people who desperately needed help.

The Freedom Fighters weren't going to stand for Eggman and his mercenary recruits, no one was going to be robotized today.

However...

Why did she hesitate to help Sophia? She would only call her Mrs. Stratus too... Why did she want to be so unemotional towards her?

That part did bother him... how overly cautious Sally seemed to be around her.

He sighed, turning over in his bed to slightly curl up, putting his hands behind his head as he did so, "Whatever..." he was too tired to do anything about it now. He was also emotionally drained, though it seemed Sophia would make it, she was also in recovery.

He would have to wait till later to resolve this matter... and get more intel on what his mother wanted him to do about his... father and misguided brother.

Unknown Territory: Eggman Empire's Robotization Camps

Like a line in a slave-train, the prisoners marched. Mercenaries were covered in shadows from the clouds that blocked out the sun and the lightning that slashed the sky in a sound like the whips on the prisoners backs. They drove them on, before each one was thrown or forced with a heavy push into Eggman's machines that robotized them and put them headfirst into the army.

The landscape was barren and like the dunes of nothingness. Lead into steel domes and then hauled through contraption that would close rapidly and zap a few times, then rise up to reveal the new Eggman Empire robot solider.

"Quite a loyal regiment." Shay smirked, seeing the process unfold. "You'd never need to recruit again, father." He looked beside him, a very broad shouldered man who glared with little emotion down at the screaming and terrified hostages.

"Is this all of them?" Conor stated, bluntly.

"Ouch, you make it sound like it's easy to pluck ants from the ground." Shay pinched his fingers together to demonstrate. "We're getting there."

"We should have been there." Conor began to walk on, and blowing a raspberry behind him was a frustrated Shay.

"I do this for no pay, and now, no respect too?" he complained.

His father growled over his shoulder, "Watch your tongue."

"And bite it till it bleeds?" Shay grinned, teasingly. "Honestly, you make it sound like I'm not even trying to please you."

"Because you're not. You're sadistic. You purposefully take no pay because you know you'll inherit the clan the moment you turn the appropriate age." Conor looked on, "If I had a few more sons like you, I wouldn't even need to take jobs like this..." he put his hands in his large cloak's pockets. "But for some reason... your mother..." he then stopped a moment and looked around.

"...Where is your mother?"

"Already hungry for something you've been dry of for years?" Shay mocked.

"...No, she turned dry." Without so much as remorse, he said that as though she was useless to him now. "But where is she?" he tried to mentally remember the last time he saw her. "Something's not right..." he walked bristly towards the camera room, looking at the plant. He touched the leafs... no one had watered it for a while...

"Dry..." he hissed out, "Your mother has finally signed her death wish." he took a bit of a breath, as though knowing this would happen, but not thinking she'd have the guts to actually go through with it. "You have a new job now,... Son."

"Pfft, so depressing." Shay stretched out, "I'll bring her back."

"No..." Conor closed his eyes, before walking back over to the cameras, "This seems to be more than that..."

Shay looked confused for a moment, before his eyes widened and he looked surprised towards his father. "Really? You think the wells done for?"

"I don't need a well." He typed in the last thing she must have saw before deciding to flee, and then... saw Soler. "Ah... I knew that blue looked familiar..." He zoomed in, "It looks just like her..."

"How... can that be?" Shay pulled on his own quills, "He looks different than me..."

"Not by much. He's the splitting image of your mother." Conor smiled, "She's led us straight to him..."

"Straight to..?" Shay still seemed on a different page, but Conor just turned his massive form towards him.

"A heed of warning... I believe your mother hasn't always been dry... perhaps I had mistakenly taken my eye off of her for too long..." He fiddled with a knife by his side. "Take care of it. Retrieve your... 'beloved' mother." Conor took the knife out and stabbed the screen where the son he never knew he had resided... Then tossed it to Shay, who let it drop on the ground, staring at it with a bit of a narrowed look. "That chaos energy should have been mine..." he hit the control panel with all his brute strength, his fangs crunching against his other teeth in his anger.

"...I have a little brother?" Shay began to connect the dots, looking at the Chaos Spears and then Soler's white and blue quills... He then looked to the knife, in curiosity... putting new points together... "All... apart of the dirty work... I suppose." He looked down, as though feeling betrayed as well, and turned towards the door. "But what if she's told the Freedom Fighters? She's already 'increased' their odds..." he gripped his hand before having a flourishing flick of it, acting more sinister in what he was about to do.

The father said nothing, and Shay just pulled on his gloves, making sure they were tight in their resolve. An order is an order... after all. He tsk'ed, "Just another day then, eh, dad?"

Conor slammed his fists to the control panel again, denting it , clearly wanting to have another unit with chaos energy with him.

Shay rolled his eyes, "Never enough for you, is it?" and began to walk on out... laughing as his evil grew...

Rouge watched from above, then signaled to Espio, who quickly moved to alert Shadow... moving invisibly, he only appeared to whisper into Shadow's ear, who was wearing a garb to keep the dusty dirt that flew in the barren wind out of his face.

They were a while away from the camp, but Shadow's eyes widened in distress, and quickly pulled out Nicole. "Alert them. There going to move, and fast."

Back in New Mobotroplis

Shadow had finally returned to the Freedom Fighter's Headquarters, upset by the distressful scene he, Espio, and Rouge had all witnessed. They didn't wait for backup, and did save a few hundred people or so before arriving back in New Mobotroplis... but to reverse the effects of robotization was still a feat that everyone was working on.

Sally, exhausted from not getting any sleep, moved over to Shadow like a zombie as she placed her hand on his shoulder, her eyes barely open. "Good work out there, Shadow... I should check on Soler... could you lead the research community for now?"

"Have you not slept since-!?" He was bewildered by her state, and with everything happening, he wasn't in the mood to loosen-up on her. He took a breath and lowered his angled arms which had been raised in his aggressive state, "No excuses. You should rest. Let him stay close to the action." he folded his arms, as though not willing to hear her fight back on this one.

"B-but-" she began, looking like she could collapse forward any minute as he helped her steady herself.

"What did I just-?" he sighed, "Trust that Soler is smarter than that." Whatever her concern was, he already knew.

She nodded, chuckling lightly, "You really believe that he won't... be manipulated? She's his mother, Shadow... I'm just constantly worried. We don't know her. I've only seen two sides of her, scared and... strangely regal." she stood straight again as Shadow seemed to ignore the fluff of the information and turn her towards the living spaces where the rooms were located.

"I hope I do." he stated, "And no matter who she is... he's known us the longest. You have to trust your heart over your blood, sometimes." Shadow seemed to be speaking from his own experiences, and watched her begin to move towards the living quarters. He wouldn't take his sights off of her until he knew she was safely inside, in case she got any ideas. She did turn around to look over her shoulder at him, but he just folded his arms and glared heavily towards her in a deep, authoritative frown. She now knew what Soler must have felt...

Squinting at the light, Sally finally gave in and opened the door to the building.

"...Honestly, you worry me more." Shadow watched her a second longer before turning to the rescued hostages and helping pass out water and collect further information. It was difficult, they all asked about family and friends, describing them as Shadow fought hard to not remember any particular faces or features. He simply passed out the water, and didn't say any comforting words. Rouge and Espio were slightly different in their approach though, but looked to Shadow in understanding.

Everyone knew he felt the most about it, but would be the last to say anything. To Shadow, actions spoke louder than words... and they only were able to save the few lucky ones they smuggled out or rescued along the way.

Sally was comforted... having someone admit she needed to rest made it more easier for her to accept having to go to sleep, so it wasn't surprising when she dropped on the couch by the entrance and fell into a light sleep. As she did so, Soler was dreaming himself, recalling a moment in the orphanage where the children were bullying one another.

In his sleep, he tossed, "No... leave them alone..." He turned again, "Stop it... You..." as he flinched, he suddenly rose up from the bed in a shaken state, "I won't see them fall!" he breathed heavily, unsure why he was sweating so much, but moved the bed-sheets and rubbed his face again.

"Ugh... a night terror? Haven't had those in a while..." He wasn't used to such vivid dreaming for quite some time, remembering getting beaten-down and standing right back up again, so the older kids didn't bully the younger, more weaker ones. "Bad dream..." he shook his head,... having seen the younger children all fall to the ground by the cruel, unfeeling punches of those who had no other means to vent their uncontrolled and uncomforted emotions. But then... he remembered the last thing he was thinking about before falling asleep.

"Sally... Soph-" he stopped himself, "My... mother?" He looked back at the communication device, feeling strange again, and looking downhearted.

"No, I have to see her." He made his decision, and got up. Fixing his shoes on tightly, he adjusted his quills into place from the bed-hair with all the tossing and turning he had done and headed out the door.

Walking to the living space, he immediately saw Sally's red hair and froze, amazed to see her so quickly. "Sal?" He walked quietly over and noticed her sound asleep.

Her eyes blinked a moment, and he remained still.

She slowly... fell back asleep, and he gently stroked her cheek and lowered himself down to her. "How long... have you been here?"

She blinked her eyes lazily open, weak with fatigue, and he narrowed his eyes.

He picked her up without another word, taking her back to an opened room and set her down, tucking her in, and kissing her forehead. Closing the door, he knew he must have missed a lot that was going on. He had so many questions for her... so much he wasn't aware of. But that would have to wait.

Still, he knew there was one woman who would have some answers...

More than he bargained for...

Heading to Sophia Stratus's interrogation room with purpose, he didn't even noticed Shadow hide himself and begin to watch him... closely...

For Sally's concerns and Soler's well-being, he just wanted to observe how their relationship really was developing. Was Sally's concerns justified? He had no reason to believe they weren't, but wondered if Soler was truly being aware of the influence this woman was supposedly having on him.

'I taught him better than that,' Shadow gritted his teeth, 'He better not disappoint me... or the princess.'

Sopia was sitting on the couch, having eaten only a little bit of the nicely made food provided for her. She wished there was a window... but instead, fixed her sights on the painting's lush colors and vivid depiction of a meadow and brilliant sky, feasting on the feeling it gave to her. It had been so long since she had seen the real sky, but even looking at it through a painting was somewhat comforting. Still, she knew she wasn't safe, and wouldn't be until Conor and her son's mercenaries were finally put to an end. Eggman already was a lot to take for the world, and now them?

When Soler opened the door after the green light turned red, showing that the door was unlocked, she took another cleansing breath and sat up straighter.

'No going back,' she told herself, 'You must address this. Head-on. He may dislike it, but he must know the significance of defeating his father... and possibly saving his brother...' she looked down, as though in her heart she worried her eldest son was now beyond saving...

Soler had always felt like his nature started in the orphanage... but seeing the look of fear and love in her eyes... he was conflicted now.

"I... wanted to talk to you." He slowly moved himself to the table, sitting down.

As he put his hands together, trying to do something hard, Sophia patted the couch a little ways away from her, as though encouraging him to come closer. She scooted over to make him more comfortable, giving him some space.

He looked at the space a moment, but conceded to the notion.

So many thoughts raced through his head, as though he was trying to form a script of all the questions he wanted to ask her, but they were coming off too direct in his mind, and he wanted to be gentler.

It was so hard. This was hard.

He felt like his whole body had bricks and weights on him. Every time he moved closer to her, every step was like a crumbling bit off the stone. Jagged in his movements, he was awkward as he tried to be formal and polite, but clearly was holding back every bit of him that wanted to know more, to be sure.

He cleared his throat and sat down, taking a glance at her and noticing once again the similar features, and then looked away again. "In the orphanage... I mean, I should start with, I had a dream about the orphanage." He seemed nervous, "You know," His famous tell came out, and she tilted her head to listen intently. "I was always sticking up for the weaker kids, I didn't care if I got beaten up for them. I grew tough, and I never regretted the orphanage, just how awful people can be to each other." He spoke a lot with his hands, maybe trying to lessen the nerves as his whole being tremored like earthquakes at random intervals.

She saw his shaky hands and looked away, trying to figure out how to break the awkward tension in the air.

He didn't need to ask her for proof, or tell her he knew she was telling the truth. It wasn't relevant. She already knew that and he didn't want to come off making her believe that he doubted her. Even if everyone seemed to... he just was incredulous at the shock of it all. He hadn't made a decision, per-say... but now it was official.

What would she do? What would she want of him? Of anybody?

Maybe this was the same feeling Sally had, and he had to accept that her caution was out of love, too.

Sophia listened gently, before looking off with another soft sigh. "As a young girl, far into my youth, I would stand up for my sisters constantly." she looked back at the painting. "Many offers for their hands came through the pipeline to my father, but he was a very political man... only certain suitors could qualify. Sadly, these suitors were not anything we could have desired." She removed some of her raggedy brown cloak, bunched at her neck, to reveal some awful scars. "I couldn't watch them suffer." she admitted, then covered herself up again. "I haven't had that strength to stand up to others in years... but when I saw you, I had life again, and..." She turned towards him, but worried she was coming off too strong, she adjusted herself away again. "Sorry..."

She had stood up for Shay countless times while he was still young, but after getting beaten down so many times, she couldn't fight anymore. The little boy willingly went after a time, and he never shed further tears for her. He had become harden and stiff, and she feared to ever admit that she had lost her darling eldest son. But she didn't want that for Soler, and knew in her heart that she could still prevent this tragedy.

It gave her strength to keep going, to keep having this conversation.

Soler immediately got up and embraced her. "I said the same thing." he admitted, and though it took all his emotional strength to do so, he also couldn't bare to hear that she suffered.

Although Soler was uncomfortable, giving her this bit of reassurance that she wouldn't be abused anymore was still apart of him. He could feel it... His origin's pieces, half of them lied with her, and he wanted more than anything to learn more and also accept the good that he gained from her.

But what of his other blood..? His powers... what did he truly inherit from his mother? And what... was the rest?

He had always wondered about his unknown abilities and powers, looking at his hands from behind her back, peering over her shoulder. Was he really... the horrible monster he always thought could possibly be there? Or was he the angel of the ever-free skies..? Was it possible that he could choose?

The closeness was soon interrupted, lightly returned by the mother, but didn't feel right when Sally suddenly burst through the door. Her hair a mess, her eyes blackened underneath, and clearly distressed.

She scanned a moment and slowly softened her accusing eyes, looking full of betrayal to now one of understanding. She sighed, trying to lighten her fears, "What did she tell you?" she asked, looking exhausted still.

It was clear she was upset that Soler had disregarded her fears, but as he moved away from his mother, looking towards her, he also wanted to comfort her. "S-Sal..."

He was finding himself torn between a mother figure and a companion...

He looked between the two girls, and Sally was hurt by the struggle it seemed to be. She felt she was his family,... maybe Shadow was right?

Shadow had seen Soler speak with his mother in secret, and went to find Sally. He felt the closeness wasn't a bad thing, but maybe not alone in case the woman really was affiliated still with the cold-hearted mercenaries. His prejudice did him in, and he ended up leaving halfway through observing them to retrieve Sally, siding slightly with her fears. He also didn't understand fully the dynamic of what it must feel like to have a parent, especially being on one's own for so long, so partially his was his ignorance to that emotional pull that also moved him to act as he did. He had only had Maria... and that was that.

Shadow wouldn't put it passed the mercenaries to scheme up something like this, even if it was Soler's biological mother. He had seen where half his blood came from and rejected it's evil, and now it seemed, Soler would have to do the same. Soler could have been a planted pawn this whole time... though it seemed unlikely, Shadow worried the mother could be conditioning him to be as such.

Soler looked beyond Sally, seeing some curious eyes peek in of other Freedom Fighters, having seen Sally and Shadow talking before her bolting towards the interrogation facility. Not liking how everyone was so against her, he narrowed his eyes in authority, "Hey!" they all jumped except Sally at the door. "Get my mother some food and water." he then got up briskly and took Sally's arm, tugging her out with him, "We need to talk." he gave her a serious expression, and humbly realizing her error, she nodded and submitted to his anger.

"You have every right to be upset." she began, "But I do too." she pulled the arm away from him as he remained facing away from her.

He bundled his fists, "She's my mother... why didn't you tell me in person?"

She opened her mouth to speak but withdrew instead, holding back what she really wanted to explain, but felt it was pitiful.

Sophia stayed in her new trap, a lot nicer than where she used to live. She placed her hands elegantly to her lap and sighed. She knew she wasn't trusted, and seeing a figure in the shadows with red eyes... she also knew she was being carefully watched.

She was in the right, so she had nothing to fear from these people... but it was those who did wrong that truly terrified her.

What if they come for them..? Hurry their preparations knowing she would tell their enemies everything?

She remained still and silent, her breath catching on the fear of that irreversible travesty.

Sally's hand clung to her arm in defeat, "Shadow agrees with me... that sometimes, you let your emotions cloud your judgement."

Soler turned around, "Does she seem like a ruthless killer to you!?"

The door was slightly shut, but not locked. Sophia looked to it, slightly listening in on the muffled conversation, but unable to make most of the words out.

"How do you know that she's not just pretending!? Using this to lure the Freedom Fighter's into an elaborate trap!?" She swung her once held back arm out towards where Sophia's interrogation room was. "Is her name even Sophia!? Was she bought out to lie about this?! We can always put it passed Eggman to come up with something like this, but mercenaries are an enigma. We know they'll take innocent lives to Eggman's robotization machines for power and greed, what makes you think they wouldn't devise something like this!?"

"It's too-" Soler began,

"Unethical?" She had a point, "Soler, it may be complexed, but so are our lives!"

"I just... I can't see that in her." He looked away, "I can't see her not being my mother, in both heart and blood."

Sally looked concerned.

Sensing that, he spoke up again to reassure her, "Look..." He put his hands on her arms, gently bringing her closer. "Nothing will replace what I have here, with you, in the Freedom Fighters. But I can see the missing puzzle pieces in her, Sally. I can see where I got some of me from."

"But you develop on your own course, Soler." She placed her hands up by his shoulders, wanting desperately to embrace him and not fight anymore, but as a leader... she needed to be fierce. "You can't grow too close to her... not until we gain more information and learn to trust that what she says and demonstrates to us is factual and true."

He sighed, disappointed, but knew in his mind that was the right thing to do. His heart ached, but he nodded to her logic. "Okay... I'll try and not see her without supervision."

She smiled, "Thank you. Just be-"

"More cautious?" He smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

"You really do have a wonderful smile." she giggled, and he took that as an invite to hug her.

They held one another for a good, long, solid minute. There was so much healing in that embrace as Sally whispered 'Sorry' a few more times, and Soler gently stroked her back and also admitted he was in the wrong too.

"I won't act on my own again... not without you." All his tender love poured out into that sweet sentence, taking her in and not wanting to let her go. He wanted her apart of this, not against it, but knew now that it was out of love. He had felt her doubt, even in himself, he just chose to accept it... which may take more convincing for Sally, but it was all with good intent.

"You can, but... maybe talk it over with me, once in a while." She was in a much better mood, hearing him say such kind things. Considering it wasn't just him going through this odd, new experience... She wanted to be there for him too. "I want to be apart of your troubles... Soler."

"But you're already apart of my happiness," Soler moved his head a little aways to look directly in her eyes, their foreheads touching in a longing moment. "Those two don't always collide..."

"You saying I take your troubles away?" She stated, amused, but he lightly touched his nose to hers and closed his eyes.

"That's exactly what I'm saying..." his voice turned into a breathy confession, and she moved slowly up to kiss him... but then a large alarm sounded out and Nicole's voice echoed in terror over the speakers.

"Fighters! Enemy has infiltrated the city walls! It's heading straight for us!"

Screams and cries from frightened civilians and rescued victims sounded out in an array of chaos.

Looking to each other and then racing out, the two forgot to lock Sophia's door...

It swung slightly, and Sophia watched it with real intent.

Now was her moment... to try one last time.

Chaos energy shot up the walls of a building like lighting embedded into it's structure before the entire thing burst once it reached the top. Shay walked through their defenses like a battering ram, though he seemed to have barely made a sweat.

"Oh, mother?" he spoke very casually, then flicked his hand towards another building. "Are you hiding in here..?" the lightning chaos effect traveled up the building, and as he crushed his fist, it exploded once again and he moved on. "Well, we were hoping to knock a little later... but seeing as things are, you playing hide and seek with my mother and all, now seems to be as good a time as any!" he called out with a cruel glee, creepy in how his satisfaction seemed to skyrocket once seeing Sally and Soler rush out into the open before him.

"Ah, my unknown brother... and the Princess? Isn't this charming... a real family and enemy reunion." he bowed slightly, in a showy fashion that would have mimicked Scourge in an awful sense. "Does dear mother love you more than me? Is that why she left me to come see you?"

"Brother?" Soler shook off the comment, "You're hurting people! That's enough for me to take you on!" He was about to step forward.

"No!" Sophia quickly dashed out, spreading her arms to stop him and hold him back. Her eyes were glossy with tears, she knew this would happen. She looked up at the sky, hoping to avoid this day as much as possible, and taking in the beautiful outdoors again.

Freedom... she had freedom for a split second, and she wanted to make the most of it... do the right thing with it... since a long, long time.

Soler and Sally were amazed to see her out of her room, but Shay only gleefully exclaimed a loud cry of surprise and relief, but it sounded completely faked.

Looking back down at the ground, Sophia had to tighten the resolve around her heart, and without looking to them, she spoke in a much more lowered and solemn tone. "I'm glad you've found someone to be there for you, son... He's lucky to have you, Princess." she blinked her eyes to push back the tears and turned in her noble way towards Shay.

"Shay..." she spoke as though pleading for his humanity.

"Dearest mother..." he spread his arms out, as if welcoming her back...

But his smirk showed his true motive, and Sophia had to be brave... "I won't stand to see you make them suffer."

Something once again triggered in Soler, he felt his whole being resound with that.

"I won't let them fall to your chaotic rampage. You find solace in other's suffering simply because there was no one to protect you from it... no matter how hard I tried." She looked truly pained to admit her weakness.

He rolled his eyes, "Still living in the past, mother?"

"The ever-free skies still cover the earth with a never-ending blue!" she pointed to the sky, "I wear that color in my blood and upon me! It will forever be woven in my DNA, and it is apart of you too, Shay..." she gestured to her blue streaks, then to him, "You can still change, Shay... you can choose to be something you truly are! Not what your father has made of you!"

He watched her a moment, a still look but his smirk dampened to a smile... and his arms lowered to his side.

He shook his head, "Shame," He seemed to have thought about it, but not very much. He flicked his head back to crack his neck, as though relaxing from that declaration... which he took as her breaking ties with their mercenaries pack. "Why would I disinherit all that father has left me? Such a pity... I did enjoy our little tea parties..." he then fired out a chaos attack that Soler had never seen before. The lightning that shot from his hands looked like randomly zig-zagging Chaos Spears but with trails of visible light and power shooting behind them.

Sophia stood her ground, for if she moved, Soler and Sally would be in the line of fire from the spider-webbing chaos attack.

The lightning chaos power suddenly pierced around her, upon the ground, flashing out of existence... Did he purposefully not hit her? Miss and just do it to threaten?

All at once, there was a momentary lull as he held his hand up, seeming to pause only for a second. Then, he closed his fist and the ground beneath her blasted and shot her up into the air.

Soler watched the particles of earth spray up around her as she was flung up, her back arching, her air coming out in a large exhale. "Haooh...!"

She fell hard back to the ground with the earth crumbling over her after her...

"Nooo..!" Soler dashed towards her, it was all so fast, he barely saw the attack.

Shay swayed his hand down, massaging it, "Ohh... I actually wanted to disintegrate the ground, but I figured... saving my power to destroy my secret brother... your precious son, would be more rewarding." he gripped his fists again, his smile like a devious demon as he waited to see if Soler would retaliate. "What's wrong, little brother? What did she call you anyway..?"

Soler held Sophia up to his shoulder, but it was clear she was knocked out pretty badly...

Besides maybe some broken bones, she did still appear to be breathing...

Sally turned to the others, "We can't fight a power like that without the Chaos Emeralds... Where's Sonic, Shadow, and Silver?" She saw Shadow appear, but couldn't find Sonic, no matter how many times she looked around. Seeing Shadow's face then, focusing on it, she knew what that meant... "Don't tell me..."

"He's gone off with Tails and Knuckles again... I hear they're going to rescue the others." He shook his head. "Sorry, while you were busy, a lot happened..." he glared at Shay Stratus, "I've seen him and his father, during the spy operations. He's a murderer as much as his father!" he took off one of his limiters, twisting it to click with light but Soler held up his hand behind him.

"No!" He got up, gently placing his mother down and looking slightly over his shoulder, "Shadow,... Sally... get my mother somewhere safe."

"Pfft! Arrogant child!" Shay bent down, as though readying to attack again, his hands crackling with lightning spears... "She's my mother!"

"Soler, don't! He's too powerful!" Sally had noticed the buildings, the unusual use of chaos power... "We don't know what we're up against! Especially you!"

"He's tiers above you, Soler! He's the mercenary leader's second in command and heir. Of course he'd want you dead!" Shadow made an outstanding point, but Soler was too far into his emotions to care.

With Soler out of the picture, it would be Shay that inherited the ruthless clan... perhaps that's why Shay didn't seem to be after killing his mother, but mostly, in getting rid of unnecessary competition...

"You hurt her... how does that make you more entitled to call her mother than me?" He lowered his head, his anger growing. "I just got her... and I don't know her very well,... but that doesn't mean I can't cherish her as a mother!" his whole being rose into the first level of Chaos Break. "She cared about freedom just as much as I do... maybe you never realized... but she was protecting you in her own way as well! When she failed... that's why she turned to extreme measures for me. She had already bonded and loved you... she couldn't bare to part with you, but she could with me!" Soler spiked his power, hunching down, concentrating his power to his hands and feeling the swarm of infinity fill his bones. Something new broke out just then, a secondary power he barely even recognized, something inbetween that was fueling him to the next level... Chaos Surge. "I don't know her like you do..! But I feel like I've been apart of her my whole life!" His eyes were white, as though becoming animalistic for a moment, his hands pierced like claws more than hands in gesture and movement within his speech. "I won't let you destroy the family I've found, either! And that now includes her, too!" he felt himself reach an ultimate, risky limit... Chaos Synergy... he hadn't felt this way in a long time...

"Heh, pathetic." Shay swished out his wrist again, and was suddenly already at Chaos Syngery levels, and Soler could feel it.

His eyes widened and shrank, shaking in disbelief. "Wha... T-that's not possible..." He was struggling so hard to keep this form, but this-... no, his older brother, was able to just flick his hand and reach it instantly without so much as a build up.

"How did you do that?"

Shay laughed, looking up to the skies his mother once pointed at and holding a finger up to it. "You weren't planning on trying to use something I haven't seen before, were you? There's really no way anyone on this planet can defeat me." a spike of lightning rained down upon his finger, and he slowly lifted his other hand towards Soler.

Everyone was in a panic, never having seen such powers before, and rushing to escape the battle.

The Lightning randomly would strike the ground, causing havoc as buildings burst into flames, people were thrown in the impacts, and many couldn't find a suitable shelter.

"Stop it!" Soler channeled everything he had... "I may not have your power... but mine is my own! It's the power... no, the judgement of the ever-free skies!" he held his palm up to the sky as Shay's cocky attitude suddenly turned serious.

His eyes showed the aura that was forming around Soler, "Is that... Dad's..?" he wondered, but then his eyes looked a little more surprised. "It can't be..."

"CHAOOOSSSS PUNISHMENT!" Soler threw his hand down, and from Shay's hand the lightning disappeared and shot like woven designs around the suddenly bright and white sky.

"AHHHH!" Soler's whole body seemed to spark with chaos power as Shadow pulled Sally back, his whole being losing some control over himself as he became pretty instinctual.

"Get down!" Shadow warned, guarding her as he had never seen Soler at this level before.

From the skies, bolts of Chaos Speared Lightning shot down, similar to Shay's attack but on a whole another level, overwhelming the area as Shay looked around at the randomly spiking spears of lightning.

He dodged pretty well, but was actually forced to pay attention now. 'He stole my own chaos force and sucked it into the sky... how was he able to control it?! Even Chaos Synergy can't handle that much chaos!' Shay looked a little unnerved, but not by much. 'I was born with a limit... but what if mother's ability..?' he looked back to see Soler had sped through the rain of lightning, and his whole body looked engulfed with an array of bolts sparking out of him.

"...You are my brother..." Shay admitted, as Soler slammed a fist into his chest.

Shay was shot back by thousands upon thousands of chaos lightning spikes, but what he wasn't expecting was that the sky took it's whole reservoir of chaos power and converged their many different lines of lightning all to slowly move and bundle together into one giant lightning bolt. He was flung outside the city walls... With a cascade of blazing white chaos energy.

It slowly dwindled and the clouds began to disperse, as though a lull after a storm...

Soler breathed heavily, skidding to stop his super speed, giving Sally and Shadow a thumbs up, before he suddenly collapsed.

Shay tossed ash and fallen trees off of himself, getting up and panting as his fur seemed a little singed, but he was fine. He dusted himself off, "That's... not very good." He brushed his quills back. "Ha... I can't let dad know his potential. I'll talk him off as a lesser chaos wielder. Wouldn't want him taking my reign from me." He beamed as though the war had just began. "Still, I can't come back empty-handed..." He looked to see people fleeing the city, and smirked. "How about a present for Eggman..? A bigger army..."

He walked, menacingly, towards the fleeing citizens...

He knew he dealt with his mother, she wouldn't recover from that for a while... so why not have some fun and let the little brother think he'd actually done something..? Then he'll be surprised when he comes back...

Not holding back...

Soler woke up with a blink that hurt his eyes. The lights were right upon him, and the hospital didn't seem to smell all that great either.

He slowly got up, feeling the wear and tear on his body before moving the covers and rubbing his face again, "I... Did I win?" He didn't think it would be over that quickly, but he also felt like he was about to throw up.

He fled to the bathroom and vomited, his body unable to handle so much pressure.

He knew he threw himself into the fray, even taking his brother's power at one point, but it was too much to handle and he couldn't concentrate it all into an epicenter at his opponent till much later.

He had shot chaos out of him to make room to harness so much, but it still pained him. He had thought he had learned everything about his powers and abilities,... but there was clearly steps only the adversary knew...

His family... his enemies...

he shook his head, "They're not..." He held in another ill feeling, "family..." he tried to get up, cleaning himself up before remembering his mother.

"Where..?" suddenly his mind raced to Luna... then to the village... "No..." He thought of the people screaming, the fires... then the lightning shooting up the buildings, blasting his mother, what had happened...

"Sally..!" he tried to get his feet under him and move as quickly as possible, dodging and forcing himself to ram against walls since he couldn't jump over the gurneys or other medical supplies the nurses and doctors were pulling down the halls.

Many cried out when they saw him, some mistaking his speed for Sonic's or Shadow's, before faltering as he came up to the desk, gripping it to stay upright.

On the way to it, he stumbled and saw Bunny for a quick moment beside Anton, but continued on.

He felt like a child, trying to keep himself balanced enough to remain straight, "So... Sophia... Sally... Where?"

"P-Princess Sally is unharmed, she isn't here." The poor secretary stood straight up upon seeing him, "S-sir, you need to go back to your room..."

"Not without... ugh... seeing my mother." Soler was struggling, sinking down and falling from the desk, gripping it with his last strength by his fingers.

He was about to lose hope, about to slip off the counter and probably be wheeled away again when a pair of familiar hands grabbed his.

"He's with me." Shadow hoisted his arm over his shoulder, helping him to stand.

"T-...Thank you, Shadow..." Soler weakly stated, as Shadow shook his head.

"By this time, you've thanked me more than I care to keep track of." He headed towards Sophia's room, "Sally's already here, she just came in."

"She is..?" It was surprising to hear, but walking into the room, he saw Sally holding Sophia's hand by the hospital bed, and then looking over to smile gently to Soler.

"She wanted to see her." Shadow whispered quietly as an aside, but didn't move his head to Soler, hoping he heard without Sally picking up on their conversation.

"She'll be in critical recovery for a while... she's malnourished and clearly weak, but she's got a high likelihood of making it." Sally gave him that hope, that was enough to sustain him for now. She probably didn't hear Shadow, but that was the least of his worries right now.

"And... umm..." He couldn't remember the other man's name, "What about my brother?"

"Shay Stratus," Shadow began, "Which... is your last name, apparently."

"I don't think I'll take it." Soler pushed off of Shadow's arm lightly, trying to get his barrings and reaching for Sally. She got up instinctively and helped him to sit next to her, gently placing him to rest and get on the bed to sit in front of her and beside his mother.

"You don't have to worry about your brother." Shadow showed his wrist, his limiters off. "I've dealt with him. He was still alive and well, kicking back by trying to capture some fleeing citizens. We've detained him... but..." Shadow revealed that his back had been scarred and torn up. "He's a lot to handle, I think you drained most of him..."

Soler gasped slightly, "But... your healing abilities..."

"Aren't kicking in like they should." Shadow admitted, then took a deep breath, "I was trying to get out when I saw you barely able to stand at the counter," He folded his arms, "Sally apparently had me stationed here." He glared at her, and she just shook her head, defiantly.

"You were injured. Both of you need to learn to rest more."

"...Conor... w-won't... rest."

The three all suddenly turned to Sophia, who was weakly coming too.

She reached her hand out, patting it gently by the bed as Soler took it.

"S-Shay..?" Her eyes looked hazy, as though she couldn't really see through them at the moment.

"...Still bad." Soler stated, "But at least we've... somewhat, got him." Soler looked to Shadow, but Shadow would be fine, showing that by rotating his shoulders back and standing up straighter. "Just worried about you, is all."

She smiled weakly, breathing irregularly as Sally got up and adjusted the medication. "She really needs rest..." Sally urged, trying to have Soler understand that he needed to coax her back into sleep.

"I knew... this day... would come." She weakly spoke, barely lifting her eyes as she tried to breathe better.

"This isn't the day you die." Sally comforted, then looked to Soler with narrowed eyes, as though encouraging him to give her some hope to keep fighting.

Soler nodded, bending down by his mother's side and placing both hands around her own, frail one. "I just met you... but I feel I've always known you... because a huge part of you... is also in me, too." Soler finally felt comfortable with this, and continued, "I vow, mother... On the ever-free skies... on your behalf... I'll make sure to never forget the fight for freedom. That it's within liberty of the all-encompassing, continuous stretch of blue that gives everyone that right. I will fight against the grey cloud of tyranny, whether that be by the Eggman Empire or through my father and brother..." He looked down, squinting his eyes as he wondered if his father was the one possessed with chaos energy, and if so, he was certainly going to be a hard fight... "I won't let you down."

Slowly blinking her eyes, it was clear the medicine was kicking in for Sophia Stratus. She nodded twice, and then her head fell back and she was out like a light.

"...Mom?" Soler leaned forward, but Sally placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting him that she was alright.

"See that?" She pointed to the heart monitor, "She's a strong woman, though she doesn't appear to be so now, she's a lot like you." Sally grinned at the thought, but Shadow only tsk'd.

"Stubborn and full of emotions." Shadow shook his head, but Soler only smiled to his mentor.

"I thought that stubbornness was from you, good to know it's more than that." he joked, "More so hereditary."

"It's still me." Shadow returned the humor, which surprised Sally and Soler, who suddenly lightly shared a moment of laughter.

Even Shadow... smiled.

Within prison though, Sonic seemed to badger and hound on Shay...

He walked with a playful bounce in his step, "Looks who's on the other end now, eh?" He had previously just freed many held hostages, and was in the mood to pick a fight. He lifted his leg and put his hands on his hips, swinging the leg to the side and bouncing again, "Sucks when your freedom is taking away, ain't it?"

Shay just sat in the back, his head down and covered in shadows, leisurely sitting with that creepy smile of his.

He began to slowly laugh, and wouldn't respond right away.

"Bring me my dear brother... and my mother, if she's still alive." He tilted his head up, showing his eyes full of chaos energy, blinding the room in light before it faded from his eyes... his aura spiked increasingly and Sonic stopped joking... watching in all seriousness. "I'll be happy to chat, but under those conditions... This cell is rather lonely, might as well have some entertainment to pass the time." He laughed manically and held up his hand, having stored chaos energy after Shadow's fight with him and lightning shot from his hands, forcing Sonic to back away as the bars got charged with it's powers.

The room exploded as Sonic took off to avoid the explosion, "He doesn't like playing nice or fairly, but that doesn't mean he needs to act all high and mighty about it." He sped back, mostly talking to himself, and noticed the cell still remained.

"Tsk," Shay grimaced, seeming disappointed. "You have the means to stop chaos?"

"We have this room super-juiced with Chaos Emeralds," He adjusted his gloves, and kicked away some rubble. "You're not leaving that cell..."

"Chaos... Emeralds?" Shay's eyes widened, as though knowing something...

Sonic didn't know...

"Interesting... hahaha!"

Sonic just watched... frowning and narrowing his eyes. His frown carried to the side of his muzzle, and he rolled his eyes, "Why do I always end up with the weirdos who are losing their minds?"

He walked out as Shay continued to laugh and store chaos within himself... now having an idea...

END of part 1?

#commission receipts #commissions #cutegirlmayra #solerwolf21 #soler sonic oc #soler's story #me commissions #me receipts #sonic oc #sonic oc story

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chiseler · 4 years

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The Head -- It Just Won’t Stay Dead

In the early 1960s, the overwhelming majority of European horror films imported to the United States were either British or Italian, the British films being easily understood and the Italian ones frequently pretending to be of British origin. Examples of French horror were rare (odd for a country whose cinema was so rooted in the fantastique), reaching an early apex with Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face (1960), which came to the US in a well-done English dub called The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus during the Halloween season of 1962.

Seldom paid much attention in retrospectives of this fertile period in continental horror cinema is a rare German example, Die Nackte und der Satan (“The Naked and the Devil,” 1959), which came to the US retitled The Head almost exactly one year before the arrival of the Franju masterpiece. Critics like to refer to The Head as “odd” and “atmospheric,” words that seem to disregard deeper consideration, never really coming to terms with it as anything but a sleazy shock trifle. However, it was in fact the product of a remarkable and rarely equaled concentration of accomplished patrimonies.

Consider this: The Head starred the great Swiss actor Michel Simon, renowned for his roles in Jean Renoir’s La Chienne and Boudu Saved From Drowning; it was directed by the Russian-born Victor Trivas, returning to his adopted homeland for the first time since directing Niemandsland (1932, aka No Man’s Land or Hell On Earth), a potent anti-war statement that was all but obliterated off the face of the earth by the Nazis when he fled the country, and who furthermore had written the story upon which Orson Welles’ The Stranger (1946) was based; it was photographed by Georg Krause, whose numerous international credits include Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory (1957); its sets were designed by Hermann Warm, the genius responsible for such German Expressionist masterpieces as Robert Weine’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919), Fritz Lang’s Destiny (1921), as well as Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) and Vampyr (1932), and its score is a wild patchwork of library tracks by Willy Mattes, the Erwin Lehn Orchestra, and a group of avant garde musicians known as Lasry-Baschet, who would subsequently lend their eerie, ethereal music to Jean Cocteau’s The Testament of Orpheus (1960). If all this were not enough, The Head was also filmed at the Munich studios of Arnold Richter, the co-founder of the Arri Group, innovators of the famous Arriflex cameras and lenses.

Though made after the 1957 horror breakthroughs made in Britain and Italy (Terence Fisher’s The Curse of Frankenstein, and I vampiri, co-directed by Riccardo Freda and Mario Bava), The Head represented a virtual revolutionary act in postwar Germany, where horror was then considered a genre to avoid. The project was proposed to Trivas by a young film producer named Wolfgang C. Hartwig, head of Munich’s Rapid-Film, whose claim to fame was initiating a niche of exploitation cinema known as Sittenfilme – literally “moral movies” – which, like many American exploitation films of the 1930s, maintained a higher, judgmental moral tone while telling the stories of people who slipped into lives of vice (prostitution, blackmail, drug addiction), their sordid experiences always leading them to a happy or at least bittersweet outcome. Though it goes quite a bit further than either Britain or Italy had yet gone in terms of sexualizing horror, The Head nevertheless checked all the boxes required for Sittenfilme and was undertaken by Hartwig in early 1959 as Rapid-Film’s most prestigious production to date.

After the main titles are spelled out over an undulating nocturnal fog, the story begins with a lurker’s shadow passing along outside the gated property of Prof. Dr. Abel. With its round head and wide-brimmed hat, it looks like the planet Saturn from the neck up. When this marauder pauses to pay some gentle attention to a passing tortoise, we get our first look at the film’s real star - Horst Frank, just thirty at the time, his clammy asexual aura topped off with prematurely graying hair and large triangular eyebrows that seem carried over from the days of German Expressionism. More bizarre still, he later gives his name as Dr. Ood, whose explanation is still more bizarre: at the age of three months old, he was orphaned, the sole survivor of a cataclysmic shipwreck .

“That was the name of the wrecked ship,” he explains. “S.S. Ood.”

The ambiguous Ood takes cover as another late night visitor comes calling: a hunchbacked woman wearing a nurse’s habit as outsized as an oxygen tent. This is Sister Irene Sanders (the screen debut of Karin Kernke, later seen in the Edgar Wallace krimi The Terrible People, 1960). Though Irene cuts a figure as ambiguous and unusual as any Franju ever filmed, she owes her greatest debt to Jane Adams’ hunchbacked Nina in Erle C. Kenton’s House of Dracula (1945). As with Nina, Irene lives in the hope that her deformity can be eradicated by the skill of a brilliant surgeon.

When Irene leaves after meeting with Dr. Abel, Ood presents himself with the written recommendation of a colleague he previously, supposedly, assisted. A burly old walrus of a man, Abel (Michel Simon) already has two younger associates, Dr. Walter Burke (Kurt Müller-Graf, “a first class surgeon”) and the handsome, muscular Burt Jaeger (Helmut Schmid), who hasn’t been quite the same since an unexplained brain operation. Both associates share a creative streak; Burke is also “an excellent architect, [who] designed this house,” while Jaeger “designed my special operating table; it allows me to work without assistants.” (So why does he have two of them? With names that sound the same, no less!) Given the high caliber of Hermann Warm’s talent as a production designer, Burke and Burt together are every bit as skilled in architecture as was Boris Karloff’s Hjalmar Poelzig in Edgar G. Ulmer’s The Black Cat (1934). The main floor of Abel’s sprawling house is dominated by a vast spiral stairwell, striking low-backed furniture, a mobile of dancing palette shapes, and an overpowering wall reproducing Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Virtuvian Man.” Down in the lab, Burt’s robotic surgical assistant looks as if it might have been conceived by the brain responsible for the Sadean mind control device in Jess Franco’s The Diabolical Dr. Z (1965) - a film that, along with Franco’s earlier The Awful Dr. Orlof (1962), seems considerably more indebted to Trivas on renewed acquaintance than to Franju. The film was shot in black-and-white and at no point inside Abel’s abode do the silvery, ivory surfaces admit even the possibility of pigment.

Adding to its effect, the music heard whenever the film cuts back to Abel’s place is anything but homey. It consists of a single, sustained electric keyboard chord played in a nightmarish loop that seems to chill and vibrate, its predictable arc punctuated now and again with icy spikes of cornet. Though I don’t recall reading any extensive discussion of the film’s music, The Head represents what is surely the most important advance in electronic music in the wake of Louis & Bebe Barron’s work on Forbidden Planet (1956). Though the film’s music credits list bandleader Willy Mattes, Jacques Lasry and the Edwin Lehr Orchestra with its music, the most important musical credit is displaced. Further down the screen is the unexplained “Sound Structure, Lasry-Baschet.”

Lasry-Baschet was a musical combination of two partnerships – that of brothers Francois and Bernard Baschet, and the husband-and-wife team of Jacques and Yvonne Lasry. The two brothers were musicians who played astonishing instruments of their own invention, like the Crystal Baschet (played with moistened fingers on glass rods), the Aluminum Piano, the Inflatable Guitar, the Rotating Whistler, and the Polytonal Percussion. The Lasry couple, originally a pianist and organist, began performing with the Baschets on their unique devices in the mid 1950s. Some of the music they produced during this period is collected on the albums Sonata Exotique (credited to Structures for Sound, covering the years 1957-1959) and Structures For Sound (credited to the Baschet Brothers alone, 1963), a vinyl release by the Museum of Modern Art. These and other recorded works can be found on YouTube, as well; they are deeply moving ambient journeys but I cannot say with certainty that they include any of the music from The Head. That said, the music they do collect is very much in its macabre character and would have also fit very well into Last Year At Marienbad (1961) or any of Franju’s remarkable films.

When Ood meets with Abel and expresses his keen interest in experimental research, the good doctor mentions that he has had success copying “the recent Russian surgery” that succeeded in keeping the severed head of a dog alive – however, his moral code prevents him from taking such experimentation still further. After leaving Abel, Ood finds his way to the Tam-Tam Club, a nightspot where a life-sized placard promotes the nightly performances of “Tam-Tam Super Sex Star Lilly.” This visit initiates a parallel storyline involving Lilly (Christiane Maybach), who supplements her striptease work as an artist’s model, and is the particular muse of the brooding Paul Lerner (Dieter Eppler), a man of only artistic ambition, much to the annoyance of his father, a prominent judge who wants him to study law. Maybach reportedly won her role the day before she began filming. According to news reports of the day, the actress originally cast – the voluptuous redhead Kai Fischer – had signed on to play the part, after which producer Hartwig decided she must also appear nude. Fisher sued Hartwig for breach of contract in March 1959 and he was sentenced to pay out a compensatory fee of DM 4,000 – in currency today, the equivalent of about $35,000. As it happens, Christiane Maybach doesn’t appear nude in the film’s final cut either.

The English version of The Head opens with a credit sequence played out over a shot of the full moon taken from near the climax of the picture. Unusually, the German Die Nackte und der Satan doesn’t present its title onscreen until Lilly is ready to go on. It’s superimposed with inverted commas on pleated velvet curtains that suddenly rise, revealing a stage adorned by a single suit of armor. Lilly dances out, stage right, garbed in a medieval conical hat, scarves, a bikini and a black mask, performing her dance of the seven veils around the impervious man of metal. She only strips down to her bikini but her dance ends with her in the arms of the armor we assumed empty, which tightly embraces her as its visor pops open, revealing a man’s face wearing skull makeup. Lilly screams, the lights go out, and the house goes wild with applause – a veritable blueprint for the striptease of Estella Blain’s Miss Death in Franco’s The Diabolical Dr. Z (1965).

The music heard during the film’s Tam-Tam Club sequences was recorded by the Erwin Lehn Orchestra, evidently with Jacques Lasry on piano, though its emphasis on brass is its outstanding characteristic. Erwin Lehn was a German jazz musician and composer who established the first German Big Band Orchestra for South German Radio. Brass was a major component of his sound – indeed, he made pop instrumental recordings credited to The Erwin Lehn Beat-Brass. You can find their album Beat Flames on YouTube, as well.

Backstage, the beautiful Lilly is a nagging brat, drinking and flirting with patrons while berating Paul’s lax ambitions on the side. Dieter Eppler, a frequent player in the Edgar Wallace krimis and also the lead bloodsucker in Roberto Mauri’s Italian Slaughter of the Vampires (1964), makes for inspired casting; he looks like a beefier, if less dynamic Kirk Douglas at a time when Vincente Minnelli’s Lust For Life (1956) would have still been in the minds of audiences.

Once Ood joins the payroll, Dr. Abel confesses that his heart is failing rapidly. The only means of saving himself and perpetuating his brilliant research is by doing the impossible – that is, transplanting the heart from a donor’s body into his own, which he insists is possible given his innovation of “Serum X.” What Abel could not foresee was that his own body would die during the procedure. Ood tells Burke that the only way to save Abel’s genius is to keep his head artificially alive, which his associate rejects uncatagorically, pushing Ood over the edge into murder. Then Ood proceeds with the operation, working solo with Jaeger’s robo-assistant passing along surgical tools as he needs them. When Abel revives, Ood breaks his news of the procedure gently by holding up a mirror and exclaiming that he’d had “one last chance – to perform the dog operation on your head!” Abel screams in revulsion of what he has become. The conciliatory Ood gently cautions him, “Too much emotion can be extremely dangerous now.”

The severed head apparatus is a simple yet ingenious effect, shot entirely in-camera and credited to Theo Nischwitz. It utilizes what is generally known as a Schufftan shot, a technique made famous by spfx shots achieved by Eugen Schufftan for Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1926). Essentially, Michel Simon was seated behind a pane of mirrored glass with all the apparatus seen from his neck up. The silvering on the reverse portion of the mirror was scraped away, allowing the camera to see through to Simon and the apparatus while reflecting the apparatus arrayed below his neck, in position for the camera to capture its reflection simultaneously. In at least one promotional photo issued for the film, Simon’s shoulders can be transparently glimpsed where they should not be.

Irene returns to meet with Dr. Abel and is surprised to find new employee Ood now alone and ruling the roost. When he offers to perform her operation himself, she instinctively distrusts and fears him – but is reassured after hearing Abel’s disembodied voice on the house’s sophisticated intercom.

After the killing and burial of Burke, whose body Bert Jaeger later finds thanks to the barking of Dr. Abel’s kenneled hounds (a detail that one imagines inspired Franju’s use of a kennel in Eyes Without a Face), the film introduces the dull but nevertheless compulsory police investigation, headed by Paul Dahlke as Police Commissioner Sturm. Sagging interest is buoyed by a surprise twist: when Dr. Ood returns to the Tam-Tam Club and asks the perpetually pissy Lilly to dance, he refers to her in passing as “Stella,” prompting her to recognize him as “Dr. Brandt” (the scorecard now reads Burke, Bert and Brandt), who has inside knowledge pertaining to her poisoning of her husband! Given that his earlier writing projects include Orson Welles’ The Stranger and the bizarre Mexican-made Buster Keaton item Boom In the Moon (also 1946), in which an innocent shipwrecked sailor is rescued from his castaway existence only to find himself confused with a serial killer, Victor Trivas would seem partial to characters who live double lives.

Though Ood/Brandt’s aura is basically asexual through the first half of the film, the second half requires him to take an earthier interest in the female bodies finding their way into his hands. He takes the already tipsy Lilly/Stella home for a drink and some mischief.

“What’s in the glass?”

“Drink it and find out.”

“I hope it’s not poisoned.”

“That’s not my specialty, is it?”

Lilly/Stella becomes the necessary auto parts for Irene’s pending operation. In a nicely done montage, the film dissolves from Lilly’s unconscious body to a glint of light off the edge of Ood’s poised scalpel. It cuts to a curt zoom into Abel’s scream at being forced to watch a procedure he abhors, then a dissolve from his mouth to the spinning dials of a wall clock, followed by some time-lapse photography of cumulous clouds unfurling from an open sky, before Irene awakens in her recovery room with a decorative choker around her throat. She is able to gain her feet and covers her nude body in a sheet. She finds Ood lounging in Abel’s old office. He walks toward her as the sheet tumbles off her bare shoulders.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Well, I… I’ve a strange kind of feeling, as if my whole body were changed, as if my body didn’t want to do what I wished.”

Therefore, Ood has not only taken away her deformity but her responsibility for her actions, as well. Though she has never smoked before, she craves a cigarette. As Ood lights one for her, her wrap falls further, undraping her entire bare back and thus exposing a birthmark on her left shoulder blade that becomes an important plot point. Ood confesses she’s been unconscious for 117 days, during which time he has passed the time by performing numerous enhancing procedures on her inert body. When he compliments her superb figure, she self-consciously covers her legs and recoils from him.

“Why run from everything you desire?” he asks. “You can’t run from yourself.”

He draws Irene into a surprising deep kiss, which – to her own apparent horror - she returns. Ood then tries to take things further but she refuses. After a brief (and surprisingly curtailed) attempt at abduction, he releases Irene, who dresses in a black cocktail dress and heels left behind by Lilly and returns to the humble apartment she kept in her previous life, where a full-length mirror stands covered. In a scene considerably shortened by the US version, she rips the cover away in a movement evocative of a symbolic self-rape, and glories in her new reflection. The score turns torrid, brassy, and trashy as she admires her shapely terrain, fondling the curves of her breasts and hips in a prelude to a gratifying personal striptease. She then goes to her bed, where she tries on an old pair of slippers; she laughs and kicks them away, delighted at how small her feet now are. When she wakes the next morning, she finds a pamphlet for the Tam-Tam Club in Lilly’s old purse, which leads her body back to its former place of employ. When she arrives, another striptease artist is working onstage with a bed. This performance appears to burlesque Irene’s own motions from the night before; she kicks off one of her shoes as Irene had done.

From the moment she walks into the club, still wearing Lilly’s clinging black dress, Irene evokes a black widow, a kind of Alraune – the femme fatale of Hanns Heinz Ewers’ novel, filmed in 1930 with Brigitte Helm and in 1952 by Hildegarde Knef. Like Alraune, she’s the beautiful creation of a mad scientist’s laboratory, but unnatural. In this case, she’s not really a soulless artificial being out to destroy men; on the contrary, she is soulful, starving for some insight into who she is, what she is. In this way, she particularly foreshadows Christina, the schizophrenic subject of Baron Frankenstein’s “soul transplant” played by Susan Denberg in Terence Fisher’s Frankenstein Created Woman (1966).

She quickly attracts Paul’s artist’s eye, just as the now-topless dancer onstage swirls into a swoon on a prop bed – unconsciously mimicking Lilly at the only time she ever saw her, when Ood gave her a sneak peek at the unconscious woman on his living room couch. She asks about Lilly, whom Paul mentions has been dead now for three months, her body (in fact, Irene’s former body) found maimed beyond recognition on some railroad tracks. He asks her to dance, but Irene refuses, as she has never danced, never been asked to dance before. But he insists and they both discover that she can: “You must be a born dancer!”

Beautiful and irresponsible, she allows herself to follow Paul back to his studio, where drawings of Lilly are displayed. Paul asks to draw her, and when she turns her back to bare her shoulders, he recognizes Lilly’s beauty mark. She flees from the apartment and confronts the unflappable Ood.

“You must have grafted her skin on my body!”

In the movie’s most hilarious line, he fires back, “You have a poor imagination!”

She rejects his true account of the procedure and demands to see Dr. Abel, so Ood takes her down to the lab for a personal confirmation from the man himself. Ashamed to be seen this way, Abel pleads with Irene to disconnect him from the apparatus. She is driven away before she can accomplish this, and tries to shut away the horror of the truth that’s been revealed by losing herself in her new relationship with Paul – but the old question arises: Does he love her for her body or her mind? There seems to be one answer when he first kisses her, and another and his lips venture further down her front.

I should leave some things to be discovered by your own viewing of the film, but it demands to be mentioned that Irene – the triumphant climax of Ood’s genius, so to speak – actually survives at the end of the film to live happily ever after. Think about this. This is something that would have been considered unacceptable in any of Hammer’s Frankenstein films at the time – indeed, through the following decade. So, although Ood is ultimately destroyed (you’ll need to see it to find out how), the mad science he propounds is actually borne out. It’s left up to Paul and Irene, as they walk off together toward a new tomorrow, how they will manage to live with the fact that the two of them are in fact a ménage à trois. Will they keep the details of her existence a secret? Will medical science remain ignorant? Should they ever have any, what will they tell their kids?

The Head was hardly the first word on severed heads in horror entertainment. In his own admiring coverage of the film, Euro Gothic author Jonathan Rigby likens the film to the story of Rene Berton’s 1928 Grand Guignol play L’Homme qui à tue la mort (“The Man Who Killed Death”): “There, Professor Fargus revived the guillotined head of a supposed murderer and the prosecutor lost his mind when the head continued to plead his innocence.” Earlier such films would include Universal’s Inner Sanctum thriller Strange Confession (1945, in which a never-seen severed head is a main plot point), The Man Without a Body (1957) and The Thing That Couldn’t Die (1958), the latter two proving that the concept was actually trending at the time The Head was made. Also parenthetically relevant would be She Demons (1958), which involves the nasty experiments of a renegade Nazi scientist living on an uncharted tropical island, who removes the “beauty glands” of native girls to periodically restore his wife’s good looks. Though The Head wasn’t the first of its kind, many of the traits it introduced would surface in similar films that followed – not only in Franju’s Eyes Without A Face or Franco’s The Awful Dr. Orlof and The Diabolical Dr. Z, but also in Anton Giulio Majano’s Italian Atom Age Vampire (1960), Chano Urueta’s The Living Head (1963), and most conspicuously in Joseph Green’s The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, not released until 1962 though filmed in 1959, some six months after The Head.

It must be mentioned that the film’s unusual quality did not go unrecognized by its American distributor. Trans-Lux Distributing Corporation advertised the film that took a most unusual approach to selling a horror picture. The ads did not promise blood, or that your companion would jump into your lap, or shock after shock after shock. Instead, Trans-Lux promised that “At The Head of All Masterpieces of Horror [my italics] That You’ve Ever Seen… You Must Place… The Head.”

Of course it was an overstatement, but the size of its overstatement would seem to have narrowed appreciably with time.

So why has The Head, with its rich pooling of so much European talent, been so neglected?

A key reason may be that horror fans like their actors and directors to maintain a certain consistency, a certain fidelity to the genre. Horst Frank (who died in 1999) would appear in other horror films, but never again played a lead; he pursued his career as a character actor and singer, maintaining a career on the stage and keeping close to home, never making films off the continent or appearing in productions originating from England or America. After The Head, Victor Trivas made no more horror films. The other four features he made had been produced a quarter century earlier and the majority are impossible to see in English countries. Those who remembered him for Niemandsland would have considered The Head an embarrassment, an unfortunate last act. It wasn’t quite a last act, however. The following year, he returned to America, where he sold his final script to the Warner Bros. television series The Roaring 20s, starring Dorothy Provine. Though the show avoided fantasy subjects, it was a voodoo-themed episode entitled “The Fifth Pin,” directed by Robert Spaar and televised during the series’ first season on April 8, 1961. The guest stars included John Dehner, Rex Reason, Patricia O’Neal and, surprisingly, beloved Roger Corman repertory player Dick Miller. Trivas died in New York City in 1970, at the age of 73.

The English version of The Head is considered to be a public domain title and has been available from Alpha Video, Sinister Cinema and other PD sources. This version was modestly recut to create a new main title sequence and to remove certain erotic elements unwelcome to its target audience in 1961. Happily, a hybrid edition – which, in a fitting fate, grafts the English dub onto the original uncut version from Germany – was recently made available for viewing on YouTube.

In the immediate wake of The Head, producer Wolf C. Hartwig pushed another erotic horror film into production, Ein Töter hing in Netz (“A Corpse Hangs in the Web,” 1960). Scripted and directed by Fritz Böttger, the film (Böttger’s last as a director) was first released in America as It’s Hot In Paradise (1962), sold as a girlie picture with absolutely no indication of its horror content. It was later reissued in 1965 as Horrors of Spider Island (1965). Under any of its titles, the film is notably lacking all of the artistic and aesthetic pedigree that made its predecessor so special and, indeed, influential.

Sixty years further on, The Head warrants fuller recognition as a spearhead of that magic moment on the threshold of the 1960s when so-called “art cinema” began to be fused with so-called “trash cinema,” leading to a broader, wilder, more adult fantastique.

by Tim Lucas

[1] Victor Trivas’ Niemandsland may be viewed online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-4XhNMWoyw

[2] Rapid-Film’s later successes would include the German film that was subsequently converted into Francis Ford Coppola’s directorial debut (The Bellboy and the Playgirls, 1962), Ernst Hofbauer’s Schoolgirl Report film series (1970-80), and Sam Peckinpah’s Cross of Iron (1977).

[3] You can see Lasry-Baschet perform and be interviewed in a French newsreel from January 1961 on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awaFd6gArLg&t=46s.

[4] Well, as “recent” as 1940, when footage of a supposedly successful Soviet resuscitation of a dog’s severed head was included in the grisly 20m documentary Experiments In the Revival of Organisms. The operation was performed (and repeated) by Doctors Sergei Brukhonenko and Boris Levinskovsky, making use of their “autojektor,” an artificial heart/lung machine not unlike the contraption seen in The Head. A close look at Experiments reveals that it really shows nothing that could not have been faked through means of special effects. (When George Bernard Shaw learned of the Soviet experiment, he’s said to have remarked, “"I am tempted to have my own head cut off so that I can continue to dictate plays and books without being bothered by illness, without having to dress and undress, without having to eat, without having anything else to do other than to produce masterpieces of dramatic art and literature.") Experiments In The Revival of Organisms has been uploaded to YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ap1co5ZZHYE.

[5] Rigby, Jonathan. Euro Horror: Classics of Continental Horror Cinema (London: Signum Books, 2017), p. 79.

[6] Joseph Green also worked in motion picture distribution and later formed Joseph Green Pictures, which specialized in spicy imported pictures, some from Germany. It’s possible that he saw the Trivas picture when it was still seeking distribution in the States. When Ostalgica Film released The Head on DVD in Germany under its Belgian reissue title Des Satans nackte Sklavin (“The Devil’s Naked Slave”), the disc included The Brain That Wouldn’t Die as a bonus co-feature.

[7] A fine quality homemade experiment, it runs 91 minutes 47 seconds and can be found at: The Head (Die Nackte und der Satan) 1959 Sci-Fi / Horror HQ version!.

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iceamericanoventi · 6 years

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Blank Space - Chapter 12

Part 11

———————

Boys only want love if it's torture Don't say I didn't say, I didn't warn ya

Eighty seven. Eighty eight. Eighty nine.

What day is it again? He kept both eyes shut; it doesn’t seem to have any difference at this moment. All is pitch black, sunrise looks like midnight and the dawn appears like an eternity without any sheer of light. Last night, he has another weird dream, a term he agreed with himself to call it as a replacement for nightmare. It’s not frightening, it’s just odd.

In that dream he was standing in an undefined vast space full of shadow passing by and among those absurd creatures he caught a smile. Just smile, as if it’s floating on the air instead of belong to particular face. The smile was familiar for the Jinki in his dream. However, the sober Jinki could never tell who that is which stressed him way too far for a merely form of hallucination.

He stirred under the blanket. The uncomfortable weight of the mounds of cotton forced him to kick the poor duvet. Too heavy, it just flopped back to its position, only to irritate him even further. Palms pressed to his face, he wished the instant friction on the skin washed over the weariness.

But of course he could only wish.

Ninety. Ninety one. Ninety two.

There’s a slight crack on the wooden beams on his ceiling that he noticed just now. After he gave up and checked the life rotating around him. He then wondered, for how long the crack has been there. And how come it didn’t catch his attention before today? Random calculation of the bending moment and load combination suddenly came up inside his twisted mind, occupy the vacant space he’s been neglecting these past weeks.

He blinks, one and two. His vision’s projecting the same image, hypnotizing in a way, hinting a pinch of motion sickness as a precaution. The crack’s there, still, visually concerning, but seemed like it doesn’t bother the whole structure supporting the floor above. From down there, the crack is simply filling the gap, completing the entire system.

He wished the crack in his heart is as static as that. But of course, he could only wish.

Ninety three. Ninety four. Ninety five.

Distorted and obscure, that’s how everything’s pictured behind his closed back eyes. The timeline of his memory is jumbled, it’s patchy at the edge and fragmented inside and out. How it happened, he couldn’t tell. But how it felt, he had at least half of the dictionary to complain about it. About how unfair it is, about how agonizing it is.

One moment in life, he’s seeing how happy Gwiboon talked about his corny jokes which deadly annoying but actually helping her dealing with the pressure of the fashion week at the same time. Any other second, he went red when the fraction of his memory flashed, force him to dredge up how he screamed directly to her face like a mad man, asking what kind of joke she was pulling out. She said she desperately wants to spend their bubble together, a little longer, until the day turns week, and week turns months. Then again she also stormed out the room on the next day, all drenched and broken, mimicking the same hazard occurred inside his chest.

Gwiboon is more than a crush, more than a fling, more than a good catch he discovered across the field. He wished she wasn’t.

But of course, again, he could only wish.

Ninety six. Ninety seven.

Men can only wish, the sky, at the end, would be the one who decide was it worth to be granted or not. He spent a whole night in secluded beach, a hideout place he learnt from his grandfather, screaming to the far high sky, but the wound unfastened wider. At some point he admits, he was partly responsible. He wanted – and loved – the idea of a relationship, but terribly in fear for the actual relationship.

What’s bad for being in a relationship? You idiot, Lee Jinki! He cursed silently, for the thousand times already this week. That if he didn’t count words spilled out his mouth when he was unconscious.

Ninety eight. Ninety nine.

Jinki can list at least ten reasons in less than five minutes why he didn’t pull his ass together and man up telling Gwiboon his feeling instead dropping some barricade with the whole being-casual-and-let’s-not-put-any-label-on-it shenanigans. And out of those ten reasons, none of them because of something that Gwiboon did. Or feel.

After all, he has no heart to blame her.

Hundred.

***

It’s easy to put a mask around the house, especially with a father who’s that busy and a mother who recently found a new hobby in her flower arrangement club. Unfortunately, not when a little devil descendant like Lee Taemin is actually present.

Jinki is about to go out, suffocated inside his room and suddenly feeling skimpy with just helplessly cuddling his pillow. He finally charged his phone and took his iPod out from the dock. While the other family members are somewhere scattered between living room and the kitchen, he managed to take a very quick shower and put on some presentable clothes.

Today, he opted to pick brown-maroon sweater, attempt to distinguish his feeling after last week his Mom was complaining about all the black dirty laundry he piled up making her doubling the effort doing the laundry since she had to separate all those clothes to not ruin each other. He snatched pair of jeans carelessly and as if all the constellations are lined up to pinch a joke on him, it happened to be the cropped jeans Kim Gwiboon decided to put her magic on it a while ago.

“Do you like the idea of me making you clothes?”

Jinki looked up for just a second before focused back on the contemporary art book on his hands, “What does that supposed to mean? Sounds really domestic on my ears just now.”

“Oh, please. I just asked permission, like, is it okay if I spice up your wardrobe a little bit?”

“I don’t think I need any.. but if you insisted, then I guess it’s okay. Your hands wouldn’t do something disastrous anyway.”

“Good. Because I already did,” she handed him back the jeans she stole from his wardrobe few days before, “Your jeans are all the same and I noticed you kept wearing the same ones over and over again I almost sure if I assessed it a little bit more attentively I would find holes at some point. That’s boring and I don’t want my man’s boring. So give that a try and thank me later.”

He looked himself at the mirror, his eyes struck on both his ankle when the end of the jeans hanging with jumbled strain of threads, the vivid evidences that once, Kim Gwiboon existed in his dull life. To entertain his boring life.

Boring.

Yeah, maybe that’s why she left me, because I’m boring, Jinki thought.

He thought she would be forever, they would be forever, because finally Jinki thought he found someone who leveled very well with his obduracy without coercing themselves too far. Turned out, this time is not any different with the previous relationship that he head, got his hope high then spitted out back to the earth right on the top of rocky valley. Not like the thing he had with Gwiboon could be entitled a relationship anyway. He wouldn’t dare to call it that.

If only I could muster up some courage back then and just asked her out in a very proper way, I would feel so much worthier than merely a fuck buddy.

He pocketed the car keys, inhaled a very deep breath, practiced his auto-reply smile before exited his dungeon. And there he is, waiting by the corner of the breakfast island, the devious Lee Taemin who’s always up to roast his own brother.

“Oh, hello universe. The grad student is finally showed up! Congratulation!! We need to celebrate this very soon! Should I buy some champagne?”

Jinki kicked the stool where he sit furiously before poured himself a good amount of orange juice, the bright yellow liquid vanished in less than thirty seconds.

“I heard from your Mom, Buddy. Finally, you’re going.”

“It’s not in anytime soon, Dad. I just got accepted. Barely finish my final project here.”

“But you can still take the long distance single course for the first semester right?”

His father had been busy coming back and forth among Seoul, Tokyo, and London. There wouldn’t be any chance left for him to go through in his courting mode and interviewing his mother because the woman would shower him with the story of her new club before he could ask anything.

“Who told you that?”

“Your brother.”

He shot a glare to Taemin who stopped middle air from shoving a piece of taco to his mouth, “Don’t blame me. That man come to me with new pair of shoes, of course I surrendered.”

“That man is your father!” his mother slapped the back of his head which attained an annoying squeal from the youngest son.

“I am worried a little bit about you, Jinki.”

There’s a reason why his father now became a very famous attorney. His instinct works beyond human shield.

“Don’t be, Dad. I will be fine. It’s just too handful a bit now, with the final project, preparation, and also adjust the online course and everything.”

“If only you picked London, I have lots of acquaintance there who can actually help you.”

“That’s in some measure, the reason why I picked Chicago. Too many people we know in London, Dad, they might judge as well while stretching a helpful hand. Besides, it was my first choice since the bachelor but the beautiful lady over there was begging like a toddler seven years ago for me not to go there too early. I won’t give up my dream twice.”

Thanks to cousin Minjung and her obsession on NBA when they’re in the grade school. Whenever she visited, she gushed about this Chicago Bull’s to the siblings and triggered a very young Jinki to go to his father’s library and checking some books about the place along the Lake Michigan. Soon enough, he fell for the Windy City and dreamed to move and work as an architect there.

“And yet, see how stubborn you grew up into. So much effort I pulled to keep you grounded next to me. At the end you’d flee away still.”

“You better go sooner or she reenacted the same scene again, Buddy,” his father winked to him, knowing Jinki would be at least smiling on it.

“Roger that, Pops! I’m going!”

Taemin looks dejected on his seat, this is the first time since forever Jinki’s finally leaving his sanctuary that he’s witnessing and he didn’t even pay attention to him. Is he okay? Did he find another girl already? Taemin is way more worried than he used to be.

“Where?! For a date?! Why?! How?! With whom?! Why did you leave me here?! Why didn’t you say anything to me?! Dude!”

“Stop the commotion right there, Lee Taemin. I called Junghee this morning both of you are going with me to shop for my next club gathering.”

“Why on earth you called her?! And how do you know her number?! Mom!!”

The scene left Jinki shaking his head and chortling, somehow, a bit of pleasant feeling occupied his hollow core. That might be the one he would be missing so much when he’s alone abroad. However, the excitement of finally leaving all the traces screaming Gwiboon’s name whenever he turned is all that he can think about now and then. What a perfect excuse. He can’t wait to run away from every single memory of her in this house, this town, this time zone that had been hunted him ever since she asked him not to see each other anymore.

***

Jinki stood right at the check-out desk, dropped his favorite red bean buns and pulled out the wallet from his back pocket. The first thing greeted him when he opened it was the silly picture of him and Gwiboon they took one day at the photo box near Jinki’s favorite arcade because it was suddenly pouring hard. He still has no gut to throw it out because deep down he realized when he took it out, when he finally took it out, it means he needs to let it go everything and he hasn’t down for it any closer yet.

“That’s all?”

The question of the boy in front of him breaks the bubbles inside his head. Jinki’s eyes went pass him and caught the rack full of cigarettes behind. How tempting in so many ways.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

He opened the wrap immediately he stepped out the mart and decided to get his caffeine intake across the street. The café seems not that full, maybe I can still find some blind spot at the corner.

“Jinki?”

A calm voice intrigued his consciousness. He looked around for a while until a woman with short blonde hair is intruding his personal view more.

“Amber, right?”

“Yeah. I thought I called the wrong person.”

“How so? Do I look different with his hair?” Jinki jokingly pointed to his choppy hair. He attempted to cut it by himself last week since he didn’t want to go to his regular barber shop, the man over there would talk nonstop and that was the last thing he desired. The result as everyone can see, was beyond awful. Let’s just all be relieved that his hair grows in the speed of light.

“A little bit,” Amber chuckled seeing how his hair seemed done by a blind person, “But mostly because you look tired.”

Jinki laughed, but not really laughing, “Just woke up and drove here. Stay up late for the final project. How are you?”

Of course he lied, who wants to turn the situation into an awkward moment by blurted out how messed up they’re currently?

“I’m good! Quite busy at the studio but that means we’re growing. So I’m not really complaining.”

“Sounds great.”

Sounds annoying. Why can’t other people as miserable as me?

“Totally,” she looks very pumped and Jinki felt so bad for not reacting with the same level of excitement, “And how is it going with you?”

“Busy but not, bored but not, just.. so so.. you know?” Jinki snorted, tad nervous with such a simple question.

“Ah, I know.. it must be difficult for you as well.”

“As well? I thought the studio’s doing great. You’re going through something?”

Guess it’s a blessing and a curse at the same time having his personality. Being born Jinki, he can’t just ignored people’s feeling even though he knew he’s not in the current capacity to help.

“No, no, yeah, I’m great, studio, factory, all is well. I mean besides Gwiboon.. it must be hard time for you too, you know… with all this situation.”

Jinki doesn’t remember he told anyone what happened between him and the girl. Not even Taemin actually, but that kid was probably a CIA in his previous life Jinki didn’t find the necessity to tell him, nonetheless he would still just come up with some weird ideas to cheer his brother up.

Like the other day, suddenly stack of Mars appeared on his side of fridge – yes, he has his own territory inside that place because once their mother got rid of something belong to him, he exploded like a land mine. Or suddenly, chicken bucket greeted him by the corner of his desk when he came back home almost four in the morning.

But besides that, he kept everything inside. Not any single word of her came out from him after that day. She must have gone to Amber to unload her heart and narrate some stuff about them.

“What can I say?” He sent her small smile but it looks bitterer than the last pills he took for his migraine two days ago.

“I’m sorry, for both of you, really. It’s always hard to choose when it comes for this kind of crossroad, even a very smart one can be the most indecisive human being on earth. I was in her position before. In my case though, I was so much more hardheaded than Gwiboon, that way it was easier for me to leave everything behind. Gwiboon was still nice enough to think about other people around her. Her brother, you, and even her crazy parents who don’t even care. You may already know how hard her father is to his children.”

Hard to choose? Between what? Father? Why suddenly she brought up her father when Gwiboon herself never talked about the said man? Not even Jonghyun who had been friend with him longer than his sister.

“I still remember she ruck-sacked my office all tears and snots rambling about she doesn’t mind throwing herself under the bus as long as she can stay here and not being sent to the states. Poor girl.”

Sta—wait, what?

He thought he knew Gwiboon, this new found though, completely confused him to the staple. After a very quick self-deliberation, he decided to play along and stay chill. Jinki’s afraid Amber would realize she did something she’s banned to and just left the conversation hanging on the air while Jinki finally can grasp the whole portrait of the puzzle Gwiboon left behind.

“Ah she told you that?”

For Jinki that was a pure question, with a tint of hope Amber would leak some circumstances a little bit more. However for Amber, she heard that as a response of bemusement as if Gwiboon not supposed to tell anyone that and kept it only between her and Jinki.

“I am really sorry. She didn’t want to say anything at first, but I guess I was too pushy and it happened that she just couldn’t handle it by herself anymore. Her dre—“

Amber’s phone beeped before she could finish her sentence. She excused herself to check the message and immediately glancing to her wrist, unpleasant air’s very evident on her face.

“Jinki, it was really nice stumbled into you. The work is calling, though, so.. if you don’t mind..”

“Ah, yeah. Of course. Sorry I was holding you here. Thanks for the quick catch up.”

“You take care, okay?”

“I will. See you around, Amber!”

Within a minute, Amber already leaving the side of the street they were standing. Jinki felt the need of caffeine boiling inside him is just got tripled.

***

Jinki accomplished simple tasks by eleven in the morning. He changed his sheets, almost one months later – finally, his mother almost burn the filthy mattress together with it, he made himself a good cup of coffee and grilled cheese, and now started to make trial renders for his interior proposal of his final project.

He put aside his ego and locked it at the corner of the back of his head after he met Amber and of course a long drive to his grandfather graveyard only to eat two whole chicken bucket while talking to his headstone. He obviously earned very weird and awkward gazes from the other people who happened visiting their beloved ones but he didn’t mind even slightly, because at the end of the day he’s convinced, at least Gwiboon left not completely because him.

Another reason is because his professor sent him an email reminded him if he still desired to graduate by the next batch, he needs to submit 50% of the final material no later than the next week. Therefore, the reasonable part of Jinki strangled the overly sensitive and emotional self to the ground and chained him for their own good.

And of course the last part was only happened inside his head but who cares? He finally managed to control his adrenaline by eating one kilogram of avocado for each meal yesterday. Healthy or unhealthy, the people in his house could only judge. With the amount of obstinacy he owned, nobody’s able to change anything.

“Jinx, you got a package,” Taemin trespassed the door on ease knowing he’s currently having the upper hand in the house after seeing the effect of his tattle tale nature on Jinki, “Did you order something?”

“I ordered pork stew and some soondae two minutes ago but I don’t think it would come this fast and I’m pretty sure they came in different container.”

“Funny,” Taemin dropped the small brown box on his desk, “I went to the mailbox to check my shoes but I found it instead.”

“You do have some shoes fetish, don’t you?”

“So what can I do if Reebok just released its new classic edition? Sleeping soundly at night knowing thousands people out there sporting the goods while I can only dream about it? Do you want to see the world burnt? Hell no!”

Jinki’s taken aback with the sudden outburst he didn’t expect. Those shoes must cost him such fortune, he shrugged and reached the package.

“Who sent this?”

“How would I know?”

Jinki assessed the wrapper, it does have the stamp of the courier company, so it must be sent through mail. But oddly enough, they let this package passed with no name or address from the sender was written on it. And lately, he didn’t order anything besides food. Or taxi, when the other day Taemin was sneaky enough being an asshole by taking his car to go on a date.

“You brought anonymous package inside my room? How could you? Don’t go anywhere until I opened it!”

Taemin wasn’t planning to go out soon anyway, but the shrieking voice released from Jinki’s mouth was insulting his pride enough.

“What? Did Mom finally rub you off too hard? You sounded exactly like her just now! And it was just a ridiculous package! Might be from your fans who finally found our address!”

“Might be a bomb as well! If this one exploded, I’m taking you with me!”

“Did you even hear yourself? Who do you think you are? President? Prince Harry? Bruno Mars?”

“Terrorism doesn’t own GPS nor common sense!”

“Neither do you!” he dropped himself to Jinki’s mattress after he couldn’t find any leftover of candies Jinki used to have here and there on his bookshelf, “Who knows it would be just fans gift like before? And who knows you don’t want it and I got to have that?”

Jinki finally realized the reason why his brother not leaving immediately after he dropped the good. It can’t be bad, this one went through the courier company scanning system, the worst he could get is a stupid prank from someone or like Taemin said, a gift from admirer.

“But I haven’t been on stage since God knows how long!”

“Jesus Christ, just open it for crying out loud! I’ll do it if you’re too scared!”

Taemin’s this close ripping Jinki’s pillow into two. Snickered lowly, he started peeling the wrapper only to find a fine maroon box with silver band tied it together. Once the content peeking through the opening Jinki made carefully, eruption of emotion burst under his skin.

Safely kept inside the box, all the Polaroid photos Gwiboon had been taking when they were together, she obsessed with Polaroid and could take three pictures at a time. The amount of love floating from the piles started to suffocate Jinki. They were happy, it’s started and ended in a disaster but they were happy.

He picked one where both of them doing stupid faces, it was in her studio where they spent the whole night working on their own deadlines. 3 AM, with the best companion ever, that’s how she wrote below.

‘When Jinki being an architect’

‘I had enough for today’

‘Coffee time’

‘Look at meeee’

‘He said I’m cute in this one’

‘The sweetest bunny’

‘Jinki’s number :)’

‘Can’t help but being sloth to him :P’

‘Winter Project’

‘He gives the best hug’

‘His baby carrot fingers :3’

‘How the sun looks when he’s sleepy’

‘Mine <3’

She left her message in almost every picture. And the last one nearly breaks the guard on his eyes. Mine, he brushes her cute hand writings, bitter smile adorned his gloomy face promptly. It was him, lips all red pursing like baby penguin, looks like he was arguing something and she didn’t miss the chance to frame his upset state.

He doesn’t know her whereabouts, phone calls and texts he sent only reciprocated by the provider service messages telling him the number had been deactivated. Yet now, he received the only traces left of her, returned back to him, as if she tried getting rid the last footprints of him that she possessed. It’s saddening.

Jinki continued digging the pictures, grimace, smirk, smile, and frowns appeared one to another, enlightened Taemin – who kept his brother in check by the corner of his eyes – that it was some important package. One Polaroid however was purposely been stuck to the bottom of the box.

Gwiboon was smiling, so bright, angelic and mesmerizing, with Jinki glued to her side, nuzzling her cheek, grin splitting on his half face printed on it, so evident it hurts.

‘98258’

It stunned him immediately. Still in daze, the sound of Gwiboon’s voice mocking him and his fixation on oldie stuff is echoing so loud inside his head. That’s started with simple conversation of current fashion trend which brought back the vibe from 90s. One thing led to another, both of them spent the rest of the night in front of Jinki’s laptop checking how the youngster using beeper to send each other message back then. He was so excited when they found this website full of silly quizzes where you need to encrypt the hidden message behind those series of number. And of course Gwiboon was annoyed because most of the time, it was Jinki who’s able to guess it correctly.

Even now.

“Taem.”

“Hmm?” he tried to act as nonchalant as possible but his ears perked so bad, desperately want to know what his brother is going to say.

“How do you know you love someone?”

He cocked his head to the side, just to found Jinki looking forlornly to the small box, “How do I know I love someone?”

“Did I ask the wrong person?” Jinki let out dry chuckle to ease Taemin.

“Ha. You may say so,” Taemin puffed the sides of the pillow under his head, “This may sound so pretentious and would make you cringed at some point, but I guess, nobody knows, Jinx. It’s not weather that you could forecast, not something that obvious as if you look at your window and be like crap-it’s-raining-outside. It’s just… happened. Some are lucky enough to be more aware than the other. Some are just too oblivious until the end, until they had the urge to invent the impossible time machine.”

“And some are just too dumb and chicken out when they realized they’re in love.”

“Were you in love?”

Jinki’s eyes fluttered close to the question, “I am.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Silence fell once again between the two. Taemin’s digesting still all the unexpected confession he just heard while Jinki now stared blankly to the pile of Polaroid spread over the surface of his desk. Recollection brewed inside his head, somehow he’s quite proud, half awe-struck half regretted, how they managed to have this much memory in a very limited time. Indeed, time is just a concept, it’s all relative up to the point you desperately need to stretch one slice of its epoch.

“Sorry, I was disappointing with my stupid try-to-be-poetic answer. Never been in love before, never expected I’d be, but one thing I can say to you because you’re my brother and even though we’re not twins we have this scary gene connection which is too similar and I bet twins would questioning themselves once they acknowledge this, if you found yourself relating random tiny detail to certain someone, you might as well go for it, then.”

“Is that what happened with you?” Jinki timidly asked, afraid that Taemin could proof further how he missed his chance by assuming he knew what’s the best for him and Gwiboon for these past months.

“Do you realize that the color of your wood structure is exactly the same color of Junghee’s eyes under the sun? Of course you don’t. So, yeah, more or less, that’s what happened with me.”

His eyes locked to one of the photo. Gwiboon was smiling on it, hair pulled up into his favorite messy bun, one shoulder exposed to the sun flares seeping through his window and touched the glowing skin on it. She looked so serene, the most beautiful he had ever seen, because in this one, he could see the genuine Gwiboon under those rumors, those pointed fingers, those make ups, pretty clothing, cynical comments and cold surfaces she put as masks. She’s the Gwiboon who he fell for.

And his heart clenched for he still vividly recalled how he convinced Gwiboon to let him took that picture of her the minute she opened her eyes, the girl finally gave up after he threatened her he would withheld her favorite shower sex. Worked like magic back then.

And worked like poison now once he realized it’s simply a painful memory left he held tight.

“Can you do me a last favor?”

“Sounds erotic,” he yawned and ready to slither inside Jinki’s comforter, “Both of us knew very well it won’t be the last, but yeah, shoot it.”

***

The house is painted dusted blue, huge window pane by the right far covered with light grey curtain from the inside, preventing people to peek on what’s behind the glass. The porch is not that big, but enough to accommodate couple of wooden chair with small concrete table. There’s no vehicle present in the carport, only an old skateboard leaned to the white wall separating the house with the neighbor.

Jinki nervously double check his phone, reciting the address written on the screen to himself, then make sure the number there is the same with the one placed on the wall.

He has never been here before, clearly. He licks his dry lips for the nth time this morning and glanced to his watch. Ten minutes late. Damn you bridge construction, he mumbled. He’s debating whether he should make a call or just go press the ring bell.

At the end, after another minute delaying himself like a sweaty anxious provincial exam taker, he opted to the second one. Vaguely, he heard someone’s approaching, and the door in front of him swung open inside. A familiar face greeted him with small nod and smile.

“Took you longer than I expected.”

“Well, need some time to make a peace with everything, I guess? I asked your number to Taemin just yesterday.”

“Come on in, then.”

“Thanks, Minho.”

***

cross-posted on my AFF couple weeks ago :)

This one is purposely written to center on Jinki, and the universe rolling around him. I am excited but also quite sad that the next chapter will be the last one. Thank you for reading and following this story. Hopefully, you like this chapter and the upcoming one as well! As usual, I only wish for your happiness wherever you are! Comments are always welcome! XOXO

P.S.: do you know what’s the beeper message mean? Let me know if you can guess! :P

Final

#onkey #het!onkey #onkey fanfic #onkey fiction #onkey scenario #jinboon #shinee fanfic

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endeavorsreward · 7 years

Text

Excerpt (Bk. I, Ch. 2)

1996 OV / 1233 ZA

Month of Scorpio

Ramza Beoulve, age sixteen, was leaning against a column in the meeting hall of the Royal Military Akademy at Gariland, watching his class gossip like scullery maids.

“Another wain was struck last night on its way to Eagrose.”

“The Corpse Brigade again?”

Ramza sighed and looked down at his feet. They should not even be gathered there. Drills had been interrupted by an immediate summons, and already some three score of them were assembled here, pulling each other's hair and tugging on breeches, whispering furtive theories when answers would only come in but minutes.

They were all between fifteen and twenty, two-thirds men, and largely noble. The Royal Akademy was the most respected training school in Ivalice, where the scions of western nobility were trained in chivalry and the ways of combat. Squires all, knights apprentice, after years of boarded living, and still children all as well, as they showed at the slightest disruption in routine. His brothers would be disappointed, and so Ramza attempted his best to look stately and prepared.

An outside observer might note his features, at least, did not betray him: blond hair pulled back neatly in a tail to reveal his noble brow and chin, showing even now through the last remnants of babyfat; he was lean and androgynous, and his eyes were kind, but his posture rigid and controlled like an animal's—or, indeed, like that of a knight of the Northern Sky. He had but a single, errant lock of hair out of place, one he'd never been able to tame for long.

The young man on his haunches beside him, however, felt no similar compunction to present. Delita Heiral was mending a glove with needle and thread, watching the clucking hens with interest. It was in principle the responsibility of each squire to care for their own kit; though Ramza hadn't the skill with a needle that Delita had, and he often did the sewing for them both. Delita's eyes bore an intense stare that Ramza knew well—he'd already made his conclusions, and was now taking in what he heard, weighing in the opinions of others he respected less to test against his theories.

He'd had a great many years to know that look, because Ramza and Delita had grown up near as brothers might, within the same home.

“Ramza? What think you of all this?” A woman one year his junior with her long blonde hair tied back beneath the blue kerchief of a field al-chemist approached, head all but bowed, her hands playing with the heavy bag tied 'round her waist, which held her implements of healing. Her face was the bright red of tomato plants. “Could the Corpse Brigade really have reached Gallionne?”

He grunted. His elder brother Zalbaag, who led the Order of the Northern Sky, had muttered as much across the table at shared dinner last. Banditry was to be expected of Dorter and eastward into Lesalia, where peasants toiled harder and the palace could be seen above the horizon, but Gallionne, the emerald of Ivalice?

Another squire, this one male, approached also to her side, arms crossed. He was fit of body but fat in the face, like a baby riding on a man's shoulders. This one's name he could recall: Cuthbert Fawkes, a third son like himself, though Ramza suspected Cuthbert's blood at least was true. The young man actually gave Delita a sort of half-nod before addressing Ramza and the young chemist. “I hear that the deserts are less patrolled and more wild.” This one was wincing, and Ramza could see in him already the Fear, the quake that the knights of Gariland had attempted to drill out of one and all.

Ramza sighed. Most of the incidents of the past six months were believed to be the work of a company of felons and former sellswords known as the Corpse Brigade. It was oft said the only good brigand was a dead brigand, and the Order of the Northern Sky would like naught more than to see the Brigade made corpses for true. But as yet, it was all the knighthood could do to keep the outlaws in check.

“I do wonder where all this leads.” He looked to Delita. “What do you make of this?”

Delita hesitated, looking at the other two students, as though they'd silence him. But when he saw they merely awaited his opinion, He took the needle from his teeth and licked his lips. Delita was not an unattractive boy, but he had none of Ramza's strong countenance; his eyes were slightly sunken and his skin not nearly so fair. He was already at sixteen a man of little sleep and too many thoughts. And unlike many at Gariland, his hands were callused from work. “I'm not sure. I have my guesses, but...”

Ramza frowned. “I'm listening.”

“I think Duke Larg is coming to Gariland.”

Their liege lord? “Duke Larg? Why?”

Delita shook his head. “Not just the duke. The Marquis Elmdore de Limberry, too.”

The other two squires were now looking at them both with open mouths, and Ramza rubbed at his eye. He'd known Delita long enough to assume he was correct, but he couldn't imagine how the man had come to this knowledge. “That's the first I've heard of it. This has not the sound of a state visit.” Limberry was the literal other side of Ivalice, at the border with Zelmonia, and the Marquis was well known as a figure that was... larger than life, as they say. Cuthbert looked to the girl, as if she could corroborate any of this, but she just kept looking at Ramza, as though it had been his supposition in the first place. He was not altogether comfortable with the awe she was directing at him.

Delita, on the other hand, was now looking at something else, some collection of boys on the other side of the crowd. “All of Ivalice is in turmoil. The Order's supposed to be keeping things under control, but the fact is, they number too few.”

This he knew, had even just been thinking, but the way Delita said it... “And they mean to bolster their numbers with us?”

The crowd parted and three boys approached their group. Ramza recognized the one at the vanguard, Gembert Rickeman, a second son whose grandfather had attended Denamda IV and had fallen out of favor from making a particularly vulgar bon mot at the new queen's expense within earshot of the wrong viscount. He was eyeing up Delita like a roast laid at the table's head. Delita stood, and Ramza turned to the other two squires. “Perhaps we may continue this later.”

The girl stepped back at his prompting, but Cuthbert was fixed in place and shuddering. A poor cadet, this one.

Delita turned his back on the looming Gembert and indicated the chemist, who was rejoining a group of friends to one corner. “I think you've an admirer.”

“I suspect I haven't.” Ramza sniffed, keeping one eye over Delita's shoulder and the sputtering Gembert. “Lord Brother may, however.”

“Ah, so you did know!” Delita grinned. “I admit to being impressed. You never seem to know what's going on with anybody.”

“I... wait, what?” He looked away from Gembert, back to the girl. “Who was that?”

“Her name is... hm...” Delita made a vague motion with his hand, as though pulling the name from the aether. “Dorothea Ingram! That was what it was. She was but knee-high, I think, when our Zalbaag helped end the Siege of Limberry—speaking of the devils—and I believe he made quite an impression on her! Indeed, I hear he may well have personally...” Cuthbert twitched, and Delita sidestepped just as a punch Gembert was throwing at the back of his head was about to connect. Ramza crossed his arms as the oaf hurtled forward fist-first at his own face. Gembert squeaked and tried to correct before dishonoring his entire family, falling onto his arse in front of his entire Akademy class to uproarious laughter.

As Gembert's two henchmen picked him up from the floor, Ramza gave Delita a wry look. “A cruel jape.”

Delita shrugged and grinned. “I trusted in your martial prowess, ere it did connect.”

Gembert, for his part, had not yet had enough, however. He leaned in close and snarled in Delita's face. “My shame at nearly striking a son of House Beoulve is nothing compared to the shame of Gariland, for letting standards fall so low to admit a stablehand as candidate for knighthood.”

Ramza grabbed Gembert's shoulder and jerked it towards him. “Delita is of House Beoulve, Rickeman, or are you to tell us that the word of my father is false?”

Cuthbert made a sound like merp and went cross-eyed.

Gembert shrugged off Ramza's grip. “Perhaps it's true, then, what they say, in that masters in time resemble their pets, Ramza. As your half-common blood beats faster through your heart by the day.”

A few people gasped. Dorothea, who was not so far from the confrontation—and indeed had returned closer as it had grown heated—was about to lunge in herself to confront the boor when Cuthbert suddenly found himself, taking her gently by the arms and rotating her away. Maybe there was yet hope for him.

Ramza, though, found his fists tightening. He could easily outmatch Gembert in swordplay, and there were near sixty witnesses to the offense. But then, rescue came from an unlikely source.

“Really, Gembert, how droll.” A tall man a few years Ramza's senior, unaccountably pretty, tracing a finger down his own cheek, appeared from nowhere at all, humming to himself. “How much further can you embarrass yourself? I'd say before your peers, but you and I both know that you haven't had peers in these halls in at least a decade or more, hm?”

Ramza cast a glance at Delita, who looked sick. They'd been saved by Osric Wineburg.

***

As the story went:

The Wineburgs were a high noble family of Lesalia through much of the Fifty Years War, with Osric's own grandfather serving with distinction, most notably in the Battle of Warjilis, when Ordallian ships had rounded Cape Ripoli and discharged invaders in the dead of night with a mind to occupying the church seat in Lionel.

They were, of many generations back, from Romandan stock, but had been loyal Ivalicians for so long that it had been of no concern until Osric's father, who had a barony in Grogh Heights, had been of a mind to entreat the Romandans to unseat Ondoria III in hopes of elevating his own station, and had passed messages covert to very distant cousins across the Rhana Strait. But Osric's mother had been loyal to the crown, and had done the unthinkable, cutting the man's throat in bed. By all rights, they had together doomed their house, and she had thrown herself at Ondoria's feet and begged mercy only for her infant son. Ondoria, who had been healthier then, had dismissed Osric's mother from the court immediately; he'd then mumbled offhand to the attendant Dukes Larg and Goltanna that in truth, he'd taken the woman to bed himself a year or two previous, and that the child was likely his own. Rumor told that Queen Louveria, who had sat to his side, had rolled her eyes openly.

Not a man nor woman in Ivalice believed the king. But it had saved the Wineburg name. Osric's mother, who had slain her husband, was sent gently off to a nunnery to live out her days, and Osric was treated with the due respect of a royal bastard. He'd never be in line for succession, of course, but he had traded off the name of the king ever since. If the Beoulves were, in a sense, royalty of Ivalice in all but name, Osric Wineburg was the exact opposite. And similiarly inverse, Osric had all the attendant arrogance without the Beoulve deeds to back them.

Ramza hated him; Delita hated him more.

***

Osric clapped Ramza on the shoulder as Gembert stalked off to find some other lesser noble to sneer at; Ramza didn't look him in the eye.

“Men like Rickeman don't understand, Ramza. You must take pity on them.” He chuckled. “After all, Heiral here would understand better than anyone—a chocobo you ride into battle, you can't help but view fondly. And they, too, shall serve, until they're put out to pasture.” Before Ramza could offer a retort, however, a knight at the hall's entrance clapped his sword against his shield.

“Form up!”

And so the cadets of Gariland gathered into even parallel lines, standing at attention, as their instructor entered and took the podium at the room's head. Master Bordam Darlavon took in the sight of the assembled students and nodded. The whole class breathed in...

“There comes in every man's time a moment, a call to be answered...”

...And everyone let that air go out at the same time. Ramza's shoulders slumped. Delita's head sagged. He could see Cuthbert's face collapse. Someone even let out a moan.

Master Darlavon was not known, to put it mildly, for being concise.

“...as, indeed, so, with great alacrity, our fathers stood upon the...”

He had served in the war, yes—commissioned as aide-de-camp for a single tour of duty, he had seen little combat. He was perhaps well versed in matters historickal and theoretickal but was not what one might call a leader of men.

“...as even peace might try a soul, when weighed against the ambition of...”

Ramza turned his head as much as might be not considered disrespectful of his instructor's attention, and found Dorothea, who was staring right at him. He snapped his gaze forward again with a wince.

“...bravery instead of the heart, each of we sons of Ivalice...”

If Duke Larg and the Marquis were in Gallionne, they were likely meeting with Ramza's eldest brother Dycedarg, who was the Duke's closest friend and advisor. They were moving history as if a lever, with the Beoulve name as a great fulcrum. Ramza, meanwhile, was here. What was he yet doing to honor his father's will?

“...bonds of fire and blood forged today will serve you in statesmanhood...”

He looked again to Delita, who was brother enough as well. When Delita and his sister's parents had died, his father Barbaneth had taken them into his fold without a second thought. Their origin hadn't mattered to him, and it had never mattered to Ramza, either. Men like Gembert Rickeman merely struck where they thought their betters were weakest, that was all.

“...to remember these times as the greatest you'll ever have...”

And so on and again and again and so on, for a quarter-hour or more, until even Darlavon was starting to nod off at the dais, and someone at the hall's entrance cleared his throat.

“Hm?” Darlavon blinked, then seemed to realize that this had been an urgent summons in some epoch past. “Your full attention to a knight of the realm with full honors, Ser Folcurt Reeda Lynde.”

A man in armor with gold plate and filigree walked up the aisle between the cadets. Ramrod straight in posture, gleaming in refracted sunlight, with the strong set jawline of a most chivalric tradition. This was Lord Brother Zalbaag's most trusted and celebrated lieutenant. He gave Ramza the slightest of curt nods as he passed, and Ramza felt the eyes of five dozen cadets upon him.

Ser Folcurt very tenderly extricated Master Darlavon from his death-grip upon the podium, and leaned in to address the flock.

“The Order of the Northern Sky has an assignment for its knights apprentice.” A half-breath for the import to sink in, and then, before they could begin to react: “As I'm sure you're already aware, the number of brigands roaming Gallionne is on the rise. Among them, the Corpse Brigade... a seditious lot with a grudge against the Crown. Rogues such as they must be dealt with. The Order has been commanded to undertake an operation to eliminate the Brigade—an operation of a grand scale.” He held up his hand. “We will not be acting alone. The Order will be joined by, among others, His Excellency Duke Larg's royal guard, stationed at Eagrose. This will leave Eagrose Castle undermanned. Your task will be to proceed there, and support us from the rear by bolstering its defenses.”

There was the softest murmur as the cadets began to take in the responsibility of protecting their Liege Lord and the people of Eagrose Castle. Delita looked back towards him, and Ramza's lips set. Yes, Delita, you were right, you are always right... A knight came jogging up to the podium, a junior, with one hand on the pommel of her sword, and Ser Folcurt stepped down to listen to her whisper. He responded with a few quiet words, and she dashed right back out. He looked to the crowd.

“The time to take up arms is upon you, young apprentices!” He slapped his gauntleted hand once against the podium, out of emphasis rather than emotion. “I've just received word that a band of thieves routed by our knights flees here to Gariland, seeking refuge. We will move to stop them, and finish the task of our brothers. You, young apprentices, will accompany us. This is but a squall before the storm of battle. Prepare yourselves at once! Dismissed!”

Wait, battle here?

The cadets began to scatter. Some moved with purpose; others with panic. Someone bowled Cuthbert Fawkes over in a dash for the door, and Ramza had to catch him before he spilled out, got trampled in the rush. Delita came up to them both, and he looked stunned. There would be fighting in the streets of Gariland, and it would happen that day.

“I...” Cuthbert croaked out, but then stopped. Ramza nodded. It was fine to feel it, the Fear—Ramza felt it, Delita felt it—but there need be no words, for they'd serve nothing.

Knights stationed outside were shouting out assignments and postings, forming companies on the spot of green cadets. Ramza was about to join them, when a shadow fell over them and Ser Folcurt was there.

“Ramza Beoulve.”

“Ser Folcurt.” He bowed slightly, but Folcurt waved it off.

“Ser Zalbaag expects great things to come of you.” They all walked towards the door together. “I'm personally stationing you at the cadet vanguard. Choose your men and position yourselves in the east side of town, the merchant's quarter. Do you know where in that area is best?”

Ramza nodded slowly. “Down the way from Darbinian's Smithy, the streets funnel and then split where the river becomes a small canal; we can winnow them there.” He glanced to Delita for confirmation, who nodded—his thoughts exactly. Good.

Ser Folcurt actually smiled. “Good man. Get your unit out there; you have a few hours before they reach the city.” He headed towards the other knights. “Good luck. May we all live another day.”

Cuthbert grabbed his own face and started exhaling rapidly. “I don't know if I'm ready.”

Ramza nodded, took the man's arm. “I can swear to keep you safe, or you can find a group farther from the vanguard, it's your choice.” They had not been given formal companies yet, nobody had been promoted to squire-command. This was Ser Folcurt making a rapid judgment call. He wasn't concerned, so Ramza tried not to be, either. They weren't herding a stampede, this was a band of thieves being run to ground. Likely the knight had thought this practical training. He looked to Delita. “How do you fare?”

“I find it peculiar.” Delita was rubbing his chin. “The summons was all-class and urgent, but no mages in training were in attendance.”

“Oh... that's simple enough.” Cuthbert rubbed at his arm, from where Ramza had held him. “They're too difficult to rouse. Meditations and the like. Before they announced the thieves, they likely intended to inform them as their sessions finished.”

“But that means,” Delita said slowly, “the mages are not yet assigned to companies.”

He frowned. “You don't know any mages.

“Indeed I do not,” Delita allowed, “But we know of one.”

Ramza groaned. “Tell me, Delita, you do not mean who I think.”

#Excerpts #Ramza #Delita #Darlavon #Folcurt #Cuthbert #Dorothea #Osric #Gembert #FFT #FF Tactics #Tactics

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sablelab · 7 years

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Roses for Valentine’s Day 1/6

DISCLAIMER:

This AU Valentine story is a complete work of fiction and as such is an entirely fabricated tale created in my imagination.

SYNOPSIS:

Claire Beauchamp’s friend Geillis Duncan has persuaded her to have a night out on the town at a nightclub because she has been down in the dumps missing her boyfriend. Her friend is dying to meet Claire’s elusive man, and in turn Geillis introduces her to that someone special in her life, which only exacerbates her best friend’s melancholy so near to Valentine’s Day.

CHAPTER 1

Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart. ~ Kay Knudsen

The two friends stepped outside into the cold night air and walked quickly down the street towards Sub Club where they were going for a night out on the town. Clutching her coat tightly around herself, Claire Beauchamp walked along the pavement deep in thought for several minutes. Her friend Geillis Duncan was chatting to herself in high spirits oblivious to the fact that Claire wasn’t returning her conversation. She looked around her at the street at people passing by, and suddenly realized that tomorrow was February 14th … Valentine’s Day… that special day for lovers, but it didn’t have the same excitement as it usually did, for she was unsure whether she would see Sam or not.

Slowing their pace, the two women looked at the store fronts as they passed them by. Almost all of them were decorated in various shades of red and white, with hearts and Cupids hung all over the place advertising the fact that Valentine’s Day was imminent. Claire did a double take when she saw a tall, red headed man heading out of one doorway holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a teddy bear with a red bow around its neck in his hands. He had the same height and colouring as her Jamie and she felt her heart skip a beat thinking that it was him, that is until he turned around to hail a cab and she knew that it was not. Disappointment swept over her like a blanket of fog and she sighed.

“You okay Claire? You look like you just saw a ghost,” Geillis asked a little concerned at her friend’s pallor.

“No … No … I’m fine. I thought I just saw somebody I knew.”

“Yeah, I noticed that guy too. Handsome devil. Someone is a lucky woman. Did you see what he was carrying?”

“Sorry, no I didn’t notice,” was her noncommittal answer.

She had however seen what he was carrying and it made her think about last year when she and Jamie had shared some late night macaroons for Valentine’s Day. She noticed everything, especially the couples everywhere she looked … holding hands, dining together, or just gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes. Claire sighed, feeling a little pang of longing in her heart. When she saw all these happy people her thoughts inevitably turned to the man she loved. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift into their fantasies for several seconds. They had been just like these couples, doing things they were doing tonight and enjoying each other’s company. They walked together on the street, holding hands. They would sit in a coffee shop sipping coffee, talking together and looking into each other’s eyes. Oh, how she wished she could just feel Jamie’s arms around her now … to kiss those sensual lips of his and to drown in that perfect body and the beauty of his eyes. She missed him … she missed them … so terribly much and her friend Geillis had noticed her melancholy over the last couple of days and that’s why they were here tonight.

Opening her eyes suddenly, Claire tried in vain to erase the memories of Jamie’s touch and especially his unique scent from her mind. She wondered what he was doing and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. He’d been working overseas for the last few months and hadn’t been able to get time away from the court case he was working on. It was dragging on longer than expected and although they’d been in contact constantly, it was not the same. Claire tried to convince herself that it was just the fact that it was a special day tomorrow that she was feeling so down in the dumps. It was just hard to imagine being on her own for Valentine’s Day that had really seemed to strike a nerve. Her friend Geillis though, had been a godsend. Tonight, was her way of helping her get over missing her man.

Nonetheless, Claire continued to walk slowly down the street, lost in her thoughts, until Geillis’ voice broke her from her musings. “Hey! There’s the nightclub … It’s just up ahead. I hope you are as pumped as I am Claire?”

“I’m always thrilled when we do things together,” was Claire’s candid reply to her friend, hoping that her voice sounded much better than the way she actually felt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neon lights advertising the nightclub lit up the surrounds in the still night air as Claire and her bestie made their way toward the venue. Sub Club appeared to be the place to be seen for all the hip young Glaswegian clubbers who frequented this type of night life scene. The atmosphere outside the club was buzzing for a Friday night and Claire could only imagine that inside would be the same. There was a long line of patrons waiting outside on the pavement for admittance and the two women joined the queue and stood in line waiting to get in. “Exciting hey?” Geillis exclaimed looking around at those gathered then at her friend next to her. “Yeah … I’m glad I came. It might just be the tonic I need.”

“You’ve been moping around for days Claire Beauchamp.” She exclaimed. “I’m glad you decided to have a girl’s night out with me. It will be fun. This place is the place to be in Glasgow any day of the week.”

“You’re right … I did need to get out. I can’t sit at home waiting for my boyfriend to return from his work-related trip to the States. But I do miss him so.”

“All the more reason for you to enjoy tonight. When are you expecting this mysterious man … the one I have yet to meet … home?”

“Soon, I hope. I really hope he gets back for Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m sure he will move mountains to do that. Don’t worry. He’ll be back for that special day,” she replied encouragingly.

With a small smile Claire cast her friend a side look but inwardly her heart was breaking to think that Jamie may be held up and wouldn’t be home for Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Her friend though was full of beans tonight and Claire couldn’t help but notice that Geillis was beaming.

“What has got you so keyed up tonight?”

“Oh, I’m so excited … I so want you to meet my new guy … He works here you know.”

“Really? So, is that why you invited me out and why we’re at this particular nightclub?”

“Maybe,” was Geillis’ coy reply before her face lit up with animation once more. “You’re gonna love him Claire … he’s a dreamboat.”

“Sounds like you really like this one.”

“Oh, I do … I do. I think he may be the one.”

“Well, my curiosity is peaked now my friend. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I hope your man returns soon too Claire so that I can meet him as well. Even though I’ve heard a lot about him, I sure do want to put that image in my head to a real face.”

Claire gave her an enigmatic smile that she hoped Geillis would accept as her response to her friend’s joy at being here tonight. Although she was happy for her buddy, at the same time she couldn’t help but feel a little envious of her happiness. She missed Jamie dreadfully and just the mention of his name sent thrills coursing down her spine. She was a little worried though because she hadn’t heard anything from him over the last few days and that made her anxious. He always called to say how his day had been but the silence had been deafening and she couldn’t help but think the worse. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow night and the thought of spending it alone really cut to the quick.

Lost in the personal thoughts coursing through her head and trying to shake off her reverie, Claire managed to give the impression that she was indeed happy to be here tonight for some fun. The two women stood side as they slowly moved closer and closer to the front of the queue, waiting for their signal to enter the nightclub.

“I think the line is getting shorter, we seem to have moved up a fair bit Geillis.”

“Yeah, you’re right Claire,” her friend replied looking back at the meandering line which now stretched for nearly a block. “I’m excited. Are you excited?”

“Of course. Thanks for bringing me tonight. I’m sure we’ll both have a fabulous time.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Finally, it came to their turn and after being given the once over by the security people at the door, the two women made their way inside.

The club atmosphere was dark and edgy. Walking down a few steps into the nightclub, they made their way through the crowd sashaying across the floor to the beat of the music with Geillis leading the way. The nightclub was full of smoke, and light, reflected off the large mirror ball hanging from the ceiling danced across the walls. People were dancing on three different levels to pulsating live music. It had a real warehouse, rage club atmosphere this evening with wire cages and a hard-core S & M crowd in attendance.

“Every week they have a different theme … looks like tonight is for the steadfast patrons.”

“True, it sure looks that way,” Claire replied casting her eyes around the venue. She took in the crowd gathered as well as noticing where the security guards were posted around the dance floor should she wish to leave early or if anyone became overtly obnoxious towards her.

In the throng of the crowd, the two women got separated from each other. As Claire drew parallel with one of the couples dancing and tried to pass by; a man broke away from his partner. He stepped in front of her grabbed her hands and began to shimmy up against her gyrating to the music. He twirled Claire around the dance floor then brought her flush to his chest simulating erotic moves rotating his hips back and forth. She managed to break away just as Geillis came to her rescue, dragging her to a table situated near the band.

“You okay Claire?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Some of the guys can be jerks … you have to watch out or they’ll grab you.”

“So, I noticed.”

“Hey look … there he is! There’s my guy!” Geillis excitedly announced pointing towards the stage where a live band was playing.

“Which one?”

“The lead Guitarist … The good looking one with the goatee beard. Isn’t he a spunk?”

“Ahhh! I see.” “Well? What do you think?” “He’s okay I guess.” “Wait until you meet him. He’s a honey.” They ordered a drink then watched the people on the dance floor while they waited. Couples continued dancing until the band’s medley came to an end and they took a well-earned break. Taped music took over from them until the new replacement band had set up their instruments. The band members dispersed to meet up with the groupies hanging around or girlfriends who were waiting. Geillis waited for the lead guitarist to finish putting away his instrument, then she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately oblivious to those around them. Claire watched from a distance as the two embraced once more then headed for the quiet seclusion of the table she had procured. Dragging him by the hand towards her friend Geillis gushed, “Claire … this is Dougal.” She smiled. “Hi … I’m Claire.” “Hey … Nice to meet you.”

For a lead guitarist, Claire thought he was quite shy and reserved. He was quite tall and dark haired but she could see that he had heart eyes for her friend. Dougal had left his hand on Geillis’s back as they were introduced and she could see the reciprocated looks she too gave her man. Taking her cue from their body language that they wanted to be alone, Claire asked, “Hey how about some more drinks? … My shout,” she offered.

“Thanks,” they said in unison but with eyes only for each other.

“Okay then … I’ll be right back.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The three friends sat at their secluded table and engaged in animated small talk in the dimly lit nightclub as they waited for the replacement band to begin their bracket. The new group finally belted out a rock tune, and the throbbing cadence of the music was so loud and pulsating that they could barely hear themselves speak.

“The music is a bit loud isn’t it?” Claire stated leaning towards Geillis.

“What?” she queried. A little louder she repeated her statement. “I said the music is a bit loud.” “Yeah … it is a bit …” Geillis replied raising her voice to make herself heard too before turning her attention back towards her beau.

Claire watched as Dougal and her friend sat with their heads close together oblivious to everything and everyone but each other. She and Jamie would do that too and Claire had to look away as she felt a tear well in her eyes. She couldn’t let the happy couple see her sadness and shrugged off the negative melancholy with a more positive feeling of her love’s return. Claire knew he would be back but when was the question she couldn’t answer. She missed him something fierce and longed to feel his arms around her and taste the sweetness of his kisses, just as Geillis was receiving from Dougal.

Feeling like the third wheel, Claire nonchalantly scanned the room looking from one side of the nightclub to the other. Couples were on the floor dancing to the music while others were sitting with people having drinks. She observed several young Scottish men flirting with their girlfriends and that too made her think of the banter between her and Jamie. He would flirt with a lamp post but she always gave as good as she got as well. They were perfect for each other and their flirting was a prelude to the foreplay that inevitably led to lovemaking. Sighing, Claire took a long swallow of her favourite whisky. She had not seen her lover for months and thought it was time she pulled herself together and got over her sadness of missing him. Tonight’s outing was why Geillis had brought her here … to reconnect with life, to have some fun and to forget her missing the love of her life. Her friend was right. Jamie would be home for Valentine’s Day. She just knew he wouldn’t miss this special anniversary.

When Dougal eventually turned away from his girlfriend and reached for his glass of beer, Claire engaged him in conversation while he had a sip of his beverage, taking the opportunity to find out a little more about him before the band began a new song.

“So, Dougal … How long have you worked here?”

“Since the club opened. Why?” “I heard that a guy called Steven Cree owns Sub Club. Does he ever come here?” “Sometimes.” “Is he here tonight?” she enquired enthusiastically. “No he’s not.” “I’ve also heard he’s a very funny comedian … Is that correct?” Dougal smiled, “Yeah … you could say that. He does a stand-up comedic routine from time to time. The patrons love him. He’s hilarious. He’s doing a gig next Saturday week I believe.”

The music had the crowd soon rocking again and Claire watched the patrons enjoying themselves dancing and moving to the beat. The pulsating rock music went on for several more songs until the band members also took a well-earned break. When the music stopped playing all was quite except for voices in laughter and conversation as people returned to where they were sitting for a drink and a rest.

“Oops there’s my cue. Sorry girls … duty calls.”

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt as Dougal rose to leave for the band’s next bracket. Geillis gave him a sad look as she rested her hand on his arm savouring that last touch before he had to leave. Leaning down he gave her a quick hug and a kiss before returning to join his other band members on stage.

“Enjoy the night girls … See ya later babe … ‘Bye Claire, nice meeting you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* to be continued

#valentines day #samcait fanfic

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spamzineglasgow · 4 years

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(ESSAY) The Ritual of Panic, by Rhiannon Auriol

Rhiannon Auriol situates panic in its personal, cultural and political contexts. With reference to fire festivals, witchcraft, film, visual art and literature, historical upheavals and contemporary crises, the essay considers the tensile, sometimes erotic, functioning of panic in relation to ritual, fetish, social boundaries and the pressures of adolescence.

> The opposite of an orgasm is a panic attack. It is also its twin. Both can leave you shaking. Breathless. Sweaty. You can have them in multiples (if you’re female-bodied), sometimes in a row for hours. There is a sense, to both, of a ritual release; once the last throes dissipate there is a violent shape of relief. And although the emotional aftermath of each is radically different, one thing is for sure – you always remember your first time.

> The ritual of panic is brutal and cyclical. I had my first panic attack aged 14. At school, they were reliable company. I would lock myself in a toilet cubicle when I felt one coming. I learned early on how to have panic attacks very, very quietly. Learned to carry all the right kit in case of an emergency rendezvous with my panic: tissues, makeup remover, water, gum, rescue remedy (I’ve graduated now to cigarettes and CBD). I have been panicking in this routine for years; all my life high-functioning anxiety has affected by ability to form healthy relationships with food, sex and work. I came of age nervously and erratically, swinging from confidence to collapse on a roughly six-month rotation. Terrified and in thrall to my panic, I was prepared to try anything to satisfy its crippling needs. And in this way my panic became ritualistic, a deity, pacified ineffectually by a private ceremony performed in bathrooms up and down the country. I got by without ever asking why I felt so trapped in this cycle, without examining what my struggle showed about the myth of worry that so many live by. Then I tripped over an essay by Fiona Duncan which struck home with its line, ‘Anxiety is a story I am telling myself’. My panic controlled me through my belief in it, I realised.

> Ritual, panic and sexuality are old lovers, intimate enemies. One of the definitions of panic is ‘of or relating to the god Pan’, the pastoral deity and mythological figure who has been portrayed alternatively as a kindly satyr or a sexual-Satanic symbol of ritualistic sacrifice. The myth goes that if the sleeping god was disturbed, panic would ensue, the flocks and herds of his slumberlands scattered by the resultant wrath. In order to placate the divine sleeper and avoid panic, animals were ritualistically slaughtered at Pan’s altars, ancient blood spurting onto stone in perfect harmony with the people’s nervous heartbeats. Pan’s association with nature also ties him to ideas of fertility and sexuality, to the rhythms of the seasons and their accompanying rituals such as the pagan celebrations of solstices and equinoxes. To an extent these festivals, as with many religious rites, are also sacrificial acts, alternative performances of homage to the power of the worshipped object (be it moons or gods) while also hoping for protection from fearful forces of change.

> There is something to be said for exploring the erotic element of these acts. As a child I regarded pagan celebrations in the same light as sexuality; they seemed mysterious and thrilling peaks of energy, climaxes if you will, strange and enchanting and (according to my Catholic mother) forbidden. When I moved to Edinburgh for university, I was free to go to the Beltane Fire Festival on Calton Hill, a ‘ritual drama’ and Gaelic celebration of May Day which throbs and flickers with sexual energy – from the raw allure of the dancing to the fierceness of flesh painted red, flowers of fire streaking the night sky. I saw how Beltane welcomed chaos and through this sense of liberation and lightness, the darker side of our impulses, panic, was staved off.

> It is possible however for the object of worship to become fetishised through rituals, symbolically distorted into something it is not. In the 18th century ritualism began to be associated more and more with notions of perverse sexuality, as did the god Pan. The goat-like form of the nature god began to take on a Satanic symbolism, largely due to Christianity’s moral panic over anything to do with sexuality and alternative deities, both of which Pan embodied. Consequently, people who worshipped Pan or Satan were denigrated by mainstream society as Satanists, pagans, witches. Demonstrating this shift in attitude with his Black Paintings series the 1798 Francisco Goya painting Witches’ Sabbath depicts a Satanic Pan surrounded by a coven of worshipping yet cowering witches. The great goat is garlanded and presides over the painting as if a priest in ceremony, the object of awe but also fear as indicated by its emphasised size and centrality to the composition, as well as the terrifying eye contact it maintains with the viewer. One of the witches clutches a baby, suggesting at first the Christian ritual of baptism, except the way the infant is grazed by one of the Devil’s hooves means it could also be a sacrifice, thus the baby is transformed into a signifier of both life and death. As a symbol of fertility, the baby also contrasts with the barren landscape of the piece’s background, which is littered with the skeletons of children. Such ominous depictions of Pan became rife, particularly in Europe at this time. And through such widespread portrayals, the concept of Pan was fetishised as the image became more powerful than the reality, especially when coinciding with proximity to moments in history such as the Basque Witch Trials. The tendency towards fetishisation taps into something fevered and feared stemming from how our societies are organised – the psychosexual release that comes for many with the mystery of worship is tempered by the craving to have control over a dominant wildness in our being, to shape power into a more limited comprehension.

Francisco de Goya, Witches’ Sabbath, 1789, oil on canvas. Museo Lazaro Galdiano, Madrid.

> From witchcraft to devil worship and paganism (among a plethora of other beliefs and practices), people get nervous about what they can’t comprehend. Deviant sexuality makes people panic. In fact, anything considered out of the norm does – that is why ‘witches’ were hunted. Witch hunting was political panic warfare, of a kind we still see today and have done throughout history under different names and faces, from the Red Scare to the Satanic Panics of the 80s. A lot of the time politics is about Eros, not Logos, as evident from looking at how it is emotionally guided voting which underpins the rise and normalisation of extreme and dangerous political phenomena – 20th century fascism, Donald Trump, Brexit. Each of these things could be described as having been fetishised by its supporters, while creating a sense of extreme panic or doom in its opponents. Susan Sontag describes how ‘the fascist dramaturgy centers on the orgiastic transactions between mighty forces and their puppets’ where the former requires placation and the latter worships or is punished. Sontag goes on to locate Nazi control within a cult-like eroticism: ‘the colour is black, the material is leather…’.

> On the 29th March 2019, incidentally the day that Brexit was supposed to have its chaotic way, I experienced a major depressive episode which lasted most of the following summer, triggered by a violent panic attack which woke me up in the night and made me see static. Mine was unrelated to Brexit (at least consciously) but others’ mental health is being disastrously affected by the Brexit cacophony, from counselling for MPs to the new term of ‘Brexit anxiety’ the uncertainty is eroding the country’s peace of mind. In failing to make sense out of public sacrifice – very literally, in the form of taxation, time and trust – the ritual of government has failed over Brexit, something which we are perpetually made aware of thanks to the fuel of media panic. Yet even amidst so much chaos, tradition and structure are clung to, the rituals repeatedly performed (Boris Johnson asking the Queen for permission to prorogue Parliament strikes me as a prime example), still hopeful of something changing, something miraculously being fixed. This is comparable to the more quotidian scale of ritual action. We seek control over things we cannot predict or see, all these things keep happening and there is no control over any of them, so we fill each day with things, with plans and schedules and jobs and lists to try and wrestle something back but only succeed in being so busy that we cannot breathe at night.

> As was the case with the mythological rites to Pan, vital things are sacrificed to my panic – relationships, money, time, happiness. The normalisation of the anxiety-inducing rites of passage which we describe as ‘coming of age’ is reflected in the documentary film All This Panic (2016) which follows a group of teenage girls through their Upper West Side lives in modern day New York, that city of anxious architecture and nerve-wracking streets. Throughout the documentary, directed by Jenny Gage, the girls exude a childish confidence which fails to mask their inner struggles with anxiety. ‘There’s all this panic…people are texting each other all the time… I’m petrified of getting older’ are just a few such indicative lines in the film which capture the sharp contrast between a mulled blasé outward attitude and the confusion within as the girls ricochet between casual crises. They are analogous characters to J M Barrie’s creation Peter Pan, a figure whose defining feature is eternal youth, a boy forever, fetishising the state of childhood. Peter plays the pan pipes, an instrument named after the god Pan, and in possessing the secret to flight appears to be a free spirit – and yet ‘he can never quite get the hang of [life]’.[i] Exaggeratedly careless, the iconic character appeals to the desire in readers to regain the laissez-faire boldness of youth. Today however, this idealised formative country is under siege. All This Panic portrays a post-wounded girlhood where beneath the ritual of performative femininity – make-up routines and coven-like cliques – is a terror at what may be waking, at what has to be covered up.

> What All This Panic highlights is how the milestones and expectations young people are expected to meet as they carve out lives for themselves are literally ‘rites’ exerting immense pressure upon the individual to follow them, to perfect each one: the correct clothes must be worn, the magic words that will make everyone want to be friends with you must be said, everything must be documented online, everyone must know when you start having sex for the first time, and you hide the 99% of things which don’t measure up to the pretty and perfected life – such as losing your mind. But what happens when these rituals fail, when the sacrifice is not enough, when things go wrong, and the sleeping demon is woken? Panic.

> The artist Laurie Anderson treats panic with a dose of hope in her video We Are In Constant Panic Mode. She would have us ‘try to see these great surges in a mode that’s not panic’. When a wave of anxiety approaches instead of drowning in it, we should ‘find a really good way to ride that. Fighting is a disaster’. What I took from Anderson’s observation is that perhaps the death of panic is found not in liberation from fear but in its acceptance. As the news that ‘The Great God Pan is Dead’ struck despair through the hearts of the ancient citizens of Palodes, they were simultaneously freed to explore new conceptualisations and interpretations of the world. We have a habit of killing our gods, of suffocating our emotional life, denying our desires. Perhaps after all it is not the panic which must be fixed, but the rituals we are restricted by. Rituals which are distancing us from nature and distorting our spiritual clarity – rituals which are creating, rather than placating, all this panic. But first there are more immediate things sufferers of anxiety can do – seeking medical help, taking (prescribed) pills, reducing intake of caffeine and alcohol, meditation and reconnection to the natural world. Like first figuring out how to have an orgasm, the body and brain must learn how to make positive joyful connections rather than repressing those pathways, and that is what anti-anxiety medicine can help create. The stigma around taking pills and the fearsomely described side effects led me to the most ironic panic of all – anxiety over taking my anti-anxiety medication. But I took it anyway and stepped outside the prison of my panic. And that is how the ritual ends.

Text: Rhiannon Auriol

Illustration: Maria Sledmere

Published: 19/3/20

[i] Barrie, J. M. Peter Pan. 2008.

#essay #essays #panic #Rhiannon Auriol #criticism

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buddyrabrahams · 5 years

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Eight biggest storylines to watch during conference tournaments

There are some basketball junkies who argue that the week of conference tournaments is actually more exciting than the first weekend of the NCAA Tournament. Although I think that take is a bit too spicy for my taste, I can see the appeal.

The stakes this week are so high. Many of the teams that lose early in the NCAA Tournament weren’t real threats to reach the Final Four anyway. But in conference tournaments, any team can get hot and sneak through a chaotic bracket to cut down the nets and earn a bid to the Big Dance. Teams that lose, like South Dakota State did Saturday, find their season essentially over.

There are battles for conference crowns, bubbles popping left and right, and just as many Cinderella stories, if not more. Conference tournament week is here and already crazy. Here are the top storylines to monitor across the college basketball world:

8. LSU’s crazy situation

Few expected LSU to win the regular season SEC title and enter the conference tournament as the top seed. The Tigers played brilliantly in SEC play and have developed into a team worthy of attention this March.

At the same time, LSU’s coach was suspended indefinitely and a member of the Tigers’ rotation is being held out due to eligibility concerns. Somehow, this month is still simultaneously the best and worst month in the history of LSU basketball. The Tigers have the talent and opportunity to win the SEC Tournament and advance deep in the Big Dance. They are also directly in the crosshairs of the FBI’s investigation of illegal college basketball conspiracy.

It remains to be seen how all of this adversity will affect LSU’s play on the floor. Without their head coach and a key cog, the Tigers should be at a disadvantage.

7. Florida and Alabama with bubble trouble

Also in the SEC Tournament, two teams face an interesting challenge on the bubble. Florida and Alabama are both within the final eight projected at-large slots per Bracket Matrix. Both also face a similar daunting situation to hold on to their NCAA hopes.

Florida and Alabama will begin the SEC Tournament in the play-in games on Wednesday. Florida will face Arkansas in the 8 seed vs. 9 seed match-up. Alabama, the 10 seed, will play Ole Miss, the 7 seed. If either Florida or Alabama were to lose that first tournament game, their fate would be far more likely to send them to the NIT. If they advance, Florida would face LSU and Alabama would face Kentucky. Those games would present a monumental opportunity for a resume-building victory. A win in that round of the tournament would ensure an NCAA berth.

The math for the Gators and Tide is simple. Lose Wednesday and you’re in trouble. Win Wednesday, but lose Thursday, you’ll be stuck worrying until Sunday evening. Win Wednesday and Thursday, and the tournament is nearly guaranteed.

6. Is the Pac-12 going to get an at-large team?

Currently, two Pac-12 clubs are within range of an at-large berth according to Bracket Matrix. Washington is pegged as a 9 seed after an ugly home loss to Oregon on Saturday night. Arizona State is the third to last team in the field in the collective minds of Bracketologists. Someone from the conference will get into the tournament via the automatic bid for winning the Pac-12 Tournament. Yet if that team is not Washington or Arizona State, there’s a chance one or both could be left on the outside looking in.

Washington will play the winner of Arizona-USC on Thursday afternoon. Arizona State will play the winner of UCLA-Stanford. If either loses that game, their bubble may pop as the final buzzer sounds.

It is not unprecedented for this occurrence. The last time Washington won the Pac-12 regular season, in 2012, the Huskies lost early in the conference tournament and were relegated to the NIT. For a power conference, this outcome was considered an albatross. How could a major conference receive zero at-large bids?

Just seven years later, history may repeat itself.

5. Where are the bid thieves lurking?

The Pac-12 is far from the only tournament with an uncertain outcome in terms of NCAA Tournament bids. For teams on the bubble, this is an unwelcome development. Every time a team that should (or could) earn at-large bid fails to win its conference’s auto bid, the number of available spots shrinks and every bubble team moves down one rung of the ladder.

For example, if neither Washington nor Arizona State wins the Pac-12 Tournament, any team with a worse resume that the Huskies or Sun Devils has a tougher situation at hand.

We’ve already seen two outside chances at bid thieves. When Murray State won the Ohio Valley Conference, Belmont slid onto the bubble, begging for an at-large bid. For fringe bubble teams, this was a back breaker. The Bruins have a strong case at a bid, with more road/neutral wins than Kansas, Clemson, Texas, and Minnesota combined.

With Lipscomb’s loss in the Atlantic Sun Championship, the Bisons joined the bubble fray, yet have a far worse case than Belmont.

There are still a host of conference capable of producing a bid thief. A Gonzaga slip-up would pop someone’s bubble. Buffalo, Wofford, and VCU look like the only tournament teams in their leagues, unless an upset buys someone else a bid.

If you’re a fan of a team on the bubble, root for favorites all week long. You need those teams to fill up the auto-bids, rather than stealing your school’s at-large spot.

4. Can potential Cinderellas make their way to the Big Dance?

Last year, it seemed like a real bummer when Vermont was upset in the America East title game. A buzzer-beater ended the Catamounts season and their hopes of being a dangerous team in the NCAA Tournament. Fortunately for the basketball enjoying public, Vermont lost to UMBC, who then pulled off the biggest upset in tournament history.

But for teams like Vermont unable to amass an at-large case while wallowing in a lesser conference, winning their conference tournament is the difference between a shot at glory and heading home early.

Vermont would qualify for this designation again this season. The Catamounts are 25-6 this season and showed their Cinderella potential nearly winning at Louisville in November.

The same is true of Hofstra, who took VCU to overtime in a loss, just before ripping off a 16-game winning streak. Justin Wright-Foreman is one of college basketball’s best scorers and would be eager to etch his name into the history of NCAA Tournament heroes if the Pride can earn their bid.

Similar stories are found across the country. New Mexico State, Old Dominion, Harvard, and UC Irvine would all make for dangerous first round match-ups, if they can survive this week. We’ve already lost South Dakota State and all-time great player Mike Daum to the viciousness of a conference tournament upset. We need some of our other Cinderellas to fit into their glass slippers.

3. Are Indiana and Texas really going to make the tournament with 15 losses?

No team will test the Selection Committee quite like the Hoosiers and Longhorns. Indiana has played the 25th-toughest schedule, according to the NCAA’s NET ratings. Texas’ slate has been even tougher, ranked as the 7th-hardest in the nation.

With that being said, each has struggled. Indiana is 17-14 this season. The Hoosiers lost 10 of 11 games during one stretch and finished Big Ten play tied for 8th place, at 8-12 in conference play. Indiana has three true road wins and one neutral site win.

Texas went 8-10 in the Big XII, with a total record of 16-15 this season. The Longhorns have only two road and two neutral wins. They also lost home games to Providence and Radford.

If you have a good reason either of these teams deserves a chance at an NCAA Tournament bid, I’m all ears. They will, however, have a chance to prove doubters like me wrong. Texas’ first Big XII Tournament game pits the Longhorns against Kansas, with a chance for a monstrous win. Indiana will face Ohio State, with a chance to slide its way up the bubble.

If either loses, they should be banished to the NIT. They should, but Bracketologists are split. Some favor teams like Belmont for those final spots. Others value the strength of schedule seen by these mediocre power conference also-rans.

2. The middle of the Big East is a mess

Elsewhere on the bubble, most of the Big East finds itself on uncertain ground heading into conference tournament week. Villanova and Marquette are safely in the tournament. Bracket Matrix places Seton Hall and St. John’s within the last ten teams in the field, and Creighton, Georgetown, and Xavier all just on the negative side of the in/out dividing line. Any of the five could potentially play their way in, or out, of the Big Dance this week.

St. John’s must first survive a bad loss to a feisty DePaul club on Wednesday before getting a third chance at Marquette. The Red Storm have already beaten Marquette twice this season. A loss to DePaul would mean trouble, but just advancing to Thursday should get the Johnnies in.

The other four teams play head-to-head matchups in the quarterfinals. The loser of Creighton-Xavier can pack up and head home, while the winner gets a chance to earn a bid by upsetting Villanova in the semifinals. If Georgetown can beat Seton Hall, the Hoyas’ case looks better. A loss probably doesn’t doom the Pirates, but why risk it? A win over Georgetown cements Seton Hall in the field.

1. Who will earn the last two top seeds?

Gonzaga and Virginia are essentially locks for No. 1 seeds in the NCAA Tournament. Even if the Zags are upset by Pepperdine or the Hoos get upended in the ACC Tournament quarterfinals, they’ve done enough to find themselves on the top line.

The next two slots are wide open.

Duke and North Carolina have the inside track. If either wins the ACC Tournament, the spot is theirs. To do so, they’d likely have to beat their in-state rival and then Virginia in the title game. That’s enough to earn a top seed, especially for Duke, if Zion Williamson returns and looks like himself. The committee would look more forgiving towards Duke’s run without their All-American.

If Carolina or Duke fail to win the ACC Tournament, the door opens for the top teams from other conferences. The winner of the SEC Tournament would get a hard look, especially if that team is Tennessee or Kentucky. The Vols have the better resume and thus, a better chance to slide onto the top line.

If the top ACC and SEC teams struggle this week, the door opens for a late run from Michigan State. Sparty’s win over Michigan to clinch a share of the Big Ten regular season crown put them back into the discussion for a top seed. If Michigan State can win the Big Ten Tournament as well, they’d receive serious consideration for the final slot.

Shane McNichol covers college basketball and the NBA for Larry Brown Sports. He also blogs about basketball at Palestra Back and has contributed to Rush The Court, ESPN.com, and USA Today Sports Weekly. Follow him on Twitter @OnTheShaneTrain.

from Larry Brown Sports https://ift.tt/2Hvw2Bz

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feministfatal206-blog · 7 years

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Top 5 Podcasts: My Audio Fam

I've been a podcast addict since I was around 15. I don't have a TV and really enjoy multitasking, so podcasts have become my primary source of entertainment, news and opinion. I love how much easier it is to be independent as a podcaster. I love that it is still a new form of media where people have room to play and carve out their own space and style. The following are the top five podcasts I would recommend to anyone looking to get into this platform or people like me - who listen to new episodes of their favorites as soon as they come out and need more audio fodder!

I only recently got into the Inner Hoe Uprising after one of my favorite neighbors at the farmer's markets gave it rave reviews. But now I'm in at least 15 hours deep and this podcast stands out for having a really slick format that guarantees long episodes that are high quality the whole way through. The main host, Sam, rotates the other three hosts in every week with a party cast at the end of the month where everybody gets together. They have really funny, thought provoking segments that get you super invested in their lives and feeling like you are really a part of their conversations on sex, love, dating, politics, and whatever else comes up. They also have really fascinating guests on for the second half. If you're cleaning your house or driving to work and want to feel like you're chillin with a super rad girl gang, this is for you!

Motivation station. If I'm ever having a day where I feel like I don't know where to start on my to-do list or like I'm not getting anywhere on my projects, I'll browse through the Myleik Teele podcast archives till I find the right episode to tell me what I already know but need to hear: get organized and get going. Myliek used to do PR in the music industry and then started CurlBox, a wildly successful subscription service for women with curly hair, bringing an elevated and affordable sampling experience to women of color. As an anti-capitalist individual I didn't think I could get super into this one but she has a serious wisdom that goes way beyond business, often reiterates that success is only defined by your happiness, and has really great advice on dating, staying self-disciplined, dealing with professional and personal relationships gracefully, etc. If you need a kick in the ass this one is for you.

Dear Sugars has been in my life for a few years now. Originally, Steve Almond, a writer who I had never heard of but since read his books (fantastic), had an advice column in an online magazine pretending to give advice from the perspective of a middle aged woman. Cheryl Strayed (author of Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things) was the only person who ever wrote him a fan letter and he asked her if she could take over the column. The column blew up under her TLC and now they have a podcast where the both of them answer questions from readers on just about any difficult, heart wrenching topic you can imagine. They often have excellent guests (Oprah!) and release correction episodes when they believe they didn't address a question as well as they could the first time. I think this podcast is pretty much for everyone.

The Get just came back after a little hiatus and I couldn't be more hyped. This show is hosted by Ivy, a Nigerian immigrant and Rhiana, a Chicago Southsider, who met at Yale and get together to talk about current events and issues with a chemistry that is hilarious and profound. They bring really well-educated outsider political opinions into national conversations that would otherwise be a depressing buzz in the background of my mind. Their motto is Smart. Snark. Shade. and they will literally have you busting up on the floor of your kitchen while you do the dishes.

Dan Carlin has two podcasts, Hardcore History and Common Sense. I'm going to group them together because I consider them to be two branches from one of my favorite audio hosts. Hardcore History was one of the first shows to get my hooked on audio. He takes moments in history and researches them for usually six months at a time with an academic rigor fitting a real historian (although he insists he is only a fan of history) and then draws on his background in journalism to weave what he finds into an incredible compelling story of human kind. If you like history, you will LOVE this show. If you don't like history, I am willing to bet you will realize it's just because it has never been presented like this. One of my favorite things about Dan is he tells the listener when he isn't sure of something, or when historians differ, and traces the battles between historians like hot gossip. His political show, Common Sense, is the most nonpartisan political show I have ever heard. He looks at current issues with depth and clarity and actually tries to bridge the gaps between opinions and look for the core problems. I can listen to this podcast with my conservative Dad, I can listen to this podcast with my anarchist boyfriend or apolitical little siblings, it's great for provoking discussions with yourself and other people.

Honorable Mentions!

Ugh, designing podcasts logos is the best. Unfortunately I haven't listened to as many of their shows as I would like because they're only on Soundcloud that I know of (check it out here!) but they have a great dynamic with topics similiar to Inner Hoe Uprising, chatting about NYC politics, racism, sexism- anything that's weighing them down with humor and wit. Also they paid me good money to do their logo so shout out to Estaphanie and Rafaela for supporting a broke artist!! Forever in my heart.

I also wanted to mention the BBC Radio 3 Arts & Ideas program, which I have been listening to since high school. They have various programs and about 3 or 4 main presenters, these days with all my other good podcasts I only listen to the Arts & Ideas episodes with guests I know or the shows presented by Philip Dodd. For an older, white British gentleman I think he does a great job as an interviewer, he has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of philosophy, literature, and the arts in general and always manages to ask interesting and often hard questions, plays devil's advocate expertly but only when it benefits the audience, and occasionally verbally backhands annoying and pretentious guests which is hilarious and satisfying when I feel most mainstream media interviews are so played out and lukewarm.

#podcasts #Women of color

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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A New Proposition from Captain Nemo

ON JANUARY 28, in latitude 9 degrees 4' north, when the Nautilus returned at noon to the surface of the sea, it lay in sight of land some eight miles to the west. Right off, I observed a cluster of mountains about 2,000 feet high, whose shapes were very whimsically sculpted. After our position fix, I reentered the lounge, and when our bearings were reported on the chart, I saw that we were off the island of Ceylon, that pearl dangling from the lower lobe of the Indian peninsula. I went looking in the library for a book about this island, one of the most fertile in the world. Sure enough, I found a volume entitled Ceylon and the Singhalese by H. C. Sirr, Esq. Reentering the lounge, I first noted the bearings of Ceylon, on which antiquity lavished so many different names. It was located between latitude 5 degrees 55' and 9 degrees 49' north, and between longitude 79 degrees 42' and 82 degrees 4' east of the meridian of Greenwich; its length is 275 miles; its maximum width, 150 miles; its circumference, 900 miles; its surface area, 24,448 square miles, in other words, a little smaller than that of Ireland. Just then Captain Nemo and his chief officer appeared. The captain glanced at the chart. Then, turning to me: "The island of Ceylon," he said, "is famous for its pearl fisheries. Would you be interested, Professor Aronnax, in visiting one of those fisheries?" "Certainly, captain." "Fine. It's easily done. Only, when we see the fisheries, we'll see no fishermen. The annual harvest hasn't yet begun. No matter. I'll give orders to make for the Gulf of Mannar, and we'll arrive there late tonight." The captain said a few words to his chief officer who went out immediately. Soon the Nautilus reentered its liquid element, and the pressure gauge indicated that it was staying at a depth of thirty feet. With the chart under my eyes, I looked for the Gulf of Mannar. I found it by the 9th parallel off the northwestern shores of Ceylon. It was formed by the long curve of little Mannar Island. To reach it we had to go all the way up Ceylon's west coast. "Professor," Captain Nemo then told me, "there are pearl fisheries in the Bay of Bengal, the seas of the East Indies, the seas of China and Japan, plus those seas south of the United States, the Gulf of Panama and the Gulf of California; but it's off Ceylon that such fishing reaps its richest rewards. No doubt we'll be arriving a little early. Fishermen gather in the Gulf of Mannar only during the month of March, and for thirty days some 300 boats concentrate on the lucrative harvest of these treasures from the sea. Each boat is manned by ten oarsmen and ten fishermen. The latter divide into two groups, dive in rotation, and descend to a depth of twelve meters with the help of a heavy stone clutched between their feet and attached by a rope to their boat." "You mean," I said, "that such primitive methods are still all that they use?" "All," Captain Nemo answered me, "although these fisheries belong to the most industrialized people in the world, the English, to whom the Treaty of Amiens granted them in 1802." "Yet it strikes me that diving suits like yours could perform yeoman service in such work." "Yes, since those poor fishermen can't stay long underwater. On his voyage to Ceylon, the Englishman Percival made much of a Kaffir who stayed under five minutes without coming up to the surface, but I find that hard to believe. I know that some divers can last up to fifty-seven seconds, and highly skillful ones to eighty-seven; but such men are rare, and when the poor fellows climb back on board, the water coming out of their noses and ears is tinted with blood. I believe the average time underwater that these fishermen can tolerate is thirty seconds, during which they hastily stuff their little nets with all the pearl oysters they can tear loose. But these fishermen generally don't live to advanced age: their vision weakens, ulcers break out on their eyes, sores form on their bodies, and some are even stricken with apoplexy on the ocean floor." "Yes," I said, "it's a sad occupation, and one that exists only to gratify the whims of fashion. But tell me, captain, how many oysters can a boat fish up in a workday?" "About 40,000 to 50,000. It's even said that in 1814, when the English government went fishing on its own behalf, its divers worked just twenty days and brought up 76,000,000 oysters." "At least," I asked, "the fishermen are well paid, aren't they?" "Hardly, professor. In Panama they make just $1.00 per week. In most places they earn only a penny for each oyster that has a pearl, and they bring up so many that have none!" "Only one penny to those poor people who make their employers rich! That's atrocious!" "On that note, professor," Captain Nemo told me, "you and your companions will visit the Mannar oysterbank, and if by chance some eager fisherman arrives early, well, we can watch him at work." "That suits me, captain." "By the way, Professor Aronnax, you aren't afraid of sharks, are you?" "Sharks?" I exclaimed. This struck me as a pretty needless question, to say the least. "Well?" Captain Nemo went on. "I admit, captain, I'm not yet on very familiar terms with that genus of fish." "We're used to them, the rest of us," Captain Nemo answered. "And in time you will be too. Anyhow, we'll be armed, and on our way we might hunt a man-eater or two. It's a fascinating sport. So, professor, I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early." This said in a carefree tone, Captain Nemo left the lounge. If you're invited to hunt bears in the Swiss mountains, you might say: "Oh good, I get to go bear hunting tomorrow!" If you're invited to hunt lions on the Atlas plains or tigers in the jungles of India, you might say: "Ha! Now's my chance to hunt lions and tigers!" But if you're invited to hunt sharks in their native element, you might want to think it over before accepting. As for me, I passed a hand over my brow, where beads of cold sweat were busy forming. "Let's think this over," I said to myself, "and let's take our time. Hunting otters in underwater forests, as we did in the forests of Crespo Island, is an acceptable activity. But to roam the bottom of the sea when you're almost certain to meet man-eaters in the neighborhood, that's another story! I know that in certain countries, particularly the Andaman Islands, Negroes don't hesitate to attack sharks, dagger in one hand and noose in the other; but I also know that many who face those fearsome animals don't come back alive. Besides, I'm not a Negro, and even if I were a Negro, in this instance I don't think a little hesitation on my part would be out of place." And there I was, fantasizing about sharks, envisioning huge jaws armed with multiple rows of teeth and capable of cutting a man in half. I could already feel a definite pain around my pelvic girdle. And how I resented the offhand manner in which the captain had extended his deplorable invitation! You would have thought it was an issue of going into the woods on some harmless fox hunt! "Thank heavens!" I said to myself. "Conseil will never want to come along, and that'll be my excuse for not going with the captain." As for Ned Land, I admit I felt less confident of his wisdom. Danger, however great, held a perennial attraction for his aggressive nature. I went back to reading Sirr's book, but I leafed through it mechanically. Between the lines I kept seeing fearsome, wide-open jaws. Just then Conseil and the Canadian entered with a calm, even gleeful air. Little did they know what was waiting for them. "Ye gods, sir!" Ned Land told me. "Your Captain Nemo - the devil take him - has just made us a very pleasant proposition!" "Oh!" I said "You know about - " "With all due respect to master," Conseil replied, "the Nautilus's commander has invited us, together with master, for a visit tomorrow to Ceylon's magnificent pearl fisheries. He did so in the most cordial terms and conducted himself like a true gentleman." "He didn't tell you anything else?" "Nothing, sir," the Canadian replied. "He said you'd already discussed this little stroll." "Indeed," I said. "But didn't he give you any details on - " "Not a one, Mr. Naturalist. You will be going with us, right?" "Me? Why yes, certainly, of course! I can see that you like the idea, Mr. Land." "Yes! It will be a really unusual experience!" "And possibly dangerous!" I added in an insinuating tone. "Dangerous?" Ned Land replied. "A simple trip to an oysterbank?" Assuredly, Captain Nemo hadn't seen fit to plant the idea of sharks in the minds of my companions. For my part, I stared at them with anxious eyes, as if they were already missing a limb or two. Should I alert them? Yes, surely, but I hardly knew how to go about it. "Would master," Conseil said to me, "give us some background on pearl fishing?" "On the fishing itself?" I asked. "Or on the occupational hazards that - " "On the fishing," the Canadian replied. "Before we tackle the terrain, it helps to be familiar with it." "All right, sit down, my friends, and I'll teach you everything I myself have just been taught by the Englishman H. C. Sirr!" Ned and Conseil took seats on a couch, and right off the Canadian said to me: "Sir, just what is a pearl exactly?" "My gallant Ned," I replied, "for poets a pearl is a tear from the sea; for Orientals it's a drop of solidified dew; for the ladies it's a jewel they can wear on their fingers, necks, and ears that's oblong in shape, glassy in luster, and formed from mother-of-pearl; for chemists it's a mixture of calcium phosphate and calcium carbonate with a little gelatin protein; and finally, for naturalists it's a simple festering secretion from the organ that produces mother-of-pearl in certain bivalves." "Branch Mollusca," Conseil said, "class Acephala, order Testacea." "Correct, my scholarly Conseil. Now then, those Testacea capable of producing pearls include rainbow abalone, turbo snails, giant clams, and saltwater scallops - briefly, all those that secrete mother-of-pearl, in other words, that blue, azure, violet, or white substance lining the insides of their valves." "Are mussels included too?" the Canadian asked. "Yes! The mussels of certain streams in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Saxony, Bohemia, and France." "Good!" the Canadian replied. "From now on we'll pay closer attention to 'em." "But," I went on, "for secreting pearls, the ideal mollusk is the pearl oyster Meleagrina margaritifera, that valuable shellfish. Pearls result simply from mother-of-pearl solidifying into a globular shape. Either they stick to the oyster's shell, or they become embedded in the creature's folds. On the valves a pearl sticks fast; on the flesh it lies loose. But its nucleus is always some small, hard object, say a sterile egg or a grain of sand, around which the mother-of-pearl is deposited in thin, concentric layers over several years in succession." "Can one find several pearls in the same oyster?" Conseil asked. "Yes, my boy. There are some shellfish that turn into real jewel coffers. They even mention one oyster, about which I remain dubious, that supposedly contained at least 150 sharks." "150 sharks!" Ned Land yelped. "Did I say sharks?" I exclaimed hastily. "I meant 150 pearls. Sharks wouldn't make sense." "Indeed," Conseil said. "But will master now tell us how one goes about extracting these pearls?" "One proceeds in several ways, and often when pearls stick to the valves, fishermen even pull them loose with pliers. But usually the shellfish are spread out on mats made from the esparto grass that covers the beaches. Thus they die in the open air, and by the end of ten days they've rotted sufficiently. Next they're immersed in huge tanks of salt water, then they're opened up and washed. At this point the sorters begin their twofold task. First they remove the layers of mother-of-pearl, which are known in the industry by the names legitimate silver, bastard white, or bastard black, and these are shipped out in cases weighing 125 to 150 kilograms. Then they remove the oyster's meaty tissue, boil it, and finally strain it, in order to extract even the smallest pearls." "Do the prices of these pearls differ depending on their size?" Conseil asked. "Not only on their size," I replied, "but also according to their shape, their water - in other words, their color - and their orient-in other words, that dappled, shimmering glow that makes them so delightful to the eye. The finest pearls are called virgin pearls, or paragons; they form in isolation within the mollusk's tissue. They're white, often opaque but sometimes of opalescent transparency, and usually spherical or pear-shaped. The spherical ones are made into bracelets; the pear-shaped ones into earrings, and since they're the most valuable, they're priced individually. The other pearls that stick to the oyster's shell are more erratically shaped and are priced by weight. Finally, classed in the lowest order, the smallest pearls are known by the name seed pearls; they're priced by the measuring cup and are used mainly in the creation of embroidery for church vestments." "But it must be a long, hard job, sorting out these pearls by size," the Canadian said. "No, my friend. That task is performed with eleven strainers, or sieves, that are pierced with different numbers of holes. Those pearls staying in the strainers with twenty to eighty holes are in the first order. Those not slipping through the sieves pierced with 100 to 800 holes are in the second order. Finally, those pearls for which one uses strainers pierced with 900 to 1,000 holes make up the seed pearls." "How ingenious," Conseil said, "to reduce dividing and classifying pearls to a mechanical operation. And could master tell us the profits brought in by harvesting these banks of pearl oysters?" "According to Sirr's book," I replied, "these Ceylon fisheries are farmed annually for a total profit of 3,000,000 man-eaters." "Francs!" Conseil rebuked. "Yes, francs! 3,000,000 francs!" I went on. "But I don't think these fisheries bring in the returns they once did. Similarly, the Central American fisheries used to make an annual profit of 4,000,000 francs during the reign of King Charles V, but now they bring in only two-thirds of that amount. All in all, it's estimated that 9,000,000 francs is the current yearly return for the whole pearl-harvesting industry." "But," Conseil asked, "haven't certain famous pearls been quoted at extremely high prices?" "Yes, my boy. They say Julius Caesar gave Servilia a pearl worth 120,000 francs in our currency." "I've even heard stories," the Canadian said, "about some lady in ancient times who drank pearls in vinegar." "Cleopatra," Conseil shot back. "It must have tasted pretty bad," Ned Land added. "Abominable, Ned my friend," Conseil replied. "But when a little glass of vinegar is worth 1,500,000 francs, its taste is a small price to pay." "I'm sorry I didn't marry the gal," the Canadian said, throwing up his hands with an air of discouragement. "Ned Land married to Cleopatra?" Conseil exclaimed. "But I was all set to tie the knot, Conseil," the Canadian replied in all seriousness, "and it wasn't my fault the whole business fell through. I even bought a pearl necklace for my fiancee, Kate Tender, but she married somebody else instead. Well, that necklace cost me only $1.50, but you can absolutely trust me on this, professor, its pearls were so big, they wouldn't have gone through that strainer with twenty holes." "My gallant Ned," I replied, laughing, "those were artificial pearls, ordinary glass beads whose insides were coated with Essence of Orient." "Wow!" the Canadian replied. "That Essence of Orient must sell for quite a large sum." "As little as zero! It comes from the scales of a European carp, it's nothing more than a silver substance that collects in the water and is preserved in ammonia. It's worthless." "Maybe that's why Kate Tender married somebody else," replied Mr. Land philosophically. "But," I said, "getting back to pearls of great value, I don't think any sovereign ever possessed one superior to the pearl owned by Captain Nemo." "This one?" Conseil said, pointing to a magnificent jewel in its glass case. "Exactly. And I'm certainly not far off when I estimate its value at 2,000,000 . . . uh . . ." "Francs!" Conseil said quickly. "Yes," I said, "2,000,000 francs, and no doubt all it cost our captain was the effort to pick it up." "Ha!" Ned Land exclaimed. "During our stroll tomorrow, who says we won't run into one just like it?" "Bah!" Conseil put in. "And why not?" "What good would a pearl worth millions do us here on the Nautilus?" "Here, no," Ned Land said. "But elsewhere. . . ." "Oh! Elsewhere!" Conseil put in, shaking his head. "In fact," I said, "Mr. Land is right. And if we ever brought back to Europe or America a pearl worth millions, it would make the story of our adventures more authentic - and much more rewarding." "That's how I see it," the Canadian said. "But," said Conseil, who perpetually returned to the didactic side of things, "is this pearl fishing ever dangerous?" "No," I replied quickly, "especially if one takes certain precautions." "What risks would you run in a job like that?" Ned Land said. "Swallowing a few gulps of salt water?" "Whatever you say, Ned." Then, trying to imitate Captain Nemo's carefree tone, I asked, "By the way, gallant Ned, are you afraid of sharks?" "Me?" the Canadian replied. "I'm a professional harpooner! It's my job to make a mockery of them!" "It isn't an issue," I said, "of fishing for them with a swivel hook, hoisting them onto the deck of a ship, chopping off the tail with a sweep of the ax, opening the belly, ripping out the heart, and tossing it into the sea." "So it's an issue of . . . ?" "Yes, precisely." "In the water?" "In the water." "Ye gods, just give me a good harpoon! You see, sir, these sharks are badly designed. They have to roll their bellies over to snap you up, and in the meantime . . ." Ned Land had a way of pronouncing the word "snap" that sent chills down the spine. "Well, how about you, Conseil? What are your feelings about these man-eaters?" "Me?" Conseil said. "I'm afraid I must be frank with master." Good for you, I thought. "If master faces these sharks," Conseil said, "I think his loyal manservant should face them with him!"

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