Rupp rafters forum
March 17, 1961: Sam Bowie was born. A High School McDonald's All-American, Bowie overcame injuries to lead Kentucky to the Final Four his senior year and played 10 seasons in the league, averaging a double-double in 1989-90. And no one cares.
2023.03.17 16:46 London-Roma-1980 March 17, 1961: Sam Bowie was born. A High School McDonald's All-American, Bowie overcame injuries to lead Kentucky to the Final Four his senior year and played 10 seasons in the league, averaging a double-double in 1989-90. And no one cares.
Here's his player bio.
Bowie was the son of Ben Bowie, a member of the Harlem Magicians (a Globetrotters rip-off). Sadly, Bowie died while Sam was in college. Sam talked about how much he loved his father regularly.
As a high school phenom, he came within 1 point of the Pennsylvania state title as a junior and was considered the best high school center in America as a senior -- which, considering Ralph Sampson was in high school at the time, is high praise.
At Kentucky, Bowie was a force his first two years, putting up 12.9 ppg/8.1 rpg/2.1 bpg his freshman year and 17.5/9.1/2.9 his sophomore year. In that sophomore year -- in which he was an All-American -- he set a school record with nine blocks against St. John's. The record still stands but has since been equaled. Unfortunately, March Madness was a bugaboo for the Cats -- they ran into old foe Duke his freshman year, and got upset by Bartow's UAB Blazers his sophomore year.
Bowie was so dominant that he was named to the US Olympic team during a time when college all-stars represented the country. Unfortunately, the year he was named was 1980 -- the Soviets decided to overrun Afghanistan, and the US and several other nations responded by withdrawing from the Moscow Games. To make up for it, the US Olympic team faced a few NBA squads that summer. Bowie averaged 11.6/6.9/2.3 over six such games, leading the team to a 5-1 record.
In the summer of 1981, Bowie visited team doctors for what everyone assumed was shin splints. Nope, it turns out he'd been playing on a stress fracture in his leg for the end of the year. Surgery followed, but it wasn't very helpful. The injury got so bad Bowie needed a bone graft. As a result, he missed all of the 1981-82 and 1982-83 seasons, but got a redshirt for one of them (doesn't matter which), allowing him to compete as a fifth-year senior for 1983-84.
Despite two years away from the game, Bowie was still a double-double guy in the frontcourt. Thanks in large part to his burden being shared with Mel Turpin, he was able to play every game his senior year, putting up 10.5/9.2/1.9 and once again being named All-American. This time, with help from outside shooter Kenny Walker, Kentucky was a force in the tournament, advancing to the Final Four. There, however, they were shut down by a Ewing-led Georgetown squad, but not due to lack of production from Bowie, who had 10/11/2 and held Ewing to 8/9/0 in the loss.
All in all, Bowie's Wildcat career averages were stellar (13.4/8.8/2.3/1.4 apg/70 FG%) and it's with good reason his #31 hangs in the Rupp Arena rafters.
In his rookie season in the NBA, Bowie looked like he would be a solid long-term player, putting up 10.0/8.6 and being named to the All-Rookie team. But then (just as with other Blazers post men Bill Walton and Greg Oden), injuries piled up. Over the next four years, Bowie dealt with on-court leg breaks to both legs (including a gnarly compound fracture of his right tibia in Season 3), missing 80% of Portland's games. It's been speculated that he may have rushed back from injuries in an attempt to prove his worth.
Portland gave up on him in the 1989 offseason, trading him along with a draft pick to New Jersey for Buck Williams. In Jersey, Bowie became an efficient player, avoiding the injury bug and stringing together four quality seasons. In 1989-90, he had 14.7/10.1, his only season average double-double. In 1991-92, he averaged 15 ppg. The next season, he had 9.1/7.0 while playing all but three of the Nets' games.
The Lakers came calling, grabbing Bowie in the 1993 offseason in exchange for Benoit Benjamin, but while in Westwood, the injuries came back with a vengeance. After playing 92 out of 164 games, he announced his retirement. He spent time as color commentator for the Kentucky Radio Network before going on to pursue his passion of harness racing.
Much like Walton and Oden, Sam Bowie's career is a what-if. All three men were dominant bigs in college who dealt with leg injuries that curtailed their NBA careers. (Coincidentally, all three played for the Trail Blazers.) Bowie, though, keeps a positive mind about it: "You know, I go speak and visit at hospitals a lot—and not to sound mushy—but I've seen 7-, 8-, 9-year-old kids who have had their legs amputated because of bone cancer or a car accident... That's when it puts things into perspective. There's a kid who wishes he had a leg to break. That's when I realize how lucky I am. I can't complain about the hand I've been dealt. Sure, I've had my share of surgery and broken bones, but these things were meant to be. I'm a Christian and I've always felt that tomorrow is predetermined and that you will never be put through more than you can handle."
...
Now, I admit putting "and no one cares" in the title of this post seems a bit harsh, but it's the sad reality that Bowie -- a dominant high school center and one of Kentucky's finest players -- has to live with: he's more remembered for what he isn't than for what he is. The 1984 NBA draft is considered one of the deepest in the history of the NBA. Akeem (he wasn't Hakeem yet) Olajuwon went first, Sam Perkins (a 20-year man) went fourth, Charles Barkley went fifth, and then there was Michael Jordan third. Sam Bowie went second.
The top five picks were the NBA All-Rookie Team in 1984-85, a rare feat. But Bowie was clearly the least of the bunch. He didn't play defense like Olajuwon, he didn't rebound like Barkley, he did have longevity like Perkins, and he definitely didn't lead his team to titles like Jordan. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, four other first-round picks (Alvin Robertson at 7, Otis Thorpe at 9, Kevin Willis at 11, and John Stockton at 16) were at bare minimum All-Stars during their career. Barkley, Olajuwon, Jordan, and Stockton are all Hall of Famers, and likely Pantheon-level players whose dominance of the game defined the NBA's golden age. Bowie... wasn't.
But go back to his player profile if you haven't already. He still had a 10-year career in which he averaged 11 ppg. He had a 1000 point season. He had a season where he averaged a double-double. In his healthy rookie year, he was Top 20 in RPG, Blocks, Reb%, and DBox +/-. This isn't Tony Mandarich (often cited as his NFL equivalent), an overhyped player who abused his body and couldn't keep up at the next level. This is a strong talent whose body betrayed him.
In the end, the average sports fan defines success and failure so cruelly that it overlooks tons of people who are remembered in the wrong lens. In baseball, Bill Buckner played for 21 years at the Major League level and most people will only ever cite five seconds of it. Kermit Washington was a 20/20 player in college and an NBA All-Star, but one right hand has come to be all we think of. Or, for a more stark example, how many people talk about Barkley and Stockton and their Hall of Fame careers... only to immediately add "yeah, but they never won a ring" as though that invalidates it all?
Just making the NBA, let alone making 10 seasons out of it, is a heck of an accomplishment. Now, when looking back, it's fair to say the Trail Blazers with 20/20 hindsight would have never, ever drafted Bowie second (more likely going Barkley or Perkins). But compared to the rest of his draft class, he's still a solid first-rounder who had a solid career. (Sort by Win Shares or VORP -- Bowie's right there at 13.) Especially given the Tarpleys and Biases of the time, it seems a little unfair to remember Bowie as the dumbest draft pick ever. Just for today, let's remember him as a dominant college big man whose legs gave out.
Okay, I'm off my soapbox. Happy birthday, Big Sam.
submitted by London-Roma-1980 to VintageNBA [link] [comments]
Bowie was the son of Ben Bowie, a member of the Harlem Magicians (a Globetrotters rip-off). Sadly, Bowie died while Sam was in college. Sam talked about how much he loved his father regularly.
As a high school phenom, he came within 1 point of the Pennsylvania state title as a junior and was considered the best high school center in America as a senior -- which, considering Ralph Sampson was in high school at the time, is high praise.
At Kentucky, Bowie was a force his first two years, putting up 12.9 ppg/8.1 rpg/2.1 bpg his freshman year and 17.5/9.1/2.9 his sophomore year. In that sophomore year -- in which he was an All-American -- he set a school record with nine blocks against St. John's. The record still stands but has since been equaled. Unfortunately, March Madness was a bugaboo for the Cats -- they ran into old foe Duke his freshman year, and got upset by Bartow's UAB Blazers his sophomore year.
Bowie was so dominant that he was named to the US Olympic team during a time when college all-stars represented the country. Unfortunately, the year he was named was 1980 -- the Soviets decided to overrun Afghanistan, and the US and several other nations responded by withdrawing from the Moscow Games. To make up for it, the US Olympic team faced a few NBA squads that summer. Bowie averaged 11.6/6.9/2.3 over six such games, leading the team to a 5-1 record.
In the summer of 1981, Bowie visited team doctors for what everyone assumed was shin splints. Nope, it turns out he'd been playing on a stress fracture in his leg for the end of the year. Surgery followed, but it wasn't very helpful. The injury got so bad Bowie needed a bone graft. As a result, he missed all of the 1981-82 and 1982-83 seasons, but got a redshirt for one of them (doesn't matter which), allowing him to compete as a fifth-year senior for 1983-84.
Despite two years away from the game, Bowie was still a double-double guy in the frontcourt. Thanks in large part to his burden being shared with Mel Turpin, he was able to play every game his senior year, putting up 10.5/9.2/1.9 and once again being named All-American. This time, with help from outside shooter Kenny Walker, Kentucky was a force in the tournament, advancing to the Final Four. There, however, they were shut down by a Ewing-led Georgetown squad, but not due to lack of production from Bowie, who had 10/11/2 and held Ewing to 8/9/0 in the loss.
All in all, Bowie's Wildcat career averages were stellar (13.4/8.8/2.3/1.4 apg/70 FG%) and it's with good reason his #31 hangs in the Rupp Arena rafters.
In his rookie season in the NBA, Bowie looked like he would be a solid long-term player, putting up 10.0/8.6 and being named to the All-Rookie team. But then (just as with other Blazers post men Bill Walton and Greg Oden), injuries piled up. Over the next four years, Bowie dealt with on-court leg breaks to both legs (including a gnarly compound fracture of his right tibia in Season 3), missing 80% of Portland's games. It's been speculated that he may have rushed back from injuries in an attempt to prove his worth.
Portland gave up on him in the 1989 offseason, trading him along with a draft pick to New Jersey for Buck Williams. In Jersey, Bowie became an efficient player, avoiding the injury bug and stringing together four quality seasons. In 1989-90, he had 14.7/10.1, his only season average double-double. In 1991-92, he averaged 15 ppg. The next season, he had 9.1/7.0 while playing all but three of the Nets' games.
The Lakers came calling, grabbing Bowie in the 1993 offseason in exchange for Benoit Benjamin, but while in Westwood, the injuries came back with a vengeance. After playing 92 out of 164 games, he announced his retirement. He spent time as color commentator for the Kentucky Radio Network before going on to pursue his passion of harness racing.
Much like Walton and Oden, Sam Bowie's career is a what-if. All three men were dominant bigs in college who dealt with leg injuries that curtailed their NBA careers. (Coincidentally, all three played for the Trail Blazers.) Bowie, though, keeps a positive mind about it: "You know, I go speak and visit at hospitals a lot—and not to sound mushy—but I've seen 7-, 8-, 9-year-old kids who have had their legs amputated because of bone cancer or a car accident... That's when it puts things into perspective. There's a kid who wishes he had a leg to break. That's when I realize how lucky I am. I can't complain about the hand I've been dealt. Sure, I've had my share of surgery and broken bones, but these things were meant to be. I'm a Christian and I've always felt that tomorrow is predetermined and that you will never be put through more than you can handle."
...
Now, I admit putting "and no one cares" in the title of this post seems a bit harsh, but it's the sad reality that Bowie -- a dominant high school center and one of Kentucky's finest players -- has to live with: he's more remembered for what he isn't than for what he is. The 1984 NBA draft is considered one of the deepest in the history of the NBA. Akeem (he wasn't Hakeem yet) Olajuwon went first, Sam Perkins (a 20-year man) went fourth, Charles Barkley went fifth, and then there was Michael Jordan third. Sam Bowie went second.
The top five picks were the NBA All-Rookie Team in 1984-85, a rare feat. But Bowie was clearly the least of the bunch. He didn't play defense like Olajuwon, he didn't rebound like Barkley, he did have longevity like Perkins, and he definitely didn't lead his team to titles like Jordan. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, four other first-round picks (Alvin Robertson at 7, Otis Thorpe at 9, Kevin Willis at 11, and John Stockton at 16) were at bare minimum All-Stars during their career. Barkley, Olajuwon, Jordan, and Stockton are all Hall of Famers, and likely Pantheon-level players whose dominance of the game defined the NBA's golden age. Bowie... wasn't.
But go back to his player profile if you haven't already. He still had a 10-year career in which he averaged 11 ppg. He had a 1000 point season. He had a season where he averaged a double-double. In his healthy rookie year, he was Top 20 in RPG, Blocks, Reb%, and DBox +/-. This isn't Tony Mandarich (often cited as his NFL equivalent), an overhyped player who abused his body and couldn't keep up at the next level. This is a strong talent whose body betrayed him.
In the end, the average sports fan defines success and failure so cruelly that it overlooks tons of people who are remembered in the wrong lens. In baseball, Bill Buckner played for 21 years at the Major League level and most people will only ever cite five seconds of it. Kermit Washington was a 20/20 player in college and an NBA All-Star, but one right hand has come to be all we think of. Or, for a more stark example, how many people talk about Barkley and Stockton and their Hall of Fame careers... only to immediately add "yeah, but they never won a ring" as though that invalidates it all?
Just making the NBA, let alone making 10 seasons out of it, is a heck of an accomplishment. Now, when looking back, it's fair to say the Trail Blazers with 20/20 hindsight would have never, ever drafted Bowie second (more likely going Barkley or Perkins). But compared to the rest of his draft class, he's still a solid first-rounder who had a solid career. (Sort by Win Shares or VORP -- Bowie's right there at 13.) Especially given the Tarpleys and Biases of the time, it seems a little unfair to remember Bowie as the dumbest draft pick ever. Just for today, let's remember him as a dominant college big man whose legs gave out.
Okay, I'm off my soapbox. Happy birthday, Big Sam.
2023.03.03 05:14 --Ty-- [ LONG CROSS-POST ][ ADVICE NEEDED ] -- Which CAD program would be best for extremely detailed, Manual, STUD-LEVEL design of buildings? I'm embarking to design a small home that I would actually be building myself. As such, I need to be able to design EVERYTHING, down to the individual stud.
Hello everyone.
I am embarking on a project that will have me designing a small, detached, single-family cottage, which I will then be building myself.
In order to prepare the project's proposal report for private investors, however, I need to be able to fully design every element of the building in CAD.
I'm looking for a program that will allow me to design every single detail of a home. From each individual stud, to each ceiling rafter, to the bird-mouth cuts in them, to the sheathing panels on the walls, to the electrical outlet boxes, to the casings around the doors and windows. I need to design everything.... and I don't know enough about Sketchup to know if it'll work for this
Please understand that this is not a negotiable aspect -- I truly NEED this level of granularity in my design. Yes, really.
---
---
Chief Architect - From the discussions I've had on CA forums, it seems this program is geared towards auto-generating framing assemblies for you, and only for very traditional suburban home designs. It doesn't seem to be able to handle modern designs, or elements like inclined walls.
Archicad - This program is the one I'm most intrigued by, as I came across this video which seems to show someone doing exactly what I need to do. Unfortunately, Archicad is also the program I know the least about.
Google Sketchup - Sketchup is a surface modeler, not a parametric one. I don't know how I feel about this, as all of my experience is with parametric modelling (SolidWorks, SolidEdge, AutoCAD, Revit, Etc.). If I design a building in Sketchup, but then need to change something like the width of a window, can I just type that change in, or would I have to push and pull and remodel everything? Also, does Google Sketchup have the ability to create scaled and annotated elevation/plan/construction diagrams?
.... Something else? - Are there other programs out there that would be better-suited to this, that I'm not aware of?
Any help with this is greatly appreciated, thank you for your time.
submitted by --Ty-- to Sketchup [link] [comments]
I am embarking on a project that will have me designing a small, detached, single-family cottage, which I will then be building myself.
In order to prepare the project's proposal report for private investors, however, I need to be able to fully design every element of the building in CAD.
I'm looking for a program that will allow me to design every single detail of a home. From each individual stud, to each ceiling rafter, to the bird-mouth cuts in them, to the sheathing panels on the walls, to the electrical outlet boxes, to the casings around the doors and windows. I need to design everything.... and I don't know enough about Sketchup to know if it'll work for this
Please understand that this is not a negotiable aspect -- I truly NEED this level of granularity in my design. Yes, really.
---
My main needs are as follows:
- Be able to manually draw out or insert each stud or piece of dimensional framing lumber one by one.
- Be able to model cuts into the lumber, such as the miters in a roof rafter, or the birds-mouth cut at the bottom of one.
- Be able to manually draw out or insert the other layers of a building envelope, such as 4'x8' sheathing panels one by one.
- Be able to manually draw out or insert other features, such as the casing boards around a window, or electrical outlet boxes.
- Be able to insert some pre-made assets like windows and doors, and be able to produce door and window schedules from them
- Be able to create fully-annotated elevation views, plan views, and all of the necessary section, detail, and construction diagrams necessary to build what I've modeled.
---
The programs I'm debating between so far:
Revit - I've got about 150 hours of education and practice in Revit, but, from what I can see, it's really not suited to this kind of workflow, without serious fighting. Stud-level creation is only doable with beams, but the beams/structural design side of Revit doesn't seem to play nice with the architectural side.Chief Architect - From the discussions I've had on CA forums, it seems this program is geared towards auto-generating framing assemblies for you, and only for very traditional suburban home designs. It doesn't seem to be able to handle modern designs, or elements like inclined walls.
Archicad - This program is the one I'm most intrigued by, as I came across this video which seems to show someone doing exactly what I need to do. Unfortunately, Archicad is also the program I know the least about.
Google Sketchup - Sketchup is a surface modeler, not a parametric one. I don't know how I feel about this, as all of my experience is with parametric modelling (SolidWorks, SolidEdge, AutoCAD, Revit, Etc.). If I design a building in Sketchup, but then need to change something like the width of a window, can I just type that change in, or would I have to push and pull and remodel everything? Also, does Google Sketchup have the ability to create scaled and annotated elevation/plan/construction diagrams?
.... Something else? - Are there other programs out there that would be better-suited to this, that I'm not aware of?
Any help with this is greatly appreciated, thank you for your time.
2023.03.03 05:09 --Ty-- [ LONG CROSS-POST ][ ADVICE NEEDED ] -- Which CAD program would be best for extremely detailed, Manual, STUD-LEVEL design of buildings? I'm embarking to design a small home that I would actually be building myself. As such, I need to be able to design EVERYTHING, down to the individual stud.
Hello everyone.
I am embarking on a project that will have me designing a small, detached, single-family cottage, which I will then be building myself.
In order to prepare the project's proposal report for private investors, however, I need to be able to fully design every element of the building in CAD.
I'm looking for a program that will allow me to design every single detail of a home. From each individual stud, to each ceiling rafter, to the bird-mouth cuts in them, to the sheathing panels on the walls, to the electrical outlet boxes, to the casings around the doors and windows. I need to design everything.... and I don't know enough about Archicad to know if it'll work for this
Please understand that this is not a negotiable aspect -- I truly NEED this level of granularity in my design. Yes, really.
---
---
Chief Architect - From the discussions I've had on CA forums, it seems this program is geared towards auto-generating framing assemblies for you, and only for very traditional suburban home designs. It doesn't seem to be able to handle modern designs, or elements like inclined walls.
Archicad - This program is the one I'm most intrigued by, as I came across this video which seems to show someone doing exactly what I need to do. Unfortunately, Archicad is also the program I know the least about.
Google Sketchup - This program is a surface modeler, not a parametric one. I don't know how I feel about this, as all of my experience is with parametric modelling (SolidWorks, SolidEdge, AutoCAD, Revit, Etc.). If I design a building in Sketchup, but then need to change something like the width of a window, can I just type that change in, or would I have to push and pull and remodel everything? Also, does Google Sketchup have the ability to create scaled and annotated elevation/plan/construction diagrams?
.... Something else? - Are there other programs out there that would be better-suited to this, that I'm not aware of?
Any help with this is greatly appreciated, thank you for your time.
submitted by --Ty-- to ArchiCAD [link] [comments]
I am embarking on a project that will have me designing a small, detached, single-family cottage, which I will then be building myself.
In order to prepare the project's proposal report for private investors, however, I need to be able to fully design every element of the building in CAD.
I'm looking for a program that will allow me to design every single detail of a home. From each individual stud, to each ceiling rafter, to the bird-mouth cuts in them, to the sheathing panels on the walls, to the electrical outlet boxes, to the casings around the doors and windows. I need to design everything.... and I don't know enough about Archicad to know if it'll work for this
Please understand that this is not a negotiable aspect -- I truly NEED this level of granularity in my design. Yes, really.
---
My main needs are as follows:
- Be able to manually draw out or insert each stud or piece of dimensional framing lumber one by one.
- Be able to model cuts into the lumber, such as the miters in a roof rafter, or the birds-mouth cut at the bottom of one.
- Be able to manually draw out or insert the other layers of a building envelope, such as 4'x8' sheathing panels one by one.
- Be able to manually draw out or insert other features, such as the casing boards around a window, or electrical outlet boxes.
- Be able to insert some pre-made assets like windows and doors, and be able to produce door and window schedules from them
- Be able to create fully-annotated elevation views, plan views, and all of the necessary section, detail, and construction diagrams necessary to build what I've modeled.
---
The programs I'm debating between so far:
Revit - I've got about 150 hours of education and practice in Revit, but, from what I can see, it's really not suited to this kind of workflow, without serious fighting. Stud-level creation is only doable with beams, but the beams/structural design side of Revit doesn't seem to play nice with the architectural side.Chief Architect - From the discussions I've had on CA forums, it seems this program is geared towards auto-generating framing assemblies for you, and only for very traditional suburban home designs. It doesn't seem to be able to handle modern designs, or elements like inclined walls.
Archicad - This program is the one I'm most intrigued by, as I came across this video which seems to show someone doing exactly what I need to do. Unfortunately, Archicad is also the program I know the least about.
Google Sketchup - This program is a surface modeler, not a parametric one. I don't know how I feel about this, as all of my experience is with parametric modelling (SolidWorks, SolidEdge, AutoCAD, Revit, Etc.). If I design a building in Sketchup, but then need to change something like the width of a window, can I just type that change in, or would I have to push and pull and remodel everything? Also, does Google Sketchup have the ability to create scaled and annotated elevation/plan/construction diagrams?
.... Something else? - Are there other programs out there that would be better-suited to this, that I'm not aware of?
Any help with this is greatly appreciated, thank you for your time.
2023.02.27 06:31 UncertaintyCrossing Debate Club Contest!
 | The sign up for this contest is closed already, sorry for the delay in announcing this here, Wanderers! You can still help out this contest though by reading entries when they're posted, commenting, and keeping an eye on our main forums where things are announced first and foremost! submitted by UncertaintyCrossing to WanderersLibrary [link] [comments] ---- https://preview.redd.it/cj6wqp2i3oka1.jpg?width=1600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=11914fbc912699ea1bee1a7e5360dd59debc181d ---- Disagreements have been rumbling through the Library. Two opposing concepts are the focus. Which makes the better story? Research papers are written with intent of battle, treatises are fired across the trenches, and words are smelted into proverbial swords. Librarians whisper to each other about the merits of either side, their memories of repositories of millions of books aiding in their ideation, but with near-infinite stories there are near-infinite arguments to be made. A decision must be made, a consensus reached. A new door has appeared in the middle of the Main Hall, leading to an area deep within the Library. A long hallway, the end imperceptible, lies beyond the door. Grandstands line both sides of the hall, towering high up into the Rafters, but instead of seating there are podiums shaped for every size and shape of Wanderer. The time for the Debate Club to reconvene has come. Theme: Common vs RareBreakfast on an overcast morning, the change in your pocket, fast food, that graffiti you pass on the way back home, a global pandemic, the air in your lungs. Proponents of Commonality believe beauty is found in what is taken for granted. A normal life can hold so many stories. What makes up one's life, the few and far between fantastic moments or the much larger majority of consistent, average days? What do we share as individuals, as groups, as people? What is completely normal for one but bizarre for the other? These are just a few of the many essences of Common.A star-filled sky, a new sensation, a discovered species of salamander, a bloody steak, an unprecedented disaster, a soul. Proponents of Rareness believe that a great story focuses on the unbeaten path, the uncommon experience. What moments do someone hold deep in their heart, never to forget? An abnormal experience can change an entire outlook on life. What makes up one's life, the many forgettable days or the moments that define a personality? What makes something unlike any other thing? What drives a man to act like he wouldn't? These are just a few of the many essences of Rare. ---- Check out our latest contest here! https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/debate-club-contest |
2023.02.19 12:37 Dharmabum888 The Enigma of Me
February 19, 2023
Dear Friends,
I need to tell you this.
I have found a way out.
Out of this enveloping abyss of loneliness, fear, resignation, abandonment.
I have found a way out.
Our brains have evolved to have receptors for a magical, life transforming substance.
This experience is the subject of deep study by the scientists at Johns Hopkins University.
It is real.
It is happening to me right now.
I am higher than I have ever been in my life.
This is beyond fun.
I am so happy to share this news with you.
You are all my friends.
I understand to my core the lonely lives you lead.
All my life I have searched for friends.
For someone who gets me.
I am beginning to find it.
When I was 12 the gang I started, the Jets, turned on me, rejected me, called me “Squealer!” and the biggest bully hit me in the schoolyard.
My transgression to the group was that I told my parents what happened to my grandfather’s coin collection.
I found two of the kids in the gang in my house, robbing me of my heritage.
I had no friends.
I went to a new school, after 8th grade. And I made new friends, a gang, we bonded. Father Speckhoff took us to a gym and had us box. I fought Kern. Zinc fought Pebble. Verish fought Steinbacker.
50 years later, I heard a classmate tell this story as Bishop Dwenger High School legend. We were standing in a garage my friend Dan painted.
I loved deeply and well.
I married for brains and beauty, and I also married into wealth: Homecoming Queen of Rye High School. The Chairman of Cap Cities came to my wedding; they own ABC. So did a top executive of Young & Rubicam. That connection got me an interview with a multi Clio award winning artist who ran the Nynex account. I was hired to be the principal technical voice of Nynex.
I wrote an ad promoting the networking technology Nynex implemented for the State of New York. My brilliant art director partner got a photographer to risk his life taking an empty picture of the Tappan Zee Bridge at dawn.
Here’s the headline, which I captured from a dream state:
YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A STATE OF TRANQUILITY.
It is one of the best pieces I ever wrote.
And now, I am writing to you, dear friends.
I would so like to welcome you into this life altering experience.
I would like you to taste this infinite release.
We have evolved to have a key in our bodies. Receptors in the brain evolved precisely to accept and bond with this psychedelic substance.
It will light a furnace in the language center of the brain. It will turn sound into velvet.
You belong here, in the company of the wise.
You will experience the true secret of Beauty.
God is into Advertising in a really big way.
What is Beauty, but Advertising for God?
Buddha taught us to share the way. To seek the company of the wise.
We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.
We are what we think. Speak and act with an impure mind, and trouble shall follow you, as the wheel that follows the oxen that draws the cart.
We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts.
Speak and act with a pure mind, and happiness shall follow you as your shadow, unshakable.
Share the way.
We are all on this path, you and I.
We must be open to wisdom. To the teachings of the wise, open to the gifts of the Divine Teachers, ascended saints whose enlightened purpose is to aid we strivers – people who seek happiness, friendship, belonging.
We are all here.
We are part of the great Mahayana, the great wheel of reborn generations turning toward God.
My Catholic faith I believe is exactly such a system. All encompassing, a beautiful belief that instills charity, kindness, tolerance, acceptance of the ultimate sacrifice of Christ, who, like Socrates, chose to surrender his life to the cruel dictates of Herod.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
See, friends, we are not alone in our impassioned plea. We belong to a universal community of lost sheep.
We are part of a tribe.
We wander into empty deserts seeking a paradise where we might belong.
We have suffered the slavery of the Pharoah – only to see his marauding pursuing army overswept by a returning ocean. That path was only for the tribe of Israel. God made it so.
Now we must follow that same path.
We will suffer privation, hunger, thirst and desperation.
We will give our life to find this. This promise space. This holy ground consecrated by God to be ours forever.
We understand the plight of Israel, opposed by haters who teach their children to play “Kill the Jew.” They reward mothers of sons and daughters who infiltrate Israeli homes to kill mothers and babies in their kitchen.
How can we complain, we who do not suffer this fate?
We are all a gift of God to Humanity.
We are humble servants entrusted with a beautiful, complete world.
We must find our place in it.
This is our sacred task.
I have become intensely more aware of the people in my life raft with me.
These are people who love me, who wish me every wonderful thing.
These people are in your life, too.
It’s not the in crowd who won’t let you in. it’s not the cruel kids who get off on your humiliation.
These are people who care about you. People who do indeed give a fuck.
Share your time with these people. This is beyond sex. Beyond gratification. Beyond delicious meals, exotic locations, little umbrellas in your mai tai.
This is what is real. What is in your grasp right now.
Connect. Communicate.
Tell your family, your friends, your true friends, that you love them.
Ask them to be a part of your life.
To make a friend, ask for a favor.
This is a formula of human relationships that works just like E=MC2.
This is the key. Use it.
Make friends even if you don’t have them.
Acknowledge the few souls in your life raft with you who know your struggle, who want to help.
I promise you, friend, these people are there.
Monks in a holy circle urging you to follow the Tao.
Listen. Be quiet. Be awake, be aware. Exist in nature. Stretch. Drink water. Fast.
Learn like Siddhartha the amazing life skill of knowing patience, to know how to wait.
Wait. Have patience. This will take time, all the effort you can strain for, from the marrow of your bones, from the core of your soul.
You need to wait. Listen. Be infused with hope.
I promise you, in the deep dark of night, from the shadows of your past, a beautiful future is coming for you. A home in which everything you could possibly want is yours – enough money, the wealth of wanting what you have. The knowledge that like the birds of the forest, God will provide.
You live here, friend.
These immense gifts are yours. Just accept it.
Stop being so lazy, stubborn, self-absorbed.
Get out of this abyss of feeling, this vapidity of ambition. You have the tools. Use them.
Ask someone you would like to get to know for a favor.
It’s a true thing written about by the writers of Blue Bloods.
You get the hug.
From the cantankerous, angry, offended coworker.
You cross the divide.
As much as you long for someone else to make that gesture, it will never happen unless you do it yourself.
You do not need an explanation from the people who have wronged you, who have enjoyed the frisson of your humiliation. Those people are unkind.
Hate cannot be overcome by hate.
Only love wins.
So, love.
Really.
Let this feeling overcome you. Be the servant of this immense feeling you have at your core.
The ability to love.
The choice.
Make it. Now.
Now.
Right now is all that matters.
You are not a time traveler. You cannot fix the past.
You can only atone. Beg God for another chance.
This is in your hands now.
You can make the choice.
So, choose to be happy.
Take responsibility for your situation.
Poor rejected, alone, endlessly alone.
This will all end.
You will find yourself surrounded by people who love you. People who want to share your cooking, people who’d like to get high at your side.
Find them. The outcasts. The loners.
These people have hearts and hope just like you.
They would like you to like them.
Share a laugh. Eat a delicious meal you made.
Why not? What’s stopping you?
The people in this forum share your complaint. They know the pain you suffer.
We are all seeking the Answer.
Why?
Who am I?
What have I become?
Why have I arrived at the end chapter of my life finding that I am unutterably alone?
I have moved to a new city where I knew no one, or maybe one connection to my past. I have made the unimaginable effort to go to a new place as a total stranger.
I have relocated for career many times, six at least, turned down an offer to move from Boston to New York to write Charlie Chaplin ads for IBM at Ogilvy & Mather.
The fear of uprooting myself enforced my decision to stay in place.
I have come to terms with it. This brass monkey of rejection and abandonment that has inscribed the saga of my life.
Ok. I have no friends here.
I will find new friends at the next school, in the new metropolis in the place where things matter and deadlines define your life.
So I’m here, now.
Last chapter. End of my life – moved from New York City to Delray Beach, Florida.
I love my home. I love my life.
I have found deep lifelong friends in my neighbors. These people are in my life raft with me.
I just had my first first date in 35 years.
Oh, God, this beautiful amazing woman was so out of my league, a true one percenter, presenting me with the fatal allure I have pursued all my life: a highly intelligent, Type A Ashkenazi woman.
This beautiful, intoxicating lady was Director of Communications for a major global brand.
So, beyond any hope, this beautiful supreme catch single woman my age, no children, no entanglements, this gorgeous rich creature assented to a second date. We were to have a “Saturday Night Date” at a chic restaurant of her choosing.
And I ate a heroic plate of mushrooms and called her in my frenzy, leaving a long, impassioned, insane message telling her of my smittenness, telling her I find her intoxicating and I want to pray with her in Temple.
Of course, she cancelled the reservation.
This doesn’t work for her.
So I explained, apologized. Wished her every wonderful thing and hoped she will find her match.
I am utterly humiliated. Ashamed. Deeply regretful. I blew my chance with a perfect lass seeking someone to share her interests, her athleticism in tennis and golf, her charitableness,
But she is looking for someone who is not me.
I am alone. That is not going to change.
I really do love you all.
Let’s have a party, drink exquisite wine, wake the neighbors, dance in the parking lot.
This is our time. We’ve earned it.
Let’s share it. Give presents to everyone around us. Dance. Sing. Do the things that equate to happiness. It’s not so hopeless when you’re drunk and singing to reach the rafters.
Happiness will come. It will creep with little cat toes into your sleep. It will nudge you awake.
Answer this call.
The Universe is calling for you.
You have a purpose, your Dharma, your holy path to follow.
Give. Atone. Pray.
Accept the timeless wisdom written in all the holy books for you to read.
Give up your fortune for the privilege of sitting at the feet of the Master, attending his every word.
This is why the city founders of Athens put Socrates to death.
He enthralled the sons of the rich, inheritors of vast fortunes who should be studying war. Instead, these flowers of ancient Greek society were obsessed with the “magic charms” Socrates taught them. The sage advised these young men to look to the East after his death – and not necessarily accept the first Swami who demanded their subservience. Socrates advised to seek true knowledge. To find the true sage who can bestow these powers.
Socrates was an enlightened Master.
This knowledge enforces a total reinterpretation of Greek religion, art and architecture.
Maybe the gods really did visit, played their divine games among the true believers; Zeus raped a maiden when he assumed the form of a swan. Michelangelo or Bernini captured Leda’s ecstasy in a masterpiece of stone.
Ok. Enough rambling.
I would like to bring this intense conversation to a close. Every story must end – to be continued. But the end is necessary.
My wish is to leave you with a fond hello.
I would like to welcome you to my tribe.
We are the people who read. Who love History, Art, Music, Science.
This is our tribe.
Quite often, we are not stupid. We can excel at difficult academic tasks.
We are graced with the capacity to understand our fate. We can confront it and embrace the result.
I am who I am.
Popeye and God have the same message. I yam what I yam.
I am that I am.
See? You’ve heard this.
You have stood in church and temple in wondering awe, probing the meaning of these words.
You know what matters.
You’ve heard the instructions, you’ve rebelled at the authority, you have disobeyed every command.
Now you must bring yourself to heel. Be the captain of your ship, steer your way through the mighty tempest of this life.
You’ve got to work.
Give up every lazy impulse. Don’t stop. Don’t quit. Do it. Just do it.
Get strong. Seek the company of people who are smarter than you.
Learn from them. Learn from this experience.
Let your life be the lighthouse guiding you from the rocks.
Safe. Secure. Dry, warm and fed.
Ok, I should be quiet now.
I will always remember this moment, this gift of time I have been graced to share with you.
Never forget. Let’s keep this little light in our hearts. And go on.
See you at the Rodeo,
George
submitted by Dharmabum888 to lonely [link] [comments]
Dear Friends,
I need to tell you this.
I have found a way out.
Out of this enveloping abyss of loneliness, fear, resignation, abandonment.
I have found a way out.
Our brains have evolved to have receptors for a magical, life transforming substance.
This experience is the subject of deep study by the scientists at Johns Hopkins University.
It is real.
It is happening to me right now.
I am higher than I have ever been in my life.
This is beyond fun.
I am so happy to share this news with you.
You are all my friends.
I understand to my core the lonely lives you lead.
All my life I have searched for friends.
For someone who gets me.
I am beginning to find it.
When I was 12 the gang I started, the Jets, turned on me, rejected me, called me “Squealer!” and the biggest bully hit me in the schoolyard.
My transgression to the group was that I told my parents what happened to my grandfather’s coin collection.
I found two of the kids in the gang in my house, robbing me of my heritage.
I had no friends.
I went to a new school, after 8th grade. And I made new friends, a gang, we bonded. Father Speckhoff took us to a gym and had us box. I fought Kern. Zinc fought Pebble. Verish fought Steinbacker.
50 years later, I heard a classmate tell this story as Bishop Dwenger High School legend. We were standing in a garage my friend Dan painted.
I loved deeply and well.
I married for brains and beauty, and I also married into wealth: Homecoming Queen of Rye High School. The Chairman of Cap Cities came to my wedding; they own ABC. So did a top executive of Young & Rubicam. That connection got me an interview with a multi Clio award winning artist who ran the Nynex account. I was hired to be the principal technical voice of Nynex.
I wrote an ad promoting the networking technology Nynex implemented for the State of New York. My brilliant art director partner got a photographer to risk his life taking an empty picture of the Tappan Zee Bridge at dawn.
Here’s the headline, which I captured from a dream state:
YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A STATE OF TRANQUILITY.
It is one of the best pieces I ever wrote.
And now, I am writing to you, dear friends.
I would so like to welcome you into this life altering experience.
I would like you to taste this infinite release.
We have evolved to have a key in our bodies. Receptors in the brain evolved precisely to accept and bond with this psychedelic substance.
It will light a furnace in the language center of the brain. It will turn sound into velvet.
You belong here, in the company of the wise.
You will experience the true secret of Beauty.
God is into Advertising in a really big way.
What is Beauty, but Advertising for God?
Buddha taught us to share the way. To seek the company of the wise.
We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.
We are what we think. Speak and act with an impure mind, and trouble shall follow you, as the wheel that follows the oxen that draws the cart.
We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts.
Speak and act with a pure mind, and happiness shall follow you as your shadow, unshakable.
Share the way.
We are all on this path, you and I.
We must be open to wisdom. To the teachings of the wise, open to the gifts of the Divine Teachers, ascended saints whose enlightened purpose is to aid we strivers – people who seek happiness, friendship, belonging.
We are all here.
We are part of the great Mahayana, the great wheel of reborn generations turning toward God.
My Catholic faith I believe is exactly such a system. All encompassing, a beautiful belief that instills charity, kindness, tolerance, acceptance of the ultimate sacrifice of Christ, who, like Socrates, chose to surrender his life to the cruel dictates of Herod.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
See, friends, we are not alone in our impassioned plea. We belong to a universal community of lost sheep.
We are part of a tribe.
We wander into empty deserts seeking a paradise where we might belong.
We have suffered the slavery of the Pharoah – only to see his marauding pursuing army overswept by a returning ocean. That path was only for the tribe of Israel. God made it so.
Now we must follow that same path.
We will suffer privation, hunger, thirst and desperation.
We will give our life to find this. This promise space. This holy ground consecrated by God to be ours forever.
We understand the plight of Israel, opposed by haters who teach their children to play “Kill the Jew.” They reward mothers of sons and daughters who infiltrate Israeli homes to kill mothers and babies in their kitchen.
How can we complain, we who do not suffer this fate?
We are all a gift of God to Humanity.
We are humble servants entrusted with a beautiful, complete world.
We must find our place in it.
This is our sacred task.
I have become intensely more aware of the people in my life raft with me.
These are people who love me, who wish me every wonderful thing.
These people are in your life, too.
It’s not the in crowd who won’t let you in. it’s not the cruel kids who get off on your humiliation.
These are people who care about you. People who do indeed give a fuck.
Share your time with these people. This is beyond sex. Beyond gratification. Beyond delicious meals, exotic locations, little umbrellas in your mai tai.
This is what is real. What is in your grasp right now.
Connect. Communicate.
Tell your family, your friends, your true friends, that you love them.
Ask them to be a part of your life.
To make a friend, ask for a favor.
This is a formula of human relationships that works just like E=MC2.
This is the key. Use it.
Make friends even if you don’t have them.
Acknowledge the few souls in your life raft with you who know your struggle, who want to help.
I promise you, friend, these people are there.
Monks in a holy circle urging you to follow the Tao.
Listen. Be quiet. Be awake, be aware. Exist in nature. Stretch. Drink water. Fast.
Learn like Siddhartha the amazing life skill of knowing patience, to know how to wait.
Wait. Have patience. This will take time, all the effort you can strain for, from the marrow of your bones, from the core of your soul.
You need to wait. Listen. Be infused with hope.
I promise you, in the deep dark of night, from the shadows of your past, a beautiful future is coming for you. A home in which everything you could possibly want is yours – enough money, the wealth of wanting what you have. The knowledge that like the birds of the forest, God will provide.
You live here, friend.
These immense gifts are yours. Just accept it.
Stop being so lazy, stubborn, self-absorbed.
Get out of this abyss of feeling, this vapidity of ambition. You have the tools. Use them.
Ask someone you would like to get to know for a favor.
It’s a true thing written about by the writers of Blue Bloods.
You get the hug.
From the cantankerous, angry, offended coworker.
You cross the divide.
As much as you long for someone else to make that gesture, it will never happen unless you do it yourself.
You do not need an explanation from the people who have wronged you, who have enjoyed the frisson of your humiliation. Those people are unkind.
Hate cannot be overcome by hate.
Only love wins.
So, love.
Really.
Let this feeling overcome you. Be the servant of this immense feeling you have at your core.
The ability to love.
The choice.
Make it. Now.
Now.
Right now is all that matters.
You are not a time traveler. You cannot fix the past.
You can only atone. Beg God for another chance.
This is in your hands now.
You can make the choice.
So, choose to be happy.
Take responsibility for your situation.
Poor rejected, alone, endlessly alone.
This will all end.
You will find yourself surrounded by people who love you. People who want to share your cooking, people who’d like to get high at your side.
Find them. The outcasts. The loners.
These people have hearts and hope just like you.
They would like you to like them.
Share a laugh. Eat a delicious meal you made.
Why not? What’s stopping you?
The people in this forum share your complaint. They know the pain you suffer.
We are all seeking the Answer.
Why?
Who am I?
What have I become?
Why have I arrived at the end chapter of my life finding that I am unutterably alone?
I have moved to a new city where I knew no one, or maybe one connection to my past. I have made the unimaginable effort to go to a new place as a total stranger.
I have relocated for career many times, six at least, turned down an offer to move from Boston to New York to write Charlie Chaplin ads for IBM at Ogilvy & Mather.
The fear of uprooting myself enforced my decision to stay in place.
I have come to terms with it. This brass monkey of rejection and abandonment that has inscribed the saga of my life.
Ok. I have no friends here.
I will find new friends at the next school, in the new metropolis in the place where things matter and deadlines define your life.
So I’m here, now.
Last chapter. End of my life – moved from New York City to Delray Beach, Florida.
I love my home. I love my life.
I have found deep lifelong friends in my neighbors. These people are in my life raft with me.
I just had my first first date in 35 years.
Oh, God, this beautiful amazing woman was so out of my league, a true one percenter, presenting me with the fatal allure I have pursued all my life: a highly intelligent, Type A Ashkenazi woman.
This beautiful, intoxicating lady was Director of Communications for a major global brand.
So, beyond any hope, this beautiful supreme catch single woman my age, no children, no entanglements, this gorgeous rich creature assented to a second date. We were to have a “Saturday Night Date” at a chic restaurant of her choosing.
And I ate a heroic plate of mushrooms and called her in my frenzy, leaving a long, impassioned, insane message telling her of my smittenness, telling her I find her intoxicating and I want to pray with her in Temple.
Of course, she cancelled the reservation.
This doesn’t work for her.
So I explained, apologized. Wished her every wonderful thing and hoped she will find her match.
I am utterly humiliated. Ashamed. Deeply regretful. I blew my chance with a perfect lass seeking someone to share her interests, her athleticism in tennis and golf, her charitableness,
But she is looking for someone who is not me.
I am alone. That is not going to change.
I really do love you all.
Let’s have a party, drink exquisite wine, wake the neighbors, dance in the parking lot.
This is our time. We’ve earned it.
Let’s share it. Give presents to everyone around us. Dance. Sing. Do the things that equate to happiness. It’s not so hopeless when you’re drunk and singing to reach the rafters.
Happiness will come. It will creep with little cat toes into your sleep. It will nudge you awake.
Answer this call.
The Universe is calling for you.
You have a purpose, your Dharma, your holy path to follow.
Give. Atone. Pray.
Accept the timeless wisdom written in all the holy books for you to read.
Give up your fortune for the privilege of sitting at the feet of the Master, attending his every word.
This is why the city founders of Athens put Socrates to death.
He enthralled the sons of the rich, inheritors of vast fortunes who should be studying war. Instead, these flowers of ancient Greek society were obsessed with the “magic charms” Socrates taught them. The sage advised these young men to look to the East after his death – and not necessarily accept the first Swami who demanded their subservience. Socrates advised to seek true knowledge. To find the true sage who can bestow these powers.
Socrates was an enlightened Master.
This knowledge enforces a total reinterpretation of Greek religion, art and architecture.
Maybe the gods really did visit, played their divine games among the true believers; Zeus raped a maiden when he assumed the form of a swan. Michelangelo or Bernini captured Leda’s ecstasy in a masterpiece of stone.
Ok. Enough rambling.
I would like to bring this intense conversation to a close. Every story must end – to be continued. But the end is necessary.
My wish is to leave you with a fond hello.
I would like to welcome you to my tribe.
We are the people who read. Who love History, Art, Music, Science.
This is our tribe.
Quite often, we are not stupid. We can excel at difficult academic tasks.
We are graced with the capacity to understand our fate. We can confront it and embrace the result.
I am who I am.
Popeye and God have the same message. I yam what I yam.
I am that I am.
See? You’ve heard this.
You have stood in church and temple in wondering awe, probing the meaning of these words.
You know what matters.
You’ve heard the instructions, you’ve rebelled at the authority, you have disobeyed every command.
Now you must bring yourself to heel. Be the captain of your ship, steer your way through the mighty tempest of this life.
You’ve got to work.
Give up every lazy impulse. Don’t stop. Don’t quit. Do it. Just do it.
Get strong. Seek the company of people who are smarter than you.
Learn from them. Learn from this experience.
Let your life be the lighthouse guiding you from the rocks.
Safe. Secure. Dry, warm and fed.
Ok, I should be quiet now.
I will always remember this moment, this gift of time I have been graced to share with you.
Never forget. Let’s keep this little light in our hearts. And go on.
See you at the Rodeo,
George
2023.02.07 21:30 Mothersilverape We need to fight the Silver Fix on all fronts. Silence and truth suppression is silver’s worst enemy. Silence about the banker price fixing is as bad as the suppression. Misinformation and misdirection are rampant. It is critical to inform silver stackers about the never-ending silver price fix.
It is wrong for silver dealers not to inform clients about systemic silver price suppression.
It is wrong for precious metal and silver communities leading silver stackers to suppress knowledge of the silver price fix. (And the Put Option working to “untie the fix.)
It is equally wrong for silver communities, silver miners, and silver dealers to not inform their members and clients and stock holders about the solution: The Put Option Strategy.
Instead of hiding or suppressing the truth, these groups should be promoting the idea of freeing the price of silver from its manipulation every single day. If they truly care about their communities, it should be their primary focus.
If they did their part to educated silver stackers, we could rapidly building a team of silver put options traders that can help to avert a dangerous growing money crisis. There is no currency that feels safe anymore. Except for silver. But it is kept locked in a box of silence wrapped up and hidden under a cloak of secrecy.
Just sharing about the Silver fix is how you can all help. Asking questions about silver price suppression at Silver forums helps a great deal. I have been asked not to vigorously promote Occupy Silver or the Put Option Strategy, even though doing so would help every single silver stacker. But all of you, asking questions about how to manage the silver fix and explaining how the silver price is suppressed is the first step to getting people to start looking and researching to find real solutions.
Silver groups can easly stop one little irritating me. But they can’t stop an army of magnificent silver knights asking, having apes and Degens inquiring about the silver fix ( lesson 2! )
If enough Silver knights did this, we would soon have multitudes of stackers demanding that traders to come to Occupy Silver to learn own to help free the price of silver! These are the billboards (posts) that need to be created on all platforms. We need to make silver stackers aware of the problem before we can even present them with a solution. We can use this latest but expected dive in the silver price to wake them up!
We ALL need to fight the silver fix. So even if you can’t yet trade options. This is how you can help. Just bring up the silver price suppression and the silver fix everywhere you post. It is real. It affects stackers. And people will listen.
Silver has always been intended to be a safe place to keep your savings free from inflation, fiat manipulation and now CBDCS. Stackers have step one of this figured out already. They have stacked. Some have stacked silver to the rafters. Now they just need to know that there is more work that needs to be done, and more solutions that need to be discovered and implemented to free the spot price of silver.
submitted by Mothersilverape to OccupySilver [link] [comments]
It is wrong for precious metal and silver communities leading silver stackers to suppress knowledge of the silver price fix. (And the Put Option working to “untie the fix.)
It is equally wrong for silver communities, silver miners, and silver dealers to not inform their members and clients and stock holders about the solution: The Put Option Strategy.
Instead of hiding or suppressing the truth, these groups should be promoting the idea of freeing the price of silver from its manipulation every single day. If they truly care about their communities, it should be their primary focus.
If they did their part to educated silver stackers, we could rapidly building a team of silver put options traders that can help to avert a dangerous growing money crisis. There is no currency that feels safe anymore. Except for silver. But it is kept locked in a box of silence wrapped up and hidden under a cloak of secrecy.
Just sharing about the Silver fix is how you can all help. Asking questions about silver price suppression at Silver forums helps a great deal. I have been asked not to vigorously promote Occupy Silver or the Put Option Strategy, even though doing so would help every single silver stacker. But all of you, asking questions about how to manage the silver fix and explaining how the silver price is suppressed is the first step to getting people to start looking and researching to find real solutions.
Silver groups can easly stop one little irritating me. But they can’t stop an army of magnificent silver knights asking, having apes and Degens inquiring about the silver fix ( lesson 2! )
If enough Silver knights did this, we would soon have multitudes of stackers demanding that traders to come to Occupy Silver to learn own to help free the price of silver! These are the billboards (posts) that need to be created on all platforms. We need to make silver stackers aware of the problem before we can even present them with a solution. We can use this latest but expected dive in the silver price to wake them up!
We ALL need to fight the silver fix. So even if you can’t yet trade options. This is how you can help. Just bring up the silver price suppression and the silver fix everywhere you post. It is real. It affects stackers. And people will listen.
Silver has always been intended to be a safe place to keep your savings free from inflation, fiat manipulation and now CBDCS. Stackers have step one of this figured out already. They have stacked. Some have stacked silver to the rafters. Now they just need to know that there is more work that needs to be done, and more solutions that need to be discovered and implemented to free the spot price of silver.
2023.02.06 14:57 Formal_Respond7868 rupps rafters
submitted by Formal_Respond7868 to u/Formal_Respond7868 [link] [comments]
2023.02.01 04:58 RegalLegalEagle Pawn Ch 15
Take care of your health dear readers! I'm finally getting back to writing, and I say this a lot... but I swear I'm working on more Pawn! Until then enjoy,
Pawn Ch 15!
My stories
My patreon
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
Neu Vieumau Joint Occupation Zone
“How could you abandon me?!”
“I was saving you! You know they were after me!”
“You don’t know how hard it was when you disappeared! You could have taken me with you!”
“There’s no time for that now! Gunships!”
“Pause.” Even as Raiden said that Vix looked over with a surprised look.
“What? It’s getting good!” She waved at the vid screen with the frozen characters on it.
But Raiden crossed his arms as he felt a little uneasy. The show was playing through a bit of a story that had been going through his mind lately. “Do you think I’m… shitty for leaving Juala behind?”
“Leaving her behind where?” Vix seemed confused. “The hab is like… a block and a half away.”
“Yeah but…” Raiden sighed as he scratched the back of his head trying to think about the strange sensation that had been working through his gut recently when he thought back on the young Davari girl still living with his dad and “step-mom.”
“You always said they treated her better than you anyway.” Vix sort of waved it off. “And when you went back to get some of your stuff you said how your dad was. You couldn’t stay there.”
“Yeah…” Now Raiden shifted a little on his seat. He had sort of… lied to her about the last time he went there. Really he’d been too scared to confront his dad and waited for him to leave so he could sneak in and clean out the most important stuff from his room. “But… shouldn’t I try to help her?”
“How?” Vix arched a brow at that. “She’s literally Suviki’s child. You have no connection to her legally. You know just as well as I do how the Children Wellness Bureau is.” Even though Raiden knew Vix was right about that he still felt… Uneasy.
“What about… convincing Clay to give me ration packs to sneak to her?” He suggested.
“You don’t eat enough of my food?” Raiden and Vix both jumped as Clay said that from the doorway.
“Jesus!” Vix clutched at her chest a moment. Raiden similarly had to take a breath to try and recover from his surprise. “Don’t you knock?!”
“This is my building. And just because you two have been living here does not actually make it your room.” His eyes glanced down at the floor. “Even if you have been treating it as such.”
Raiden looked down at the wrappers and some crumbs on the floor as he quickly dropped down to start snatching up the trash. “Sorry! I’ll clean it up!”
“That’s alright, it can wait. Lunch is served. I’m going to start being more insistent on scheduled meal times for you two. Your snacking is unhealthy. And… I thought since you two are essentially living here now I might as well actually let you see my living space upstairs.” That caught Raiden’s attention as he leaned up with an armful of trash.
“Really?” He glanced at Vix who glanced back at him. Her ears twitched and her tail furled at the prospect.
“Yes. Come on.” He waved them forward then. Raiden hesitantly got back up to his feet while clutching the trash so he could try and stuff it into the overflowing trash can by the door. Vix waited for him to take the lead and then followed behind. Clay ushered them through the back of the store to one of the doors they hadn’t been let through before. Raiden got a little excited by the prospect. What sort of secrets would be revealed?
But when they walked up the stairs they came out into… an apartment? It was a very nice looking space. Big open area with a surprisingly large kitchen area for one person. Next to it was an island with some bar stools, and a very large table with wood chairs. The counters in the kitchen looked to be some kind of dark stone, the floor was a brownish caramel colored wood. There was a big vid screen in the corner set into a massive bookcase, a giant leather couch, and two armchairs. Giant windows along one wall looked into the courtyard the Pawn shop formed with the warehouses around it. Not the best view… There were plants hanging from the ceiling, and unusual artwork on the walls. Was it unusual?
Raiden just realized he had no idea what was normal for art. It just didn’t look like most of what he saw around the neighborhood. It was… very… sleek? It was less about looking like real things and more like… colors with lines… and sometimes blobs. He tilted his head as he looked at one painting that ran from the floor to the ceiling and got the feeling it was somehow tilted even if he could see it was set straight.
“You’ve been cramming us into that tiny room downstairs when you’ve got all this space?” Vix waved her hands as her tail unfurled.
“I have been allowing you two to stay rent free, and providing you both with food and more. Excuse me if I don’t seem broken up over your two choices to just stay. AFTER!” Vix was raising a hand to talk back but Clay cut her off. “Getting you healed up from that unfortunate incident earlier.”
“You mean being exploded?! I think that’s a bit worse than an unfortunate incident!” Her tail was fully unfurled now as Raiden just gulped somewhat uncomfortably. Memories of his home life now fully at the forefront of his mind.
“And someone here for some reason keeps trying to undo my efforts to rehabilitate them! Proper exercise is important to a return to full health!” Clay countered even as Vix just scoffed and waved it off. But she didn’t continue so maybe Clay had won? Then Raiden’s mind was taken up not by sound but smell as he sniffed.
“Oh my god. What smells so good?” Looking around now he saw two plates set out on the dark stone countertop of the island.
“Lunch. A healthy, balanced, entirely free of junk lunch.” Clay waved them at it. “I roasted tubers with [pini leaf] and spiced [freckle cap] mushrooms. Plus just a bit of grated and melted cheese on top.” Raiden hadn’t realized how hungry he was until this exact moment as his stomach growled with need.
“[By Swagin’s throbbing balls] that smells good.” Vix muttered.
“While I understand how excited you might be, and that the local culture is undeniably Swaginite I would still prefer, if one did not speak about my cooking in reference to a deity’s testicles.” Clay muttered.
“It’s a good thing!” Vix waved it off as she took her plate and looked around. “Drinks?”
“Help yourself to what’s in the fridge. Or water. Glasses are in the cabinet left of the stove.” Clay gestured as Raiden realized that the massive steel door on the other side of the stove was in fact the largest refrigerator he’d ever seen. Clay began to walk off towards the bookcase then as he and Vix went to get some glasses. He stood next to her as she opened one of the wood cabinets to see shelves stocked with a giant array of glasses. Clay had more on one shelf than Raiden had ever seen in an entire apartment.
However when Vix reached up to grab one he noticed her side twinge and her fingers slipped, knocking the glass down instead. He saw it happen and reflexively tried to reach out and grab it, only to misjudge it and bounce the glass off his fingers and send it fully tumbling down to the floor as it shattered on the wood. His heart began to race as he looked down at it and he knew the yelling would begin.
Trying to get ahead of the reaction he stepped between Vix and Clay as he spoke first. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident! My fingers slipped and I’ll pay you back for it I promise! I’m a good worker! Just give me a chance and I’ll work however long you need to make amends! I swear!”
The room was silent, aside from the pounding of his heart in his own ears as he watched Clay look back at him. The shouting would begin any moment… “That’s… okay. Those glasses are very cheap. It’s maybe a credit a glass. Just be careful, broken glass can be very sharp and I don’t want either of you hurting yourselves. I’ll get a dustpan and a brush.”
“A credit a glass?” Vix asked while Raiden stood there still, feeling… very confused at the lack of a reaction.
“Yes.” Clay opened one of the doors besides the kitchen to reveal a very deep pantry, where he grabbed a brush and a small dustpan. “For the purposes of government subsidies I know of a high end glassblower who makes much more simple glassware at cost in exchange for my filing of paperwork that allows them to keep their subsidies. They make one small batch a year. I’ve really got too many.” Clay was walking back with the dustpan, ushering them out of the way as he crouched down to sweep up the broken shards of glass. Then he pulled out a drawer which was actually a hidden trashcan and threw away the broken glass.
“Hand me a paper towel.” Raiden looked around and grabbed one from a roll on the counter to hand to him. Clay then got the paper towel a little wet in the sink and wiped up the area where the glass had fallen.
“Why are you doing that?” Vix asked as they made room for him.
“Ah… I should preface this I realize with saying I have no idea if this really helps. My mom had me do it as a child if a glass broke. She was worried there would be glass dust, and said wiping the area with a wet paper towel would catch any left so you don’t cut your toes. Until just now I’ve never thought if it really does work. Habit I suppose.” He shrugged as he also threw away the now dirty paper towel.
Raiden couldn’t picture Clay as a child. For some reason he just sort of assumed that one day Clay had appeared fully formed and grown as a man. “Sorry about the glass.” Raiden repeated, not sure what else to do now.
“It’s quite alright. Accidents happen. What’s important is making sure you’re okay.” Clay’s reply left him feeling extra confused as he watched the man walk back over to his bookcase.
“Okay well let's eat.” Vix nudged his side which made Raiden jump a little. This time when she grabbed a glass she kept a much firmer hold and handed it to him as he just filled it with water from the tap. Vix instead went to open the giant fridge. Raiden stood slightly dumbfounded as the big door swung open to reveal the most overflowing, well stocked fridge he had ever seen. Eggs, fresh veggies, drawers full of meats, cheeses, butter! He had butter on the door! Several different kinds of it! Raiden’s mouth hung open even as Vix grabbed a bottle of something yellow and shut the door as if it was nothing.
Raiden was left behind a moment as she carried her glass and the bottle to the table before getting her plate. “Uh… forks?” She asked and looked around.
“Oh, drawer to the right of the dishwasher.” Clay called out as he pulled a book from his bookshelf to read. Vix grabbed some forks and knives and then gestured for Raiden who finally remembered to move. Grabbing his plate he joined her at the table as they sat down and the incredible smells made his stomach growl once more.
Sitting next to Vix he looked at his food a moment before she nudged his arm and gave him a look as if to convey a question about his reaction earlier. He just shrugged though and carefully stabbed one of the mushrooms to try. Even as he first bit into it the well seasoned and savory taste made him wonder why he’d ever eaten rations instead of asking Clay to cook. Both he and Vix started to quickly inhale the food, just quietly eating and enjoying it. But then Vix once more broke the silence. “Wait… do you have movies?”
“Hm?” Clay looked up from his book to look where Vix was gesturing at his bookshelf. “Yes of course.”
“But I thought you hated movies.” She mentioned which had him let out a light snort.
“Whatever gave you the impression I detest cinema?” Raiden wondered if he’d ever learn how to talk like Clay.
“You always rag on the stuff we watch!” Vix gestured between her and Raiden.
“Ah… Well I hate to break it to you, but it’s not so much cinema but more… the particular genre of Hollywood you two seem to love that I don’t tend to enjoy. I should add when I say Hollywood I do refer to more of the media made specifically for the central focus of the Void, Americans, and Antarens. Obviously Bollywood made things more for their sphere, the Soyuzfilm for slavs, and House of Ma for the Dragon market.” The way he spoke made Raiden wonder a bit if he was supposed to just know all those names.
“What cinema do you like then?” Vix asked.
“If you must know, I prefer Ravex cinema, and the Deep Water genre of Kra’Kto’Sui. Davari cinema is… much more fractious but honestly the local [Artist Cultural Union] work is pretty well made. A few slips and maybe some… problematic takes here and there but overall good quality.” He shrugged, once more talking like Raiden should know of these things.
“Why do you hate hollywood?” Vix asked in between bites of the food.
“I don’t hate…” Clay sighed and finally turned to face them, setting his book down. “When I was younger I also watched a lot of media from Hollywood. Of course I was a Void citizen so that was expected. But fairly early on I realized that it wasn’t really… for me. I came to realize that all Hollywood makes is stories about beautiful, beautiful people. Beautiful beautiful people who pretend to be normal people with normal people problems. All of which ring hollow in the face of… being truly beautiful. And… often also related to all the powerful figures in an insanely nepotistic industry but that’s a different story.” Clay waved off his last point a little.
“Beautiful people?” Raiden asked.
“Beautiful, beautiful people.” Clay repeated. “Don’t you ever get the sense in your vids that they complain about not finding love, or friendship, or some level of community despite being the level of gorgeous that never actually has to worry about such things? I’m not saying people that attractive have no problems. But they have different problems than they portray. Anyone that beautiful will always be able to easily find people who want them around if for no other reason than that they’re very pretty! It’s like having a walking bit of art on hand. And that in Hollywood truly the deepest sin isn’t murder or crime of any sort.”
“What? Being ugly?” Vix offered. “There’s tons of movies they make about finding the good in ugly monsters and stuff!”
“Children’s movies. Lies.” Clay shook his head. “But even then being ugly can at least make someone seem more unique and interesting. No. Truly I as a young man was guilty of Hollywood’s ultimate sin… being unremarkable.”
“Unremarkable?” Raiden asked in confusion.
“Truly worse than being ugly! I was totally and entirely… forgettable. See in Hollywood when a beautiful person pretends to be ugly for a film they are showered in awards. Because they can’t imagine suffering through being ugly for any period of time. But those of us who are forgettable? We will never be seen. We will never be known.” Clay sighed then and shook his head a little before looking at one of his paintings.
“I don’t think you’re forgettable.” Raiden said feeling guilty for some reason, even as he kept eating.
“No. I’m a bit more noticeable now. But I was young. And stupid. I was so obsessed with this notion back then of… making myself on my own. Not based on… what I was born as.” Clay shook his head and waved it off again.
“What were you born as?” Vix asked, pouring herself more of whatever she had in the yellow bottle.
“An exceedingly average nobody. I lived the average Void life. Two parents, divorced, who had two point five children. I was the point five. The only skill I excelled at as a child was time management and logistics really. Needing to know what I had in each house, what I had on me, how long before being moved from one place to another. Who was related to who in each family and stepfamily. When I joined the military I thought I’d do it to cut myself free of any obligations I had to families I wasn’t sure cared about me. Which… let me tell you both is very stupid. If you’re ever given an advantage, take it. And do more with it. Don’t start with nothing out of pride. Pride can’t be spent in any store in the galaxy.” Once more he shook his head and sighed.
“Also, let me tell you that the military will never lack for people who can and will shoot the enemy. But they will struggle to find people who can count without needing to use their fingers, and understand the very basic concept of needing to store stuff in places, and then find it later. So I was assigned to logistics. Which was… fine. I’ll be honest I am no brave hero seeking combat, so I did look for safe work and logistics is about as safe as it gets. It’s also a highly prized business skill, and after the military and the college it paid for I got hired by Absolute Dynamics.” That last bit made Raiden gasp.
“What?!” Vix much more loudly exclaimed. “Did you work with synths and stuff?! What was it like?”
“I worked… in logistics.” Clay stressed as he glanced at them. Raiden immediately realized that made more sense… but the vids always made it seem…
“Logistics?” Vix sounded very disappointed.
“This might surprise you, but the largest company in the galaxy does… Sorry. Did have a lot of stuff. And it needed a vast array of people to manage all the stuff it had. So yes. I worked for Absolute Dynamics… in logistics.” Raiden could see Vix’s tail curl a bit as she realized that was all Clay did. Raiden was actually a bit more… relieved.
“So then… wait… how did you get back into the military?” Raiden asked, realizing Clay had worked for them in the war.
“I was here on vacation when the war broke out. Once the Void arrived they rounded up all Absolute Dynamics personnel for security reasons. They saw my past service and offered me a deal. Work for them, in logistics, or go to prison until they could sort out how a trial would work. I chose military service. And once the war was over quietly had me retire as some officers realized where I used to work. Many didn’t mind but it was… a delicate political situation. So here I am now running a pawn shop.” Clay gestured vaguely around the room. Then at his watch. “Which reminds me. Raiden, I need you to pick something up.”
Raiden lifted his plate to shovel the rest of the tubers and mushrooms into his mouth. “Take your time! Chew! Don’t inhale! You’ll choke!” Clay insisted as he watched Raiden stuff his mouth. For his part Raiden worked to chew his giant mouthful of food carefully now. Vix just smirked at him. “I’m going downstairs, take your time. Seriously. Don’t choke. Just relax and eat.” Clay gave his shoulder a brief pat as he walked past. Raiden just nodded, his mouth too full to say anything.
Vix was more slowly eating as she watched him walk back downstairs. Once he was gone she looked at Raiden, her tail unfurling. “Dude, what was up with you earlier and the glass? I’m the one who dropped it and then you got really weird!”
Hearing that Raiden’s shoulders felt a bit more tense and he just held a hand in front of his mouth while he chewed, now using the mouthful to try and give himself time to work his emotions into something coherent. “Mhm…” He finally swallowed most of the food. “I panicked.”
“You panicked?” She asked as he tail twitched in confusion. Then she seemed to get it. “Were you worried he was going to scream at you like your dad?” Raiden just nodded. “He’s not your dad. Have you ever heard him yell?”
“No… but… I panicked.” Raiden felt a little defensive, especially after his worries earlier so he just gulped down some water and stood up. Grabbing his plate he looked around the kitchen a moment.
“I’ll take care of it.” Vix waved him off.
“Thanks.” He nodded and then quickly headed back downstairs to try and grab his backpack before finding Clay in the office. “More packages?”
“Later. For now I need you to pick up some specialized bot parts for me.” He was writing something down on a little note.
“Oh no… is this more of the…” He closed his eyes and tried to think. “Reciprocating dinglearm logarithmic… I don’t even remember.”
“No, nothing so complicated. Just go here, and get the package I already ordered.” He handed over the note for Raiden to see it was an address and some kind of number code. “He’s a bit skittish with all the trouble recently. So you’ll have to use that code to get into the building. But it’s fine he’s just worried about Death’s Hand and you’re human.”
“Uhm… should I maybe start… carrying the gun?” He asked thinking about the handgun in the basement firing range.
“You’re doing much better with it, but I'm still not comfortable with you taking it out. Remember your best defense if anyone tries to mug you… is just run away. Find some MPs.” Raiden frowned thinking about that. Clay had mentioned it before but especially with his thinking about Juala earlier he felt… odd about it. Was that all he did? Run away?
“Okay.” He nodded though, not feeling like it would make sense to push it right now.
“Good, oh and take this. In case he hassles you about anything just give it to him.” Clay picked a small box off a shelf and handed it to him. Raiden tilted his head as he looked it over.
“Plastic army men?” He glanced up in confusion.
“Oh. No no no.” Clay wagged a finger. “These are wargaming miniatures. Don’t let the concept fool you. They may appear to be little more than plastic army men but I assure you they are much-much more expensive than that.” Raiden just gave him a confused look. “Just take it with you.”
“Okay.” He shrugged it off and set the bag into his backpack as he got ready to head out. It was another nice day in the city, so he wasn’t too worried about the weather. Instead he looked at the address and tried to think of the fastest way to get there. First he glanced up and down the street for any sign of the local goons Neff and Lenk. They hadn’t given up on trying to ambush him and beat on him but he’d avoided them so far. Plus he had that stun baton Agni had given him. And… running had been working so far.
Still, the Void patrols had been consistent so if he stuck to the street then he figured he’d be okay. Turning to head along the path in his head he rounded the first corner and was surprised to see not a Void patrol militia. The old Davari imperial military hadn’t been back since Void had been given nominal authority over this zone. And he wasn’t keen on seeing them back considering how they used to behave towards him and the other human residents.
But for now they were clustered up on the edge of the park. Having… a picnic? Sure enough as Raiden looked more closely he could see the soldiers were scattered around the hill at the edge of the once vibrant and now mostly neglected park. They were just sitting or laying down, had food out, and several bottles of devotion wine were being passed around. He had been getting used to the professionalism of the Void so seeing the militia again was jarring.
Just as thought about it a Void patrol rounded the corner ahead of him and began walking down the street. He was walking towards them, but they were eying the militia having their hillside picnic. “[It’s the purple pimples!]” One of the militia called out upon seeing them.
Raiden cinched the straps of his backpack a little tighter to his shoulder in anxiety as he kept walking. “[Keeping our district safe for us?]”
“[Better be keeping your little purple dicks away from our favorite waitresses!]” If the Void patrol understood the Decktongue being shouted at them they showed no signs and just kept walking along the street.
“[No women, no drugs, no booze! What a waste! How many of your friends died to save us from ourselves?!]” Even as he glanced over Raiden watched the militia Knight of Arms just pour a nice big glass of wine to enjoy with some trili nuts. Not a care in the world as his men jeered at the passing Void soldiers.
“[How many more bombs until you’re back in space where you all belong!]” This time one of the militia chucked an empty bottle of the devotion wine at the patrol. To his surprise it didn’t shatter on the road but actually bounced. Was it plastic? This time the Void patrol tensed up and seemed to get ready to square off with the militia.
“No one does shit! Patrol continues!” A loud voice from near the back boomed at the rest and the soldiers faltered a moment before they continued forward down the street. Seeing their lack of a response the militia began to jeer louder, and another bottle was thrown, this one spilling some left over wine across an unfortunate Void soldier. To his credit he didn’t even hesitate. Just kept walking.
“[By Swagin’s taint you aren’t getting any more wine. Waste it or drink it.]” That was the first thing the Knight at Arms told the rest of the squad and that of all things seemed to get them to settle down and resume their picnic with what they had left. Raiden was feeling extra anxious at the interaction as he passed the marching soldiers on the road and then picked up his pace to get out of there. Why were militia back? He could only pray they weren’t getting control of the district again…
Once he rounded the street corner from the main road he picked up the pace yet again. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that Neff and Lenk were more likely to show up if a patrol had just passed and they thought another wouldn’t be along in a while. Thankfully he’d seen that the Void didn’t seem to have one set schedule but kept random patrols so they couldn’t so easily be predicted. Still he cut down another alley and swiftly jumped a dumpster to then hop another fence. What had he ever done before getting these jump boots? Walked everywhere like a chump…
When he emerged from the far end of the alleyway he was about to cross the street when a shadow in the sky made him look up. Rather than being a particularly big cloud he gasped softly looking at a large ship or something moving across the city. It looked… menacing. Distinctly military. But he had no idea what it was or what it was doing. He hadn’t seen any navy ships since… ever? Even in the war they’d been in space. Probably. He assumed they were. An assault lander was the biggest thing he’d seen.
Considering the attacks recently maybe they were stepping up military presence in general around the city. It wasn’t a great feeling to know his home might be descending into chaos again. Was this how it had felt the first time? Just a… general uneasiness? Was there anyone who would just declare like… yep now is wartime? Or did the explosions just get more frequent? Scurrying across the street he ducked into the next alleyway and found the right address. There was a little keypad and he paused as he looked at it. Clay had given him the code in human numbers but the keypad was in Davari.
It took him a second to sigh as he realized he was an idiot and punched in the code using the right numbers. The icons may be different but it was still numbers. There was a buzzing sound before he opened the door and found himself at the bottom of a set of stairs. Walking up the stairs he entered a little rooftop garden with strings of multicolor lights hanging from the rafters. It wasn’t uncommon for people with the space to make gardens so they could get some fresh produce without worrying about rations.
Past the garden was a sliding glass door that looked blacked out. Here he wasn’t sure what to do but as he went to knock on the glass it slid open and he jumped back as a Davari head stuck out. “Fuck’rya?”
“What?” Raiden asked with a frown. The Davari’s horns jutted straight out, and had a spiral pattern of stars painted on them, but to his surprise there were almost no scars or tattoos on his face. Just the bare minimum of a youth, but he was clearly older than that.
“Who’fuck’rya?” The Davari repeated.
“I’m… Raiden?” Raiden replied in a bit of confusion.
“Schfe… I’men’fukr’ya’ere’fer?” Raiden had never heard an accent like this and could barely understand him.
“Uh… Clay sent me?” He tried. “For a package?”
“Eh’Clay’says? N’wasit? Ne’wun’cul’se’name’like?” Raiden just blinked harder as if that would help him suddenly find subtitles for whatever the Davari was trying to say.
“[Clay sent me for a package. He wants bot parts.]” Raiden tried in Decktongue.
“Nek’off’fekin’decktung! Ne’tha’ren’ere!” This seemed to rile up the Davari more as he finally stepped out fully from behind the door. He was tall… tall and thin. Raiden thought for a moment he looked a bit like a stick figure drawing of a Davari come to life. For some reason he had a jacket with a green leaf on it he’d never seen, and some set of green, white, and orange stripes.
“Uh…” Raiden finally just opened his backpack and handed over the box of plastic armymen. The Davari’s eyes went wide as he snatched the box from his hands.
“Fek’des’e’do’it! Even’ne!” He shook his head a few times and then turned to walk back inside, waving Raiden in to follow him. When he stepped inside the place smelled like a mixture of stale recaff, sweat, and grease. It was… far from pleasant. Yet, also not the worst thing he’d smelled. It was also some sort of bot shop. Pieces of bots dangled from assemblies, on tables, and even were strewn across the floor. He also noticed a much larger version of the green, white, and orange stripes on the wall.
“Is that… a… pride flag?” He tried with a gesture at the wall.
“Kerse’its’fekn’pride!” The Davari growled back at him. “Proudst’ter’is!”
“Listen… I… do you know Decktongue?” Raiden tried again just wanting to know how best to talk with this guy.
“[Yes! I know Decktongue! Obviously!]” Raiden blinked as the Davari’s Decktongue was so much clearer.
“[Can we please use it then? I don’t understand you!]” He let out an exasperated huff and waved his hands at the Davari.
“[Fine! Obviously you can’t be Death’s hand. But I’m speaking human just like you are! I don’t know why you’re having trouble with it!]” The Davari seemed just as annoyed as Raiden was while he walked towards the back of the shop towards some kind of pressurized door.
“[No! Noooo! You are not speaking human just like me! I don’t know what you’re speaking!]” Raiden shook his head as he followed him.
“[Human! Pox your ears!]” He glared back at Raiden and punched in a code on the door as it hissed open, letting them step through into a clearly climate controlled room. All around were shelves and cases filled with… more plastic army men? What was with these things?
“[You’ve got a lot of plastic soldiers.]” Raiden commented as they walked further into the room as he saw a workbench surrounded by drawers. On the surface he saw what looked like bins full of little plastic pieces, and a paint palette along with various lenses for a set of magnifying glasses and those jewelers goggles he’d seen in vids.
“Neh’wer’gamin’mini-atures.” The Davari corrected him, making Raiden roll his eyes. There was another door within this room that looked even more secure than the first one. But he didn’t open it. Instead he stopped at the workbench and pulled out what Raiden thought was some kind of lunchbox. “[You know your boss is a cruel man. Taking advantage of addiction.]”
“[What?]” Raiden was surprised to hear this as the Davari just clicked his tongue.
“[I was clean for years. Years and years. There was a war! How could I get any more? I’d finally finish my armies but what would I do when I ran out? I thought The desire would fade… And then suddenly some vent rat on the forums posts about getting a new set! Cruel! Cruel! Then he’s parsing them out. Limited stock! Of course it’s rotting limited!]” The Davari clicked his tongue a few more times.
“[Are you talking about these?]” Raiden gestured around the room.
“[Obviously!]” The Davari hissed.
“[I’m not sure… this qualifies as taking advantage of addicts?]” He thought back on his dad and his “stepmom” with their ultrasense.
“[Oh what cause I’m not injecting it? Snorting it? It’s addiction! And the prices…]” He shook his head and ran his fingers up along his horns.
“[Sure. Anyway is this the package?]” He gestured at the lunchbox.
“[Yeah. Got some icepacks in there. It’ll be fine. It’s a strange order though.]” That caught Raiden’s attention. What would this guy find strange? So far he much preferred that other guy with the spider bot security camera thing.
“[Is it… illegal?]” Raiden wondered.
“[No. It’s just strange. I mean who needs 128, in a controller that old? And his tolerances? It’s overkill.]” The Davari shook his head. Raiden was really feeling like no one around here liked to explain anything they said. Just assume he knew what they were talking about.
“[Alright… well I’ve got it then.]” He picked up the lunchbox and noticed it did indeed feel cold. “[Anything else?]”
“[No.]” The Davari looked back at the box that Raiden had given him earlier. “[Do you know where he’s getting these?]” Raiden just shrugged. “[Well… you tell him if he finds a Zealous Paragon in any condition I want it.]”
“[A Zealous Paragon.]” Raiden repeated carefully as the Davari nodded. “[Sure.]” He turned to leave then and realized he had no idea what the Davari’s name was. “[Hey what’s your name anyway?]”
“Éamon. Kel’me’Dev.” He extended a hand then which Raiden shook, finding that the Davari had a way of pumping his arm up and down in the handshake which seem to shake Raiden’s entire body.
“Uh… Dev.” Raiden tried and the Davari nodded before finally releasing his arm. “I’ll tell Clay about the… thing.” Securing his backpack he headed back towards the first pressure door. “Hey did you see that big ship earlier?”
“Fek’nbig’fek’ta’miss.” Raiden was about to ask him to translate but he continued in Decktongue. “[Yes, I saw it. It’s some kind of navy ship. Slav military. I served with the] Americans [so I don’t know it.]” He served with the Americans? Raiden had more questions. “[Rumors are Death’s Head the soldiers are gearing up for some kind of city wide crack down. Get back safe.]”
Raiden nodded at that and figured he better wait on his questions then. He didn’t want to be stuck on the streets if the militia might be setting up checkpoints.”Thanks!” Finally he opened the pressure door and walked through the rest of the bot shop back out onto the rooftop garden. Glancing up in the sky the ship was still up there, just hanging in the air menacingly.
He descended the stairs quickly and back out the door to glance left and right along the street. Not seeing anyone he scurried across the street, this time using a different alley to cut through. He didn’t like to go the same way twice if he could avoid it. Especially knowing the militia were in the park he cut around the other way. The streets were usually pretty quiet around here, but today they were positively dead. He only saw one other person, a Davari in pilgrim robes who had their hood up and was also scurrying quickly the other way.
Just before he turned onto the street with Clay’s pawnshop though he was surprised by a voice down an alleyway. “Hey kid.” Raiden jumped a bit, clearing a half meter as he launched himself to the side. “Damn kid, nice jump but simmer down.” There was a man in a rather nice but… not too nice suit. Non-descript? Was that the term? He had short hair and sunglasses and… nothing really notable other than that. “Hey you want to earn some credits?”
“I’m not sucking your dick.” Was Raiden’s immediate call back.
“I’m… what? No. I’m looking for information.” The man insisted next.
“I don’t know anyone who’ll suck your dick.” Raiden responded.
“Fuck! I don’t need anyone to suck my dick right now damnit!” The man growled as Raiden prepared to run for it but the man held out a hand a moment. “The guy you work for. What do you know about him?”
This really caught Raiden’s attention. “I don’t know much.”
“Anything.” The man reached into a pocket and then pulled out a twenty. Raiden stepped a little closer, looking up and down the street now trying to see if any MPs were close. No one in sight. Did he take it?
Hesitantly he reached out, but the moment his fingers touched the bill he yanked it from the man’s grip. Though the man didn’t fight it and just let it happen. “His name is Clay. Ex military. Nice guy.”
Mr. Sunglasses watched him a few more seconds. “That’s it?”
“I don’t know much.” Raiden repeated.
“Maybe this will help?” The man reached back into his pocket and pulled out a fifty. “Just to tell me what he’s like. What’s in his store. Where does he get things? Stu-” Mr. Sunglasses was interrupted by a loud siren going off. Raiden knew the curfew signal and despite it being midday he immediately bolted. He wasn’t getting stuck on the street. Sprinting around the corner he was rushing into Clay’s store in a flash.
Clay was behind the glass like usual, and already buzzing him past the security door. “Curfew?”
“I don’t know! There’s a big ship in the sky and I even saw some militia in the park! But they were assholes throwing wine at some Void soldiers!” Raiden was panting a little as he opened his backpack to hand over the lunchbox.
“Well, no deliveries today then. But I did prep something for you.” Clay took the lunchbox and set it aside casually before nudging a box on the ground. “Some extra rations for your family. Vix told me you were worried about your sister?”
“Stepsister.” Raiden immediately corrected and then felt a little guilty. “But… yeah.” Then he reached into his pocket to pull out the twenty. “Uhm. A guy in sunglasses in the alleyway asked me about you and gave me twenty credits.”
“What?” Clay looked confused.
“On my way back. He called to me and asked me about you and I told him your name is Clay and you’re ex military and a nice guy and he gave me a twenty. He pulled out a fifty and seemed like he wanted to know more but then the siren went off and I ran in here.” Raiden let out a deeper breath then unsure what would happen next.
“Oh. Well, make sure not to sell any info too cheap. Twenty is pretty steep just to learn my name really.” Clay shrugged it off as Raiden was left holding the bill out.
“You’re not mad? You don’t want it?” He suggested as he waved the bill.
“No. I mean my monopoly on this area had to end eventually. I’ve gone without competition for years. Only so long before the struggling barter shops try to compete.” Clay shrugged once more.
“You think this is business related?” Raiden asked as he blinked in confusion.
“What else would it be?” Clay asked. “Listen he’s probably just trying to find out about my suppliers, and undercut me or even steal them outright so they can do better. I mean you’ve seen how I am with permits. I’m a law abiding citizen Raiden. This sounds like it’s just business.”
Raiden’s arm dropped as he thought about it. Did that make sense? He had just done some odd deal with plastic army men for like… bot parts. Was Clay just that good at business? Raiden had been delivering a lot of packages lately. “Okay…”
“Listen, in the future find out what he wants to know. And then you tell me and you can make money off it and I’ll let you know what to say. Trust me this is good news. It means someone thinks I’m competition.” He smiled and seemed so… relaxed.
“Alright.” Raiden nodded.
“Oh. But, I did want to say…” Clay reached out to set a hand on Raiden’s shoulder. “Earlier I did notice how you acted when the glass broke. I just want to warn you.” Here it was! Now he was going to get mad, and threaten him! “Jipasi family relations are exceptionally complicated.”
“What?” Raiden was left entirely bewildered by that as his emotions had been ready to lurch and instead were jumbling up inside him.
[Continued in Comments]
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Pawn Ch 15!
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First Chapter
Previous Chapter
“How could you abandon me?!”
“I was saving you! You know they were after me!”
“You don’t know how hard it was when you disappeared! You could have taken me with you!”
“There’s no time for that now! Gunships!”
“Pause.” Even as Raiden said that Vix looked over with a surprised look.
“What? It’s getting good!” She waved at the vid screen with the frozen characters on it.
But Raiden crossed his arms as he felt a little uneasy. The show was playing through a bit of a story that had been going through his mind lately. “Do you think I’m… shitty for leaving Juala behind?”
“Leaving her behind where?” Vix seemed confused. “The hab is like… a block and a half away.”
“Yeah but…” Raiden sighed as he scratched the back of his head trying to think about the strange sensation that had been working through his gut recently when he thought back on the young Davari girl still living with his dad and “step-mom.”
“You always said they treated her better than you anyway.” Vix sort of waved it off. “And when you went back to get some of your stuff you said how your dad was. You couldn’t stay there.”
“Yeah…” Now Raiden shifted a little on his seat. He had sort of… lied to her about the last time he went there. Really he’d been too scared to confront his dad and waited for him to leave so he could sneak in and clean out the most important stuff from his room. “But… shouldn’t I try to help her?”
“How?” Vix arched a brow at that. “She’s literally Suviki’s child. You have no connection to her legally. You know just as well as I do how the Children Wellness Bureau is.” Even though Raiden knew Vix was right about that he still felt… Uneasy.
“What about… convincing Clay to give me ration packs to sneak to her?” He suggested.
“You don’t eat enough of my food?” Raiden and Vix both jumped as Clay said that from the doorway.
“Jesus!” Vix clutched at her chest a moment. Raiden similarly had to take a breath to try and recover from his surprise. “Don’t you knock?!”
“This is my building. And just because you two have been living here does not actually make it your room.” His eyes glanced down at the floor. “Even if you have been treating it as such.”
Raiden looked down at the wrappers and some crumbs on the floor as he quickly dropped down to start snatching up the trash. “Sorry! I’ll clean it up!”
“That’s alright, it can wait. Lunch is served. I’m going to start being more insistent on scheduled meal times for you two. Your snacking is unhealthy. And… I thought since you two are essentially living here now I might as well actually let you see my living space upstairs.” That caught Raiden’s attention as he leaned up with an armful of trash.
“Really?” He glanced at Vix who glanced back at him. Her ears twitched and her tail furled at the prospect.
“Yes. Come on.” He waved them forward then. Raiden hesitantly got back up to his feet while clutching the trash so he could try and stuff it into the overflowing trash can by the door. Vix waited for him to take the lead and then followed behind. Clay ushered them through the back of the store to one of the doors they hadn’t been let through before. Raiden got a little excited by the prospect. What sort of secrets would be revealed?
But when they walked up the stairs they came out into… an apartment? It was a very nice looking space. Big open area with a surprisingly large kitchen area for one person. Next to it was an island with some bar stools, and a very large table with wood chairs. The counters in the kitchen looked to be some kind of dark stone, the floor was a brownish caramel colored wood. There was a big vid screen in the corner set into a massive bookcase, a giant leather couch, and two armchairs. Giant windows along one wall looked into the courtyard the Pawn shop formed with the warehouses around it. Not the best view… There were plants hanging from the ceiling, and unusual artwork on the walls. Was it unusual?
Raiden just realized he had no idea what was normal for art. It just didn’t look like most of what he saw around the neighborhood. It was… very… sleek? It was less about looking like real things and more like… colors with lines… and sometimes blobs. He tilted his head as he looked at one painting that ran from the floor to the ceiling and got the feeling it was somehow tilted even if he could see it was set straight.
“You’ve been cramming us into that tiny room downstairs when you’ve got all this space?” Vix waved her hands as her tail unfurled.
“I have been allowing you two to stay rent free, and providing you both with food and more. Excuse me if I don’t seem broken up over your two choices to just stay. AFTER!” Vix was raising a hand to talk back but Clay cut her off. “Getting you healed up from that unfortunate incident earlier.”
“You mean being exploded?! I think that’s a bit worse than an unfortunate incident!” Her tail was fully unfurled now as Raiden just gulped somewhat uncomfortably. Memories of his home life now fully at the forefront of his mind.
“And someone here for some reason keeps trying to undo my efforts to rehabilitate them! Proper exercise is important to a return to full health!” Clay countered even as Vix just scoffed and waved it off. But she didn’t continue so maybe Clay had won? Then Raiden’s mind was taken up not by sound but smell as he sniffed.
“Oh my god. What smells so good?” Looking around now he saw two plates set out on the dark stone countertop of the island.
“Lunch. A healthy, balanced, entirely free of junk lunch.” Clay waved them at it. “I roasted tubers with [pini leaf] and spiced [freckle cap] mushrooms. Plus just a bit of grated and melted cheese on top.” Raiden hadn’t realized how hungry he was until this exact moment as his stomach growled with need.
“[By Swagin’s throbbing balls] that smells good.” Vix muttered.
“While I understand how excited you might be, and that the local culture is undeniably Swaginite I would still prefer, if one did not speak about my cooking in reference to a deity’s testicles.” Clay muttered.
“It’s a good thing!” Vix waved it off as she took her plate and looked around. “Drinks?”
“Help yourself to what’s in the fridge. Or water. Glasses are in the cabinet left of the stove.” Clay gestured as Raiden realized that the massive steel door on the other side of the stove was in fact the largest refrigerator he’d ever seen. Clay began to walk off towards the bookcase then as he and Vix went to get some glasses. He stood next to her as she opened one of the wood cabinets to see shelves stocked with a giant array of glasses. Clay had more on one shelf than Raiden had ever seen in an entire apartment.
However when Vix reached up to grab one he noticed her side twinge and her fingers slipped, knocking the glass down instead. He saw it happen and reflexively tried to reach out and grab it, only to misjudge it and bounce the glass off his fingers and send it fully tumbling down to the floor as it shattered on the wood. His heart began to race as he looked down at it and he knew the yelling would begin.
Trying to get ahead of the reaction he stepped between Vix and Clay as he spoke first. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident! My fingers slipped and I’ll pay you back for it I promise! I’m a good worker! Just give me a chance and I’ll work however long you need to make amends! I swear!”
The room was silent, aside from the pounding of his heart in his own ears as he watched Clay look back at him. The shouting would begin any moment… “That’s… okay. Those glasses are very cheap. It’s maybe a credit a glass. Just be careful, broken glass can be very sharp and I don’t want either of you hurting yourselves. I’ll get a dustpan and a brush.”
“A credit a glass?” Vix asked while Raiden stood there still, feeling… very confused at the lack of a reaction.
“Yes.” Clay opened one of the doors besides the kitchen to reveal a very deep pantry, where he grabbed a brush and a small dustpan. “For the purposes of government subsidies I know of a high end glassblower who makes much more simple glassware at cost in exchange for my filing of paperwork that allows them to keep their subsidies. They make one small batch a year. I’ve really got too many.” Clay was walking back with the dustpan, ushering them out of the way as he crouched down to sweep up the broken shards of glass. Then he pulled out a drawer which was actually a hidden trashcan and threw away the broken glass.
“Hand me a paper towel.” Raiden looked around and grabbed one from a roll on the counter to hand to him. Clay then got the paper towel a little wet in the sink and wiped up the area where the glass had fallen.
“Why are you doing that?” Vix asked as they made room for him.
“Ah… I should preface this I realize with saying I have no idea if this really helps. My mom had me do it as a child if a glass broke. She was worried there would be glass dust, and said wiping the area with a wet paper towel would catch any left so you don’t cut your toes. Until just now I’ve never thought if it really does work. Habit I suppose.” He shrugged as he also threw away the now dirty paper towel.
Raiden couldn’t picture Clay as a child. For some reason he just sort of assumed that one day Clay had appeared fully formed and grown as a man. “Sorry about the glass.” Raiden repeated, not sure what else to do now.
“It’s quite alright. Accidents happen. What’s important is making sure you’re okay.” Clay’s reply left him feeling extra confused as he watched the man walk back over to his bookcase.
“Okay well let's eat.” Vix nudged his side which made Raiden jump a little. This time when she grabbed a glass she kept a much firmer hold and handed it to him as he just filled it with water from the tap. Vix instead went to open the giant fridge. Raiden stood slightly dumbfounded as the big door swung open to reveal the most overflowing, well stocked fridge he had ever seen. Eggs, fresh veggies, drawers full of meats, cheeses, butter! He had butter on the door! Several different kinds of it! Raiden’s mouth hung open even as Vix grabbed a bottle of something yellow and shut the door as if it was nothing.
Raiden was left behind a moment as she carried her glass and the bottle to the table before getting her plate. “Uh… forks?” She asked and looked around.
“Oh, drawer to the right of the dishwasher.” Clay called out as he pulled a book from his bookshelf to read. Vix grabbed some forks and knives and then gestured for Raiden who finally remembered to move. Grabbing his plate he joined her at the table as they sat down and the incredible smells made his stomach growl once more.
Sitting next to Vix he looked at his food a moment before she nudged his arm and gave him a look as if to convey a question about his reaction earlier. He just shrugged though and carefully stabbed one of the mushrooms to try. Even as he first bit into it the well seasoned and savory taste made him wonder why he’d ever eaten rations instead of asking Clay to cook. Both he and Vix started to quickly inhale the food, just quietly eating and enjoying it. But then Vix once more broke the silence. “Wait… do you have movies?”
“Hm?” Clay looked up from his book to look where Vix was gesturing at his bookshelf. “Yes of course.”
“But I thought you hated movies.” She mentioned which had him let out a light snort.
“Whatever gave you the impression I detest cinema?” Raiden wondered if he’d ever learn how to talk like Clay.
“You always rag on the stuff we watch!” Vix gestured between her and Raiden.
“Ah… Well I hate to break it to you, but it’s not so much cinema but more… the particular genre of Hollywood you two seem to love that I don’t tend to enjoy. I should add when I say Hollywood I do refer to more of the media made specifically for the central focus of the Void, Americans, and Antarens. Obviously Bollywood made things more for their sphere, the Soyuzfilm for slavs, and House of Ma for the Dragon market.” The way he spoke made Raiden wonder a bit if he was supposed to just know all those names.
“What cinema do you like then?” Vix asked.
“If you must know, I prefer Ravex cinema, and the Deep Water genre of Kra’Kto’Sui. Davari cinema is… much more fractious but honestly the local [Artist Cultural Union] work is pretty well made. A few slips and maybe some… problematic takes here and there but overall good quality.” He shrugged, once more talking like Raiden should know of these things.
“Why do you hate hollywood?” Vix asked in between bites of the food.
“I don’t hate…” Clay sighed and finally turned to face them, setting his book down. “When I was younger I also watched a lot of media from Hollywood. Of course I was a Void citizen so that was expected. But fairly early on I realized that it wasn’t really… for me. I came to realize that all Hollywood makes is stories about beautiful, beautiful people. Beautiful beautiful people who pretend to be normal people with normal people problems. All of which ring hollow in the face of… being truly beautiful. And… often also related to all the powerful figures in an insanely nepotistic industry but that’s a different story.” Clay waved off his last point a little.
“Beautiful people?” Raiden asked.
“Beautiful, beautiful people.” Clay repeated. “Don’t you ever get the sense in your vids that they complain about not finding love, or friendship, or some level of community despite being the level of gorgeous that never actually has to worry about such things? I’m not saying people that attractive have no problems. But they have different problems than they portray. Anyone that beautiful will always be able to easily find people who want them around if for no other reason than that they’re very pretty! It’s like having a walking bit of art on hand. And that in Hollywood truly the deepest sin isn’t murder or crime of any sort.”
“What? Being ugly?” Vix offered. “There’s tons of movies they make about finding the good in ugly monsters and stuff!”
“Children’s movies. Lies.” Clay shook his head. “But even then being ugly can at least make someone seem more unique and interesting. No. Truly I as a young man was guilty of Hollywood’s ultimate sin… being unremarkable.”
“Unremarkable?” Raiden asked in confusion.
“Truly worse than being ugly! I was totally and entirely… forgettable. See in Hollywood when a beautiful person pretends to be ugly for a film they are showered in awards. Because they can’t imagine suffering through being ugly for any period of time. But those of us who are forgettable? We will never be seen. We will never be known.” Clay sighed then and shook his head a little before looking at one of his paintings.
“I don’t think you’re forgettable.” Raiden said feeling guilty for some reason, even as he kept eating.
“No. I’m a bit more noticeable now. But I was young. And stupid. I was so obsessed with this notion back then of… making myself on my own. Not based on… what I was born as.” Clay shook his head and waved it off again.
“What were you born as?” Vix asked, pouring herself more of whatever she had in the yellow bottle.
“An exceedingly average nobody. I lived the average Void life. Two parents, divorced, who had two point five children. I was the point five. The only skill I excelled at as a child was time management and logistics really. Needing to know what I had in each house, what I had on me, how long before being moved from one place to another. Who was related to who in each family and stepfamily. When I joined the military I thought I’d do it to cut myself free of any obligations I had to families I wasn’t sure cared about me. Which… let me tell you both is very stupid. If you’re ever given an advantage, take it. And do more with it. Don’t start with nothing out of pride. Pride can’t be spent in any store in the galaxy.” Once more he shook his head and sighed.
“Also, let me tell you that the military will never lack for people who can and will shoot the enemy. But they will struggle to find people who can count without needing to use their fingers, and understand the very basic concept of needing to store stuff in places, and then find it later. So I was assigned to logistics. Which was… fine. I’ll be honest I am no brave hero seeking combat, so I did look for safe work and logistics is about as safe as it gets. It’s also a highly prized business skill, and after the military and the college it paid for I got hired by Absolute Dynamics.” That last bit made Raiden gasp.
“What?!” Vix much more loudly exclaimed. “Did you work with synths and stuff?! What was it like?”
“I worked… in logistics.” Clay stressed as he glanced at them. Raiden immediately realized that made more sense… but the vids always made it seem…
“Logistics?” Vix sounded very disappointed.
“This might surprise you, but the largest company in the galaxy does… Sorry. Did have a lot of stuff. And it needed a vast array of people to manage all the stuff it had. So yes. I worked for Absolute Dynamics… in logistics.” Raiden could see Vix’s tail curl a bit as she realized that was all Clay did. Raiden was actually a bit more… relieved.
“So then… wait… how did you get back into the military?” Raiden asked, realizing Clay had worked for them in the war.
“I was here on vacation when the war broke out. Once the Void arrived they rounded up all Absolute Dynamics personnel for security reasons. They saw my past service and offered me a deal. Work for them, in logistics, or go to prison until they could sort out how a trial would work. I chose military service. And once the war was over quietly had me retire as some officers realized where I used to work. Many didn’t mind but it was… a delicate political situation. So here I am now running a pawn shop.” Clay gestured vaguely around the room. Then at his watch. “Which reminds me. Raiden, I need you to pick something up.”
Raiden lifted his plate to shovel the rest of the tubers and mushrooms into his mouth. “Take your time! Chew! Don’t inhale! You’ll choke!” Clay insisted as he watched Raiden stuff his mouth. For his part Raiden worked to chew his giant mouthful of food carefully now. Vix just smirked at him. “I’m going downstairs, take your time. Seriously. Don’t choke. Just relax and eat.” Clay gave his shoulder a brief pat as he walked past. Raiden just nodded, his mouth too full to say anything.
Vix was more slowly eating as she watched him walk back downstairs. Once he was gone she looked at Raiden, her tail unfurling. “Dude, what was up with you earlier and the glass? I’m the one who dropped it and then you got really weird!”
Hearing that Raiden’s shoulders felt a bit more tense and he just held a hand in front of his mouth while he chewed, now using the mouthful to try and give himself time to work his emotions into something coherent. “Mhm…” He finally swallowed most of the food. “I panicked.”
“You panicked?” She asked as he tail twitched in confusion. Then she seemed to get it. “Were you worried he was going to scream at you like your dad?” Raiden just nodded. “He’s not your dad. Have you ever heard him yell?”
“No… but… I panicked.” Raiden felt a little defensive, especially after his worries earlier so he just gulped down some water and stood up. Grabbing his plate he looked around the kitchen a moment.
“I’ll take care of it.” Vix waved him off.
“Thanks.” He nodded and then quickly headed back downstairs to try and grab his backpack before finding Clay in the office. “More packages?”
“Later. For now I need you to pick up some specialized bot parts for me.” He was writing something down on a little note.
“Oh no… is this more of the…” He closed his eyes and tried to think. “Reciprocating dinglearm logarithmic… I don’t even remember.”
“No, nothing so complicated. Just go here, and get the package I already ordered.” He handed over the note for Raiden to see it was an address and some kind of number code. “He’s a bit skittish with all the trouble recently. So you’ll have to use that code to get into the building. But it’s fine he’s just worried about Death’s Hand and you’re human.”
“Uhm… should I maybe start… carrying the gun?” He asked thinking about the handgun in the basement firing range.
“You’re doing much better with it, but I'm still not comfortable with you taking it out. Remember your best defense if anyone tries to mug you… is just run away. Find some MPs.” Raiden frowned thinking about that. Clay had mentioned it before but especially with his thinking about Juala earlier he felt… odd about it. Was that all he did? Run away?
“Okay.” He nodded though, not feeling like it would make sense to push it right now.
“Good, oh and take this. In case he hassles you about anything just give it to him.” Clay picked a small box off a shelf and handed it to him. Raiden tilted his head as he looked it over.
“Plastic army men?” He glanced up in confusion.
“Oh. No no no.” Clay wagged a finger. “These are wargaming miniatures. Don’t let the concept fool you. They may appear to be little more than plastic army men but I assure you they are much-much more expensive than that.” Raiden just gave him a confused look. “Just take it with you.”
“Okay.” He shrugged it off and set the bag into his backpack as he got ready to head out. It was another nice day in the city, so he wasn’t too worried about the weather. Instead he looked at the address and tried to think of the fastest way to get there. First he glanced up and down the street for any sign of the local goons Neff and Lenk. They hadn’t given up on trying to ambush him and beat on him but he’d avoided them so far. Plus he had that stun baton Agni had given him. And… running had been working so far.
Still, the Void patrols had been consistent so if he stuck to the street then he figured he’d be okay. Turning to head along the path in his head he rounded the first corner and was surprised to see not a Void patrol militia. The old Davari imperial military hadn’t been back since Void had been given nominal authority over this zone. And he wasn’t keen on seeing them back considering how they used to behave towards him and the other human residents.
But for now they were clustered up on the edge of the park. Having… a picnic? Sure enough as Raiden looked more closely he could see the soldiers were scattered around the hill at the edge of the once vibrant and now mostly neglected park. They were just sitting or laying down, had food out, and several bottles of devotion wine were being passed around. He had been getting used to the professionalism of the Void so seeing the militia again was jarring.
Just as thought about it a Void patrol rounded the corner ahead of him and began walking down the street. He was walking towards them, but they were eying the militia having their hillside picnic. “[It’s the purple pimples!]” One of the militia called out upon seeing them.
Raiden cinched the straps of his backpack a little tighter to his shoulder in anxiety as he kept walking. “[Keeping our district safe for us?]”
“[Better be keeping your little purple dicks away from our favorite waitresses!]” If the Void patrol understood the Decktongue being shouted at them they showed no signs and just kept walking along the street.
“[No women, no drugs, no booze! What a waste! How many of your friends died to save us from ourselves?!]” Even as he glanced over Raiden watched the militia Knight of Arms just pour a nice big glass of wine to enjoy with some trili nuts. Not a care in the world as his men jeered at the passing Void soldiers.
“[How many more bombs until you’re back in space where you all belong!]” This time one of the militia chucked an empty bottle of the devotion wine at the patrol. To his surprise it didn’t shatter on the road but actually bounced. Was it plastic? This time the Void patrol tensed up and seemed to get ready to square off with the militia.
“No one does shit! Patrol continues!” A loud voice from near the back boomed at the rest and the soldiers faltered a moment before they continued forward down the street. Seeing their lack of a response the militia began to jeer louder, and another bottle was thrown, this one spilling some left over wine across an unfortunate Void soldier. To his credit he didn’t even hesitate. Just kept walking.
“[By Swagin’s taint you aren’t getting any more wine. Waste it or drink it.]” That was the first thing the Knight at Arms told the rest of the squad and that of all things seemed to get them to settle down and resume their picnic with what they had left. Raiden was feeling extra anxious at the interaction as he passed the marching soldiers on the road and then picked up his pace to get out of there. Why were militia back? He could only pray they weren’t getting control of the district again…
Once he rounded the street corner from the main road he picked up the pace yet again. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that Neff and Lenk were more likely to show up if a patrol had just passed and they thought another wouldn’t be along in a while. Thankfully he’d seen that the Void didn’t seem to have one set schedule but kept random patrols so they couldn’t so easily be predicted. Still he cut down another alley and swiftly jumped a dumpster to then hop another fence. What had he ever done before getting these jump boots? Walked everywhere like a chump…
When he emerged from the far end of the alleyway he was about to cross the street when a shadow in the sky made him look up. Rather than being a particularly big cloud he gasped softly looking at a large ship or something moving across the city. It looked… menacing. Distinctly military. But he had no idea what it was or what it was doing. He hadn’t seen any navy ships since… ever? Even in the war they’d been in space. Probably. He assumed they were. An assault lander was the biggest thing he’d seen.
Considering the attacks recently maybe they were stepping up military presence in general around the city. It wasn’t a great feeling to know his home might be descending into chaos again. Was this how it had felt the first time? Just a… general uneasiness? Was there anyone who would just declare like… yep now is wartime? Or did the explosions just get more frequent? Scurrying across the street he ducked into the next alleyway and found the right address. There was a little keypad and he paused as he looked at it. Clay had given him the code in human numbers but the keypad was in Davari.
It took him a second to sigh as he realized he was an idiot and punched in the code using the right numbers. The icons may be different but it was still numbers. There was a buzzing sound before he opened the door and found himself at the bottom of a set of stairs. Walking up the stairs he entered a little rooftop garden with strings of multicolor lights hanging from the rafters. It wasn’t uncommon for people with the space to make gardens so they could get some fresh produce without worrying about rations.
Past the garden was a sliding glass door that looked blacked out. Here he wasn’t sure what to do but as he went to knock on the glass it slid open and he jumped back as a Davari head stuck out. “Fuck’rya?”
“What?” Raiden asked with a frown. The Davari’s horns jutted straight out, and had a spiral pattern of stars painted on them, but to his surprise there were almost no scars or tattoos on his face. Just the bare minimum of a youth, but he was clearly older than that.
“Who’fuck’rya?” The Davari repeated.
“I’m… Raiden?” Raiden replied in a bit of confusion.
“Schfe… I’men’fukr’ya’ere’fer?” Raiden had never heard an accent like this and could barely understand him.
“Uh… Clay sent me?” He tried. “For a package?”
“Eh’Clay’says? N’wasit? Ne’wun’cul’se’name’like?” Raiden just blinked harder as if that would help him suddenly find subtitles for whatever the Davari was trying to say.
“[Clay sent me for a package. He wants bot parts.]” Raiden tried in Decktongue.
“Nek’off’fekin’decktung! Ne’tha’ren’ere!” This seemed to rile up the Davari more as he finally stepped out fully from behind the door. He was tall… tall and thin. Raiden thought for a moment he looked a bit like a stick figure drawing of a Davari come to life. For some reason he had a jacket with a green leaf on it he’d never seen, and some set of green, white, and orange stripes.
“Uh…” Raiden finally just opened his backpack and handed over the box of plastic armymen. The Davari’s eyes went wide as he snatched the box from his hands.
“Fek’des’e’do’it! Even’ne!” He shook his head a few times and then turned to walk back inside, waving Raiden in to follow him. When he stepped inside the place smelled like a mixture of stale recaff, sweat, and grease. It was… far from pleasant. Yet, also not the worst thing he’d smelled. It was also some sort of bot shop. Pieces of bots dangled from assemblies, on tables, and even were strewn across the floor. He also noticed a much larger version of the green, white, and orange stripes on the wall.
“Is that… a… pride flag?” He tried with a gesture at the wall.
“Kerse’its’fekn’pride!” The Davari growled back at him. “Proudst’ter’is!”
“Listen… I… do you know Decktongue?” Raiden tried again just wanting to know how best to talk with this guy.
“[Yes! I know Decktongue! Obviously!]” Raiden blinked as the Davari’s Decktongue was so much clearer.
“[Can we please use it then? I don’t understand you!]” He let out an exasperated huff and waved his hands at the Davari.
“[Fine! Obviously you can’t be Death’s hand. But I’m speaking human just like you are! I don’t know why you’re having trouble with it!]” The Davari seemed just as annoyed as Raiden was while he walked towards the back of the shop towards some kind of pressurized door.
“[No! Noooo! You are not speaking human just like me! I don’t know what you’re speaking!]” Raiden shook his head as he followed him.
“[Human! Pox your ears!]” He glared back at Raiden and punched in a code on the door as it hissed open, letting them step through into a clearly climate controlled room. All around were shelves and cases filled with… more plastic army men? What was with these things?
“[You’ve got a lot of plastic soldiers.]” Raiden commented as they walked further into the room as he saw a workbench surrounded by drawers. On the surface he saw what looked like bins full of little plastic pieces, and a paint palette along with various lenses for a set of magnifying glasses and those jewelers goggles he’d seen in vids.
“Neh’wer’gamin’mini-atures.” The Davari corrected him, making Raiden roll his eyes. There was another door within this room that looked even more secure than the first one. But he didn’t open it. Instead he stopped at the workbench and pulled out what Raiden thought was some kind of lunchbox. “[You know your boss is a cruel man. Taking advantage of addiction.]”
“[What?]” Raiden was surprised to hear this as the Davari just clicked his tongue.
“[I was clean for years. Years and years. There was a war! How could I get any more? I’d finally finish my armies but what would I do when I ran out? I thought The desire would fade… And then suddenly some vent rat on the forums posts about getting a new set! Cruel! Cruel! Then he’s parsing them out. Limited stock! Of course it’s rotting limited!]” The Davari clicked his tongue a few more times.
“[Are you talking about these?]” Raiden gestured around the room.
“[Obviously!]” The Davari hissed.
“[I’m not sure… this qualifies as taking advantage of addicts?]” He thought back on his dad and his “stepmom” with their ultrasense.
“[Oh what cause I’m not injecting it? Snorting it? It’s addiction! And the prices…]” He shook his head and ran his fingers up along his horns.
“[Sure. Anyway is this the package?]” He gestured at the lunchbox.
“[Yeah. Got some icepacks in there. It’ll be fine. It’s a strange order though.]” That caught Raiden’s attention. What would this guy find strange? So far he much preferred that other guy with the spider bot security camera thing.
“[Is it… illegal?]” Raiden wondered.
“[No. It’s just strange. I mean who needs 128, in a controller that old? And his tolerances? It’s overkill.]” The Davari shook his head. Raiden was really feeling like no one around here liked to explain anything they said. Just assume he knew what they were talking about.
“[Alright… well I’ve got it then.]” He picked up the lunchbox and noticed it did indeed feel cold. “[Anything else?]”
“[No.]” The Davari looked back at the box that Raiden had given him earlier. “[Do you know where he’s getting these?]” Raiden just shrugged. “[Well… you tell him if he finds a Zealous Paragon in any condition I want it.]”
“[A Zealous Paragon.]” Raiden repeated carefully as the Davari nodded. “[Sure.]” He turned to leave then and realized he had no idea what the Davari’s name was. “[Hey what’s your name anyway?]”
“Éamon. Kel’me’Dev.” He extended a hand then which Raiden shook, finding that the Davari had a way of pumping his arm up and down in the handshake which seem to shake Raiden’s entire body.
“Uh… Dev.” Raiden tried and the Davari nodded before finally releasing his arm. “I’ll tell Clay about the… thing.” Securing his backpack he headed back towards the first pressure door. “Hey did you see that big ship earlier?”
“Fek’nbig’fek’ta’miss.” Raiden was about to ask him to translate but he continued in Decktongue. “[Yes, I saw it. It’s some kind of navy ship. Slav military. I served with the] Americans [so I don’t know it.]” He served with the Americans? Raiden had more questions. “[Rumors are Death’s Head the soldiers are gearing up for some kind of city wide crack down. Get back safe.]”
Raiden nodded at that and figured he better wait on his questions then. He didn’t want to be stuck on the streets if the militia might be setting up checkpoints.”Thanks!” Finally he opened the pressure door and walked through the rest of the bot shop back out onto the rooftop garden. Glancing up in the sky the ship was still up there, just hanging in the air menacingly.
He descended the stairs quickly and back out the door to glance left and right along the street. Not seeing anyone he scurried across the street, this time using a different alley to cut through. He didn’t like to go the same way twice if he could avoid it. Especially knowing the militia were in the park he cut around the other way. The streets were usually pretty quiet around here, but today they were positively dead. He only saw one other person, a Davari in pilgrim robes who had their hood up and was also scurrying quickly the other way.
Just before he turned onto the street with Clay’s pawnshop though he was surprised by a voice down an alleyway. “Hey kid.” Raiden jumped a bit, clearing a half meter as he launched himself to the side. “Damn kid, nice jump but simmer down.” There was a man in a rather nice but… not too nice suit. Non-descript? Was that the term? He had short hair and sunglasses and… nothing really notable other than that. “Hey you want to earn some credits?”
“I’m not sucking your dick.” Was Raiden’s immediate call back.
“I’m… what? No. I’m looking for information.” The man insisted next.
“I don’t know anyone who’ll suck your dick.” Raiden responded.
“Fuck! I don’t need anyone to suck my dick right now damnit!” The man growled as Raiden prepared to run for it but the man held out a hand a moment. “The guy you work for. What do you know about him?”
This really caught Raiden’s attention. “I don’t know much.”
“Anything.” The man reached into a pocket and then pulled out a twenty. Raiden stepped a little closer, looking up and down the street now trying to see if any MPs were close. No one in sight. Did he take it?
Hesitantly he reached out, but the moment his fingers touched the bill he yanked it from the man’s grip. Though the man didn’t fight it and just let it happen. “His name is Clay. Ex military. Nice guy.”
Mr. Sunglasses watched him a few more seconds. “That’s it?”
“I don’t know much.” Raiden repeated.
“Maybe this will help?” The man reached back into his pocket and pulled out a fifty. “Just to tell me what he’s like. What’s in his store. Where does he get things? Stu-” Mr. Sunglasses was interrupted by a loud siren going off. Raiden knew the curfew signal and despite it being midday he immediately bolted. He wasn’t getting stuck on the street. Sprinting around the corner he was rushing into Clay’s store in a flash.
Clay was behind the glass like usual, and already buzzing him past the security door. “Curfew?”
“I don’t know! There’s a big ship in the sky and I even saw some militia in the park! But they were assholes throwing wine at some Void soldiers!” Raiden was panting a little as he opened his backpack to hand over the lunchbox.
“Well, no deliveries today then. But I did prep something for you.” Clay took the lunchbox and set it aside casually before nudging a box on the ground. “Some extra rations for your family. Vix told me you were worried about your sister?”
“Stepsister.” Raiden immediately corrected and then felt a little guilty. “But… yeah.” Then he reached into his pocket to pull out the twenty. “Uhm. A guy in sunglasses in the alleyway asked me about you and gave me twenty credits.”
“What?” Clay looked confused.
“On my way back. He called to me and asked me about you and I told him your name is Clay and you’re ex military and a nice guy and he gave me a twenty. He pulled out a fifty and seemed like he wanted to know more but then the siren went off and I ran in here.” Raiden let out a deeper breath then unsure what would happen next.
“Oh. Well, make sure not to sell any info too cheap. Twenty is pretty steep just to learn my name really.” Clay shrugged it off as Raiden was left holding the bill out.
“You’re not mad? You don’t want it?” He suggested as he waved the bill.
“No. I mean my monopoly on this area had to end eventually. I’ve gone without competition for years. Only so long before the struggling barter shops try to compete.” Clay shrugged once more.
“You think this is business related?” Raiden asked as he blinked in confusion.
“What else would it be?” Clay asked. “Listen he’s probably just trying to find out about my suppliers, and undercut me or even steal them outright so they can do better. I mean you’ve seen how I am with permits. I’m a law abiding citizen Raiden. This sounds like it’s just business.”
Raiden’s arm dropped as he thought about it. Did that make sense? He had just done some odd deal with plastic army men for like… bot parts. Was Clay just that good at business? Raiden had been delivering a lot of packages lately. “Okay…”
“Listen, in the future find out what he wants to know. And then you tell me and you can make money off it and I’ll let you know what to say. Trust me this is good news. It means someone thinks I’m competition.” He smiled and seemed so… relaxed.
“Alright.” Raiden nodded.
“Oh. But, I did want to say…” Clay reached out to set a hand on Raiden’s shoulder. “Earlier I did notice how you acted when the glass broke. I just want to warn you.” Here it was! Now he was going to get mad, and threaten him! “Jipasi family relations are exceptionally complicated.”
“What?” Raiden was left entirely bewildered by that as his emotions had been ready to lurch and instead were jumbling up inside him.
[Continued in Comments]
2023.01.28 03:29 TringlePringle A collection of GOAT arguments from 1960 and earlier... Holman, Luisetti, Mikan, Cousy, or someone else?
Dec 13, 1933, The Tribune - Nat Holman. "... Holman, acclaimed by many as the greatest basketball player that ever lived. Holman played in this city many times as a member of the Original Celtics and his all around brilliancy was always a treat to the local fans. He was not a scorer but his fine floor work made stars out of players less spectacular than himself."
Dec 15, 1937, Arizona Daily Star - Hank Luisetti. "... Hank Luisetti, forward, is the greatest basketball player ever to perform on the Pacific Coast and, according to many critics, the greatest in the history of the game... Luisetti has no weakness, unless it is his failure to shoot enough. He is big, rangy, powerful, fast, extremely clever, a marvelous marksman with either hand or both, splendid on defense, a spectacular dribbler, and a deadly passer."
Jan 6, 1938, Central Press - Hank Luisetti again. "Angelo (Hank) Luisetti is the greatest basketball player ever to roam the floor...Many may say that Hank scores often because he is a basket-hanger. Yes, he is a basket-hanger insofar as a forward is supposed to be. Hank doesn't do any backboard bouncing under the opponent's basket. He sticks near the center lines. But that's only because he is the best shot on the Stanford team and, after all, points win games. Another remarkable item in Hank's makeup as a basketball player—he commits few fouls. This is amazing, inasmuch as Hank generally has his hands on the ball about three-quarters of the time in any game, and the rest of the time he is in there fighting to get possession of it.
Feb 13, 1938, Central Press - Nat Holman again. "Nat still remains the greatest basketball player who ever lived. There are just three necessary characteristics of a basketball player. One is ability to cage goals. Another is ability to defend his own goal. And a third is ability to handle the ball. Nat could do all three better than anyone we ever have seen. Despite the fact he isn't a tall man and doesn't carry extra weight, Nat was a remarkable shot, a brilliant defensive player and the finest floorman ever to play Dr. Naismith's pastime."
Nov 23, 1941, Daily News - Hank Luisetti again. "I'll get in a lot of arguments, but for my money [Hank Luisetti]'s the greatest player ever to sight a basket... I don't know if pretty is just the right word—but I have never seen a prettier player to watch. Never an awkward movement, just smooth-flowing grace. He wasn't the game's high scorer, but he dominated the court as if he were out there all by himself under a spotlight. He directed and pivoted plays with the calculation and coolness of a draftsman with a drawing board before him and a T-square, compass, protractor and triangle at his fingertips."
Feb 26, 1942, The Pasadena Post - Hank Luisetti again. "Hank Luisetti is the greatest basketball player that ever lived... 'First, he has the most remarkable co-ordination I've ever seen; second, he is without a peer in shooting and third, he is a team player... Luisetti is better than Holman was the best day he ever saw. I've seen 'em all, Holman included, and there's no question in my mind. Luisetti has more height than did Holman, which makes him better in follow-up shots and he's a finer floorman, as well.'" – Charley Hyatt
Dec 20, 1945, Associated Press - George Mikan. "There, in all probability, goes the greatest basketball player ever, and don't bother to tell me about the original Celtics. I've seen Mikan, and he's wonderful. Most of these long, tall boys past the 6 foot, 6 inch mark are a pain to watch as they flat-foot laboriously up and down the court. Mikan, on the other hand, moves with the grace and speed of the little fellows, and he would be [a] star even if he were a foot shorter than he is."
Nov 24, 1950, Marshfield News-Herald - Bobby McDermott. "Regardless of his numerous shortcomings McDermott remains in our way of thinking the greatest basketball player that ever lived. And that includes George Mikan whom we've seen on many occasions... when it comes right down to it we have always rated McDermott first, [Leroy] Edwards second, and Mikan third. McDermott beyond any question of a doubt was the greatest long shot of all-time. When he made a long shot it wasn't from the outside of the free throw circle, it was from midcourt. And to use the proverbial saying, 'it didn't touch nothing.' Not only could he pop the long ones, and that's where he got most of his points, but he could hit from close in, was a great faker, passed well enough, and was over-all perhaps the smartest player in the game."
Dec 10, 1951, Telegraph-Forum - George Mikan again. "... my pick as the greatest player that ever walked on a basketball court is George Mikan... Mikan could have played with the players of 20 years ago. He would have fitted into every pattern of their play... He is not like the typical big man of today who stands directly under the basket and awaits a pass from one of his teammates so he can dunk it in without any trouble. Big George is a fast man capable of playing a full game. He can shoot from the outside and is a very versatile player... [Hank] Luisetti was the only other hoopster that I considered for the honor. But George Mikan is the greatest basketball player that ever lived."
Jan 6, 1952, The Courier-Journal - Cliff Hagan. "That Hagan—he's the greatest basketball player that ever lived!... I call him the greatest... because he's not only a champion in one position. He's capable of playing any position on the floor—guard, center, forward—and playing it like a champion. What other player can you think of who could do that?" – Johnny Dee)
Aug 13, 1953, The Daily Oklahoman. Forrest "Red" DeBernardi. "I guess [DeBernardi] was the greatest. If he were playing now with all these new shooting styles and coaching techniques, he would have mastered them all." – Adolph Rupp
Jan 5, 1954, Burlington Daily News. Bob Cousy. "No less an authority than Coach Joe Lapchick... says that Cousy is not only the greatest basketball player who ever lived, but the greatest who ever will."
Mar 26, 1954, Oakland Tribune. Jim Pollard. "Jim is the greatest basketball player that ever lived. The greatest, get that! George Mikan? Sure Mikan is a sensational player, but he's a Babe Ruth. Pollard is a Ty Cobb. There's a difference. Let me put it this way: when basketball players on our circuit go against Pollard for the first time they drop around to the dressing room after a game and ask for his autograph. He's a player's player. I repeat, the greatest of all time." – Max Winter
Dec 29, 1954, United Press International. Tom Gola. "Mikan is the greatest pivot player of all-time... and Tom Gola is the greatest basketball player who ever lived. [Bill] Russell is a mere specialist... Gola can do everything." – Ken Loeffler
Apr 14, 1955, The Bangor Daily News. Jim Pollard again. "[Jim Pollard]'s the greatest basketball player who ever lived." – Bob Cousy
Apr 5, 1956, The Dispatch. Wilt Chamberlain. "It took only a timid spur to start [Dr. Phog] Allen talking about his great basketball "find," 7-foot Wilt Chamberlain who's now a freshman at Kansas and reported to be the greatest basketball player ever to come down the pike. "He's marvelous, simply marvelous," Allen lauded. "These new rules won't affect him," the coach scoffed. "Why, he can jump up and catch a shot or pass and stuff it in while he's still in the air. He can take the ball right out of a man's hand while he's shooting a hook shot."
Jan 13, 1957, Star Tribune. George Mikan again. "Man, George Mikan is the greatest basketball player that ever lived!" – Bill Russell
Jan 26, 1957, Mirror News. Charley Hyatt . "Charley Hyatt was the greatest basketball player that's ever lived. He could do everything and do it better than anyone yet." – Frank Lubin
Dec 17, 1958, Associated Press. Wilt Chamberlain again. "I take it for granted you know this Wilt the Stilt is the greatest basketball player that ever lived. He is also the tallest, because he's seven-foot-two, but it embarrasses him and he says just list him as seven feet flat. He is also the greatest drawing attraction the game has ever had, and he is also the highest paid player in history, so that puts him up there in four different ways." – Jack Hurley
Jan 26, 1960, United Press International. Bob Cousy again. "Bob Cousy of the Boston Celtics is the greatest basketball player who ever lived, Joe Lapchick of St. John's said today in naming his all-time five, with Wilt Chamberlain a cinch to take the honors within another year."
submitted by TringlePringle to VintageNBA [link] [comments]
Dec 15, 1937, Arizona Daily Star - Hank Luisetti. "... Hank Luisetti, forward, is the greatest basketball player ever to perform on the Pacific Coast and, according to many critics, the greatest in the history of the game... Luisetti has no weakness, unless it is his failure to shoot enough. He is big, rangy, powerful, fast, extremely clever, a marvelous marksman with either hand or both, splendid on defense, a spectacular dribbler, and a deadly passer."
Jan 6, 1938, Central Press - Hank Luisetti again. "Angelo (Hank) Luisetti is the greatest basketball player ever to roam the floor...Many may say that Hank scores often because he is a basket-hanger. Yes, he is a basket-hanger insofar as a forward is supposed to be. Hank doesn't do any backboard bouncing under the opponent's basket. He sticks near the center lines. But that's only because he is the best shot on the Stanford team and, after all, points win games. Another remarkable item in Hank's makeup as a basketball player—he commits few fouls. This is amazing, inasmuch as Hank generally has his hands on the ball about three-quarters of the time in any game, and the rest of the time he is in there fighting to get possession of it.
Feb 13, 1938, Central Press - Nat Holman again. "Nat still remains the greatest basketball player who ever lived. There are just three necessary characteristics of a basketball player. One is ability to cage goals. Another is ability to defend his own goal. And a third is ability to handle the ball. Nat could do all three better than anyone we ever have seen. Despite the fact he isn't a tall man and doesn't carry extra weight, Nat was a remarkable shot, a brilliant defensive player and the finest floorman ever to play Dr. Naismith's pastime."
Nov 23, 1941, Daily News - Hank Luisetti again. "I'll get in a lot of arguments, but for my money [Hank Luisetti]'s the greatest player ever to sight a basket... I don't know if pretty is just the right word—but I have never seen a prettier player to watch. Never an awkward movement, just smooth-flowing grace. He wasn't the game's high scorer, but he dominated the court as if he were out there all by himself under a spotlight. He directed and pivoted plays with the calculation and coolness of a draftsman with a drawing board before him and a T-square, compass, protractor and triangle at his fingertips."
Feb 26, 1942, The Pasadena Post - Hank Luisetti again. "Hank Luisetti is the greatest basketball player that ever lived... 'First, he has the most remarkable co-ordination I've ever seen; second, he is without a peer in shooting and third, he is a team player... Luisetti is better than Holman was the best day he ever saw. I've seen 'em all, Holman included, and there's no question in my mind. Luisetti has more height than did Holman, which makes him better in follow-up shots and he's a finer floorman, as well.'" – Charley Hyatt
Dec 20, 1945, Associated Press - George Mikan. "There, in all probability, goes the greatest basketball player ever, and don't bother to tell me about the original Celtics. I've seen Mikan, and he's wonderful. Most of these long, tall boys past the 6 foot, 6 inch mark are a pain to watch as they flat-foot laboriously up and down the court. Mikan, on the other hand, moves with the grace and speed of the little fellows, and he would be [a] star even if he were a foot shorter than he is."
Nov 24, 1950, Marshfield News-Herald - Bobby McDermott. "Regardless of his numerous shortcomings McDermott remains in our way of thinking the greatest basketball player that ever lived. And that includes George Mikan whom we've seen on many occasions... when it comes right down to it we have always rated McDermott first, [Leroy] Edwards second, and Mikan third. McDermott beyond any question of a doubt was the greatest long shot of all-time. When he made a long shot it wasn't from the outside of the free throw circle, it was from midcourt. And to use the proverbial saying, 'it didn't touch nothing.' Not only could he pop the long ones, and that's where he got most of his points, but he could hit from close in, was a great faker, passed well enough, and was over-all perhaps the smartest player in the game."
Dec 10, 1951, Telegraph-Forum - George Mikan again. "... my pick as the greatest player that ever walked on a basketball court is George Mikan... Mikan could have played with the players of 20 years ago. He would have fitted into every pattern of their play... He is not like the typical big man of today who stands directly under the basket and awaits a pass from one of his teammates so he can dunk it in without any trouble. Big George is a fast man capable of playing a full game. He can shoot from the outside and is a very versatile player... [Hank] Luisetti was the only other hoopster that I considered for the honor. But George Mikan is the greatest basketball player that ever lived."
Jan 6, 1952, The Courier-Journal - Cliff Hagan. "That Hagan—he's the greatest basketball player that ever lived!... I call him the greatest... because he's not only a champion in one position. He's capable of playing any position on the floor—guard, center, forward—and playing it like a champion. What other player can you think of who could do that?" – Johnny Dee)
Aug 13, 1953, The Daily Oklahoman. Forrest "Red" DeBernardi. "I guess [DeBernardi] was the greatest. If he were playing now with all these new shooting styles and coaching techniques, he would have mastered them all." – Adolph Rupp
Jan 5, 1954, Burlington Daily News. Bob Cousy. "No less an authority than Coach Joe Lapchick... says that Cousy is not only the greatest basketball player who ever lived, but the greatest who ever will."
Mar 26, 1954, Oakland Tribune. Jim Pollard. "Jim is the greatest basketball player that ever lived. The greatest, get that! George Mikan? Sure Mikan is a sensational player, but he's a Babe Ruth. Pollard is a Ty Cobb. There's a difference. Let me put it this way: when basketball players on our circuit go against Pollard for the first time they drop around to the dressing room after a game and ask for his autograph. He's a player's player. I repeat, the greatest of all time." – Max Winter
Dec 29, 1954, United Press International. Tom Gola. "Mikan is the greatest pivot player of all-time... and Tom Gola is the greatest basketball player who ever lived. [Bill] Russell is a mere specialist... Gola can do everything." – Ken Loeffler
Apr 14, 1955, The Bangor Daily News. Jim Pollard again. "[Jim Pollard]'s the greatest basketball player who ever lived." – Bob Cousy
Apr 5, 1956, The Dispatch. Wilt Chamberlain. "It took only a timid spur to start [Dr. Phog] Allen talking about his great basketball "find," 7-foot Wilt Chamberlain who's now a freshman at Kansas and reported to be the greatest basketball player ever to come down the pike. "He's marvelous, simply marvelous," Allen lauded. "These new rules won't affect him," the coach scoffed. "Why, he can jump up and catch a shot or pass and stuff it in while he's still in the air. He can take the ball right out of a man's hand while he's shooting a hook shot."
Jan 13, 1957, Star Tribune. George Mikan again. "Man, George Mikan is the greatest basketball player that ever lived!" – Bill Russell
Jan 26, 1957, Mirror News. Charley Hyatt . "Charley Hyatt was the greatest basketball player that's ever lived. He could do everything and do it better than anyone yet." – Frank Lubin
Dec 17, 1958, Associated Press. Wilt Chamberlain again. "I take it for granted you know this Wilt the Stilt is the greatest basketball player that ever lived. He is also the tallest, because he's seven-foot-two, but it embarrasses him and he says just list him as seven feet flat. He is also the greatest drawing attraction the game has ever had, and he is also the highest paid player in history, so that puts him up there in four different ways." – Jack Hurley
Jan 26, 1960, United Press International. Bob Cousy again. "Bob Cousy of the Boston Celtics is the greatest basketball player who ever lived, Joe Lapchick of St. John's said today in naming his all-time five, with Wilt Chamberlain a cinch to take the honors within another year."
2023.01.17 02:25 TerryJerryMaryHarry infinite Ikea compass
 | submitted by TerryJerryMaryHarry to WojakCompass [link] [comments] |
2023.01.17 01:03 TerryJerryMaryHarry Spent 3 days making this, The Political Compass of the Infinite Ikea
 | submitted by TerryJerryMaryHarry to PoliticalCompassMemes [link] [comments] |
2023.01.16 04:13 KaijuDirectorOO7 Old Ideas, Part I
Hey everyone, I just joined and decided it was a good time to pitch these ideas I made for a timeline last August at the alternatehistory.com forums. That TL's long since gone and wasn't a very wrestling-centric timeline, but I managed to sneak in whatever I could. All of these ideas are mine, by the way, but I edited them a bit for housekeeping reasons. I managed to rebook mostly the Attitude Era, but I skipped ahead in some places. (The post Attitude stuff I'll save for tomorrow.)
Just so you know, I couldn't rebook every match or get into the little details due to the nature of the TL. If you have any issues, comments, or suggestions feel free to say so down below!
Feburary 16, 1997: Bret Hart wins the WWE Title at In Your House: Final Four. He outlasts the Undertaker, Big Van Vader, and Stone Cold Steve Austin with the assistance of a mystery man in a red mask, revealed as Kane. Bret will hold on to the title for the foreseeable future, but that doesn't stop Steve Austin from demanding a title shot. Bret, wanting to teach Austin a lesson, grants it on the provisio it's contested as a submission match. (Basically the Kane storyline starts a lot earlier than they did.
March 9, 1997: Wrestlemania 13: After weeks of mind games against the Undertaker, Kane faces him at WrestleMania 13. Kane loses by pinfall but kicks out after taking three Tombstone Piledrivers.
The night's match however is the main event: Bret Hart and Stone Cold Steve Austin for the WWF Championship. It ends with Bret turning heel by attacking Austin despite the match ending, while Austin becomes a de facto face when he refuses to tap out.
August 3, 1997: In their match for the Intercontinental title at SummerSlam, Owen Hart attempts to deliver a Tombstone Piledriver, but Austin reverses it into a Stone Cold Stunner to win. Elsewhere, Bret is more successful as he defends his title against The Undertaker, with Shawn Michaels as special guest referee - although Shawn accidentally(?) nails 'Taker with a chairshot meant for Bret.
October 5, 1997: In Your House: Badd Blodd. The Undertaker and Shawn compete for a WWE Championship match at Survivor Series in a steel cage. It ends with Kane helping Michaels win by emerging from the middle of the ring, Tombstone Piledriving the Undertaker, and kicking down the steel cage's wall to allow Michaels the chance to escape. (Shades of St. Valentine's Day Massacre '99 here, and don't worry, I'm just delaying Hell in A Cell!)
November 9, 1997: Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels wrestle for the WWE World Championship at Survivor Series, but it ends in a No Contest when Stone Cold Steve Austin brawls with Triple H, Owen Hart, and Chyna. The fight gets into the ring, leading to a big brawl that involves the rest of the locker room brought in to calm down the fight. The match ends in a No Contest. This will forever be known as the "Montreal Bar Brawl" (In Jim Ross' words) and is seen as an attempt to replicate the big nWo brawls that permeate the end of certain WCW Monday Night Nitros.
November 10, 1997: The WWE Championship is vacated as Bret leaves for WCW. The champion will be awarded to the winner of the 1998 Royal Rumble, something that hasn't been implemented since 1992.
December 28, 1997: Sting beats Hollywood Hulk Hogan clean at Starrcade thanks to Bret Hart fighting off Kevin Nash and Scott Hall when they try to interfere. This marks the beginning of the end of the nWo storyline as it breaks up into warring factions while the rest of WCW bulldozes the remains.
Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) this disillusions Hogan, who will quit WCW to pursue his acting career.
January 18, 1998: Shawn Michaels wins the 1998 Royal Rumble and the WWE Championship... with the help of Vince McMahon, who eliminates Stone Cold Steve Austin despite the WWF Chairman not being a competitor. This of course signals the birth of the Mr. McMahon character. However, this victory comes at a price as Shawn Michaels injures his back in an earlier Casket Match with The Undertaker.
March 28, 1998: WrestleMania XIV: Shawn Michaels loses his Championship to Stone Cold Steve Austin, who gets help from Mike Tyson, who was supposedly on DX's side. His injuries sustained in the Royal Rumble also worsen, leading to an early retirement for The Heartbreak Kid.
July 17, 1998: At the Bash at the Beach, Goldberg wins the World Heavyweight Championship from Sting. (Basically, Sting kept the title up until now, and at this point the nWo in all of its variations and splinter factions is a foot and a half in the grave.)
August 30, 1998: The Undertaker wins the WWF Championship at Summerslam from Steve Austin with the assistance of Kane.
October 25, 1998: Diamond Dallas Page becomes the one to break Goldberg's streak at Halloween Havoc and wins the World Title.
November 15, 1998: The Undertaker loses the WWF Championship to the Rock at Survivor Series, losing in a clean match to the up-and-coming star. The Rock will be destined to win it several more times in the future.
January 4, 1999: Mankind/Mick Foley wins the WWF Championship from The Rock on Raw is War, assisted by Stone Cold Steve Austin and DX fighting off Vince McMahon and The Corporation.
January 24, 1999: The Undertaker wins the 1999 Royal Rumble, thus earning a championship shot against Mankind. Mankind on the other hand successfully defended his title from Stone Cold Steve Austin after the Rock interferes in the match.
Sometime before February 21, 1999: Rey Mysterio leaves WCW after it gets pitched that he loses his Hair vs. Mask match to Kevin Nash at SuperBrawl IX.
March 28, 1999: At Wrestlemania XV's main event, The Undertaker wins the WWF Championship from Mankind in the debuting Hell in A Cell match. In a match that is a serious contender for the greatest Wrestlemania match in history, Undertaker throws Mankind off the cell into the Spanish announcer's table, chokeslams him so hard from the roof that it actually breaks and Mankind falls onto the ring below before Tombstone Piledriving the latter into thumbtacks twice. After Undertaker wins, he meets with his old manager Paul Bearer (who'd been representing Kane and Mankind for the past two years) at the entranceway and joins forces. (Basically, the HIAC King of the Ring '98 match, which doesn't happen in 1998 in this timeline, but Mick isn't hung like Big Boss Man was at the real WM XV.).
In other matches, Stone Cold Steve Austin wins his first Wrestlemania match against The Rock, the first of a much-beloved trilogy of matches at the Show of Shows.
March 29, 1999: On that night's edition of Raw is War, the Undertaker, sporting a new look and theme song, announces the formation of the Ministry of Darkness with Paul Bearer.
Sometime before May 29, 1999: After hearing Vince's proposal to have him rappel down the rafters like Sting as part of his Blue Blazer entrance for the Over The Edge PPV, Owen Hart, over safety concerns, refuses and hints that he'd rather "Quit than do something that stupid." Unfortunately, Vince calls out his bluff and fires Owen, despite him having three years left on a four-year tenure extension that he had signed in 1998. He is replaced by Rey Mysterio.
Owen sues for breach of contract and wins an out-of-court settlement, but will spend the rest of his career in Japan with New Japan Pro Wrestling, All-Japan Pro Wrestling, and Pro Wrestling NOAH. This is because Owen is effectively blackballed from working in the States, and even worse, the Hart family's relationship with the WWF remains sour for quite a few years to come.
Of note, Owen would retire his brother, Bret, have a memorable feud with AJPW "ace" Masaharu Misawa, and tag team with Stan Hansen. (Which leads to a very interesting run as "The Canadian Cowboy", or "The Calgary Cowboy"). He retires on May 5, 2005, his 40th birthday.
There is a happy ending to this, however. After patching up his relationship with Vince, he is inducted into the WWF Hall of Fame alongside Bret in 2006 and gets some measure of revenge by facing Vince McMahon at WrestleMania 26's first match - a short, but surprisingly good, No Holds Barred match. (Nothing as long as the real Bret vs. Vince match, just a short squash to bury the hatchet, exorcise some demons, and pump up the crowd.)
December 19, 1999: Bret Hart wins the WCW World Heavyweight Title at Starrcade against Goldberg. However, a very close miss from one of Goldberg's mule kicks results in Bret giving Goldberg an earful backstage in the aftermath.
submitted by KaijuDirectorOO7 to fantasybooking [link] [comments]
Just so you know, I couldn't rebook every match or get into the little details due to the nature of the TL. If you have any issues, comments, or suggestions feel free to say so down below!
Feburary 16, 1997: Bret Hart wins the WWE Title at In Your House: Final Four. He outlasts the Undertaker, Big Van Vader, and Stone Cold Steve Austin with the assistance of a mystery man in a red mask, revealed as Kane. Bret will hold on to the title for the foreseeable future, but that doesn't stop Steve Austin from demanding a title shot. Bret, wanting to teach Austin a lesson, grants it on the provisio it's contested as a submission match. (Basically the Kane storyline starts a lot earlier than they did.
March 9, 1997: Wrestlemania 13: After weeks of mind games against the Undertaker, Kane faces him at WrestleMania 13. Kane loses by pinfall but kicks out after taking three Tombstone Piledrivers.
The night's match however is the main event: Bret Hart and Stone Cold Steve Austin for the WWF Championship. It ends with Bret turning heel by attacking Austin despite the match ending, while Austin becomes a de facto face when he refuses to tap out.
August 3, 1997: In their match for the Intercontinental title at SummerSlam, Owen Hart attempts to deliver a Tombstone Piledriver, but Austin reverses it into a Stone Cold Stunner to win. Elsewhere, Bret is more successful as he defends his title against The Undertaker, with Shawn Michaels as special guest referee - although Shawn accidentally(?) nails 'Taker with a chairshot meant for Bret.
October 5, 1997: In Your House: Badd Blodd. The Undertaker and Shawn compete for a WWE Championship match at Survivor Series in a steel cage. It ends with Kane helping Michaels win by emerging from the middle of the ring, Tombstone Piledriving the Undertaker, and kicking down the steel cage's wall to allow Michaels the chance to escape. (Shades of St. Valentine's Day Massacre '99 here, and don't worry, I'm just delaying Hell in A Cell!)
November 9, 1997: Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels wrestle for the WWE World Championship at Survivor Series, but it ends in a No Contest when Stone Cold Steve Austin brawls with Triple H, Owen Hart, and Chyna. The fight gets into the ring, leading to a big brawl that involves the rest of the locker room brought in to calm down the fight. The match ends in a No Contest. This will forever be known as the "Montreal Bar Brawl" (In Jim Ross' words) and is seen as an attempt to replicate the big nWo brawls that permeate the end of certain WCW Monday Night Nitros.
November 10, 1997: The WWE Championship is vacated as Bret leaves for WCW. The champion will be awarded to the winner of the 1998 Royal Rumble, something that hasn't been implemented since 1992.
December 28, 1997: Sting beats Hollywood Hulk Hogan clean at Starrcade thanks to Bret Hart fighting off Kevin Nash and Scott Hall when they try to interfere. This marks the beginning of the end of the nWo storyline as it breaks up into warring factions while the rest of WCW bulldozes the remains.
Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) this disillusions Hogan, who will quit WCW to pursue his acting career.
January 18, 1998: Shawn Michaels wins the 1998 Royal Rumble and the WWE Championship... with the help of Vince McMahon, who eliminates Stone Cold Steve Austin despite the WWF Chairman not being a competitor. This of course signals the birth of the Mr. McMahon character. However, this victory comes at a price as Shawn Michaels injures his back in an earlier Casket Match with The Undertaker.
March 28, 1998: WrestleMania XIV: Shawn Michaels loses his Championship to Stone Cold Steve Austin, who gets help from Mike Tyson, who was supposedly on DX's side. His injuries sustained in the Royal Rumble also worsen, leading to an early retirement for The Heartbreak Kid.
July 17, 1998: At the Bash at the Beach, Goldberg wins the World Heavyweight Championship from Sting. (Basically, Sting kept the title up until now, and at this point the nWo in all of its variations and splinter factions is a foot and a half in the grave.)
August 30, 1998: The Undertaker wins the WWF Championship at Summerslam from Steve Austin with the assistance of Kane.
October 25, 1998: Diamond Dallas Page becomes the one to break Goldberg's streak at Halloween Havoc and wins the World Title.
November 15, 1998: The Undertaker loses the WWF Championship to the Rock at Survivor Series, losing in a clean match to the up-and-coming star. The Rock will be destined to win it several more times in the future.
January 4, 1999: Mankind/Mick Foley wins the WWF Championship from The Rock on Raw is War, assisted by Stone Cold Steve Austin and DX fighting off Vince McMahon and The Corporation.
January 24, 1999: The Undertaker wins the 1999 Royal Rumble, thus earning a championship shot against Mankind. Mankind on the other hand successfully defended his title from Stone Cold Steve Austin after the Rock interferes in the match.
Sometime before February 21, 1999: Rey Mysterio leaves WCW after it gets pitched that he loses his Hair vs. Mask match to Kevin Nash at SuperBrawl IX.
March 28, 1999: At Wrestlemania XV's main event, The Undertaker wins the WWF Championship from Mankind in the debuting Hell in A Cell match. In a match that is a serious contender for the greatest Wrestlemania match in history, Undertaker throws Mankind off the cell into the Spanish announcer's table, chokeslams him so hard from the roof that it actually breaks and Mankind falls onto the ring below before Tombstone Piledriving the latter into thumbtacks twice. After Undertaker wins, he meets with his old manager Paul Bearer (who'd been representing Kane and Mankind for the past two years) at the entranceway and joins forces. (Basically, the HIAC King of the Ring '98 match, which doesn't happen in 1998 in this timeline, but Mick isn't hung like Big Boss Man was at the real WM XV.).
In other matches, Stone Cold Steve Austin wins his first Wrestlemania match against The Rock, the first of a much-beloved trilogy of matches at the Show of Shows.
March 29, 1999: On that night's edition of Raw is War, the Undertaker, sporting a new look and theme song, announces the formation of the Ministry of Darkness with Paul Bearer.
Sometime before May 29, 1999: After hearing Vince's proposal to have him rappel down the rafters like Sting as part of his Blue Blazer entrance for the Over The Edge PPV, Owen Hart, over safety concerns, refuses and hints that he'd rather "Quit than do something that stupid." Unfortunately, Vince calls out his bluff and fires Owen, despite him having three years left on a four-year tenure extension that he had signed in 1998. He is replaced by Rey Mysterio.
Owen sues for breach of contract and wins an out-of-court settlement, but will spend the rest of his career in Japan with New Japan Pro Wrestling, All-Japan Pro Wrestling, and Pro Wrestling NOAH. This is because Owen is effectively blackballed from working in the States, and even worse, the Hart family's relationship with the WWF remains sour for quite a few years to come.
Of note, Owen would retire his brother, Bret, have a memorable feud with AJPW "ace" Masaharu Misawa, and tag team with Stan Hansen. (Which leads to a very interesting run as "The Canadian Cowboy", or "The Calgary Cowboy"). He retires on May 5, 2005, his 40th birthday.
There is a happy ending to this, however. After patching up his relationship with Vince, he is inducted into the WWF Hall of Fame alongside Bret in 2006 and gets some measure of revenge by facing Vince McMahon at WrestleMania 26's first match - a short, but surprisingly good, No Holds Barred match. (Nothing as long as the real Bret vs. Vince match, just a short squash to bury the hatchet, exorcise some demons, and pump up the crowd.)
December 19, 1999: Bret Hart wins the WCW World Heavyweight Title at Starrcade against Goldberg. However, a very close miss from one of Goldberg's mule kicks results in Bret giving Goldberg an earful backstage in the aftermath.
2022.12.21 12:25 Fenghuang0296 Fate/Grand Trifecta Chapter 49 (Part 2): It’s Not Like A Holy Grail War
I had to break this chapter up because of Reddit’s character limit. Find the first half here; https://www.reddit.com/grandordecomments/zrhg8x/fategrand_trifecta_chapter_49_its_not_like_a_holy/
Read the story from the start on:
SpaceBattles: Fate/Grand Trifecta: FGO AU (3 Masters)
FanFiction: Fate/Grand Trifecta
By nightfall, the Super Bus was barrelling through the untamed wilderness. Not that this changed anything for the command room staff, who were concerned.
“So. They’ve made a plan that relies on Era and her Servants being likeable and charismatic enough to convince these Americans to join them. When every Servant she’s contracted with there except for Sita is some stripe of Evil by alignment,” Olga-Marie summarised. “Am I the only one who has reservations about this?”
“Hey, Master’s not that bad,” Mordred defended. “She talked me into joining, didn’t she?”
“Weren’t you motivated by pity for her awful family life?” Charlotte asked just a little too sweetly to be sincere.
“Well, yeah, but that’s a valid strategy,”
“The Director has a point,” Dr. Roman agreed. “We all love Era, but she’s not very diplomatic,”
“Perhaps not in the conventional sense, but she has a certain childish charm to her,” Da Vinci reasoned. “When she’s not being the ‘demon child’, at any rate,”
“I think we need some outside advice from someone who knows all about being loved by all,” Dr. Roman decided, fiddling with his terminal.
“Romani, what are you doing?” Olga-Marie froze as a familiar cartoonish idol appeared before them.
“Konnichiwa, friendo!” Magi⭐️Mari waved at them. “What can the besties do for you today?”
Her partner flicked her in the forehead. “I’m not your bestie. Piss off,” Magi🌙Mona huffed, trying to shove Mari away from the screen.
“Mona you’re so meeeeeeean!” she complained, struggling against her with arms pinwheeling.
“Romani, what have I told you about consulting your e-girls in the command room?” Olga-Marie snapped.
“AIs are not a valid source of strategic acumen,” the doctor parroted with a grumble.
The Director patted his shoulder. “I’ve told you that you don’t have to pretend to be an incompetent weeb when it’s just us,”
“I’m not!” Dr. Roman feigned offence. “I really do just like this sort of thing!”
“It’s crap, but it’s still good for a laugh,” Mordred agreed. “Ow!” She span, glaring at Charlotte, who had just poked her with an arrow. “What was that for?”
“Miss Atalante told me to hit you with this if you swore,” she sweetly explained.
“Damn mother hen,” Mordred grumbled. “Ow! Oi. Well, let’s see what they have to say anyway!” she insisted, leaning over to hit the Enter key and submit the question Dr. Roman had typed.
The hololive idols froze. “Oh, looks like we’ve got a fan who needs some advice!” Magi⭐️Mari exclaimed. “:‘How can we coach a preteen to be charismatic enough to convince people to join us?’:” She cocked her head, her blonde pigtails drooping to the side. “Hmmm, I don’t know about that. But I’d say just have faith in your friends and everything’ll be a-okay!”
“You’re such a simpleton,” Magi🌙Mona shook her head, her black bangs bouncing back and forth. “If you want to be convincing, you just have to figure out what someone wants and then make them think that they’ll get it by helping you,”
“Mona, you’re so meeeeeean!”
“. . Well, that was useless,” Olga-Marie groused. “Figure out what someone wants? They’re Rogue Servants, obviously they all want to fix history,”
“Yeah, don’t count on that. Some heroes can be real assholes. Take it from one,” Mordred shrugged. Charlotte promptly poked her in the arm with Atalante’s arrow again. “Ow! What? Asshole isn’t a swear - ow!”
“Perhaps instead we should see if our erstwhile Master has any insight?” Da Vinci suggested, flicking on the communicator. “Era, do you read me?”
“Hm? Hey, Da Vinci! What’s up?”
“Our Director was just wondering what your plan was to convince the American Servants to join forces with you,”
In the back of the Super Bus, Era mulled over the question. “I figured we’d just ask nicely,”
Olga-Marie sweat dropped. “. . ask . . nicely . .” she murmured.
“And if they say no?” Da Vinci prodded.
“Then we’ll beat them up until they change their minds!”
There was a crash as the Director promptly lost her balance from sheer shock and fell to the floor.
Mordred cackled. “That’s my Master alright,”
Scrambling back to her feet and desperately trying to retain some semblance of dignity, Olga-Marie all but shrieked, “I have concerns about this plan!”
“Like what?” Era shrugged. “We won’t lose, if that’s what you’re worried about,”
“Is that so?” She looked up in surprise as Scathach loomed over her, folding her arms. “What makes you so certain?”
“Um,” Era considered the question. “We haven’t lost so far,”
“Naive,” the Lancer frowned. “You should never take victory for granted. Our intelligence does suggest that we most likely outnumber the Servants of the American faction, but that means nothing. There are a wide range of power levels that Servants can boast, and out of the group we have assembled here, only myself and the Roman king are in the upper echelons. We could easily arrive to find ourselves outmatched,”
“. . oh,” Era murmured, biting her lip. “I mean, everything’s worked out so far,”
“And that is not enough of a reason to assume things will continue to do so!” Scathach barked. “I see now. I don’t know who among you was foolish enough to think sending an untested child into this place as the sole hope for humanity was wise, but even if your heart is in the right place, your mind and body are not ready,”
“I’m just short,” Era mumbled, looking down.
“Ahem,” Scathach wheeled to meet Carmilla’s death glare as the vampire rose from her seat. “I don’t care who you are, if you’re threatening our Master -“
“Threatening? Hardly,” she shook her head. “That wouldn’t achieve anything, after all. No, as much as I wish it were not so, this little girl has been forced into the role of the saviour of humanity. So there’s only one course of action to take,”
“What?” Era tilted her head.
Scathach smiled at her with teeth bared. “I’m going to make you ready. Get plenty of rest tonight. Your training starts at dawn tomorrow,”
“Oh! Okay!” she agreed. Then Era paused, noticing that Sita, who had been observing the interaction from the other side of the lounge, was making a face. “Is something wrong?”
Scathach turned and cast the Archer a look. “N-no! No,” Sita protested. “I’m, uh, sure it’ll be fine . . don’t you dare kill our Master,” she hissed.
“Hm? Nonsense. I know exactly what a human being is capable of surviving,” she assured the Chaldeans, who were all the more distressed as a result.
“Can we get back to the part where your only backup plan is to beat the Americans up until they agree to help you? Surely we can do better than that?” Olga-Marie demanded.
“Why would we need to? It’s a valid plan, I’m just worried that this girl won’t have the capacity to follow through,” Scathach shrugged. “But I am willing and able to fix that,”
“Well, thanks! That’s really nice of you!” Era smiled up at her.
“. . Alright then. This should be entertaining,” Carmilla idly mused.
“We’re all doomed,” Olga-Marie mumbled.
X
That night, Scathach leant over the young girl whom she had decided needed to be trained. Her finger flared with purple light and she pressed it to Era’s forehead - then froze as an arrow poked her in the back.
“What are you doing?” Sita demanded.
“Do tell,” Carmilla hissed, a knife pressing itself to the side of Scathach’s neck.
“You both have good reflexes. But rest assured, this will not be harmful. I have agreed to make this girl my student, after all,”
“Take it from one of history’s worst murderers. That could mean any number of things. Elaborate,” Carmilla insisted.
“I don’t care how scary you are, this is my Master. Touch her and I do my very best to kill you,” Sita promised.
“This spell will allow me to view her memories. I want to see her formative experiences. If I’m going to train her properly, I need to know what motivates her. After all, she’s here, isn’t she? She has decided to take the fate of the world into her hands and carry it onwards. If I am to prepare her for what is to come, I need to know what I’m working with,”
Sita and Carmilla exchanged glances. “And you had to do this while she was asleep?” Sita pressed.
“Naturally. It’s safer to do it now than when she’s awake. You are aware of the process through which Servants might share their Master’s memories, and vice versa?”
“Yes, I’ve experienced it,” Sita confirmed.
“I had a few dreams,” Carmilla agreed.
“I’m just manually inducing that state. I can bring you with me when I view them, if you like. Even if it’s something you’ve already seen, an extra perspective might help,”
“It would be harder for her to mess with something if we’re watching the whole time,” the vampire reasoned.
Sita nodded, then looked up at the skylight, where Atalante was keeping watch. “We should get Green involved too,”
“I already heard,” the huntress assured them as she slid back into the
lavish interior of the Super Bus. “Tarquinius. Would you please keep an eye on things in the real world?”
“Groovy,” he assured them. “What about slim and shooty here?” he asked, gesturing at Billy, who was dozing in the shotgun seat.
In answer, a white rodent leapt onto his lap and barked, “Fou!”
“Nevermind. Good to have you as my watch buddy, Fou,”
“Your distrust is understandable,” Scathach admitted. “But rest assured I have no ill intentions. I hope this helps convince you,” With that, she completed the incantation. The small sequence of runes flared to life on Era’s forehead. “Show me who you are, little girl who would be my student,” Scathach whispered, gently stroking her hair. “Show me the moment that defines you,”
X
Gunfire rocked the streets of Cairo. Era, age eight, was ushered along by her mother.
Brianna Sutsuki cut an imposing figure, even fleeing from gunfire. Her shoulder-length golden hair was whipped by the wind as she wrapped her cloak around her daughter just in time for a bullet to strike it. White lines of Reinforcement Magecraft spread over it, absorbing the blow, and she stifled a wince.
“Mum, what’s happening?” Era asked as she was ushered along. It had been an ordinary day of perusing the market. A weekly ritual that was a fixture of their daily life at the Atlas Institute. She didn’t know that Brianna was cursing herself for letting her guard down and allowing herself to become predictable.
Era peered out of the cloak’s folds to see a man in a hooded black cloak that must have been stifling in the desert heat. His face was obscured by tinted sunglasses, and a rifle was slung underneath one of his arms that he was in the process of reloading. “Who is that?”
“An Executor,” Brianna murmured almost unwillingly. She half-carried Era, keeping one arm free to defend herself, making for the far end of the alleyway.
Behind them, the Executor’s pace had slowed, but he was still advancing on them. “Hey. Heretic,” he drawled.
Brianna waved her hand and a fan of Magecraft shot out from her fingers, a tiny, localised burst of gale force wind rushing back down the alleyway.
The Executor’s lips twisted and he flung something, a black dagger of some kind, through the air as he back-pedalled and ducked back around the corner to avoid the attack.
For a moment, Brianna dared to think she’d scared him off, but then the dagger he’d thrown hit a water tank atop the corner of the building ahead of them. The supports crumpled and it overbalanced, collapsing into the alleyway and blocking their escape.
With a muttered curse, she cast around, Era silently watching her. The Executor had reappeared at the other end of the alleyway, but wasn’t advancing, content to block them off.
That was when Brianna noticed a door a little way down the alley. It was locked, but she blew it off its hinges and sent it collapsing inwards, ushering Era into the building before her.
Mother and daughter found themselves in a large hall. Chairs filled most of the space, and a stage had been erected with curtains hanging over it. There was only one other exit; the main doors that led onto the street where the Executor had just been waiting.
It was immediately obvious that they were cornered.
“Era, hide. Stay behind the curtains. Your father or sister should be here soon. No matter what happens, don’t come out and don’t make a sound,” Brianna insisted, tension etching harsh lines into her face.
“But mum -“
“That’s a rule!” her mother commanded.
Era sharply inhaled. “O-okay,” she nodded, ducking behind the curtains and finding a crack where she could watch as her mother put herself between the stage and the main door.
At the far end of the building, the doors of the hall burst open and the Executor strode inside, a black figure framed by the daylight pouring inside. In perfect tranquility he strode towards them. His left arm grasped the stock of the gun and with a flash of light it melted around his hand, transforming into a glove. “Enough with the running. Really,” he frowned. “You’re wasting my time,”
“Why are you even here? I settled things with the Holy Church, years ago!” Brianna snapped.
“Don’t make me laugh. You and that child both reek of heresy. I can practically smell it,” the Executor shook his head. “When you say you’re sorry and then a couple of years later go and shack up with someone like Zachariah Sutsuki, surely you can understand how it looks a bit . . insincere,”
“If being a mother is a sin, then I suppose I’ll rot in hell. But not before you do,” Brianna promised him.
“. . Now isn’t that an interesting thing to say,” The Executor’s eyebrows had raised enough as to become visible above his sunglasses.
The blood drained from her face as Brianna realised what she’d let slip. “. . Alright. You die now,” she decided, throwing off her cloak and tossing it into the air between them. It rippled and lines flared to life on its folds.
The Executor had just enough time to tilt his head and observe, “Hieroglyphs?” before the cloak exploded outward, torn apart from the inside by gale force winds that threw him against the door.
Brianna leapt forwards, propelled by the localised hurricane that was rapidly filling the hall, and punch daggers emerged from her sleeves and slid over her hands. She lunged straight for the enemy’s throat, only for a silvery blade to appear before him.
The Executor was no longer wearing his right glove, which presumably had also been transfigured. “Heretical magecraft will not save you,” he hissed, twisting his wrist and flicking her away.
Brianna didn’t respond, her lips twisted into a snarl. She snatched a Post-It note with a hieroglyph of a bird out of a pocket and made it flash with prana, and it formed into an eagle made of golden light that flew into the Enforcer’s face and wrapped its claws around the man’s sunglasses, trying to get at his eyes.
The Enforcer swept his sword in front of his face and bashed the bird away, but it took his sunglasses with it, revealing dark, bloodshot eyes. He looked back at Brianna and raised his arm, but she was quicker on the draw, another note with hieroglyphs flying into the air between them, propelled by the winds that raced around the interior of the hall. It exploded into a cloud of red powder that flew straight into the Enforcer’s eyes. He abandoned his cast to try to shield himself, but failed.
“What was that? Sand?” he scoffed, but his words rang hollow as a sharp pain erupted in his eyes.
“Not just any sand. Deshret. Desert, dryness. Death,” Brianna explained as the Enforcer clawed at his eyes.
While he was distracted, she struck, the wind catching her and accelerating her movements as the punch daggers extended forwards, her right arm going straight for his heart.
The cloak lit up with the Enforcer’s own Reinforcement magic. He stared at her through clouded red eyes, clearly barely able to see, but still had enough lucidity to raise his hand and resume casting.
So Brianna struck his exposed chin with an uppercut that drove her other dagger straight through his mouth and into his skull.
The Enforcer choked on his own words, twitching and gurgling, clenching his fists, until the dagger retracted.
She stood over the corpse for just long enough to reassure herself that he genuinely was dead. Then she cast around, scanning the stage for her daughter. “Era! Era, are you -“
Brianna was cut off mid-sentence, as a hole appeared in her chest.
A shocked whimper escaped Era’s throat as her mother stumbled and looked up. Nestled in the rafters of the stage was a sniper, and the muzzle of their gun was releasing a faint trail of smoke.
Era stared at him for a moment, going perfectly still as her mind devolved into a tumultuous maelstrom of conflicting thoughts.
The rules say that I can’t kill him.
WHO CARES ABOUT THE RULES HE KILLED -
He didn’t attack me. Only mum. That’s not against the rules.
KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM -
No! The rules are important. If I break the rules I’ll never see mum again!
WHY DOES THAT MATTER WHEN MUM’S DEAD?
. . . That’s true. With mum dead . . there aren’t any consequences anymore.
The sniper slid down, sliding his gun back into his case, watching Era out of the corner of one eye. “Sorry you had to see that, kid, but take it as a lesson. Don’t think you can get away with pissing off the Holy Church. The bill comes due. I’d like to think I’m not someone who would kill a kid, so you’d better scarper,”
There was no response, so he turned to look at her. “Did you hear -“
ERA WAS THERE. Inches away from him, a glassy absence of emotion in her eyes. An undignified scream erupted from his throat for an instant, and then her knife was buried in his airway, strangling the noise.
A strange sense of clarity had come over her as the two conflicting lines of thoughts resolved into a single purpose, crystal clear and lethally sharp. It was as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes, her entire being focused on simple, vengeful murder.
The assassin’s life blood emerged from the wound and soaked her hands. He struggled, but, for the first time in years, Era’s Magecraft flashed on, because there was no reason to hold it back anymore. Her skin toughened and bones increased in density, using her increased weight to pin him down and no-selling his desperate attempts to claw at her or push him away. Her fingers were encased by serrated claws that dug into the ground underneath and the meat alike.
She watched, with all the emotion of a statue, as he finally succumbed. Only as the light of life left his eyes did she relax her grip and allow a smile to tug at her lips. “You deserved that,” Era whispered, looking away from the worthless sack of meat that she had just ended.
There was a coldness in her chest as she stared at her mother’s dead body. Era had never felt anything like it before. She didn’t understand. This feeling, the emptiness inside her . . was it because mum was gone? Had she taken the warmth with her? All that was left was an icy clarity unlike anything she’d ever felt, and the unfamiliar sensation of wetness on her cheeks.
Era brought a hand to her eyes and felt her fingers come into contact with drops of moisture. “Why . . are my eyes wet . .” she murmured. For a second, the cold crystal of her thoughts flickered and wavered, but it didn’t matter so she shook her head and wondered what was next.
The doors to the hall exploded open again and rapid, frantic footsteps rang through the hall. “Era!” a familiar voice shrieked, only to trail off. “Mum?” the voice wavered.
“I’m here,” Era said as an automatic response. Why had she responded to this person? She was important . . wasn’t she?
It was her sister who climbed onto the stage. Who looked around at the three corpses and her bloodstained younger sister. “Era? Oh thank goodness, you’re okay,” Hannah Sutsuki wheezed, collapsing to her knees and hugging her sister, her loose golden hair falling around both their shoulders.
“Uh-huh. I am,” Era agreed, looking over Hannah’s shoulder without moving. For want of reciprocation, Hannah just decided to hug her twice as hard. “Mum isn’t,”
“N-no . . mum . . mum,” Hannah repeated, her entire body shaking as tears fell from her eyes and onto Era’s back. So that’s what those were. “Era, Era, you, you could have stopped them. Why didn’t you stop them from killing mum?!” her sister demanded.
“I wanted to,” she mumbled in a small voice. “But . . but the rules say I’m not allowed to hurt people unless they’re trying to kill me, and I’m not allowed to use my magecraft. They just wanted mum. And . . and then after she was dead . .” A shaky breath escaped her lips that sounded too much like a deranged laugh for her sister’s liking. “I realised that the rules didn’t matter anymore,”
“Era . . that’s not true, that . . the rules were never about punishment. Mum was going to teach you that when you were older,” Hannah explained, tears running down her cheeks.
Era looked at her. A shiver ran through her body as the strange sense of clarity she’d experienced slipped away, leaving only a murky confusion. “They . . weren’t? Then . . what were they about?”
“Being a person who can live with other humans. Being someone who I can happily call my sister. Does,” Hannah swallowed, which was a strange thing to do when she hadn’t been eating anything. “Does that still matter to you?”
Era started. “Of course it does! You’re big sis! You’re important! You’re . .” She looked back at her mother’s still body. “You’re big sis,” she repeated, because what else was there to say?
Hannah stared at her, searching for something in her face, Era wasn’t sure what. She seemed not to find it, though, because she kept sobbing even a a small smile of relief crossed her face, and hugged her little sister closer. “Era . . Era, I have a new rule for you. Let’s call it rule number zero,”
Era nodded, returning the hug. “What’s rule number zero?”
“If breaking one of your rules is the only way to save your own life or the life of someone you love, then and only then is it okay to break a rule. Understand?”
“I understand,” Era agreed, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “But . . how will I know if the person in danger is someone I love?”
Hannah shook her head. “There’s no rule that can tell you that, Era. I’m afraid that’s the hard part. But when the moment comes, I think you’ll know,”
“. . okay. If you say so, big sis,” She wasn’t convinced. But then it was kind of hard to feel anything right now. So maybe she would feel differently about it another time. “I still don’t really understand, but . . I love you. I think that’s what this feeling is,”
“I love you too, sis,” Hannah murmured.
X
The Servants returned to reality, and the first anyone heard was Sita gasping and breathing. “She . . she watched . .” She was barely even able to get the words out.
“No child should ever have to see something like that!” Atalante vehemently snapped, remembering only at the last second to keep her voice down so as to not rouse Era. She crouched, sliding onto the sofa with the little orangette, and whispered, “Master, I swear to Artemis, I will protect you. Even after the world is saved. You,” Words failed her, so she resorted to gently stroking her hair.
“Heresy,” Carmilla was taking a more objective approach. “What heresy?”
“There’s something inside her,” Scathach mused, looking at Era but seeming not to see her, or perhaps seeing something different. “Did you all hear that? Two distinct lines of thought. One human, one less so, capable of arguing, or agreeing. But both so heavily intertwined that I don’t think either of them could be called the ‘real’ Era without the other,”
“It doesn’t matter what she is. She’s our Master,” Sita insisted.
“On the contrary,” Carmilla shook her head. “Our Master she undeniably is, but what she is might matter quite a lot. Isn’t it our duty as Servants to understand our Master? Let her be everything she could be?”
“No child should have to go through any of what she has,” Atalante shook her head. “Potential doesn’t matter so much as her well-being,”
“She seems sane enough to me,” the vampire dryly observed.
“And the Countess of Blood is the authority on sanity,” the Lion-girl retorted.
“Enough,” Scathach interrupted. “I think I’ve seen all I need to, but I’d appreciate the input of you who know her better. Do you agree that she would benefit from my tutelage?”
The three Servants exchanged glances.
“Cu Chulainn turned out alright,” Carmilla pointed out.
“Debatable. But as long as I’m here to keep an eye on things, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Atalante agreed. “Green, thoughts?
“I’m still going to be watching you. But alright, we’ll give it a try,” Sita agreed. “Just don’t push her too hard, alright? She’s eleven,”
Scathach smiled slightly. “Everyone is at some point. It’s no excuse to slack off on one’s physical education,”
A/N
A/N
That dream sequence was a difficult scene to write. Seriously. I hope it read well.
The factions are established and so is the plan. Next chapter; we meet the Presi-King.
OMAKE: The Confederates
“By the way,” Atalante asked. “I read up a bit on the historically accurate Civil War. The southern faction was supposed to be the Confederates, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Scathach confirmed. “They’ve been completely supplanted by Servants, however. If there’s one good thing about this country of war, it’s that those racist slavers were taken out with extreme prejudice. Apparently, for all our differences, not a single Servant in this Singularity supports the Confederate brand of slavery. I haven’t seen the situation for myself, but the reports I received from the south indicate that whoever runs the Chinese, are encouraging economic reforms and feudal peasant systems where all men are free. On the other hand, Iskandar and the Macedonians haven’t abolished slavery, but is recognising them as part of his kingdom and conditions for them have improved dramatically. Which is better than things were, at least,”
“Huh. Alright then. There weren’t any Confederate Servants summoned?” the huntress questioned.
“Well, to become a Servant, the world has to remember you as a hero,” Scathach reminded her. “Considering the way that war ended, and the course history took afterwards, do you think the world remembers any of those people as heroes?”
“How’s about we don’t get into the politics,” Billy suggested.
“Oh, yes, of course. Apologies,” she agreed.
“. . The what?” Atalante frowned.
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SpaceBattles: Fate/Grand Trifecta: FGO AU (3 Masters)
FanFiction: Fate/Grand Trifecta
By nightfall, the Super Bus was barrelling through the untamed wilderness. Not that this changed anything for the command room staff, who were concerned.
“So. They’ve made a plan that relies on Era and her Servants being likeable and charismatic enough to convince these Americans to join them. When every Servant she’s contracted with there except for Sita is some stripe of Evil by alignment,” Olga-Marie summarised. “Am I the only one who has reservations about this?”
“Hey, Master’s not that bad,” Mordred defended. “She talked me into joining, didn’t she?”
“Weren’t you motivated by pity for her awful family life?” Charlotte asked just a little too sweetly to be sincere.
“Well, yeah, but that’s a valid strategy,”
“The Director has a point,” Dr. Roman agreed. “We all love Era, but she’s not very diplomatic,”
“Perhaps not in the conventional sense, but she has a certain childish charm to her,” Da Vinci reasoned. “When she’s not being the ‘demon child’, at any rate,”
“I think we need some outside advice from someone who knows all about being loved by all,” Dr. Roman decided, fiddling with his terminal.
“Romani, what are you doing?” Olga-Marie froze as a familiar cartoonish idol appeared before them.
“Konnichiwa, friendo!” Magi⭐️Mari waved at them. “What can the besties do for you today?”
Her partner flicked her in the forehead. “I’m not your bestie. Piss off,” Magi🌙Mona huffed, trying to shove Mari away from the screen.
“Mona you’re so meeeeeeean!” she complained, struggling against her with arms pinwheeling.
“Romani, what have I told you about consulting your e-girls in the command room?” Olga-Marie snapped.
“AIs are not a valid source of strategic acumen,” the doctor parroted with a grumble.
The Director patted his shoulder. “I’ve told you that you don’t have to pretend to be an incompetent weeb when it’s just us,”
“I’m not!” Dr. Roman feigned offence. “I really do just like this sort of thing!”
“It’s crap, but it’s still good for a laugh,” Mordred agreed. “Ow!” She span, glaring at Charlotte, who had just poked her with an arrow. “What was that for?”
“Miss Atalante told me to hit you with this if you swore,” she sweetly explained.
“Damn mother hen,” Mordred grumbled. “Ow! Oi. Well, let’s see what they have to say anyway!” she insisted, leaning over to hit the Enter key and submit the question Dr. Roman had typed.
The hololive idols froze. “Oh, looks like we’ve got a fan who needs some advice!” Magi⭐️Mari exclaimed. “:‘How can we coach a preteen to be charismatic enough to convince people to join us?’:” She cocked her head, her blonde pigtails drooping to the side. “Hmmm, I don’t know about that. But I’d say just have faith in your friends and everything’ll be a-okay!”
“You’re such a simpleton,” Magi🌙Mona shook her head, her black bangs bouncing back and forth. “If you want to be convincing, you just have to figure out what someone wants and then make them think that they’ll get it by helping you,”
“Mona, you’re so meeeeeean!”
“. . Well, that was useless,” Olga-Marie groused. “Figure out what someone wants? They’re Rogue Servants, obviously they all want to fix history,”
“Yeah, don’t count on that. Some heroes can be real assholes. Take it from one,” Mordred shrugged. Charlotte promptly poked her in the arm with Atalante’s arrow again. “Ow! What? Asshole isn’t a swear - ow!”
“Perhaps instead we should see if our erstwhile Master has any insight?” Da Vinci suggested, flicking on the communicator. “Era, do you read me?”
“Hm? Hey, Da Vinci! What’s up?”
“Our Director was just wondering what your plan was to convince the American Servants to join forces with you,”
In the back of the Super Bus, Era mulled over the question. “I figured we’d just ask nicely,”
Olga-Marie sweat dropped. “. . ask . . nicely . .” she murmured.
“And if they say no?” Da Vinci prodded.
“Then we’ll beat them up until they change their minds!”
There was a crash as the Director promptly lost her balance from sheer shock and fell to the floor.
Mordred cackled. “That’s my Master alright,”
Scrambling back to her feet and desperately trying to retain some semblance of dignity, Olga-Marie all but shrieked, “I have concerns about this plan!”
“Like what?” Era shrugged. “We won’t lose, if that’s what you’re worried about,”
“Is that so?” She looked up in surprise as Scathach loomed over her, folding her arms. “What makes you so certain?”
“Um,” Era considered the question. “We haven’t lost so far,”
“Naive,” the Lancer frowned. “You should never take victory for granted. Our intelligence does suggest that we most likely outnumber the Servants of the American faction, but that means nothing. There are a wide range of power levels that Servants can boast, and out of the group we have assembled here, only myself and the Roman king are in the upper echelons. We could easily arrive to find ourselves outmatched,”
“. . oh,” Era murmured, biting her lip. “I mean, everything’s worked out so far,”
“And that is not enough of a reason to assume things will continue to do so!” Scathach barked. “I see now. I don’t know who among you was foolish enough to think sending an untested child into this place as the sole hope for humanity was wise, but even if your heart is in the right place, your mind and body are not ready,”
“I’m just short,” Era mumbled, looking down.
“Ahem,” Scathach wheeled to meet Carmilla’s death glare as the vampire rose from her seat. “I don’t care who you are, if you’re threatening our Master -“
“Threatening? Hardly,” she shook her head. “That wouldn’t achieve anything, after all. No, as much as I wish it were not so, this little girl has been forced into the role of the saviour of humanity. So there’s only one course of action to take,”
“What?” Era tilted her head.
Scathach smiled at her with teeth bared. “I’m going to make you ready. Get plenty of rest tonight. Your training starts at dawn tomorrow,”
“Oh! Okay!” she agreed. Then Era paused, noticing that Sita, who had been observing the interaction from the other side of the lounge, was making a face. “Is something wrong?”
Scathach turned and cast the Archer a look. “N-no! No,” Sita protested. “I’m, uh, sure it’ll be fine . . don’t you dare kill our Master,” she hissed.
“Hm? Nonsense. I know exactly what a human being is capable of surviving,” she assured the Chaldeans, who were all the more distressed as a result.
“Can we get back to the part where your only backup plan is to beat the Americans up until they agree to help you? Surely we can do better than that?” Olga-Marie demanded.
“Why would we need to? It’s a valid plan, I’m just worried that this girl won’t have the capacity to follow through,” Scathach shrugged. “But I am willing and able to fix that,”
“Well, thanks! That’s really nice of you!” Era smiled up at her.
“. . Alright then. This should be entertaining,” Carmilla idly mused.
“We’re all doomed,” Olga-Marie mumbled.
X
That night, Scathach leant over the young girl whom she had decided needed to be trained. Her finger flared with purple light and she pressed it to Era’s forehead - then froze as an arrow poked her in the back.
“What are you doing?” Sita demanded.
“Do tell,” Carmilla hissed, a knife pressing itself to the side of Scathach’s neck.
“You both have good reflexes. But rest assured, this will not be harmful. I have agreed to make this girl my student, after all,”
“Take it from one of history’s worst murderers. That could mean any number of things. Elaborate,” Carmilla insisted.
“I don’t care how scary you are, this is my Master. Touch her and I do my very best to kill you,” Sita promised.
“This spell will allow me to view her memories. I want to see her formative experiences. If I’m going to train her properly, I need to know what motivates her. After all, she’s here, isn’t she? She has decided to take the fate of the world into her hands and carry it onwards. If I am to prepare her for what is to come, I need to know what I’m working with,”
Sita and Carmilla exchanged glances. “And you had to do this while she was asleep?” Sita pressed.
“Naturally. It’s safer to do it now than when she’s awake. You are aware of the process through which Servants might share their Master’s memories, and vice versa?”
“Yes, I’ve experienced it,” Sita confirmed.
“I had a few dreams,” Carmilla agreed.
“I’m just manually inducing that state. I can bring you with me when I view them, if you like. Even if it’s something you’ve already seen, an extra perspective might help,”
“It would be harder for her to mess with something if we’re watching the whole time,” the vampire reasoned.
Sita nodded, then looked up at the skylight, where Atalante was keeping watch. “We should get Green involved too,”
“I already heard,” the huntress assured them as she slid back into the
lavish interior of the Super Bus. “Tarquinius. Would you please keep an eye on things in the real world?”
“Groovy,” he assured them. “What about slim and shooty here?” he asked, gesturing at Billy, who was dozing in the shotgun seat.
In answer, a white rodent leapt onto his lap and barked, “Fou!”
“Nevermind. Good to have you as my watch buddy, Fou,”
“Your distrust is understandable,” Scathach admitted. “But rest assured I have no ill intentions. I hope this helps convince you,” With that, she completed the incantation. The small sequence of runes flared to life on Era’s forehead. “Show me who you are, little girl who would be my student,” Scathach whispered, gently stroking her hair. “Show me the moment that defines you,”
X
Gunfire rocked the streets of Cairo. Era, age eight, was ushered along by her mother.
Brianna Sutsuki cut an imposing figure, even fleeing from gunfire. Her shoulder-length golden hair was whipped by the wind as she wrapped her cloak around her daughter just in time for a bullet to strike it. White lines of Reinforcement Magecraft spread over it, absorbing the blow, and she stifled a wince.
“Mum, what’s happening?” Era asked as she was ushered along. It had been an ordinary day of perusing the market. A weekly ritual that was a fixture of their daily life at the Atlas Institute. She didn’t know that Brianna was cursing herself for letting her guard down and allowing herself to become predictable.
Era peered out of the cloak’s folds to see a man in a hooded black cloak that must have been stifling in the desert heat. His face was obscured by tinted sunglasses, and a rifle was slung underneath one of his arms that he was in the process of reloading. “Who is that?”
“An Executor,” Brianna murmured almost unwillingly. She half-carried Era, keeping one arm free to defend herself, making for the far end of the alleyway.
Behind them, the Executor’s pace had slowed, but he was still advancing on them. “Hey. Heretic,” he drawled.
Brianna waved her hand and a fan of Magecraft shot out from her fingers, a tiny, localised burst of gale force wind rushing back down the alleyway.
The Executor’s lips twisted and he flung something, a black dagger of some kind, through the air as he back-pedalled and ducked back around the corner to avoid the attack.
For a moment, Brianna dared to think she’d scared him off, but then the dagger he’d thrown hit a water tank atop the corner of the building ahead of them. The supports crumpled and it overbalanced, collapsing into the alleyway and blocking their escape.
With a muttered curse, she cast around, Era silently watching her. The Executor had reappeared at the other end of the alleyway, but wasn’t advancing, content to block them off.
That was when Brianna noticed a door a little way down the alley. It was locked, but she blew it off its hinges and sent it collapsing inwards, ushering Era into the building before her.
Mother and daughter found themselves in a large hall. Chairs filled most of the space, and a stage had been erected with curtains hanging over it. There was only one other exit; the main doors that led onto the street where the Executor had just been waiting.
It was immediately obvious that they were cornered.
“Era, hide. Stay behind the curtains. Your father or sister should be here soon. No matter what happens, don’t come out and don’t make a sound,” Brianna insisted, tension etching harsh lines into her face.
“But mum -“
“That’s a rule!” her mother commanded.
Era sharply inhaled. “O-okay,” she nodded, ducking behind the curtains and finding a crack where she could watch as her mother put herself between the stage and the main door.
At the far end of the building, the doors of the hall burst open and the Executor strode inside, a black figure framed by the daylight pouring inside. In perfect tranquility he strode towards them. His left arm grasped the stock of the gun and with a flash of light it melted around his hand, transforming into a glove. “Enough with the running. Really,” he frowned. “You’re wasting my time,”
“Why are you even here? I settled things with the Holy Church, years ago!” Brianna snapped.
“Don’t make me laugh. You and that child both reek of heresy. I can practically smell it,” the Executor shook his head. “When you say you’re sorry and then a couple of years later go and shack up with someone like Zachariah Sutsuki, surely you can understand how it looks a bit . . insincere,”
“If being a mother is a sin, then I suppose I’ll rot in hell. But not before you do,” Brianna promised him.
“. . Now isn’t that an interesting thing to say,” The Executor’s eyebrows had raised enough as to become visible above his sunglasses.
The blood drained from her face as Brianna realised what she’d let slip. “. . Alright. You die now,” she decided, throwing off her cloak and tossing it into the air between them. It rippled and lines flared to life on its folds.
The Executor had just enough time to tilt his head and observe, “Hieroglyphs?” before the cloak exploded outward, torn apart from the inside by gale force winds that threw him against the door.
Brianna leapt forwards, propelled by the localised hurricane that was rapidly filling the hall, and punch daggers emerged from her sleeves and slid over her hands. She lunged straight for the enemy’s throat, only for a silvery blade to appear before him.
The Executor was no longer wearing his right glove, which presumably had also been transfigured. “Heretical magecraft will not save you,” he hissed, twisting his wrist and flicking her away.
Brianna didn’t respond, her lips twisted into a snarl. She snatched a Post-It note with a hieroglyph of a bird out of a pocket and made it flash with prana, and it formed into an eagle made of golden light that flew into the Enforcer’s face and wrapped its claws around the man’s sunglasses, trying to get at his eyes.
The Enforcer swept his sword in front of his face and bashed the bird away, but it took his sunglasses with it, revealing dark, bloodshot eyes. He looked back at Brianna and raised his arm, but she was quicker on the draw, another note with hieroglyphs flying into the air between them, propelled by the winds that raced around the interior of the hall. It exploded into a cloud of red powder that flew straight into the Enforcer’s eyes. He abandoned his cast to try to shield himself, but failed.
“What was that? Sand?” he scoffed, but his words rang hollow as a sharp pain erupted in his eyes.
“Not just any sand. Deshret. Desert, dryness. Death,” Brianna explained as the Enforcer clawed at his eyes.
While he was distracted, she struck, the wind catching her and accelerating her movements as the punch daggers extended forwards, her right arm going straight for his heart.
The cloak lit up with the Enforcer’s own Reinforcement magic. He stared at her through clouded red eyes, clearly barely able to see, but still had enough lucidity to raise his hand and resume casting.
So Brianna struck his exposed chin with an uppercut that drove her other dagger straight through his mouth and into his skull.
The Enforcer choked on his own words, twitching and gurgling, clenching his fists, until the dagger retracted.
She stood over the corpse for just long enough to reassure herself that he genuinely was dead. Then she cast around, scanning the stage for her daughter. “Era! Era, are you -“
Brianna was cut off mid-sentence, as a hole appeared in her chest.
A shocked whimper escaped Era’s throat as her mother stumbled and looked up. Nestled in the rafters of the stage was a sniper, and the muzzle of their gun was releasing a faint trail of smoke.
Era stared at him for a moment, going perfectly still as her mind devolved into a tumultuous maelstrom of conflicting thoughts.
The rules say that I can’t kill him.
WHO CARES ABOUT THE RULES HE KILLED -
He didn’t attack me. Only mum. That’s not against the rules.
KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM -
No! The rules are important. If I break the rules I’ll never see mum again!
WHY DOES THAT MATTER WHEN MUM’S DEAD?
. . . That’s true. With mum dead . . there aren’t any consequences anymore.
The sniper slid down, sliding his gun back into his case, watching Era out of the corner of one eye. “Sorry you had to see that, kid, but take it as a lesson. Don’t think you can get away with pissing off the Holy Church. The bill comes due. I’d like to think I’m not someone who would kill a kid, so you’d better scarper,”
There was no response, so he turned to look at her. “Did you hear -“
ERA WAS THERE. Inches away from him, a glassy absence of emotion in her eyes. An undignified scream erupted from his throat for an instant, and then her knife was buried in his airway, strangling the noise.
A strange sense of clarity had come over her as the two conflicting lines of thoughts resolved into a single purpose, crystal clear and lethally sharp. It was as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes, her entire being focused on simple, vengeful murder.
The assassin’s life blood emerged from the wound and soaked her hands. He struggled, but, for the first time in years, Era’s Magecraft flashed on, because there was no reason to hold it back anymore. Her skin toughened and bones increased in density, using her increased weight to pin him down and no-selling his desperate attempts to claw at her or push him away. Her fingers were encased by serrated claws that dug into the ground underneath and the meat alike.
She watched, with all the emotion of a statue, as he finally succumbed. Only as the light of life left his eyes did she relax her grip and allow a smile to tug at her lips. “You deserved that,” Era whispered, looking away from the worthless sack of meat that she had just ended.
There was a coldness in her chest as she stared at her mother’s dead body. Era had never felt anything like it before. She didn’t understand. This feeling, the emptiness inside her . . was it because mum was gone? Had she taken the warmth with her? All that was left was an icy clarity unlike anything she’d ever felt, and the unfamiliar sensation of wetness on her cheeks.
Era brought a hand to her eyes and felt her fingers come into contact with drops of moisture. “Why . . are my eyes wet . .” she murmured. For a second, the cold crystal of her thoughts flickered and wavered, but it didn’t matter so she shook her head and wondered what was next.
The doors to the hall exploded open again and rapid, frantic footsteps rang through the hall. “Era!” a familiar voice shrieked, only to trail off. “Mum?” the voice wavered.
“I’m here,” Era said as an automatic response. Why had she responded to this person? She was important . . wasn’t she?
It was her sister who climbed onto the stage. Who looked around at the three corpses and her bloodstained younger sister. “Era? Oh thank goodness, you’re okay,” Hannah Sutsuki wheezed, collapsing to her knees and hugging her sister, her loose golden hair falling around both their shoulders.
“Uh-huh. I am,” Era agreed, looking over Hannah’s shoulder without moving. For want of reciprocation, Hannah just decided to hug her twice as hard. “Mum isn’t,”
“N-no . . mum . . mum,” Hannah repeated, her entire body shaking as tears fell from her eyes and onto Era’s back. So that’s what those were. “Era, Era, you, you could have stopped them. Why didn’t you stop them from killing mum?!” her sister demanded.
“I wanted to,” she mumbled in a small voice. “But . . but the rules say I’m not allowed to hurt people unless they’re trying to kill me, and I’m not allowed to use my magecraft. They just wanted mum. And . . and then after she was dead . .” A shaky breath escaped her lips that sounded too much like a deranged laugh for her sister’s liking. “I realised that the rules didn’t matter anymore,”
“Era . . that’s not true, that . . the rules were never about punishment. Mum was going to teach you that when you were older,” Hannah explained, tears running down her cheeks.
Era looked at her. A shiver ran through her body as the strange sense of clarity she’d experienced slipped away, leaving only a murky confusion. “They . . weren’t? Then . . what were they about?”
“Being a person who can live with other humans. Being someone who I can happily call my sister. Does,” Hannah swallowed, which was a strange thing to do when she hadn’t been eating anything. “Does that still matter to you?”
Era started. “Of course it does! You’re big sis! You’re important! You’re . .” She looked back at her mother’s still body. “You’re big sis,” she repeated, because what else was there to say?
Hannah stared at her, searching for something in her face, Era wasn’t sure what. She seemed not to find it, though, because she kept sobbing even a a small smile of relief crossed her face, and hugged her little sister closer. “Era . . Era, I have a new rule for you. Let’s call it rule number zero,”
Era nodded, returning the hug. “What’s rule number zero?”
“If breaking one of your rules is the only way to save your own life or the life of someone you love, then and only then is it okay to break a rule. Understand?”
“I understand,” Era agreed, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “But . . how will I know if the person in danger is someone I love?”
Hannah shook her head. “There’s no rule that can tell you that, Era. I’m afraid that’s the hard part. But when the moment comes, I think you’ll know,”
“. . okay. If you say so, big sis,” She wasn’t convinced. But then it was kind of hard to feel anything right now. So maybe she would feel differently about it another time. “I still don’t really understand, but . . I love you. I think that’s what this feeling is,”
“I love you too, sis,” Hannah murmured.
X
The Servants returned to reality, and the first anyone heard was Sita gasping and breathing. “She . . she watched . .” She was barely even able to get the words out.
“No child should ever have to see something like that!” Atalante vehemently snapped, remembering only at the last second to keep her voice down so as to not rouse Era. She crouched, sliding onto the sofa with the little orangette, and whispered, “Master, I swear to Artemis, I will protect you. Even after the world is saved. You,” Words failed her, so she resorted to gently stroking her hair.
“Heresy,” Carmilla was taking a more objective approach. “What heresy?”
“There’s something inside her,” Scathach mused, looking at Era but seeming not to see her, or perhaps seeing something different. “Did you all hear that? Two distinct lines of thought. One human, one less so, capable of arguing, or agreeing. But both so heavily intertwined that I don’t think either of them could be called the ‘real’ Era without the other,”
“It doesn’t matter what she is. She’s our Master,” Sita insisted.
“On the contrary,” Carmilla shook her head. “Our Master she undeniably is, but what she is might matter quite a lot. Isn’t it our duty as Servants to understand our Master? Let her be everything she could be?”
“No child should have to go through any of what she has,” Atalante shook her head. “Potential doesn’t matter so much as her well-being,”
“She seems sane enough to me,” the vampire dryly observed.
“And the Countess of Blood is the authority on sanity,” the Lion-girl retorted.
“Enough,” Scathach interrupted. “I think I’ve seen all I need to, but I’d appreciate the input of you who know her better. Do you agree that she would benefit from my tutelage?”
The three Servants exchanged glances.
“Cu Chulainn turned out alright,” Carmilla pointed out.
“Debatable. But as long as I’m here to keep an eye on things, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Atalante agreed. “Green, thoughts?
“I’m still going to be watching you. But alright, we’ll give it a try,” Sita agreed. “Just don’t push her too hard, alright? She’s eleven,”
Scathach smiled slightly. “Everyone is at some point. It’s no excuse to slack off on one’s physical education,”
A/N
A/N
That dream sequence was a difficult scene to write. Seriously. I hope it read well.
The factions are established and so is the plan. Next chapter; we meet the Presi-King.
OMAKE: The Confederates
“By the way,” Atalante asked. “I read up a bit on the historically accurate Civil War. The southern faction was supposed to be the Confederates, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Scathach confirmed. “They’ve been completely supplanted by Servants, however. If there’s one good thing about this country of war, it’s that those racist slavers were taken out with extreme prejudice. Apparently, for all our differences, not a single Servant in this Singularity supports the Confederate brand of slavery. I haven’t seen the situation for myself, but the reports I received from the south indicate that whoever runs the Chinese, are encouraging economic reforms and feudal peasant systems where all men are free. On the other hand, Iskandar and the Macedonians haven’t abolished slavery, but is recognising them as part of his kingdom and conditions for them have improved dramatically. Which is better than things were, at least,”
“Huh. Alright then. There weren’t any Confederate Servants summoned?” the huntress questioned.
“Well, to become a Servant, the world has to remember you as a hero,” Scathach reminded her. “Considering the way that war ended, and the course history took afterwards, do you think the world remembers any of those people as heroes?”
“How’s about we don’t get into the politics,” Billy suggested.
“Oh, yes, of course. Apologies,” she agreed.
“. . The what?” Atalante frowned.
2022.12.11 18:05 newsolar22 My Install Timeline with Tesla
My timeline for Solar Panel installation By Tesla.
Location: Loudoun County, Virginia
Utility : NOVEC
System Size: 7.2 KW - 18 X 400W panels
7.6 KW inverter
No Battery Storage
Jul 19 - Order Submitted online
Jul 19 - uploaded electricity bill and photos of home/roof
Jul 20 - Design available to review
6 Panels are placed on north side of the roof
Jul 22 - request for design change
Sent my own design(using MS Paint) by orienting the panels vertically so that all of the panels are fitting on the south side of the roof
Jul 22 - Received updated design but 3 panels are still on north side of the roof.
Tesla said panels have to be oriented in portrait mode for best effeciency. Design team said they could not place all the panels due to offset requirements in building code.
Decided to proceed forward.
Jul 22 - Accepted updated design
Jul 22 - Site assessment scheduled to Aug 12
Aug 12 - Site assessment completed (Roof was in the process of being replaced due to weather related incident. Mentioned that to the assessor and he skipped roof inspection and mentioned that in his assessment.)
Person who came took lot of pictures of attic, electric panel (removed panel) and around the house.
Aug 12 - Tesla Submitted for utility approval
Aug 16 - Utility Approval to install received
Aug 16 - Tesla submitted for Building Permit from county.
Aug 31 - County Permit approved
Waiting for roof to be replaced.
Sep 30 - Roof Replaced
Oct 4: Notified Tesla that roof work is done
Oct 4: System auto scheduled install date of Nov19.
Oct 7: Got a message from tesla indicating that an earlier date of Oct 12th is available. Accepted the date.
Oct 12 - Solar panels delivered by a truck around 6 AM
Installation Crew arrives around 8 AM
Requested the project lead to see if it is possible to install all panels on south of the roof. He took roof measurements and confirmed they could fit everything on the south and crew installed all panels on the south. For same cost, this accommodation from install team I got 10% more offset.
Got lunch for the crew.
Electrician connected the Inverter to Home Internet, turned on system for a few minutes to make sure it is working and turned it off.
Crew were professional and left everything clean and tidy.
Oct 18 : County Building inspection was passed by looking at photos sent by Tesla
Oct 18: On site electrical inspection failed. Reason, missing additional stickers per new 2022 building code.
(Installer seems to have installed all stickers mentioned in the provided plan set, so probably document generation issue.)
Oct 18: Notified Tesla (via text message and email) about the failure.
Oct 19: Tesla installed the required stickers ( Since stickers need to be installed on outside shut off switch it was done without my knowledge).
Oct 19: Tesla scheduled for reinspection with county on 24th
Oct 24 : Electrical Inspection passed
Oct 24 : Tesla Quality Audit notifies that they would like to inspect the installation to ensure that their installation crews are upholding their quality standards. I happily agree to the request.
Oct 25 : Paid the invoice online. (Skipped Plaid and entered bank info manually)
Oct 25 : Audit person visited in the provided window and was very thorough . He checked Electrical panel, inverter, wiring, got on the roof and checked how panels are installed. Requested him to check attic to see if everything was installed properly. He happily obliged and went in to the attic and checked all the rafters. He spent total about 90 minutes and he said crew did a good job and he did not find any issues with the installation. I asked him about how many do they pick for performing audit, he said it is random. This step gave me additional peace of mind.
Oct 26: Tesla submits to Electric Utility for approval
Nov 14 : Utility installed new meter
Nov 16: Received PTO and turned on.
Nov 17: Tesla App was not showing any solar data. Contacted support via chat and representative added the system to my account and I was able to see generation data from the app.
Overall the entire process is efficient and mostly automated. Tesla was quick and responsive to all of my emails and chat messages. Overall I recommend Tesla to anyone thinking about Solar in my area. If there is anything I would like to be changed in the entire process, I wish the design process was a bit more interactive where we can talk and discuss the layout instead of back and forth emails. But in the end, everything was installed where I wanted and system looks good and seems like part of the roof.
The reason for choosing Tesla was mostly for aesthetic and financial reasons. Tesla's quote is 15-50 % better than other quotes I have received. Tesla's flashing around the panels looks very good and they almost blend into the roof. So far it is performing well.
A couple of my neighbors went with a local installer called Solar Energy World and I think their install looks equally good. They actually ran the electrical conduit lines through the attic unlike Tesla who did over the roof. My neighbors were happy with their install , So if price (15-20% more than tesla) is not a concern (their system has micro inverters so maybe that plays a part as well in the price) then Solar Energy World is a good option as well for Norther Virginia/ Maryland area.
SREC: Tesla did not mention anything about this in my contracts or paperwork. I guess since SREC's are relatively new in Virginia they haven't yet updated their software. I self registered with GATS and they approved my account. I have to report monthly meter readings in GATS system to get credits. Fingers crossed that they will come through. Any comments on this subject for Virginia are much appreciated.
This forum has been very helpful to understand the process with Tesla. I would be happy to answer any questions anyone might have and contribute my part to the solar transition.
submitted by newsolar22 to TeslaSolar [link] [comments]
Location: Loudoun County, Virginia
Utility : NOVEC
System Size: 7.2 KW - 18 X 400W panels
7.6 KW inverter
No Battery Storage
Jul 19 - Order Submitted online
Jul 19 - uploaded electricity bill and photos of home/roof
Jul 20 - Design available to review
6 Panels are placed on north side of the roof
Jul 22 - request for design change
Sent my own design(using MS Paint) by orienting the panels vertically so that all of the panels are fitting on the south side of the roof
Jul 22 - Received updated design but 3 panels are still on north side of the roof.
Tesla said panels have to be oriented in portrait mode for best effeciency. Design team said they could not place all the panels due to offset requirements in building code.
Decided to proceed forward.
Jul 22 - Accepted updated design
Jul 22 - Site assessment scheduled to Aug 12
Aug 12 - Site assessment completed (Roof was in the process of being replaced due to weather related incident. Mentioned that to the assessor and he skipped roof inspection and mentioned that in his assessment.)
Person who came took lot of pictures of attic, electric panel (removed panel) and around the house.
Aug 12 - Tesla Submitted for utility approval
Aug 16 - Utility Approval to install received
Aug 16 - Tesla submitted for Building Permit from county.
Aug 31 - County Permit approved
Waiting for roof to be replaced.
Sep 30 - Roof Replaced
Oct 4: Notified Tesla that roof work is done
Oct 4: System auto scheduled install date of Nov19.
Oct 7: Got a message from tesla indicating that an earlier date of Oct 12th is available. Accepted the date.
Oct 12 - Solar panels delivered by a truck around 6 AM
Installation Crew arrives around 8 AM
Requested the project lead to see if it is possible to install all panels on south of the roof. He took roof measurements and confirmed they could fit everything on the south and crew installed all panels on the south. For same cost, this accommodation from install team I got 10% more offset.
Got lunch for the crew.
Electrician connected the Inverter to Home Internet, turned on system for a few minutes to make sure it is working and turned it off.
Crew were professional and left everything clean and tidy.
Oct 18 : County Building inspection was passed by looking at photos sent by Tesla
Oct 18: On site electrical inspection failed. Reason, missing additional stickers per new 2022 building code.
(Installer seems to have installed all stickers mentioned in the provided plan set, so probably document generation issue.)
Oct 18: Notified Tesla (via text message and email) about the failure.
Oct 19: Tesla installed the required stickers ( Since stickers need to be installed on outside shut off switch it was done without my knowledge).
Oct 19: Tesla scheduled for reinspection with county on 24th
Oct 24 : Electrical Inspection passed
Oct 24 : Tesla Quality Audit notifies that they would like to inspect the installation to ensure that their installation crews are upholding their quality standards. I happily agree to the request.
Oct 25 : Paid the invoice online. (Skipped Plaid and entered bank info manually)
Oct 25 : Audit person visited in the provided window and was very thorough . He checked Electrical panel, inverter, wiring, got on the roof and checked how panels are installed. Requested him to check attic to see if everything was installed properly. He happily obliged and went in to the attic and checked all the rafters. He spent total about 90 minutes and he said crew did a good job and he did not find any issues with the installation. I asked him about how many do they pick for performing audit, he said it is random. This step gave me additional peace of mind.
Oct 26: Tesla submits to Electric Utility for approval
Nov 14 : Utility installed new meter
Nov 16: Received PTO and turned on.
Nov 17: Tesla App was not showing any solar data. Contacted support via chat and representative added the system to my account and I was able to see generation data from the app.
Overall the entire process is efficient and mostly automated. Tesla was quick and responsive to all of my emails and chat messages. Overall I recommend Tesla to anyone thinking about Solar in my area. If there is anything I would like to be changed in the entire process, I wish the design process was a bit more interactive where we can talk and discuss the layout instead of back and forth emails. But in the end, everything was installed where I wanted and system looks good and seems like part of the roof.
The reason for choosing Tesla was mostly for aesthetic and financial reasons. Tesla's quote is 15-50 % better than other quotes I have received. Tesla's flashing around the panels looks very good and they almost blend into the roof. So far it is performing well.
A couple of my neighbors went with a local installer called Solar Energy World and I think their install looks equally good. They actually ran the electrical conduit lines through the attic unlike Tesla who did over the roof. My neighbors were happy with their install , So if price (15-20% more than tesla) is not a concern (their system has micro inverters so maybe that plays a part as well in the price) then Solar Energy World is a good option as well for Norther Virginia/ Maryland area.
SREC: Tesla did not mention anything about this in my contracts or paperwork. I guess since SREC's are relatively new in Virginia they haven't yet updated their software. I self registered with GATS and they approved my account. I have to report monthly meter readings in GATS system to get credits. Fingers crossed that they will come through. Any comments on this subject for Virginia are much appreciated.
This forum has been very helpful to understand the process with Tesla. I would be happy to answer any questions anyone might have and contribute my part to the solar transition.
2022.10.14 17:59 ShadowRealm65 Messias Redit
It's been an amazing night here at Autumn Sonata so far! We've had title matches, eliminators, grudge feuds, and the absolute annihilation of a bitch-ass junior whose name the narrator will not bother to try to say anymore because he got punked out by Mark Steel, of all people. As we enter the final stretch, the FBE Universe pops when "The Godfather of Pure Rules" Atlas Rogue makes his grand entrance! He's been told he has a Pure Rules match tonight, but he didn't know who it was against. Hell, nobody outside of FBE Management knew for sure who it was. The forums were certainly buzzing with theories and rumors, but none knew for sure. As Atlas enters the squared circle, everything begins to die down, the FBE Universe rumbling with anticipation, all awaiting the coming of his opponent.
Suddenly, the rafters seemingly light up, a beautiful choir of voices serenading Avicii Arena. The entrance ramp starts emitting smoke all over the place, most of the FBE Universe unable to see five feet in front of them. Whomever this person is, they certainly wanted to make as grand of an entrance as possible.
The smoke begins to clear up a little bit, revealing a long lift on the entranceway, slowly descending from the top of the arena. The violins begin to play and the wind begins to pick up. As the lift continues to descend, a masked figure extends his arms out, embracing the moment. The mask is as gaudy as it gets, with a bright gold color and a pair of white wings stretched out towards the side. Dressed in an overexuberant white robe and a crown of thorns, the figure finally steps off the lift. He drops the crown off his head and takes both hands to his mask, slowly lifting it up as long, black hair drops down to his shoulders. The FBE Universe collectively gasps in unison! It's none other than yours truly! Brian disrobes, revealing extravagant white and gold tights and the GOD of Predictions Championship!
Brian continues to extend his arms as he saunters down the ramp. "Your Messiah has returned!" He shouts from the top of his lungs. "And I am here to save you from all of these boring peasants!" Brian walks up the steps and inside of the ring, standing face to face with one of three men he has yet to defeat in singles competition. "And I'm here to save myself from the curse of you, Atlas Rogue!"
submitted by ShadowRealm65 to FantasyBookingElite [link] [comments]
Suddenly, the rafters seemingly light up, a beautiful choir of voices serenading Avicii Arena. The entrance ramp starts emitting smoke all over the place, most of the FBE Universe unable to see five feet in front of them. Whomever this person is, they certainly wanted to make as grand of an entrance as possible.
The smoke begins to clear up a little bit, revealing a long lift on the entranceway, slowly descending from the top of the arena. The violins begin to play and the wind begins to pick up. As the lift continues to descend, a masked figure extends his arms out, embracing the moment. The mask is as gaudy as it gets, with a bright gold color and a pair of white wings stretched out towards the side. Dressed in an overexuberant white robe and a crown of thorns, the figure finally steps off the lift. He drops the crown off his head and takes both hands to his mask, slowly lifting it up as long, black hair drops down to his shoulders. The FBE Universe collectively gasps in unison! It's none other than yours truly! Brian disrobes, revealing extravagant white and gold tights and the GOD of Predictions Championship!
Brian continues to extend his arms as he saunters down the ramp. "Your Messiah has returned!" He shouts from the top of his lungs. "And I am here to save you from all of these boring peasants!" Brian walks up the steps and inside of the ring, standing face to face with one of three men he has yet to defeat in singles competition. "And I'm here to save myself from the curse of you, Atlas Rogue!"
2022.09.29 15:50 Rick_the_Intern Roach’s Limit
Their six-year-old called it Roach’s limit. It was how little Esme referred to Roche’s limit or Roche limit, the point at which an orbiting satellite will break apart.
“But why does our home have to fall apart?” Esme said one night as her parents were tucking her in.
“Because things fall apart, sweetie,” Wesley said.
Esme gave a snort, blowing her hair around dramatically. She wasn’t the least bit satisfied with that answer.
“Because of tidal forces,” Taylor said. “Because of gravity from Viephus, the gas giant we orbit, stretching Doutera, the moon we live on. Our self-gravity isn’t strong enough for Viephus’s. Our orbit is about to fall within Roche’s limit. You might not understand that now, but someday you will. We’ll be alright. Promise.”
“I know all about Roach’s limit, Mommy. I learned about it ages ago.”
“Ages? What, all two years that you’ve been in school?” With a hand, Taylor brushed Esme’s hair into something acceptable. “If you know all that, then you’re smarter than Daddy is already.”
“Heyyy,” Wesley said. He was sitting in a chair beside Esme. He’d picked up a storybook and was flipping through. It happened to contain the story about the silly monster that tried to eat the moon with a spoon, of all tales. Wesley made a mental note to make sure the book disappeared from their little girl’s library. Maybe they could opt to not pack it when they got ready to leave Doutera to its crumbling fate.
Taylor grabbed the book from Wesley’s hands and put it on the side table. She gave him a look that said they were talking to their daughter about something important.
Wesley cleared his throat. “Well, at least I know . . . about the roaches. They’re inside Doutera. And when Doutera cracks open they’ll fall down onto Viephus, plop, and have them a good old time. Dancing and playing and eating up all the food those Viephusians have in their kitchens. A good old time.”
“But there are roaches living inside Doutera,” Esme said.
“Sure,” Wesley said, sad smile. He tried to hide the sadness behind the smile, like an eclipse.
“And if any roaches fall onto Viephus they’ll die. Nothing can live there. Nothing. That’s why there’s no such thing as Viephusians.”
“But there is a such thing as roaches inside Doutera, right?” Taylor said, voice playful.
“Right.”
Taylor made roach shapes of her hands and tried to tickle Esme. Esme pushed her hands away.
“You still haven’t told me why.”
Taylor sat down at the foot of the bed. “There’s no need to worry,” Taylor said, repeating. “Spaceships will take us to a new home like they did our ancestors.”
Wesley knew Taylor was playing it down, way down. He was an engineer aboard one of those ships, and Taylor was a physician. Both of them knew, and were close to that knowledge, that the ships they had couldn’t support enough people’s lives. As was the case in the last exodus, many would be left behind.
Esme stabbed them with her eyes. “I’ve got to be worried,” she said. “About us . . . and about them.”
~
For previous generations aboard their generation ships, finding an Earth-like planet with an oxygen-rich atmosphere had been tough. The majority of the Earth-likes they discovered along their travels were closer in kind to ancient Earth. Of those with life, nearly all were scumworlds where either photosynthesis had yet to develop or oxygen had yet to build up. But they’d thought this might be the case. The largest proportion of Earth’s history had not been oxygen-rich. The phrase “Earth-like planet” was misleading in that for only a fraction of its time on the geologic scale was Earth habitable by humans.
The moon Doutera had been most similar to the Earth they knew, even though it had been clear when they found it that its orbit wasn’t stable, and neither was its body. In due time, the passing of less than a thousand years, it would very likely break apart.
Colonizers practically hit the ground of Doutera running, planning to build more ships for the next exodus. With the surplus of both transplanted (from their ships' greenhouses and seed troves) and cultivated indigenous plants, population grew. However, building of new ships and the maintenance of old ones proceeded slowly. Although Doutera’s biosphere was teeming with life, important metals were more difficult to locate near the surface. There were of course differences in tectonics and volcanism, but metals like titanium, aluminum, and magnesium were scarce. Against expectations, it might’ve been that lighter metals had somehow migrated farther down due to geological vagaries. Iron was also harder to come by. It may’ve been that fewer metal-rich asteroids impacted Doutera because of its complicated dance with its giant parent and sibling moons.
Whatever the reason, the wealth of metals needed for city-sized generation ships were either absent or trapped deeper within Doutera. Expeditions to other moons were taken exclusively for harvesting metals. It was ever a drain on time and resources.
~
They would leave in another three months. That was the plan. You had to get ahead of Roche’s limit. The moon could begin to fall apart quickly.
Esme, Taylor, and Wesley were at Lotsco, getting a lunch of imitation spaghetti and meatballs and zoruta sushi before shopping. The whole building of the bulk retail store had the look of being taken apart, like the skin was being picked away around the bones that supported products. Even some of the unused shelves and rafters in the warehouse-high ceiling were plucked out. The outside had already been stripped of its metal, where wood and tarps were used as substitution. The whole street was like that. The whole city. Wesley and Taylor and then Esme, and the generations before them up to about 850 years ago, had been born into a makeshift culture on Doutera, so it really wasn’t all that striking. They’d been preparing to leave all their lives.
Trays in hand, they sat in front of a TV that played old music videos from Earth days.
But they barely paid much attention to the music or flashy imagery.
Instead, they chatted again about building a new treehouse among the bhaza and meliad trees in their backyard (Esme’s idea). Taylor and Wesley had discussed it by themselves, and, if they did build it, they planned to do it in a way that it could easily be taken out and used for a small playhouse for Esme aboard a ship. That is, if there was time and if there was somehow extra space on their ship. And if they got a ticket. Just because Wesley was an engineer helping maintain one of those ships and Taylor was a physician, it didn’t absolutely guarantee them a spot. The truth of it was, over the last few decades in particular, more and more people had been training for jobs like those so their families would have a better chance at drawing a longer straw, so to speak. There may’ve been too many with occupations like theirs, and Taylor and Wesley were both young. If seniority came into play, that might spell trouble for them. Frustratingly, the council had yet to divulge all the specifics on how families would be chosen. Wesley supposed it would happen some time in the next three months.
“Those meliad trees,” Wesley said, “those creepy things been telling you how to design our treehouse, Esme?”
Taylor kicked his ankle under the table. He hissed with pain.
Meliad trees were just like parrots, or so Wesley had been told all his life. He’d only ever seen parrots from archival media. He wondered if parrots would’ve creeped him out as much as those trees did. Something about a carnivorous plant using wind to manipulate its leaves in order to produce the voices of animals unsettled him, even after all these years. Meliad trees most often mimicked bugs and other small fliers, and when they imitated humans it was usually babble. Usually. They weren’t in the least bit dangerous to humans, and his logical brain reminded him of that.
One time, when he was a kid, a meliad tree standing in front of him had strung together an actual sentence. They weren’t supposed to be able to do that like parrots could. That stuck with him. So much for cutting them down, though. That ship had sailed. Esme liked them too much.
“They been talkin’ a lot about them roaches lately.” Esme winked.
Is she kidding around? Wesley thought. His daughter sometimes creeped him out with how clever she could be, but that would go unsaid of course. He refused to believe it was because she liked to hang out with meliad trees, like she was somehow getting her cues from them.
As for roaches, they were another thing that could only be viewed in archival media, or so Wesley hoped.
“Okay, then,” Wesley said. “Which of us non-roaches is up for dessert?”
As Wesley stood, the music video playing on the TV abruptly went off. The TV remained on. He stood in place in front of a blank screen. Wesley was thinking it was going to be a message from the council, informing, hopefully, by what criteria people would be granted spots aboard the limited number of ships, admitting, finally, the truth that everyone knew.
At the end of a dozen heart-pounding seconds, the video came back on.
It was a strange man in a plasticky suit. His face looked artificial, hair especially. The eyes were the wrong color.
Behind him were bands and geometric patterns in neon color palette.
“What would you do,” he said, in a tone that was a mix between salesman and news anchor from the archives, “if you were not human, could help, but were worried. Wo-worried—” Here both voice and image distorted, exaggeratedly as if it had been edited to do so. “That you would be seen as a threat. For a—” His square jaw moved up and down. “Thousand years I’ve watched your films and television, a hundred years before you-you landed. Approximately 98% of your fictional simulations, film and tv and so on, show other intelligent species in the universe as dangers to humanity. What would you do if it was you on the other side? I’ll let y-you ponder that. We will speak aga-again tomorrow. Same time. All channels.”
The video and audio glitched severely, and they were again viewing an old music video from the archives.
Wesley was still standing. Everyone and everything was very quiet, not just in the dining area but in the larger store.
It was that way for several moments, and then things returned to some kind of normal, whatever constituted normal for a people on the eve of exodus.
“They were weird back then,” someone remarked.
There in Lotsco, it was dismissed as another oddity from the archives.
Three more months.
~
But news networks were abuzz the rest of the day and the following morning. The interrupting video had been on “all channels.” Networks and forums discussed possibilities ranging from hacking by a deviant party to the council preparing the way for messages of a gloomier nature.
Esme had been strangely content through it all. She hummed to her dolls and read books out in the backyard like not much had changed. For a child born into such a tense time, maybe that was to be expected. It was only one grain in a potential desert of worries.
“You know you don’t need to worry, right?” Wesley asked as he was chopping vegetables for their lunch that day. Esme was sitting on the living room sofa, facing the TV. She was watching cartoons. Wesley could see the back of her head from the kitchen island. Soon everyone would be glued to their screens. He’d been trying not to let it bother him. He and Taylor had agreed that thing yesterday had reminded them of something specific from the archives, but they couldn’t say what. Maybe there was a name for it and it had already been identified and was being discussed, but if so his family had missed those particular discussions.
“No, he’s silly,” Esme called back from the sofa. “He wants us to know that.”
Wesley paused and looked up from the vegetables. “Who?”
“I don’t know. The robot guy from yesterday. But he’s very silly.”
“Like he has a sense of humor?”
“. . . yeah? I guess so. That’s not really him.”
Wesley considered for a moment, chopping vegetables.
The front door unlocked and soon opened.
Taylor walked inside in her physician’s clothes. She shed her coat, plopped down on the couch next to Esme, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Oh, this is my favorite,” Taylor said.
“No it isn’t. You hate this one, Mommy.”
~
The same time as yesterday, the man with the plastic suit and tie and the plastered hair came glitching on, interrupting one cartoon character before it was tricked off a cliff by another.
Wesley, Taylor, and Esme were all on the sofa. Plates of their half-eaten lunch remained on the coffee table.
“I’ve found,” said the strange man, “that the uncanny is the best way to meet someone completely new. Bridging familiar with the unfamiliar, you know? Un—” Glitch “canny. that way you don’t just jump straight to the unfamiliar. I would’ve contacted you earlier, but, you see, I wasn’t sure if my help would be needed when the time came. It was a risk.”
The image of a robotic, fake CGI man faded. The strobing neon background behind him faded as well.
In its place stood a monster.
It appeared to be some sort of biomechanical insect-like creature. It could’ve been that it was like a giant cockroach standing on its hind legs, with mechanical parts entwined. But that would be a terribly reductive metaphor.
Like the neon patterns, the room was lit with something concentratedly bright and colorful in an otherwise dark space.
The creature began to hiss-click strange syllables. A voice box device seemed to be auto-translating, spitting out a human’s voice identical to the one we heard before, minus the distortions.
“Your difficulties in acquiring metals for spaceship building is my fault . . . our fault, rather, though we couldn’t have anticipated you’d come. We built many of our own vessels from this moon. Too many. Enough to strip the ground and cover the sky. Ours is a species devoted to exploration. A . . . hive mind, as you would call it, like ours . . . craves the cosmos if the capacity is there. We must spread . . . our mind. Most of me, of us, left well ahead of the present catastrophe. Long gone. Spread to further reaches. Some chose to remain behind. Second thoughts of the mind. Lingering. Nostalgic.”
Wesley exchanged a glance with Taylor. Taylor was scared like he was. Esme was rocking in place, wide eyes stuck on the screen.
“We did harvest on the other moons,” the creature on their TV continued, “but this was our first home. Deeper it was richer. So we dug deep until we evolved, with technological enhancements, to dwell underground. Those of us who remained behind remained here.
“There are more than enough ships for those who remained, in case that decision altered. For many of us, it hasn’t. We would like to give the ships we won’t be using to you. We have not contacted your leaders; we are contacting all of you. We must . . . apologize for our intrusions. There are three weeks at best.”
~
The colonists learned much more about the Douterans in the days that marched forward like the beats of a dream. Nobody was really sure if it was a dream or a nightmare.
They considered it fortunate that they hadn’t taken to calling themselves Douteran, because the alternative, what the Douterans called themselves, did not translate very easily.
Individually, and this was self-admitted by their scientists, the Douterans were less intelligent than organisms like humans. But together, with their hive mind, they had consciousness, culture, empathy. Civilization.
They had not only touched the stars but were spreading ever further. Through technological augments, their hive mind could reach every individual of their species instantaneously. The speed of light was no longer a barrier to what was shared among them.
The Douterans claimed to have ships underground. They’d sent pictures. Video. Wesley imagined those ships, swirled and globular and a little like wasp nests, rising out of steaming chasms. They said they had a surplus of them.
Esme insisted that her parents take her to the first surfacing, the first face-to-face contact.
A team of their kind, itself like a molecule of a single entity, emerged from a concealed hole by way of a lift.
Their faces had feelers and extra eyes (a half dozen smaller eyes between the buggier ones) and coiled organs that might’ve been machinery. Wesley, once he’d anchored himself by gripping his family’s hands, wondered what their faces must look like to the Douterans.
Wesley boosted Esme onto his shoulders so that she could see above the crowd.
There was a moment of held breaths. The colonists, in a show of good faith, had elected to not bring weaponry.
It was difficult to tell whether the Douterans had any weapons on them.
Esme called out.
A Douteran turned towards her. It raised a segmented arm.
Esme waved.
The Douteran waved back.
submitted by Rick_the_Intern to HFY [link] [comments]
“But why does our home have to fall apart?” Esme said one night as her parents were tucking her in.
“Because things fall apart, sweetie,” Wesley said.
Esme gave a snort, blowing her hair around dramatically. She wasn’t the least bit satisfied with that answer.
“Because of tidal forces,” Taylor said. “Because of gravity from Viephus, the gas giant we orbit, stretching Doutera, the moon we live on. Our self-gravity isn’t strong enough for Viephus’s. Our orbit is about to fall within Roche’s limit. You might not understand that now, but someday you will. We’ll be alright. Promise.”
“I know all about Roach’s limit, Mommy. I learned about it ages ago.”
“Ages? What, all two years that you’ve been in school?” With a hand, Taylor brushed Esme’s hair into something acceptable. “If you know all that, then you’re smarter than Daddy is already.”
“Heyyy,” Wesley said. He was sitting in a chair beside Esme. He’d picked up a storybook and was flipping through. It happened to contain the story about the silly monster that tried to eat the moon with a spoon, of all tales. Wesley made a mental note to make sure the book disappeared from their little girl’s library. Maybe they could opt to not pack it when they got ready to leave Doutera to its crumbling fate.
Taylor grabbed the book from Wesley’s hands and put it on the side table. She gave him a look that said they were talking to their daughter about something important.
Wesley cleared his throat. “Well, at least I know . . . about the roaches. They’re inside Doutera. And when Doutera cracks open they’ll fall down onto Viephus, plop, and have them a good old time. Dancing and playing and eating up all the food those Viephusians have in their kitchens. A good old time.”
“But there are roaches living inside Doutera,” Esme said.
“Sure,” Wesley said, sad smile. He tried to hide the sadness behind the smile, like an eclipse.
“And if any roaches fall onto Viephus they’ll die. Nothing can live there. Nothing. That’s why there’s no such thing as Viephusians.”
“But there is a such thing as roaches inside Doutera, right?” Taylor said, voice playful.
“Right.”
Taylor made roach shapes of her hands and tried to tickle Esme. Esme pushed her hands away.
“You still haven’t told me why.”
Taylor sat down at the foot of the bed. “There’s no need to worry,” Taylor said, repeating. “Spaceships will take us to a new home like they did our ancestors.”
Wesley knew Taylor was playing it down, way down. He was an engineer aboard one of those ships, and Taylor was a physician. Both of them knew, and were close to that knowledge, that the ships they had couldn’t support enough people’s lives. As was the case in the last exodus, many would be left behind.
Esme stabbed them with her eyes. “I’ve got to be worried,” she said. “About us . . . and about them.”
~
For previous generations aboard their generation ships, finding an Earth-like planet with an oxygen-rich atmosphere had been tough. The majority of the Earth-likes they discovered along their travels were closer in kind to ancient Earth. Of those with life, nearly all were scumworlds where either photosynthesis had yet to develop or oxygen had yet to build up. But they’d thought this might be the case. The largest proportion of Earth’s history had not been oxygen-rich. The phrase “Earth-like planet” was misleading in that for only a fraction of its time on the geologic scale was Earth habitable by humans.
The moon Doutera had been most similar to the Earth they knew, even though it had been clear when they found it that its orbit wasn’t stable, and neither was its body. In due time, the passing of less than a thousand years, it would very likely break apart.
Colonizers practically hit the ground of Doutera running, planning to build more ships for the next exodus. With the surplus of both transplanted (from their ships' greenhouses and seed troves) and cultivated indigenous plants, population grew. However, building of new ships and the maintenance of old ones proceeded slowly. Although Doutera’s biosphere was teeming with life, important metals were more difficult to locate near the surface. There were of course differences in tectonics and volcanism, but metals like titanium, aluminum, and magnesium were scarce. Against expectations, it might’ve been that lighter metals had somehow migrated farther down due to geological vagaries. Iron was also harder to come by. It may’ve been that fewer metal-rich asteroids impacted Doutera because of its complicated dance with its giant parent and sibling moons.
Whatever the reason, the wealth of metals needed for city-sized generation ships were either absent or trapped deeper within Doutera. Expeditions to other moons were taken exclusively for harvesting metals. It was ever a drain on time and resources.
~
They would leave in another three months. That was the plan. You had to get ahead of Roche’s limit. The moon could begin to fall apart quickly.
Esme, Taylor, and Wesley were at Lotsco, getting a lunch of imitation spaghetti and meatballs and zoruta sushi before shopping. The whole building of the bulk retail store had the look of being taken apart, like the skin was being picked away around the bones that supported products. Even some of the unused shelves and rafters in the warehouse-high ceiling were plucked out. The outside had already been stripped of its metal, where wood and tarps were used as substitution. The whole street was like that. The whole city. Wesley and Taylor and then Esme, and the generations before them up to about 850 years ago, had been born into a makeshift culture on Doutera, so it really wasn’t all that striking. They’d been preparing to leave all their lives.
Trays in hand, they sat in front of a TV that played old music videos from Earth days.
But they barely paid much attention to the music or flashy imagery.
Instead, they chatted again about building a new treehouse among the bhaza and meliad trees in their backyard (Esme’s idea). Taylor and Wesley had discussed it by themselves, and, if they did build it, they planned to do it in a way that it could easily be taken out and used for a small playhouse for Esme aboard a ship. That is, if there was time and if there was somehow extra space on their ship. And if they got a ticket. Just because Wesley was an engineer helping maintain one of those ships and Taylor was a physician, it didn’t absolutely guarantee them a spot. The truth of it was, over the last few decades in particular, more and more people had been training for jobs like those so their families would have a better chance at drawing a longer straw, so to speak. There may’ve been too many with occupations like theirs, and Taylor and Wesley were both young. If seniority came into play, that might spell trouble for them. Frustratingly, the council had yet to divulge all the specifics on how families would be chosen. Wesley supposed it would happen some time in the next three months.
“Those meliad trees,” Wesley said, “those creepy things been telling you how to design our treehouse, Esme?”
Taylor kicked his ankle under the table. He hissed with pain.
Meliad trees were just like parrots, or so Wesley had been told all his life. He’d only ever seen parrots from archival media. He wondered if parrots would’ve creeped him out as much as those trees did. Something about a carnivorous plant using wind to manipulate its leaves in order to produce the voices of animals unsettled him, even after all these years. Meliad trees most often mimicked bugs and other small fliers, and when they imitated humans it was usually babble. Usually. They weren’t in the least bit dangerous to humans, and his logical brain reminded him of that.
One time, when he was a kid, a meliad tree standing in front of him had strung together an actual sentence. They weren’t supposed to be able to do that like parrots could. That stuck with him. So much for cutting them down, though. That ship had sailed. Esme liked them too much.
“They been talkin’ a lot about them roaches lately.” Esme winked.
Is she kidding around? Wesley thought. His daughter sometimes creeped him out with how clever she could be, but that would go unsaid of course. He refused to believe it was because she liked to hang out with meliad trees, like she was somehow getting her cues from them.
As for roaches, they were another thing that could only be viewed in archival media, or so Wesley hoped.
“Okay, then,” Wesley said. “Which of us non-roaches is up for dessert?”
As Wesley stood, the music video playing on the TV abruptly went off. The TV remained on. He stood in place in front of a blank screen. Wesley was thinking it was going to be a message from the council, informing, hopefully, by what criteria people would be granted spots aboard the limited number of ships, admitting, finally, the truth that everyone knew.
At the end of a dozen heart-pounding seconds, the video came back on.
It was a strange man in a plasticky suit. His face looked artificial, hair especially. The eyes were the wrong color.
Behind him were bands and geometric patterns in neon color palette.
“What would you do,” he said, in a tone that was a mix between salesman and news anchor from the archives, “if you were not human, could help, but were worried. Wo-worried—” Here both voice and image distorted, exaggeratedly as if it had been edited to do so. “That you would be seen as a threat. For a—” His square jaw moved up and down. “Thousand years I’ve watched your films and television, a hundred years before you-you landed. Approximately 98% of your fictional simulations, film and tv and so on, show other intelligent species in the universe as dangers to humanity. What would you do if it was you on the other side? I’ll let y-you ponder that. We will speak aga-again tomorrow. Same time. All channels.”
The video and audio glitched severely, and they were again viewing an old music video from the archives.
Wesley was still standing. Everyone and everything was very quiet, not just in the dining area but in the larger store.
It was that way for several moments, and then things returned to some kind of normal, whatever constituted normal for a people on the eve of exodus.
“They were weird back then,” someone remarked.
There in Lotsco, it was dismissed as another oddity from the archives.
Three more months.
~
But news networks were abuzz the rest of the day and the following morning. The interrupting video had been on “all channels.” Networks and forums discussed possibilities ranging from hacking by a deviant party to the council preparing the way for messages of a gloomier nature.
Esme had been strangely content through it all. She hummed to her dolls and read books out in the backyard like not much had changed. For a child born into such a tense time, maybe that was to be expected. It was only one grain in a potential desert of worries.
“You know you don’t need to worry, right?” Wesley asked as he was chopping vegetables for their lunch that day. Esme was sitting on the living room sofa, facing the TV. She was watching cartoons. Wesley could see the back of her head from the kitchen island. Soon everyone would be glued to their screens. He’d been trying not to let it bother him. He and Taylor had agreed that thing yesterday had reminded them of something specific from the archives, but they couldn’t say what. Maybe there was a name for it and it had already been identified and was being discussed, but if so his family had missed those particular discussions.
“No, he’s silly,” Esme called back from the sofa. “He wants us to know that.”
Wesley paused and looked up from the vegetables. “Who?”
“I don’t know. The robot guy from yesterday. But he’s very silly.”
“Like he has a sense of humor?”
“. . . yeah? I guess so. That’s not really him.”
Wesley considered for a moment, chopping vegetables.
The front door unlocked and soon opened.
Taylor walked inside in her physician’s clothes. She shed her coat, plopped down on the couch next to Esme, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Oh, this is my favorite,” Taylor said.
“No it isn’t. You hate this one, Mommy.”
~
The same time as yesterday, the man with the plastic suit and tie and the plastered hair came glitching on, interrupting one cartoon character before it was tricked off a cliff by another.
Wesley, Taylor, and Esme were all on the sofa. Plates of their half-eaten lunch remained on the coffee table.
“I’ve found,” said the strange man, “that the uncanny is the best way to meet someone completely new. Bridging familiar with the unfamiliar, you know? Un—” Glitch “canny. that way you don’t just jump straight to the unfamiliar. I would’ve contacted you earlier, but, you see, I wasn’t sure if my help would be needed when the time came. It was a risk.”
The image of a robotic, fake CGI man faded. The strobing neon background behind him faded as well.
In its place stood a monster.
It appeared to be some sort of biomechanical insect-like creature. It could’ve been that it was like a giant cockroach standing on its hind legs, with mechanical parts entwined. But that would be a terribly reductive metaphor.
Like the neon patterns, the room was lit with something concentratedly bright and colorful in an otherwise dark space.
The creature began to hiss-click strange syllables. A voice box device seemed to be auto-translating, spitting out a human’s voice identical to the one we heard before, minus the distortions.
“Your difficulties in acquiring metals for spaceship building is my fault . . . our fault, rather, though we couldn’t have anticipated you’d come. We built many of our own vessels from this moon. Too many. Enough to strip the ground and cover the sky. Ours is a species devoted to exploration. A . . . hive mind, as you would call it, like ours . . . craves the cosmos if the capacity is there. We must spread . . . our mind. Most of me, of us, left well ahead of the present catastrophe. Long gone. Spread to further reaches. Some chose to remain behind. Second thoughts of the mind. Lingering. Nostalgic.”
Wesley exchanged a glance with Taylor. Taylor was scared like he was. Esme was rocking in place, wide eyes stuck on the screen.
“We did harvest on the other moons,” the creature on their TV continued, “but this was our first home. Deeper it was richer. So we dug deep until we evolved, with technological enhancements, to dwell underground. Those of us who remained behind remained here.
“There are more than enough ships for those who remained, in case that decision altered. For many of us, it hasn’t. We would like to give the ships we won’t be using to you. We have not contacted your leaders; we are contacting all of you. We must . . . apologize for our intrusions. There are three weeks at best.”
~
The colonists learned much more about the Douterans in the days that marched forward like the beats of a dream. Nobody was really sure if it was a dream or a nightmare.
They considered it fortunate that they hadn’t taken to calling themselves Douteran, because the alternative, what the Douterans called themselves, did not translate very easily.
Individually, and this was self-admitted by their scientists, the Douterans were less intelligent than organisms like humans. But together, with their hive mind, they had consciousness, culture, empathy. Civilization.
They had not only touched the stars but were spreading ever further. Through technological augments, their hive mind could reach every individual of their species instantaneously. The speed of light was no longer a barrier to what was shared among them.
The Douterans claimed to have ships underground. They’d sent pictures. Video. Wesley imagined those ships, swirled and globular and a little like wasp nests, rising out of steaming chasms. They said they had a surplus of them.
Esme insisted that her parents take her to the first surfacing, the first face-to-face contact.
A team of their kind, itself like a molecule of a single entity, emerged from a concealed hole by way of a lift.
Their faces had feelers and extra eyes (a half dozen smaller eyes between the buggier ones) and coiled organs that might’ve been machinery. Wesley, once he’d anchored himself by gripping his family’s hands, wondered what their faces must look like to the Douterans.
Wesley boosted Esme onto his shoulders so that she could see above the crowd.
There was a moment of held breaths. The colonists, in a show of good faith, had elected to not bring weaponry.
It was difficult to tell whether the Douterans had any weapons on them.
Esme called out.
A Douteran turned towards her. It raised a segmented arm.
Esme waved.
The Douteran waved back.
2022.09.12 00:41 monkeymutilation Bunker
CLIP ONE
A young man preens for the camera, standing in a shady, tree-filled area that runs behind a row of houses. This is CASEY GALLAGHER, 19-years-old, tall, lean build with dark hair, wearing jeans and a black hoodie. The area has been identified as a nature strip only a few minutes’ walk from the home of PETER DEGUARA, currently serving 15-20 years in prison on drug-related charges.
“This is insane, this is so stupid,” someone, holding the camera, says. The voice is that of JULIA NOAH, a longtime friend of Casey and aspiring social media influencer.
“This is a great idea!” Casey says.
“Explain where we’re going for the camera.”
“Okay, back when I was in high school there was this house I used to walk past every day. You couldn’t see anything happening inside, it was like this big compound. Turns out, last week, this place got raided and the guy that lives there is some kind of drug kingpin! There were cop cars and even a helicopter flying over the neighbourhood, and everything.”
“So, what’s that got to do with us?
“Rumour is that this guy had some kind of bunker in his basement, like a panic room, but he didn’t get to it in time. It might have even been where he was keeping his drugs, I don’t know. Anyway, my idea is that we break in there and find the entrance to this bunker. We record us going down but then we put up a teaser and say, if you want the full video we need a thousand likes. Or ten thousand, or a million! It doesn’t matter, it’ll go viral for sure.”
It is worth noting a study of Casey’s social media history shows him posting on several internet forums and groups relating to the interest of ‘Urban Exploration’.
“And what about the police?”
“I already climbed over the wall and had a look around, I just didn’t go inside. There’s no police, no cameras, it’ll be fine!”
“Okay, I’m definitely going to have to edit some of that.”
Julia manhandles the phone she’s using to record. There’s a brief glance of trees and the side of her face before the clip ends.
CLIP TWO
A blurry shot of Peter Deguara’s house, taken from a distance. It is a white mansion surrounded by solid, white walls. The shot slips in and out of focus several times before ending.
CLIP THREE
Casey grips the top of the wall surrounding Peter Deguara’s mansion and pulls himself up. He climbs over and disappears.
“I’m okay!”
“Hold this!”
Julia rests her phone, facing upward, on top of the wall. There are several seconds of blue sky on the recording before Casey picks the phone up. He directs it back at the wall as Julia easily pulls herself over. Julia is tall and athletic with long, red hair and is wearing workout clothing. A quick scan of Julia’s social media feeds reveal mostly ‘fitspiration’ and content relating to diet and exercise.
“Wow, check this place out!” Julia says.
Casey scans across the backyard. Manicured gardens surround a large pool in the centre of the yard. Marble statues at either end of the pool depict tigers in mid-leap. Several independent sources have confirmed this is Peter Deguara’s backyard or indistinguishable from it.
“Subtle, right? Drug kingpin? Who could have guessed?” Casey says from behind the camera.
“Here, give it,” Julia says.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it. You want to be the one on camera, right?”
“Do I? This is totally illegal.”
“Filming this crime spree is the best idea we’ve ever had!”
Julia and Casey approach the rear of the house, which again matches descriptions of Peter Deguara’s home in every respect. To one end of a row of floor to ceiling windows is a broken panel covered with police tape and a piece of plywood. According to police reports, this panel was broken during Peter Deguara’s arrest.
“I saw this yesterday. This is how we get inside,” Casey says, as Julia bends over to inspect the plywood.
CLIP FOUR
Julia stands in the middle of a concrete room lit by fluorescent lighting. There is shelving built into the walls but nothing is being stored on them. The ceiling is low and Julia hunches forward, looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t believe this,” Julia says.
“This is perfect, this is exactly what will get people in!” Casey says from behind the camera. “Go on, do it!”
“Okay, okay. So we let ourselves into this house owned by a drug lord who was recently-, hang on, let me start again. So, we’re in this house owned by a recently arrested, bigtime drug dealer. Rumour was there was some kind of bunker under the house where he might have stored drugs.”
Casey sweeps the camera around to take in the emptiness of the room. A set of stairs can be glimpsed briefly behind him.
“Obviously we got here and it’s like, oh, that’s it? There’s nothing here? But then we found this.”
Julia gestures and Casey moves around her to physically zoom in on a metal hatch inset in the floor. It looks heavy and flakes of rust cling to the edges. There’s a latch for a padlock but no lock attached. Casey holds for several seconds before straightening up. The camera continues to point at the ground.
“Okay, so then we put, you know, like and subscribe! Ten thousand likes and we post the thing!” Casey says.
“We don’t even know if there’s anything down there.”
“Well, that’s what we’re about to find out. And it doesn’t matter, unless it’s a total, total bust this will definitely go viral!”
“I don’t know if I want to go down there.”
“Come on, it’s-,” the audio and video abruptly cut out.
CLIP FIVE
The camera descends rung by rung down a rusty ladder. The only light appears to be coming from the phone itself and a second light lower down. Julia appears to be holding the camera again. The top of Casey’s head can be glimpsed below.
“Seriously, can you see the bottom? I can’t see the bottom,” Julia says.
“Hang on. Okay, I’m at the bottom now!”
Julia climbs the rest of the way. Casey is holding another phone now, using it as a flashlight. Despite both lights, little detail can be made out of the blackness surrounding them.
“Oh, my God, Casey, I don’t like this!”
“Hold on.”
Casey finds a doorway and stumbles through it. After a few seconds, lights flicker to life overhead. Julia moves toward Casey, shutting off the light on her phone. The area where the ladder deposited them seems to be nothing but a small chamber, painted black.
“Oh, yes, yeah, this is perfect!” Casey says. “This is definitely what they were talking about!”
Julia pans across another room, not unlike the basement where they were seen in the last clip. This room is larger and better lit with a higher ceiling. Casey points excitedly to another doorway diagonally across the room, leading deeper into some kind of bunker.
“Look at this! Come on, this is crazy! It’s really a bunker, like, one of those old nuclear shelters! Maybe the house was built on top of it?”
“It looks too new.”
“Come on, let’s go!”
“This isn’t setting the right tone, you know. It’s supposed to be super creepy, not you being excited.”
“We’ll take out our voices and put in some creepy music, don’t worry about it! We’ll add some text to explain what’s happening.”
Julia follows Casey deeper into the bunker. Several doorways branch off a short hallway. The rooms look clean but are completely empty, no furnishings or facilities.
“Oh, oh, I don’t believe this. Look at this!” Casey says.
At the end of the hallway, tucked behind a slight turn, is a metal door. It looks older than the rest of the bunker, dull, flaked with rust, with a latch but no padlock.
“It keeps going!”
Behind the camera, Julia sounds hesitant. “Case, I don’t know.”
“Come on, this is amazing! We’ve just got to look!”
Casey cranks the handle open with a rusty squeal. Julia keeps the camera pointed at the doorway as it opens. Behind the door is a dark hallway that must be close to twenty metres long. At the far end is another doorway, fully lit. What happens in this brief second is the topic of considerable online debate. In slow motion, zooming in on the footage, a distorted figure appears to stand briefly in the doorway before sprinting sideways and out of sight. The figure looks humanoid with overly long, thin arms. This moment is indistinct and very brief. Neither Julia nor Casey react in any way to the figure, suggesting they failed to spot them.
“Oh, no,” Julia says.
“Come on!”
“What if we get trapped down here?”
“We’re not going to get trapped! Come on, think of how many views this is going to get!”
Julia and Casey continue down the hallway. Julia can be heard breathing heavily behind the camera. The hallway is unlit and seems to be made of concrete but efforts have been made to tile it in places. Rusty pipes of unknown purposes run across the ceiling. Only through considerable audio analysis can several tapping noises be ‘heard’ at this point in the video.
“Did you hear that?” Julia asks.
“Hear what?”
“Like a knocking sound. Like someone knocking on something! What if there’s someone down here?”
“There’s no one down here, the police would have checked it out. It was probably the pipes or something.”
Julia and Casey reach the end of the hallway without incident. The next area contains another short hallway with open rooms on both sides resembling storage units. At one point, Julia hands the camera back to Casey.
“This place is huge. Maybe it wasn’t a private bunker at all. Maybe it was some kind of government thing,” Casey says.
Another doorway at the end of the hallways leads into absolute blackness. Casey, now holding the camera, moves inside and gropes along the wall for a lightswitch. With an audible hum, more lights gradually illuminate the room over several seconds.
“Holy shit, no way,” Casey says.
Casey scans the camera across what looks to be a false outdoor area. Fake plastic grass forms a lawn underfoot. Green, rolling hills and blue skies are painted on the concrete walls surrounding the ‘yard’. Some very old fashioned lawn furniture is set up on the far side of the ‘lawn’. To the right of screen, what looks like the side of a house separates the yard from another ‘inside’.
“This is incredible,” Casey says.
“It looks like a daycare, with all these paintings on the walls.” Julia points out birds and butterflies flying over the hills on the murals.
“I guess it’s to make it feel bigger, if people had to spend years down here.”
“How could this all be abandoned?”
“It’s got to be some kind of government place, and the drug guy bought it along with his property.”
“How big is it?”
The video cuts out here.
CLIP SIX
Casey holds the camera as he moves from room to room in the bunker’s fake house. It is furnished with old beds, and a couch and armchairs that look as if they’re from the Fifties. A boxy, wood-panelled television sits at the head of the living room. In the kitchen is an old refrigerator and stove, cabinets, table and chairs. There is, however, no artwork or photos or any signs of life.
“It looks like one of those houses, you know, they used to blow up in nuclear bomb tests,” Casey says. “Imagine how creepy it would be if there was a bunch of mannequins or whatever sitting around the living room.”
“It’s creepy enough as it is!” Julia says from behind him. “Did you hear that? Oh, my God, did you hear that?”
It is worth noting nothing has been picked up here by the audio. It is possible the phone’s microphone simply wasn’t powerful enough.
“Hear what?”
“A knocking! I thought I heard a knocking sound.”
“I didn’t hear anything. Check this out, this place just keeps going!”
Casey reaches what appears to be the front rooms of the ‘house’. Windows show painted scenes of a false outside. At the end of a short corridor Casey comes across another heavy door. His hand comes into frame, reaching out to open it.
“Case, don’t! I’m telling you I heard something.”
“Jules, think of the views! This place is crazy!”
Casey opens the door. Beyond the threshold is complete and utter blackness. Casey hovers in the doorway. Suddenly, with a low bang that makes the camera jump, a set of lights power on overheard. Immediately outside the doorway is another fake lawn bordered by a white picket fence. More lights come on, far overheard, in a sequence moving away from the house. They reveal a cavernous warehouse. Rafters cross the roof far overhead, above towering metal shelves. The shelves appear totally empty but there are dozens of them.
“Are you seeing this?” Casey says.
“It’s huge, it’s like the size of a football stadium. Case, how? How is this all underground and we don’t even know about it?”
“This is government, this is definitely government. I don’t think this place could have possibly just been bought by some guy, something else must be going on.”
Something makes a distinct noise, like a knock. It is clearly picked up this time by the phone’s microphone. The warehouse remains largely dark in spite of the lights overhead. The sound is similar to someone rapping a metal bar against metal shelving. It happens again, and again.
“What is that? Something’s down here!” Julia hisses.
“I don’t know, it might just be the electricity.”
“We have to go back, Case!”
“But look at this place!”
“No, no way! I don’t care anymore, no one even knows we’re down here! I’m going back with or without you. Maybe, maybe, we come back with more people, some supplies, I don’t know, but I’m not staying down here right now.”
“Okay, okay, we’ll go back.”
CLIP SEVEN
“This is impossible!” Julia says.
“It’s-, we got turned around.”
The camera moves too fast, in surroundings that are too dark, to make out where they are for several seconds. As it settles, Julia and Casey can be seen in the long, dark hallway from earlier or one that looks just like it. Julia holds the camera, with its flashlight illuminated. Casey feels along the walls as if looking for something.
“It moved! This place changed!” Julia says.
“It can’t have changed, not really. Maybe we missed something?”
“This is the way we came! This hallway is the same but the first rooms, and the ladder, are gone!”
“No, it can’t be.”
“We still don’t have any phone reception.”
“Well, of course not. I mean, we are underground.”
They backtrack to the area with the empty storage rooms and look around. Another doorway leads into a large, dark room but it is clearly not the same as the part of the complex where they walked through originally.
“We missed something,” Casey says. “Maybe, maybe there’s more automated systems, like those lights that came on. Maybe the door is hidden and it automatically slid closed.”
“It was right here, look at the video!”
The phone is fumbled and the video abruptly stops.
CLIP EIGHT
Julia and Casey move through another enormous and windowless space, this one filled with towering machines that resemble hydroelectric generators. The camera is being used as a flashlight but the room is dark and its overall dimensions and total contents remains indistinct throughout. A low level hum persists across the entirety of the recording.
“If you’re watching this, we came down into this crazy bunker,” Julia says, apparently addressing the camera. “We went exploring but when we came back the way out had changed into this room, here.”
“These machines look like generators or something,” Casey says. “But I don’t think they’re turned on.”
“What is that humming noise then?”
“I’m not sure, maybe some kind of standby mode? It kind of sounds further away.”
Julia and Casey reach the far side of the room, and a large window. Inside, through the glare of the flashlight, the camera can make out panels covered in dials and switches and meters, all abandoned. As Julia scans the window, a knocking sound is picked up clearly by the phone. Julia jumps and whips around to scan the nearest machinery.
“Did you hear that? Did you hear that?” Julia says.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard it.”
Nothing can be seen as Julia sweeps the camera across the room. The sound comes again of metal tapping against metal as if someone is knocking against one of the pieces of machinery.
“It’s in the room! Someone is following us!”
“No, it’s-, I don’t know what it is but there’s no one down here!”
“You don’t know! There’s someone following us!”
“Come on.”
The pair move along the wall until they come across a pair of swinging doors. They hurry into another hallway, this one with larger rooms, possibly locker rooms, offices, meeting rooms, etc. Julia sweeps the camera from side to side.
“If we keep going, there’s got to be another exit,” Casey says.
“There’s got to be? Why?”
“Because there’s got to be!”
The two of them reach what looks like some kind of dormitory. Around two dozen cots line the walls, unmade. Julia and Casey hurry past them to another set of doors.
“This has got to be government, got to be. Even if it was abandoned, they built it down here to hold people during the Cold War or something,” Casey says.
Suddenly, Julia screams. The camera whirls around in a blur and settles on the hallway behind them. A humanoid figure appears clearly in the doorway. They are shirtless with a black mask covering their face. From this perspective, their arms cannot be fully seen and details are hard to make out but this is almost certainly the individual known as HOOK HANDS who appears more clearly in CLIP ELEVEN.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Julia screams.
The figure lingers for a few moments more and then slips slowly back into the corridor. Something can be heard knocking against the walls.
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Julia says to Casey.
“Yeah, uh, yeah. Maybe they could help us?”
“They don’t want to help us, Casey! They were holding a knife or something! Oh, my God, we’re going to die down here!”
CLIP NINE
Julia and Casey move through another area resembling an abandoned hospital or laboratory. The walls, floor and ceiling are a mixture of concrete and tiles and there is no suggestion of natural light, only weak fluorescents. Patches of black mould grow across the walls and ceiling. Casey moves ahead of Julia, who is still holding the camera.
“Okay, I’ve got the video, I’m recording,” Julia says.
“I think we’ve found something. I still don’t know what this place is but I think we’ve found something.”
Through another window, the camera scans a room full of medical equipment. Coffin-shaped pods rest across the room, four of them in total. In spite of considerable research and debate, no recognised purpose or manufacturer of these pods has been uncovered. Tables cluttered with surgical tools are gathered around the pods.
“Is that blood? It looks like really, really old blood,” Casey says.
Casey points to black stains on some of the trays of surgical tools, and on the sides of the pods. More black mould grows around the bases of the pods and tables.
“Case, we have to go! We have to go, I’m stopping this for the battery.”
CLIP TEN
The camera’s flashlight bounces off concrete steps as whoever is holding the camera climbs and climbs. They reach a platform, turn, and continue climbing. Casey can be heard breathing hard. This goes on for over a minute with nothing else of note happening.
“We found these stairs,” Julia says finally, addressing the recording again. “And we thought there’d be a way out but we’ve been climbing and climbing and I still don’t have signal. I don’t know what we’re going to do, and I keep hearing it. I keep hearing the knocking on the walls.”
CLIP ELEVEN
“It’s a wall! It’s a fucking wall!” Casey howls.
The video seems to be in the same stairwell, on the topmost platform. Casey runs his hands across walls that appear to be made of solid cinder blocks, with no doors or other exits in view.
“There’s got to be something here! There’s got to be a hidden door or something!”
“This place isn’t right! We just climbed like thirty stories! How far did we come down that ladder? Three stories at most? We should be way above ground right now but I still don’t have a signal on my phone.”
“Maybe we came up inside a hill, and this entrance was bricked up? Or maybe we’re inside, like, the shell of a fake building, that’s been shielded.” Case hammers his hands against one wall. “Hello? Can anyone hear us? Hello?”
“It’s this place, Case! I’m telling you, the place is changing around us!”
“That’s impossible, this is just some, abandoned, fucked up government place with some homeless people living in it or something. There’s got to be another way out.”
The camera points at the floor for another minute and a half. Casey apparently moves around, feeling for a gap and yelling.
“What do we do now? Just go back down?” Julia asks.
“I guess we don’t have a choice, Jules. Fuck! We’ll find our way out eventually, we have to.”
“There’s someone down there, I heard them!”
“If they’re still following us, I don’t know, they backed off before.”
“I’m going to keep recording.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Casey leads the way again, using his phone as a flashlight. He pays close attention to the walls as if still searching for a hidden door or control. Julia follows, filming him from behind. They quickly descend eight levels with no sign of doors or signage of any kind.
“Oh, shit! Shit!” Casey stops and recoils.
“Oh, God!”
Seen clearly in the beams of their phone flashlights is a humanoid figure who has been nicknamed HOOK HANDS. Male, muscular, extremely pale, he is shirtless and wearing black pants, no shoes, and a featureless black hood. Both of Hook Hands’ arms appear to have been amputated below the elbows. Large hooks emerge from the stumps. Based on video analysis, these hooks appear to be permanently fixed into the stumps for so long that skin has grown back over their bases, rather than being attached like prosthetics.
“Oh, what the fuck? What are you, man?” Casey asks.
Hook Hands appears to regard them for a moment. There are no eye or mouth holes in his mask. He taps one hook against the stairwell’s metal railing, making a ringing sound that echoes through the concrete passage.
“Go away!” Julia screams. “Go away!”
Hook Hands doesn’t react. Julia and Casey back away.
“What are we going to do?” Julia asks.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Casey says. “Jules, Jules, I’m going to hit him. When I do it, you run! Run past him and keep running!”
“What about you?”
“I’m just going to-, I’m just going to knock him down and come after you. Now, go!”
Casey barrels forward, down the steps, and tackles Hook Hands around the shoulders. He manages to avoid the man’s weapons. The next few seconds are too chaotic to make out even in frame by frame analysis. Holding the camera, Julia runs down the stairs, past Casey and Hook Hands, and down the next flight of stairs. Here, however, she hesitates and goes back. Casey appears to be struggling with Hook Hands. Julia joins in, although her actions are difficult to make out, swinging and kicking. As the shot steadies, Julia and Casey can both be seen on their feet, moving down the steps away from Hook Hands.
“Hurry!” Julia says.
The next ten seconds are again chaotic and can only be made out frame by frame, but something clearly hits Casey from behind. One of Hook Hands’ hooks appears over Casey’s shoulder and buries itself in his chest. He drops his phone and is yanked backward.
“Case!” Julia yells.
“Jules!”
Casey reaches for her but Hook Hands’ second hook appears and buries itself in the side of his throat. Spitting blood, Casey is pulled backward into darkness.
“Oh, my God! Oh, God!”
Julia spins and continues to run. Her phone light bounces off the walls. She makes it down several levels but then clearly reacts to hearing or seeing something below. She stops, breathing hard, and more tapping and knocking can be heard.
“Oh, God.”
Julia turns the camera back but only thumping can be heard behind her. Cautiously, she keeps going down the steps. After another couple of levels, two more humanoid figures can be seen on one of the platforms below. Both appear similar to Hook Hands but not identical. Male, muscular, pale, and wearing hoods and pants but no shirts. These two have been nicknamed KNIFE HAND and SPIKE. Knife Hand has, as the name suggests, had his right arm removed below the elbow and replaced by a large blade. The other man appears to have multiple spikes, at least a dozen, inserted into the flesh of his arms, chest, and legs, so that they bristle at various angles. Knife Hand taps his blade against the railing.
“Oh, what the fuck?”
Julia turns to bring into view a dark doorway set into one wall of the stairwell. In the distance, down a dark hallway, fluorescent lighting flickers. Based on analysis of the video, frame by frame, this doorway was not present in the stairwell until this moment.
“This wasn’t here! This wasn’t here a second ago, I swear it! I swear to God!”
Julia moves into the hallway, hurrying away from the stairs. Eventually, the camera is turned back. Knife Hand and Spike can vaguely be discerned in the doorway. Julia turns the light off and keeps moving for another minute, nothing appearing on the recording except some distant tapping and the sound of Julia’s movements.
“This wasn’t here! There’s something wrong with this place, it’s alive!”
The video goes on for another minute and eleven seconds with nothing of significance before cutting off. Frame by frame analysis fails to reveal any more clues as to Julia’s location.
CLIP TWELVE
The camera points backward at Julia’s face. Little can be seen of her surroundings. The wall behind her appears to be concrete and a weak light shines on the right side of her face. Throughout the recording, taps and knocks can be heard distantly on the audio.
“It’s been about an hour since I lost Case. Oh, my God, it’s only, like, one o’clock out there. I’ve only been in here for like two hours. It just keeps going and going. I’ve tried to go in as straight a line as possible, it doesn’t stop, it doesn’t repeat, it just goes on and on!”
Julia stops and listens. Sniffling, she wipes her face.
“I keep having to use my phone for light, my battery won’t last long now. I’m just making this recording in case anyone finds it. I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, I love you, Leslie, I love you. Oh, God. Casey’s family, I’m so sorry I left him, I’m so sorry. We never should have come down here!”
Julia stops and listens again. The sound of tapping is still distant but registers as closer according to audio analysis.
“They keep coming! I don’t know what they are, I don’t know if they’re-, a part of this place or if they just-, infest it, like some kind of parasites, but they keep coming no matter how far I go. I think they’re-, I think the tapping is like some kind of bat-thing, I think they do it to hunt. I have to go, I’m sorry, I love you all, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
CLIP THIRTEEN
The contents of this final clip are the source of the most fierce debate to surround the ‘Bunker’ video. Given the poor lighting and quality of the recording, without enhancement as it appeared when first released, the video is only a brief jumble of shadows and then a long stretch where nothing happens.
When enhanced by several different sources, in a combination of both watching and viewing frame by frame, the following appears to be seen:
Blackness, something blocks the camera. But there is a sense of motion, and what sounds like movement picked up by the phone’s microphone. It then sounds as if the phone is placed down on a hard surface.
There is a brief shot of a hand pulling away from the camera. The clearest frame appears to show claws growing from the ends of the fingers. Most believe the shape of the claws indicate that these are not claws but scalpel blades that had been inserted into the hand’s fingertips. Some enhancements appear to show dark liquid, possibly blood, on the fingers, as if the implants are still fresh.
The light in whatever room the camera is facing is exceedingly poor and the camera struggles to find a point of focus. A doorway and window can be seen across the room, looking out on a hallway. The only source of light comes from some point down the hallway to the right of screen but it is distant and flickering. Some visual clues indicate this might be part of the ‘hospital’ that Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher passed through in CLIP NINE or a similar area.
A person stands briefly in front of the doorway. They seem to stare directly into the camera. They have been nicknamed, among other things, VENGEANCE. The figure, a woman, appears to be wearing a featureless black mask, black pants and a small black top similar to what was seen worn by the bunker inhabitants in other clips, or, debatably, could match some of the workout clothing worn by Julia Noah. Large spikes, like kitchen knives, jut from their elbows and shoulders and potentially their hips, seen mostly in silhouette.
Vengeance turns and walks quickly out of the room. They are seen briefly but not clearly in the window to the right of the doorway. Close audio analysis has picked up an irregular ‘ticking’ sound that starts shortly after they disappear from frame, like bits of metal being tapped against metal. The camera continues to record the empty room for another two minutes and eight seconds before it suddenly slips and falls over. It records a patch of ceiling for several more seconds before cutting out.
******
This recording was uploaded to various video sharing sites on March 13th, three weeks after the apparent disappearances of Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher. It was widely considered to be a hoax or viral advertising for an upcoming horror movie or series but no one has yet claimed responsibility for the video or its posting.
Independent reports from other urban explorers, and from the current owners of Peter Deguara’s former home, confirm there is a room below the house that looks identical to one the one where Julia and Casey begin their journey - except there is no metal hatch set into the floor, and therefore no ladder and no bunker. No locations have been positively identified to match any of the rooms seen once the pair enter the bunker.
The investigation into Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher’s disappearances have failed to uncover any evidence as to what happened to the pair, or their current location.
For 2022, I’ve been wanting to write more ‘creature features’ and generally improve my short story writing. My partner got me a Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual for my birthday so I came up with the idea of writing a story every week based on a different creature from that. This week’s inspiration was 'Hook Horror'.
More in this series is on my website, accessible through my profile if you're interested!
submitted by monkeymutilation to scarystories [link] [comments]
A young man preens for the camera, standing in a shady, tree-filled area that runs behind a row of houses. This is CASEY GALLAGHER, 19-years-old, tall, lean build with dark hair, wearing jeans and a black hoodie. The area has been identified as a nature strip only a few minutes’ walk from the home of PETER DEGUARA, currently serving 15-20 years in prison on drug-related charges.
“This is insane, this is so stupid,” someone, holding the camera, says. The voice is that of JULIA NOAH, a longtime friend of Casey and aspiring social media influencer.
“This is a great idea!” Casey says.
“Explain where we’re going for the camera.”
“Okay, back when I was in high school there was this house I used to walk past every day. You couldn’t see anything happening inside, it was like this big compound. Turns out, last week, this place got raided and the guy that lives there is some kind of drug kingpin! There were cop cars and even a helicopter flying over the neighbourhood, and everything.”
“So, what’s that got to do with us?
“Rumour is that this guy had some kind of bunker in his basement, like a panic room, but he didn’t get to it in time. It might have even been where he was keeping his drugs, I don’t know. Anyway, my idea is that we break in there and find the entrance to this bunker. We record us going down but then we put up a teaser and say, if you want the full video we need a thousand likes. Or ten thousand, or a million! It doesn’t matter, it’ll go viral for sure.”
It is worth noting a study of Casey’s social media history shows him posting on several internet forums and groups relating to the interest of ‘Urban Exploration’.
“And what about the police?”
“I already climbed over the wall and had a look around, I just didn’t go inside. There’s no police, no cameras, it’ll be fine!”
“Okay, I’m definitely going to have to edit some of that.”
Julia manhandles the phone she’s using to record. There’s a brief glance of trees and the side of her face before the clip ends.
CLIP TWO
A blurry shot of Peter Deguara’s house, taken from a distance. It is a white mansion surrounded by solid, white walls. The shot slips in and out of focus several times before ending.
CLIP THREE
Casey grips the top of the wall surrounding Peter Deguara’s mansion and pulls himself up. He climbs over and disappears.
“I’m okay!”
“Hold this!”
Julia rests her phone, facing upward, on top of the wall. There are several seconds of blue sky on the recording before Casey picks the phone up. He directs it back at the wall as Julia easily pulls herself over. Julia is tall and athletic with long, red hair and is wearing workout clothing. A quick scan of Julia’s social media feeds reveal mostly ‘fitspiration’ and content relating to diet and exercise.
“Wow, check this place out!” Julia says.
Casey scans across the backyard. Manicured gardens surround a large pool in the centre of the yard. Marble statues at either end of the pool depict tigers in mid-leap. Several independent sources have confirmed this is Peter Deguara’s backyard or indistinguishable from it.
“Subtle, right? Drug kingpin? Who could have guessed?” Casey says from behind the camera.
“Here, give it,” Julia says.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it. You want to be the one on camera, right?”
“Do I? This is totally illegal.”
“Filming this crime spree is the best idea we’ve ever had!”
Julia and Casey approach the rear of the house, which again matches descriptions of Peter Deguara’s home in every respect. To one end of a row of floor to ceiling windows is a broken panel covered with police tape and a piece of plywood. According to police reports, this panel was broken during Peter Deguara’s arrest.
“I saw this yesterday. This is how we get inside,” Casey says, as Julia bends over to inspect the plywood.
CLIP FOUR
Julia stands in the middle of a concrete room lit by fluorescent lighting. There is shelving built into the walls but nothing is being stored on them. The ceiling is low and Julia hunches forward, looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t believe this,” Julia says.
“This is perfect, this is exactly what will get people in!” Casey says from behind the camera. “Go on, do it!”
“Okay, okay. So we let ourselves into this house owned by a drug lord who was recently-, hang on, let me start again. So, we’re in this house owned by a recently arrested, bigtime drug dealer. Rumour was there was some kind of bunker under the house where he might have stored drugs.”
Casey sweeps the camera around to take in the emptiness of the room. A set of stairs can be glimpsed briefly behind him.
“Obviously we got here and it’s like, oh, that’s it? There’s nothing here? But then we found this.”
Julia gestures and Casey moves around her to physically zoom in on a metal hatch inset in the floor. It looks heavy and flakes of rust cling to the edges. There’s a latch for a padlock but no lock attached. Casey holds for several seconds before straightening up. The camera continues to point at the ground.
“Okay, so then we put, you know, like and subscribe! Ten thousand likes and we post the thing!” Casey says.
“We don’t even know if there’s anything down there.”
“Well, that’s what we’re about to find out. And it doesn’t matter, unless it’s a total, total bust this will definitely go viral!”
“I don’t know if I want to go down there.”
“Come on, it’s-,” the audio and video abruptly cut out.
CLIP FIVE
The camera descends rung by rung down a rusty ladder. The only light appears to be coming from the phone itself and a second light lower down. Julia appears to be holding the camera again. The top of Casey’s head can be glimpsed below.
“Seriously, can you see the bottom? I can’t see the bottom,” Julia says.
“Hang on. Okay, I’m at the bottom now!”
Julia climbs the rest of the way. Casey is holding another phone now, using it as a flashlight. Despite both lights, little detail can be made out of the blackness surrounding them.
“Oh, my God, Casey, I don’t like this!”
“Hold on.”
Casey finds a doorway and stumbles through it. After a few seconds, lights flicker to life overhead. Julia moves toward Casey, shutting off the light on her phone. The area where the ladder deposited them seems to be nothing but a small chamber, painted black.
“Oh, yes, yeah, this is perfect!” Casey says. “This is definitely what they were talking about!”
Julia pans across another room, not unlike the basement where they were seen in the last clip. This room is larger and better lit with a higher ceiling. Casey points excitedly to another doorway diagonally across the room, leading deeper into some kind of bunker.
“Look at this! Come on, this is crazy! It’s really a bunker, like, one of those old nuclear shelters! Maybe the house was built on top of it?”
“It looks too new.”
“Come on, let’s go!”
“This isn’t setting the right tone, you know. It’s supposed to be super creepy, not you being excited.”
“We’ll take out our voices and put in some creepy music, don’t worry about it! We’ll add some text to explain what’s happening.”
Julia follows Casey deeper into the bunker. Several doorways branch off a short hallway. The rooms look clean but are completely empty, no furnishings or facilities.
“Oh, oh, I don’t believe this. Look at this!” Casey says.
At the end of the hallway, tucked behind a slight turn, is a metal door. It looks older than the rest of the bunker, dull, flaked with rust, with a latch but no padlock.
“It keeps going!”
Behind the camera, Julia sounds hesitant. “Case, I don’t know.”
“Come on, this is amazing! We’ve just got to look!”
Casey cranks the handle open with a rusty squeal. Julia keeps the camera pointed at the doorway as it opens. Behind the door is a dark hallway that must be close to twenty metres long. At the far end is another doorway, fully lit. What happens in this brief second is the topic of considerable online debate. In slow motion, zooming in on the footage, a distorted figure appears to stand briefly in the doorway before sprinting sideways and out of sight. The figure looks humanoid with overly long, thin arms. This moment is indistinct and very brief. Neither Julia nor Casey react in any way to the figure, suggesting they failed to spot them.
“Oh, no,” Julia says.
“Come on!”
“What if we get trapped down here?”
“We’re not going to get trapped! Come on, think of how many views this is going to get!”
Julia and Casey continue down the hallway. Julia can be heard breathing heavily behind the camera. The hallway is unlit and seems to be made of concrete but efforts have been made to tile it in places. Rusty pipes of unknown purposes run across the ceiling. Only through considerable audio analysis can several tapping noises be ‘heard’ at this point in the video.
“Did you hear that?” Julia asks.
“Hear what?”
“Like a knocking sound. Like someone knocking on something! What if there’s someone down here?”
“There’s no one down here, the police would have checked it out. It was probably the pipes or something.”
Julia and Casey reach the end of the hallway without incident. The next area contains another short hallway with open rooms on both sides resembling storage units. At one point, Julia hands the camera back to Casey.
“This place is huge. Maybe it wasn’t a private bunker at all. Maybe it was some kind of government thing,” Casey says.
Another doorway at the end of the hallways leads into absolute blackness. Casey, now holding the camera, moves inside and gropes along the wall for a lightswitch. With an audible hum, more lights gradually illuminate the room over several seconds.
“Holy shit, no way,” Casey says.
Casey scans the camera across what looks to be a false outdoor area. Fake plastic grass forms a lawn underfoot. Green, rolling hills and blue skies are painted on the concrete walls surrounding the ‘yard’. Some very old fashioned lawn furniture is set up on the far side of the ‘lawn’. To the right of screen, what looks like the side of a house separates the yard from another ‘inside’.
“This is incredible,” Casey says.
“It looks like a daycare, with all these paintings on the walls.” Julia points out birds and butterflies flying over the hills on the murals.
“I guess it’s to make it feel bigger, if people had to spend years down here.”
“How could this all be abandoned?”
“It’s got to be some kind of government place, and the drug guy bought it along with his property.”
“How big is it?”
The video cuts out here.
CLIP SIX
Casey holds the camera as he moves from room to room in the bunker’s fake house. It is furnished with old beds, and a couch and armchairs that look as if they’re from the Fifties. A boxy, wood-panelled television sits at the head of the living room. In the kitchen is an old refrigerator and stove, cabinets, table and chairs. There is, however, no artwork or photos or any signs of life.
“It looks like one of those houses, you know, they used to blow up in nuclear bomb tests,” Casey says. “Imagine how creepy it would be if there was a bunch of mannequins or whatever sitting around the living room.”
“It’s creepy enough as it is!” Julia says from behind him. “Did you hear that? Oh, my God, did you hear that?”
It is worth noting nothing has been picked up here by the audio. It is possible the phone’s microphone simply wasn’t powerful enough.
“Hear what?”
“A knocking! I thought I heard a knocking sound.”
“I didn’t hear anything. Check this out, this place just keeps going!”
Casey reaches what appears to be the front rooms of the ‘house’. Windows show painted scenes of a false outside. At the end of a short corridor Casey comes across another heavy door. His hand comes into frame, reaching out to open it.
“Case, don’t! I’m telling you I heard something.”
“Jules, think of the views! This place is crazy!”
Casey opens the door. Beyond the threshold is complete and utter blackness. Casey hovers in the doorway. Suddenly, with a low bang that makes the camera jump, a set of lights power on overheard. Immediately outside the doorway is another fake lawn bordered by a white picket fence. More lights come on, far overheard, in a sequence moving away from the house. They reveal a cavernous warehouse. Rafters cross the roof far overhead, above towering metal shelves. The shelves appear totally empty but there are dozens of them.
“Are you seeing this?” Casey says.
“It’s huge, it’s like the size of a football stadium. Case, how? How is this all underground and we don’t even know about it?”
“This is government, this is definitely government. I don’t think this place could have possibly just been bought by some guy, something else must be going on.”
Something makes a distinct noise, like a knock. It is clearly picked up this time by the phone’s microphone. The warehouse remains largely dark in spite of the lights overhead. The sound is similar to someone rapping a metal bar against metal shelving. It happens again, and again.
“What is that? Something’s down here!” Julia hisses.
“I don’t know, it might just be the electricity.”
“We have to go back, Case!”
“But look at this place!”
“No, no way! I don’t care anymore, no one even knows we’re down here! I’m going back with or without you. Maybe, maybe, we come back with more people, some supplies, I don’t know, but I’m not staying down here right now.”
“Okay, okay, we’ll go back.”
CLIP SEVEN
“This is impossible!” Julia says.
“It’s-, we got turned around.”
The camera moves too fast, in surroundings that are too dark, to make out where they are for several seconds. As it settles, Julia and Casey can be seen in the long, dark hallway from earlier or one that looks just like it. Julia holds the camera, with its flashlight illuminated. Casey feels along the walls as if looking for something.
“It moved! This place changed!” Julia says.
“It can’t have changed, not really. Maybe we missed something?”
“This is the way we came! This hallway is the same but the first rooms, and the ladder, are gone!”
“No, it can’t be.”
“We still don’t have any phone reception.”
“Well, of course not. I mean, we are underground.”
They backtrack to the area with the empty storage rooms and look around. Another doorway leads into a large, dark room but it is clearly not the same as the part of the complex where they walked through originally.
“We missed something,” Casey says. “Maybe, maybe there’s more automated systems, like those lights that came on. Maybe the door is hidden and it automatically slid closed.”
“It was right here, look at the video!”
The phone is fumbled and the video abruptly stops.
CLIP EIGHT
Julia and Casey move through another enormous and windowless space, this one filled with towering machines that resemble hydroelectric generators. The camera is being used as a flashlight but the room is dark and its overall dimensions and total contents remains indistinct throughout. A low level hum persists across the entirety of the recording.
“If you’re watching this, we came down into this crazy bunker,” Julia says, apparently addressing the camera. “We went exploring but when we came back the way out had changed into this room, here.”
“These machines look like generators or something,” Casey says. “But I don’t think they’re turned on.”
“What is that humming noise then?”
“I’m not sure, maybe some kind of standby mode? It kind of sounds further away.”
Julia and Casey reach the far side of the room, and a large window. Inside, through the glare of the flashlight, the camera can make out panels covered in dials and switches and meters, all abandoned. As Julia scans the window, a knocking sound is picked up clearly by the phone. Julia jumps and whips around to scan the nearest machinery.
“Did you hear that? Did you hear that?” Julia says.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard it.”
Nothing can be seen as Julia sweeps the camera across the room. The sound comes again of metal tapping against metal as if someone is knocking against one of the pieces of machinery.
“It’s in the room! Someone is following us!”
“No, it’s-, I don’t know what it is but there’s no one down here!”
“You don’t know! There’s someone following us!”
“Come on.”
The pair move along the wall until they come across a pair of swinging doors. They hurry into another hallway, this one with larger rooms, possibly locker rooms, offices, meeting rooms, etc. Julia sweeps the camera from side to side.
“If we keep going, there’s got to be another exit,” Casey says.
“There’s got to be? Why?”
“Because there’s got to be!”
The two of them reach what looks like some kind of dormitory. Around two dozen cots line the walls, unmade. Julia and Casey hurry past them to another set of doors.
“This has got to be government, got to be. Even if it was abandoned, they built it down here to hold people during the Cold War or something,” Casey says.
Suddenly, Julia screams. The camera whirls around in a blur and settles on the hallway behind them. A humanoid figure appears clearly in the doorway. They are shirtless with a black mask covering their face. From this perspective, their arms cannot be fully seen and details are hard to make out but this is almost certainly the individual known as HOOK HANDS who appears more clearly in CLIP ELEVEN.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Julia screams.
The figure lingers for a few moments more and then slips slowly back into the corridor. Something can be heard knocking against the walls.
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Julia says to Casey.
“Yeah, uh, yeah. Maybe they could help us?”
“They don’t want to help us, Casey! They were holding a knife or something! Oh, my God, we’re going to die down here!”
CLIP NINE
Julia and Casey move through another area resembling an abandoned hospital or laboratory. The walls, floor and ceiling are a mixture of concrete and tiles and there is no suggestion of natural light, only weak fluorescents. Patches of black mould grow across the walls and ceiling. Casey moves ahead of Julia, who is still holding the camera.
“Okay, I’ve got the video, I’m recording,” Julia says.
“I think we’ve found something. I still don’t know what this place is but I think we’ve found something.”
Through another window, the camera scans a room full of medical equipment. Coffin-shaped pods rest across the room, four of them in total. In spite of considerable research and debate, no recognised purpose or manufacturer of these pods has been uncovered. Tables cluttered with surgical tools are gathered around the pods.
“Is that blood? It looks like really, really old blood,” Casey says.
Casey points to black stains on some of the trays of surgical tools, and on the sides of the pods. More black mould grows around the bases of the pods and tables.
“Case, we have to go! We have to go, I’m stopping this for the battery.”
CLIP TEN
The camera’s flashlight bounces off concrete steps as whoever is holding the camera climbs and climbs. They reach a platform, turn, and continue climbing. Casey can be heard breathing hard. This goes on for over a minute with nothing else of note happening.
“We found these stairs,” Julia says finally, addressing the recording again. “And we thought there’d be a way out but we’ve been climbing and climbing and I still don’t have signal. I don’t know what we’re going to do, and I keep hearing it. I keep hearing the knocking on the walls.”
CLIP ELEVEN
“It’s a wall! It’s a fucking wall!” Casey howls.
The video seems to be in the same stairwell, on the topmost platform. Casey runs his hands across walls that appear to be made of solid cinder blocks, with no doors or other exits in view.
“There’s got to be something here! There’s got to be a hidden door or something!”
“This place isn’t right! We just climbed like thirty stories! How far did we come down that ladder? Three stories at most? We should be way above ground right now but I still don’t have a signal on my phone.”
“Maybe we came up inside a hill, and this entrance was bricked up? Or maybe we’re inside, like, the shell of a fake building, that’s been shielded.” Case hammers his hands against one wall. “Hello? Can anyone hear us? Hello?”
“It’s this place, Case! I’m telling you, the place is changing around us!”
“That’s impossible, this is just some, abandoned, fucked up government place with some homeless people living in it or something. There’s got to be another way out.”
The camera points at the floor for another minute and a half. Casey apparently moves around, feeling for a gap and yelling.
“What do we do now? Just go back down?” Julia asks.
“I guess we don’t have a choice, Jules. Fuck! We’ll find our way out eventually, we have to.”
“There’s someone down there, I heard them!”
“If they’re still following us, I don’t know, they backed off before.”
“I’m going to keep recording.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Casey leads the way again, using his phone as a flashlight. He pays close attention to the walls as if still searching for a hidden door or control. Julia follows, filming him from behind. They quickly descend eight levels with no sign of doors or signage of any kind.
“Oh, shit! Shit!” Casey stops and recoils.
“Oh, God!”
Seen clearly in the beams of their phone flashlights is a humanoid figure who has been nicknamed HOOK HANDS. Male, muscular, extremely pale, he is shirtless and wearing black pants, no shoes, and a featureless black hood. Both of Hook Hands’ arms appear to have been amputated below the elbows. Large hooks emerge from the stumps. Based on video analysis, these hooks appear to be permanently fixed into the stumps for so long that skin has grown back over their bases, rather than being attached like prosthetics.
“Oh, what the fuck? What are you, man?” Casey asks.
Hook Hands appears to regard them for a moment. There are no eye or mouth holes in his mask. He taps one hook against the stairwell’s metal railing, making a ringing sound that echoes through the concrete passage.
“Go away!” Julia screams. “Go away!”
Hook Hands doesn’t react. Julia and Casey back away.
“What are we going to do?” Julia asks.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Casey says. “Jules, Jules, I’m going to hit him. When I do it, you run! Run past him and keep running!”
“What about you?”
“I’m just going to-, I’m just going to knock him down and come after you. Now, go!”
Casey barrels forward, down the steps, and tackles Hook Hands around the shoulders. He manages to avoid the man’s weapons. The next few seconds are too chaotic to make out even in frame by frame analysis. Holding the camera, Julia runs down the stairs, past Casey and Hook Hands, and down the next flight of stairs. Here, however, she hesitates and goes back. Casey appears to be struggling with Hook Hands. Julia joins in, although her actions are difficult to make out, swinging and kicking. As the shot steadies, Julia and Casey can both be seen on their feet, moving down the steps away from Hook Hands.
“Hurry!” Julia says.
The next ten seconds are again chaotic and can only be made out frame by frame, but something clearly hits Casey from behind. One of Hook Hands’ hooks appears over Casey’s shoulder and buries itself in his chest. He drops his phone and is yanked backward.
“Case!” Julia yells.
“Jules!”
Casey reaches for her but Hook Hands’ second hook appears and buries itself in the side of his throat. Spitting blood, Casey is pulled backward into darkness.
“Oh, my God! Oh, God!”
Julia spins and continues to run. Her phone light bounces off the walls. She makes it down several levels but then clearly reacts to hearing or seeing something below. She stops, breathing hard, and more tapping and knocking can be heard.
“Oh, God.”
Julia turns the camera back but only thumping can be heard behind her. Cautiously, she keeps going down the steps. After another couple of levels, two more humanoid figures can be seen on one of the platforms below. Both appear similar to Hook Hands but not identical. Male, muscular, pale, and wearing hoods and pants but no shirts. These two have been nicknamed KNIFE HAND and SPIKE. Knife Hand has, as the name suggests, had his right arm removed below the elbow and replaced by a large blade. The other man appears to have multiple spikes, at least a dozen, inserted into the flesh of his arms, chest, and legs, so that they bristle at various angles. Knife Hand taps his blade against the railing.
“Oh, what the fuck?”
Julia turns to bring into view a dark doorway set into one wall of the stairwell. In the distance, down a dark hallway, fluorescent lighting flickers. Based on analysis of the video, frame by frame, this doorway was not present in the stairwell until this moment.
“This wasn’t here! This wasn’t here a second ago, I swear it! I swear to God!”
Julia moves into the hallway, hurrying away from the stairs. Eventually, the camera is turned back. Knife Hand and Spike can vaguely be discerned in the doorway. Julia turns the light off and keeps moving for another minute, nothing appearing on the recording except some distant tapping and the sound of Julia’s movements.
“This wasn’t here! There’s something wrong with this place, it’s alive!”
The video goes on for another minute and eleven seconds with nothing of significance before cutting off. Frame by frame analysis fails to reveal any more clues as to Julia’s location.
CLIP TWELVE
The camera points backward at Julia’s face. Little can be seen of her surroundings. The wall behind her appears to be concrete and a weak light shines on the right side of her face. Throughout the recording, taps and knocks can be heard distantly on the audio.
“It’s been about an hour since I lost Case. Oh, my God, it’s only, like, one o’clock out there. I’ve only been in here for like two hours. It just keeps going and going. I’ve tried to go in as straight a line as possible, it doesn’t stop, it doesn’t repeat, it just goes on and on!”
Julia stops and listens. Sniffling, she wipes her face.
“I keep having to use my phone for light, my battery won’t last long now. I’m just making this recording in case anyone finds it. I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, I love you, Leslie, I love you. Oh, God. Casey’s family, I’m so sorry I left him, I’m so sorry. We never should have come down here!”
Julia stops and listens again. The sound of tapping is still distant but registers as closer according to audio analysis.
“They keep coming! I don’t know what they are, I don’t know if they’re-, a part of this place or if they just-, infest it, like some kind of parasites, but they keep coming no matter how far I go. I think they’re-, I think the tapping is like some kind of bat-thing, I think they do it to hunt. I have to go, I’m sorry, I love you all, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
CLIP THIRTEEN
The contents of this final clip are the source of the most fierce debate to surround the ‘Bunker’ video. Given the poor lighting and quality of the recording, without enhancement as it appeared when first released, the video is only a brief jumble of shadows and then a long stretch where nothing happens.
When enhanced by several different sources, in a combination of both watching and viewing frame by frame, the following appears to be seen:
Blackness, something blocks the camera. But there is a sense of motion, and what sounds like movement picked up by the phone’s microphone. It then sounds as if the phone is placed down on a hard surface.
There is a brief shot of a hand pulling away from the camera. The clearest frame appears to show claws growing from the ends of the fingers. Most believe the shape of the claws indicate that these are not claws but scalpel blades that had been inserted into the hand’s fingertips. Some enhancements appear to show dark liquid, possibly blood, on the fingers, as if the implants are still fresh.
The light in whatever room the camera is facing is exceedingly poor and the camera struggles to find a point of focus. A doorway and window can be seen across the room, looking out on a hallway. The only source of light comes from some point down the hallway to the right of screen but it is distant and flickering. Some visual clues indicate this might be part of the ‘hospital’ that Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher passed through in CLIP NINE or a similar area.
A person stands briefly in front of the doorway. They seem to stare directly into the camera. They have been nicknamed, among other things, VENGEANCE. The figure, a woman, appears to be wearing a featureless black mask, black pants and a small black top similar to what was seen worn by the bunker inhabitants in other clips, or, debatably, could match some of the workout clothing worn by Julia Noah. Large spikes, like kitchen knives, jut from their elbows and shoulders and potentially their hips, seen mostly in silhouette.
Vengeance turns and walks quickly out of the room. They are seen briefly but not clearly in the window to the right of the doorway. Close audio analysis has picked up an irregular ‘ticking’ sound that starts shortly after they disappear from frame, like bits of metal being tapped against metal. The camera continues to record the empty room for another two minutes and eight seconds before it suddenly slips and falls over. It records a patch of ceiling for several more seconds before cutting out.
******
This recording was uploaded to various video sharing sites on March 13th, three weeks after the apparent disappearances of Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher. It was widely considered to be a hoax or viral advertising for an upcoming horror movie or series but no one has yet claimed responsibility for the video or its posting.
Independent reports from other urban explorers, and from the current owners of Peter Deguara’s former home, confirm there is a room below the house that looks identical to one the one where Julia and Casey begin their journey - except there is no metal hatch set into the floor, and therefore no ladder and no bunker. No locations have been positively identified to match any of the rooms seen once the pair enter the bunker.
The investigation into Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher’s disappearances have failed to uncover any evidence as to what happened to the pair, or their current location.
For 2022, I’ve been wanting to write more ‘creature features’ and generally improve my short story writing. My partner got me a Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual for my birthday so I came up with the idea of writing a story every week based on a different creature from that. This week’s inspiration was 'Hook Horror'.
More in this series is on my website, accessible through my profile if you're interested!
2022.09.12 00:40 monkeymutilation Bunker
CLIP ONE
A young man preens for the camera, standing in a shady, tree-filled area that runs behind a row of houses. This is CASEY GALLAGHER, 19-years-old, tall, lean build with dark hair, wearing jeans and a black hoodie. The area has been identified as a nature strip only a few minutes’ walk from the home of PETER DEGUARA, currently serving 15-20 years in prison on drug-related charges.
“This is insane, this is so stupid,” someone, holding the camera, says. The voice is that of JULIA NOAH, a longtime friend of Casey and aspiring social media influencer.
“This is a great idea!” Casey says.
“Explain where we’re going for the camera.”
“Okay, back when I was in high school there was this house I used to walk past every day. You couldn’t see anything happening inside, it was like this big compound. Turns out, last week, this place got raided and the guy that lives there is some kind of drug kingpin! There were cop cars and even a helicopter flying over the neighbourhood, and everything.”
“So, what’s that got to do with us?
“Rumour is that this guy had some kind of bunker in his basement, like a panic room, but he didn’t get to it in time. It might have even been where he was keeping his drugs, I don’t know. Anyway, my idea is that we break in there and find the entrance to this bunker. We record us going down but then we put up a teaser and say, if you want the full video we need a thousand likes. Or ten thousand, or a million! It doesn’t matter, it’ll go viral for sure.”
It is worth noting a study of Casey’s social media history shows him posting on several internet forums and groups relating to the interest of ‘Urban Exploration’.
“And what about the police?”
“I already climbed over the wall and had a look around, I just didn’t go inside. There’s no police, no cameras, it’ll be fine!”
“Okay, I’m definitely going to have to edit some of that.”
Julia manhandles the phone she’s using to record. There’s a brief glance of trees and the side of her face before the clip ends.
CLIP TWO
A blurry shot of Peter Deguara’s house, taken from a distance. It is a white mansion surrounded by solid, white walls. The shot slips in and out of focus several times before ending.
CLIP THREE
Casey grips the top of the wall surrounding Peter Deguara’s mansion and pulls himself up. He climbs over and disappears.
“I’m okay!”
“Hold this!”
Julia rests her phone, facing upward, on top of the wall. There are several seconds of blue sky on the recording before Casey picks the phone up. He directs it back at the wall as Julia easily pulls herself over. Julia is tall and athletic with long, red hair and is wearing workout clothing. A quick scan of Julia’s social media feeds reveal mostly ‘fitspiration’ and content relating to diet and exercise.
“Wow, check this place out!” Julia says.
Casey scans across the backyard. Manicured gardens surround a large pool in the centre of the yard. Marble statues at either end of the pool depict tigers in mid-leap. Several independent sources have confirmed this is Peter Deguara’s backyard or indistinguishable from it.
“Subtle, right? Drug kingpin? Who could have guessed?” Casey says from behind the camera.
“Here, give it,” Julia says.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it. You want to be the one on camera, right?”
“Do I? This is totally illegal.”
“Filming this crime spree is the best idea we’ve ever had!”
Julia and Casey approach the rear of the house, which again matches descriptions of Peter Deguara’s home in every respect. To one end of a row of floor to ceiling windows is a broken panel covered with police tape and a piece of plywood. According to police reports, this panel was broken during Peter Deguara’s arrest.
“I saw this yesterday. This is how we get inside,” Casey says, as Julia bends over to inspect the plywood.
CLIP FOUR
Julia stands in the middle of a concrete room lit by fluorescent lighting. There is shelving built into the walls but nothing is being stored on them. The ceiling is low and Julia hunches forward, looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t believe this,” Julia says.
“This is perfect, this is exactly what will get people in!” Casey says from behind the camera. “Go on, do it!”
“Okay, okay. So we let ourselves into this house owned by a drug lord who was recently-, hang on, let me start again. So, we’re in this house owned by a recently arrested, bigtime drug dealer. Rumour was there was some kind of bunker under the house where he might have stored drugs.”
Casey sweeps the camera around to take in the emptiness of the room. A set of stairs can be glimpsed briefly behind him.
“Obviously we got here and it’s like, oh, that’s it? There’s nothing here? But then we found this.”
Julia gestures and Casey moves around her to physically zoom in on a metal hatch inset in the floor. It looks heavy and flakes of rust cling to the edges. There’s a latch for a padlock but no lock attached. Casey holds for several seconds before straightening up. The camera continues to point at the ground.
“Okay, so then we put, you know, like and subscribe! Ten thousand likes and we post the thing!” Casey says.
“We don’t even know if there’s anything down there.”
“Well, that’s what we’re about to find out. And it doesn’t matter, unless it’s a total, total bust this will definitely go viral!”
“I don’t know if I want to go down there.”
“Come on, it’s-,” the audio and video abruptly cut out.
CLIP FIVE
The camera descends rung by rung down a rusty ladder. The only light appears to be coming from the phone itself and a second light lower down. Julia appears to be holding the camera again. The top of Casey’s head can be glimpsed below.
“Seriously, can you see the bottom? I can’t see the bottom,” Julia says.
“Hang on. Okay, I’m at the bottom now!”
Julia climbs the rest of the way. Casey is holding another phone now, using it as a flashlight. Despite both lights, little detail can be made out of the blackness surrounding them.
“Oh, my God, Casey, I don’t like this!”
“Hold on.”
Casey finds a doorway and stumbles through it. After a few seconds, lights flicker to life overhead. Julia moves toward Casey, shutting off the light on her phone. The area where the ladder deposited them seems to be nothing but a small chamber, painted black.
“Oh, yes, yeah, this is perfect!” Casey says. “This is definitely what they were talking about!”
Julia pans across another room, not unlike the basement where they were seen in the last clip. This room is larger and better lit with a higher ceiling. Casey points excitedly to another doorway diagonally across the room, leading deeper into some kind of bunker.
“Look at this! Come on, this is crazy! It’s really a bunker, like, one of those old nuclear shelters! Maybe the house was built on top of it?”
“It looks too new.”
“Come on, let’s go!”
“This isn’t setting the right tone, you know. It’s supposed to be super creepy, not you being excited.”
“We’ll take out our voices and put in some creepy music, don’t worry about it! We’ll add some text to explain what’s happening.”
Julia follows Casey deeper into the bunker. Several doorways branch off a short hallway. The rooms look clean but are completely empty, no furnishings or facilities.
“Oh, oh, I don’t believe this. Look at this!” Casey says.
At the end of the hallway, tucked behind a slight turn, is a metal door. It looks older than the rest of the bunker, dull, flaked with rust, with a latch but no padlock.
“It keeps going!”
Behind the camera, Julia sounds hesitant. “Case, I don’t know.”
“Come on, this is amazing! We’ve just got to look!”
Casey cranks the handle open with a rusty squeal. Julia keeps the camera pointed at the doorway as it opens. Behind the door is a dark hallway that must be close to twenty metres long. At the far end is another doorway, fully lit. What happens in this brief second is the topic of considerable online debate. In slow motion, zooming in on the footage, a distorted figure appears to stand briefly in the doorway before sprinting sideways and out of sight. The figure looks humanoid with overly long, thin arms. This moment is indistinct and very brief. Neither Julia nor Casey react in any way to the figure, suggesting they failed to spot them.
“Oh, no,” Julia says.
“Come on!”
“What if we get trapped down here?”
“We’re not going to get trapped! Come on, think of how many views this is going to get!”
Julia and Casey continue down the hallway. Julia can be heard breathing heavily behind the camera. The hallway is unlit and seems to be made of concrete but efforts have been made to tile it in places. Rusty pipes of unknown purposes run across the ceiling. Only through considerable audio analysis can several tapping noises be ‘heard’ at this point in the video.
“Did you hear that?” Julia asks.
“Hear what?”
“Like a knocking sound. Like someone knocking on something! What if there’s someone down here?”
“There’s no one down here, the police would have checked it out. It was probably the pipes or something.”
Julia and Casey reach the end of the hallway without incident. The next area contains another short hallway with open rooms on both sides resembling storage units. At one point, Julia hands the camera back to Casey.
“This place is huge. Maybe it wasn’t a private bunker at all. Maybe it was some kind of government thing,” Casey says.
Another doorway at the end of the hallways leads into absolute blackness. Casey, now holding the camera, moves inside and gropes along the wall for a lightswitch. With an audible hum, more lights gradually illuminate the room over several seconds.
“Holy shit, no way,” Casey says.
Casey scans the camera across what looks to be a false outdoor area. Fake plastic grass forms a lawn underfoot. Green, rolling hills and blue skies are painted on the concrete walls surrounding the ‘yard’. Some very old fashioned lawn furniture is set up on the far side of the ‘lawn’. To the right of screen, what looks like the side of a house separates the yard from another ‘inside’.
“This is incredible,” Casey says.
“It looks like a daycare, with all these paintings on the walls.” Julia points out birds and butterflies flying over the hills on the murals.
“I guess it’s to make it feel bigger, if people had to spend years down here.”
“How could this all be abandoned?”
“It’s got to be some kind of government place, and the drug guy bought it along with his property.”
“How big is it?”
The video cuts out here.
CLIP SIX
Casey holds the camera as he moves from room to room in the bunker’s fake house. It is furnished with old beds, and a couch and armchairs that look as if they’re from the Fifties. A boxy, wood-panelled television sits at the head of the living room. In the kitchen is an old refrigerator and stove, cabinets, table and chairs. There is, however, no artwork or photos or any signs of life.
“It looks like one of those houses, you know, they used to blow up in nuclear bomb tests,” Casey says. “Imagine how creepy it would be if there was a bunch of mannequins or whatever sitting around the living room.”
“It’s creepy enough as it is!” Julia says from behind him. “Did you hear that? Oh, my God, did you hear that?”
It is worth noting nothing has been picked up here by the audio. It is possible the phone’s microphone simply wasn’t powerful enough.
“Hear what?”
“A knocking! I thought I heard a knocking sound.”
“I didn’t hear anything. Check this out, this place just keeps going!”
Casey reaches what appears to be the front rooms of the ‘house’. Windows show painted scenes of a false outside. At the end of a short corridor Casey comes across another heavy door. His hand comes into frame, reaching out to open it.
“Case, don’t! I’m telling you I heard something.”
“Jules, think of the views! This place is crazy!”
Casey opens the door. Beyond the threshold is complete and utter blackness. Casey hovers in the doorway. Suddenly, with a low bang that makes the camera jump, a set of lights power on overheard. Immediately outside the doorway is another fake lawn bordered by a white picket fence. More lights come on, far overheard, in a sequence moving away from the house. They reveal a cavernous warehouse. Rafters cross the roof far overhead, above towering metal shelves. The shelves appear totally empty but there are dozens of them.
“Are you seeing this?” Casey says.
“It’s huge, it’s like the size of a football stadium. Case, how? How is this all underground and we don’t even know about it?”
“This is government, this is definitely government. I don’t think this place could have possibly just been bought by some guy, something else must be going on.”
Something makes a distinct noise, like a knock. It is clearly picked up this time by the phone’s microphone. The warehouse remains largely dark in spite of the lights overhead. The sound is similar to someone rapping a metal bar against metal shelving. It happens again, and again.
“What is that? Something’s down here!” Julia hisses.
“I don’t know, it might just be the electricity.”
“We have to go back, Case!”
“But look at this place!”
“No, no way! I don’t care anymore, no one even knows we’re down here! I’m going back with or without you. Maybe, maybe, we come back with more people, some supplies, I don’t know, but I’m not staying down here right now.”
“Okay, okay, we’ll go back.”
CLIP SEVEN
“This is impossible!” Julia says.
“It’s-, we got turned around.”
The camera moves too fast, in surroundings that are too dark, to make out where they are for several seconds. As it settles, Julia and Casey can be seen in the long, dark hallway from earlier or one that looks just like it. Julia holds the camera, with its flashlight illuminated. Casey feels along the walls as if looking for something.
“It moved! This place changed!” Julia says.
“It can’t have changed, not really. Maybe we missed something?”
“This is the way we came! This hallway is the same but the first rooms, and the ladder, are gone!”
“No, it can’t be.”
“We still don’t have any phone reception.”
“Well, of course not. I mean, we are underground.”
They backtrack to the area with the empty storage rooms and look around. Another doorway leads into a large, dark room but it is clearly not the same as the part of the complex where they walked through originally.
“We missed something,” Casey says. “Maybe, maybe there’s more automated systems, like those lights that came on. Maybe the door is hidden and it automatically slid closed.”
“It was right here, look at the video!”
The phone is fumbled and the video abruptly stops.
CLIP EIGHT
Julia and Casey move through another enormous and windowless space, this one filled with towering machines that resemble hydroelectric generators. The camera is being used as a flashlight but the room is dark and its overall dimensions and total contents remains indistinct throughout. A low level hum persists across the entirety of the recording.
“If you’re watching this, we came down into this crazy bunker,” Julia says, apparently addressing the camera. “We went exploring but when we came back the way out had changed into this room, here.”
“These machines look like generators or something,” Casey says. “But I don’t think they’re turned on.”
“What is that humming noise then?”
“I’m not sure, maybe some kind of standby mode? It kind of sounds further away.”
Julia and Casey reach the far side of the room, and a large window. Inside, through the glare of the flashlight, the camera can make out panels covered in dials and switches and meters, all abandoned. As Julia scans the window, a knocking sound is picked up clearly by the phone. Julia jumps and whips around to scan the nearest machinery.
“Did you hear that? Did you hear that?” Julia says.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard it.”
Nothing can be seen as Julia sweeps the camera across the room. The sound comes again of metal tapping against metal as if someone is knocking against one of the pieces of machinery.
“It’s in the room! Someone is following us!”
“No, it’s-, I don’t know what it is but there’s no one down here!”
“You don’t know! There’s someone following us!”
“Come on.”
The pair move along the wall until they come across a pair of swinging doors. They hurry into another hallway, this one with larger rooms, possibly locker rooms, offices, meeting rooms, etc. Julia sweeps the camera from side to side.
“If we keep going, there’s got to be another exit,” Casey says.
“There’s got to be? Why?”
“Because there’s got to be!”
The two of them reach what looks like some kind of dormitory. Around two dozen cots line the walls, unmade. Julia and Casey hurry past them to another set of doors.
“This has got to be government, got to be. Even if it was abandoned, they built it down here to hold people during the Cold War or something,” Casey says.
Suddenly, Julia screams. The camera whirls around in a blur and settles on the hallway behind them. A humanoid figure appears clearly in the doorway. They are shirtless with a black mask covering their face. From this perspective, their arms cannot be fully seen and details are hard to make out but this is almost certainly the individual known as HOOK HANDS who appears more clearly in CLIP ELEVEN.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Julia screams.
The figure lingers for a few moments more and then slips slowly back into the corridor. Something can be heard knocking against the walls.
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Julia says to Casey.
“Yeah, uh, yeah. Maybe they could help us?”
“They don’t want to help us, Casey! They were holding a knife or something! Oh, my God, we’re going to die down here!”
CLIP NINE
Julia and Casey move through another area resembling an abandoned hospital or laboratory. The walls, floor and ceiling are a mixture of concrete and tiles and there is no suggestion of natural light, only weak fluorescents. Patches of black mould grow across the walls and ceiling. Casey moves ahead of Julia, who is still holding the camera.
“Okay, I’ve got the video, I’m recording,” Julia says.
“I think we’ve found something. I still don’t know what this place is but I think we’ve found something.”
Through another window, the camera scans a room full of medical equipment. Coffin-shaped pods rest across the room, four of them in total. In spite of considerable research and debate, no recognised purpose or manufacturer of these pods has been uncovered. Tables cluttered with surgical tools are gathered around the pods.
“Is that blood? It looks like really, really old blood,” Casey says.
Casey points to black stains on some of the trays of surgical tools, and on the sides of the pods. More black mould grows around the bases of the pods and tables.
“Case, we have to go! We have to go, I’m stopping this for the battery.”
CLIP TEN
The camera’s flashlight bounces off concrete steps as whoever is holding the camera climbs and climbs. They reach a platform, turn, and continue climbing. Casey can be heard breathing hard. This goes on for over a minute with nothing else of note happening.
“We found these stairs,” Julia says finally, addressing the recording again. “And we thought there’d be a way out but we’ve been climbing and climbing and I still don’t have signal. I don’t know what we’re going to do, and I keep hearing it. I keep hearing the knocking on the walls.”
CLIP ELEVEN
“It’s a wall! It’s a fucking wall!” Casey howls.
The video seems to be in the same stairwell, on the topmost platform. Casey runs his hands across walls that appear to be made of solid cinder blocks, with no doors or other exits in view.
“There’s got to be something here! There’s got to be a hidden door or something!”
“This place isn’t right! We just climbed like thirty stories! How far did we come down that ladder? Three stories at most? We should be way above ground right now but I still don’t have a signal on my phone.”
“Maybe we came up inside a hill, and this entrance was bricked up? Or maybe we’re inside, like, the shell of a fake building, that’s been shielded.” Case hammers his hands against one wall. “Hello? Can anyone hear us? Hello?”
“It’s this place, Case! I’m telling you, the place is changing around us!”
“That’s impossible, this is just some, abandoned, fucked up government place with some homeless people living in it or something. There’s got to be another way out.”
The camera points at the floor for another minute and a half. Casey apparently moves around, feeling for a gap and yelling.
“What do we do now? Just go back down?” Julia asks.
“I guess we don’t have a choice, Jules. Fuck! We’ll find our way out eventually, we have to.”
“There’s someone down there, I heard them!”
“If they’re still following us, I don’t know, they backed off before.”
“I’m going to keep recording.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Casey leads the way again, using his phone as a flashlight. He pays close attention to the walls as if still searching for a hidden door or control. Julia follows, filming him from behind. They quickly descend eight levels with no sign of doors or signage of any kind.
“Oh, shit! Shit!” Casey stops and recoils.
“Oh, God!”
Seen clearly in the beams of their phone flashlights is a humanoid figure who has been nicknamed HOOK HANDS. Male, muscular, extremely pale, he is shirtless and wearing black pants, no shoes, and a featureless black hood. Both of Hook Hands’ arms appear to have been amputated below the elbows. Large hooks emerge from the stumps. Based on video analysis, these hooks appear to be permanently fixed into the stumps for so long that skin has grown back over their bases, rather than being attached like prosthetics.
“Oh, what the fuck? What are you, man?” Casey asks.
Hook Hands appears to regard them for a moment. There are no eye or mouth holes in his mask. He taps one hook against the stairwell’s metal railing, making a ringing sound that echoes through the concrete passage.
“Go away!” Julia screams. “Go away!”
Hook Hands doesn’t react. Julia and Casey back away.
“What are we going to do?” Julia asks.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Casey says. “Jules, Jules, I’m going to hit him. When I do it, you run! Run past him and keep running!”
“What about you?”
“I’m just going to-, I’m just going to knock him down and come after you. Now, go!”
Casey barrels forward, down the steps, and tackles Hook Hands around the shoulders. He manages to avoid the man’s weapons. The next few seconds are too chaotic to make out even in frame by frame analysis. Holding the camera, Julia runs down the stairs, past Casey and Hook Hands, and down the next flight of stairs. Here, however, she hesitates and goes back. Casey appears to be struggling with Hook Hands. Julia joins in, although her actions are difficult to make out, swinging and kicking. As the shot steadies, Julia and Casey can both be seen on their feet, moving down the steps away from Hook Hands.
“Hurry!” Julia says.
The next ten seconds are again chaotic and can only be made out frame by frame, but something clearly hits Casey from behind. One of Hook Hands’ hooks appears over Casey’s shoulder and buries itself in his chest. He drops his phone and is yanked backward.
“Case!” Julia yells.
“Jules!”
Casey reaches for her but Hook Hands’ second hook appears and buries itself in the side of his throat. Spitting blood, Casey is pulled backward into darkness.
“Oh, my God! Oh, God!”
Julia spins and continues to run. Her phone light bounces off the walls. She makes it down several levels but then clearly reacts to hearing or seeing something below. She stops, breathing hard, and more tapping and knocking can be heard.
“Oh, God.”
Julia turns the camera back but only thumping can be heard behind her. Cautiously, she keeps going down the steps. After another couple of levels, two more humanoid figures can be seen on one of the platforms below. Both appear similar to Hook Hands but not identical. Male, muscular, pale, and wearing hoods and pants but no shirts. These two have been nicknamed KNIFE HAND and SPIKE. Knife Hand has, as the name suggests, had his right arm removed below the elbow and replaced by a large blade. The other man appears to have multiple spikes, at least a dozen, inserted into the flesh of his arms, chest, and legs, so that they bristle at various angles. Knife Hand taps his blade against the railing.
“Oh, what the fuck?”
Julia turns to bring into view a dark doorway set into one wall of the stairwell. In the distance, down a dark hallway, fluorescent lighting flickers. Based on analysis of the video, frame by frame, this doorway was not present in the stairwell until this moment.
“This wasn’t here! This wasn’t here a second ago, I swear it! I swear to God!”
Julia moves into the hallway, hurrying away from the stairs. Eventually, the camera is turned back. Knife Hand and Spike can vaguely be discerned in the doorway. Julia turns the light off and keeps moving for another minute, nothing appearing on the recording except some distant tapping and the sound of Julia’s movements.
“This wasn’t here! There’s something wrong with this place, it’s alive!”
The video goes on for another minute and eleven seconds with nothing of significance before cutting off. Frame by frame analysis fails to reveal any more clues as to Julia’s location.
CLIP TWELVE
The camera points backward at Julia’s face. Little can be seen of her surroundings. The wall behind her appears to be concrete and a weak light shines on the right side of her face. Throughout the recording, taps and knocks can be heard distantly on the audio.
“It’s been about an hour since I lost Case. Oh, my God, it’s only, like, one o’clock out there. I’ve only been in here for like two hours. It just keeps going and going. I’ve tried to go in as straight a line as possible, it doesn’t stop, it doesn’t repeat, it just goes on and on!”
Julia stops and listens. Sniffling, she wipes her face.
“I keep having to use my phone for light, my battery won’t last long now. I’m just making this recording in case anyone finds it. I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, I love you, Leslie, I love you. Oh, God. Casey’s family, I’m so sorry I left him, I’m so sorry. We never should have come down here!”
Julia stops and listens again. The sound of tapping is still distant but registers as closer according to audio analysis.
“They keep coming! I don’t know what they are, I don’t know if they’re-, a part of this place or if they just-, infest it, like some kind of parasites, but they keep coming no matter how far I go. I think they’re-, I think the tapping is like some kind of bat-thing, I think they do it to hunt. I have to go, I’m sorry, I love you all, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
CLIP THIRTEEN
The contents of this final clip are the source of the most fierce debate to surround the ‘Bunker’ video. Given the poor lighting and quality of the recording, without enhancement as it appeared when first released, the video is only a brief jumble of shadows and then a long stretch where nothing happens.
When enhanced by several different sources, in a combination of both watching and viewing frame by frame, the following appears to be seen:
Blackness, something blocks the camera. But there is a sense of motion, and what sounds like movement picked up by the phone’s microphone. It then sounds as if the phone is placed down on a hard surface.
There is a brief shot of a hand pulling away from the camera. The clearest frame appears to show claws growing from the ends of the fingers. Most believe the shape of the claws indicate that these are not claws but scalpel blades that had been inserted into the hand’s fingertips. Some enhancements appear to show dark liquid, possibly blood, on the fingers, as if the implants are still fresh.
The light in whatever room the camera is facing is exceedingly poor and the camera struggles to find a point of focus. A doorway and window can be seen across the room, looking out on a hallway. The only source of light comes from some point down the hallway to the right of screen but it is distant and flickering. Some visual clues indicate this might be part of the ‘hospital’ that Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher passed through in CLIP NINE or a similar area.
A person stands briefly in front of the doorway. They seem to stare directly into the camera. They have been nicknamed, among other things, VENGEANCE. The figure, a woman, appears to be wearing a featureless black mask, black pants and a small black top similar to what was seen worn by the bunker inhabitants in other clips, or, debatably, could match some of the workout clothing worn by Julia Noah. Large spikes, like kitchen knives, jut from their elbows and shoulders and potentially their hips, seen mostly in silhouette.
Vengeance turns and walks quickly out of the room. They are seen briefly but not clearly in the window to the right of the doorway. Close audio analysis has picked up an irregular ‘ticking’ sound that starts shortly after they disappear from frame, like bits of metal being tapped against metal. The camera continues to record the empty room for another two minutes and eight seconds before it suddenly slips and falls over. It records a patch of ceiling for several more seconds before cutting out.
******
This recording was uploaded to various video sharing sites on March 13th, three weeks after the apparent disappearances of Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher. It was widely considered to be a hoax or viral advertising for an upcoming horror movie or series but no one has yet claimed responsibility for the video or its posting.
Independent reports from other urban explorers, and from the current owners of Peter Deguara’s former home, confirm there is a room below the house that looks identical to one the one where Julia and Casey begin their journey - except there is no metal hatch set into the floor, and therefore no ladder and no bunker. No locations have been positively identified to match any of the rooms seen once the pair enter the bunker.
The investigation into Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher’s disappearances have failed to uncover any evidence as to what happened to the pair, or their current location.
For 2022, I’ve been wanting to write more ‘creature features’ and generally improve my short story writing. My partner got me a Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual for my birthday so I came up with the idea of writing a story every week based on a different creature from that. This week’s inspiration was 'Hook Horror'.
More in this series is on my website, accessible through my profile if you're interested!
submitted by monkeymutilation to WritersOfHorror [link] [comments]
A young man preens for the camera, standing in a shady, tree-filled area that runs behind a row of houses. This is CASEY GALLAGHER, 19-years-old, tall, lean build with dark hair, wearing jeans and a black hoodie. The area has been identified as a nature strip only a few minutes’ walk from the home of PETER DEGUARA, currently serving 15-20 years in prison on drug-related charges.
“This is insane, this is so stupid,” someone, holding the camera, says. The voice is that of JULIA NOAH, a longtime friend of Casey and aspiring social media influencer.
“This is a great idea!” Casey says.
“Explain where we’re going for the camera.”
“Okay, back when I was in high school there was this house I used to walk past every day. You couldn’t see anything happening inside, it was like this big compound. Turns out, last week, this place got raided and the guy that lives there is some kind of drug kingpin! There were cop cars and even a helicopter flying over the neighbourhood, and everything.”
“So, what’s that got to do with us?
“Rumour is that this guy had some kind of bunker in his basement, like a panic room, but he didn’t get to it in time. It might have even been where he was keeping his drugs, I don’t know. Anyway, my idea is that we break in there and find the entrance to this bunker. We record us going down but then we put up a teaser and say, if you want the full video we need a thousand likes. Or ten thousand, or a million! It doesn’t matter, it’ll go viral for sure.”
It is worth noting a study of Casey’s social media history shows him posting on several internet forums and groups relating to the interest of ‘Urban Exploration’.
“And what about the police?”
“I already climbed over the wall and had a look around, I just didn’t go inside. There’s no police, no cameras, it’ll be fine!”
“Okay, I’m definitely going to have to edit some of that.”
Julia manhandles the phone she’s using to record. There’s a brief glance of trees and the side of her face before the clip ends.
CLIP TWO
A blurry shot of Peter Deguara’s house, taken from a distance. It is a white mansion surrounded by solid, white walls. The shot slips in and out of focus several times before ending.
CLIP THREE
Casey grips the top of the wall surrounding Peter Deguara’s mansion and pulls himself up. He climbs over and disappears.
“I’m okay!”
“Hold this!”
Julia rests her phone, facing upward, on top of the wall. There are several seconds of blue sky on the recording before Casey picks the phone up. He directs it back at the wall as Julia easily pulls herself over. Julia is tall and athletic with long, red hair and is wearing workout clothing. A quick scan of Julia’s social media feeds reveal mostly ‘fitspiration’ and content relating to diet and exercise.
“Wow, check this place out!” Julia says.
Casey scans across the backyard. Manicured gardens surround a large pool in the centre of the yard. Marble statues at either end of the pool depict tigers in mid-leap. Several independent sources have confirmed this is Peter Deguara’s backyard or indistinguishable from it.
“Subtle, right? Drug kingpin? Who could have guessed?” Casey says from behind the camera.
“Here, give it,” Julia says.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it. You want to be the one on camera, right?”
“Do I? This is totally illegal.”
“Filming this crime spree is the best idea we’ve ever had!”
Julia and Casey approach the rear of the house, which again matches descriptions of Peter Deguara’s home in every respect. To one end of a row of floor to ceiling windows is a broken panel covered with police tape and a piece of plywood. According to police reports, this panel was broken during Peter Deguara’s arrest.
“I saw this yesterday. This is how we get inside,” Casey says, as Julia bends over to inspect the plywood.
CLIP FOUR
Julia stands in the middle of a concrete room lit by fluorescent lighting. There is shelving built into the walls but nothing is being stored on them. The ceiling is low and Julia hunches forward, looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t believe this,” Julia says.
“This is perfect, this is exactly what will get people in!” Casey says from behind the camera. “Go on, do it!”
“Okay, okay. So we let ourselves into this house owned by a drug lord who was recently-, hang on, let me start again. So, we’re in this house owned by a recently arrested, bigtime drug dealer. Rumour was there was some kind of bunker under the house where he might have stored drugs.”
Casey sweeps the camera around to take in the emptiness of the room. A set of stairs can be glimpsed briefly behind him.
“Obviously we got here and it’s like, oh, that’s it? There’s nothing here? But then we found this.”
Julia gestures and Casey moves around her to physically zoom in on a metal hatch inset in the floor. It looks heavy and flakes of rust cling to the edges. There’s a latch for a padlock but no lock attached. Casey holds for several seconds before straightening up. The camera continues to point at the ground.
“Okay, so then we put, you know, like and subscribe! Ten thousand likes and we post the thing!” Casey says.
“We don’t even know if there’s anything down there.”
“Well, that’s what we’re about to find out. And it doesn’t matter, unless it’s a total, total bust this will definitely go viral!”
“I don’t know if I want to go down there.”
“Come on, it’s-,” the audio and video abruptly cut out.
CLIP FIVE
The camera descends rung by rung down a rusty ladder. The only light appears to be coming from the phone itself and a second light lower down. Julia appears to be holding the camera again. The top of Casey’s head can be glimpsed below.
“Seriously, can you see the bottom? I can’t see the bottom,” Julia says.
“Hang on. Okay, I’m at the bottom now!”
Julia climbs the rest of the way. Casey is holding another phone now, using it as a flashlight. Despite both lights, little detail can be made out of the blackness surrounding them.
“Oh, my God, Casey, I don’t like this!”
“Hold on.”
Casey finds a doorway and stumbles through it. After a few seconds, lights flicker to life overhead. Julia moves toward Casey, shutting off the light on her phone. The area where the ladder deposited them seems to be nothing but a small chamber, painted black.
“Oh, yes, yeah, this is perfect!” Casey says. “This is definitely what they were talking about!”
Julia pans across another room, not unlike the basement where they were seen in the last clip. This room is larger and better lit with a higher ceiling. Casey points excitedly to another doorway diagonally across the room, leading deeper into some kind of bunker.
“Look at this! Come on, this is crazy! It’s really a bunker, like, one of those old nuclear shelters! Maybe the house was built on top of it?”
“It looks too new.”
“Come on, let’s go!”
“This isn’t setting the right tone, you know. It’s supposed to be super creepy, not you being excited.”
“We’ll take out our voices and put in some creepy music, don’t worry about it! We’ll add some text to explain what’s happening.”
Julia follows Casey deeper into the bunker. Several doorways branch off a short hallway. The rooms look clean but are completely empty, no furnishings or facilities.
“Oh, oh, I don’t believe this. Look at this!” Casey says.
At the end of the hallway, tucked behind a slight turn, is a metal door. It looks older than the rest of the bunker, dull, flaked with rust, with a latch but no padlock.
“It keeps going!”
Behind the camera, Julia sounds hesitant. “Case, I don’t know.”
“Come on, this is amazing! We’ve just got to look!”
Casey cranks the handle open with a rusty squeal. Julia keeps the camera pointed at the doorway as it opens. Behind the door is a dark hallway that must be close to twenty metres long. At the far end is another doorway, fully lit. What happens in this brief second is the topic of considerable online debate. In slow motion, zooming in on the footage, a distorted figure appears to stand briefly in the doorway before sprinting sideways and out of sight. The figure looks humanoid with overly long, thin arms. This moment is indistinct and very brief. Neither Julia nor Casey react in any way to the figure, suggesting they failed to spot them.
“Oh, no,” Julia says.
“Come on!”
“What if we get trapped down here?”
“We’re not going to get trapped! Come on, think of how many views this is going to get!”
Julia and Casey continue down the hallway. Julia can be heard breathing heavily behind the camera. The hallway is unlit and seems to be made of concrete but efforts have been made to tile it in places. Rusty pipes of unknown purposes run across the ceiling. Only through considerable audio analysis can several tapping noises be ‘heard’ at this point in the video.
“Did you hear that?” Julia asks.
“Hear what?”
“Like a knocking sound. Like someone knocking on something! What if there’s someone down here?”
“There’s no one down here, the police would have checked it out. It was probably the pipes or something.”
Julia and Casey reach the end of the hallway without incident. The next area contains another short hallway with open rooms on both sides resembling storage units. At one point, Julia hands the camera back to Casey.
“This place is huge. Maybe it wasn’t a private bunker at all. Maybe it was some kind of government thing,” Casey says.
Another doorway at the end of the hallways leads into absolute blackness. Casey, now holding the camera, moves inside and gropes along the wall for a lightswitch. With an audible hum, more lights gradually illuminate the room over several seconds.
“Holy shit, no way,” Casey says.
Casey scans the camera across what looks to be a false outdoor area. Fake plastic grass forms a lawn underfoot. Green, rolling hills and blue skies are painted on the concrete walls surrounding the ‘yard’. Some very old fashioned lawn furniture is set up on the far side of the ‘lawn’. To the right of screen, what looks like the side of a house separates the yard from another ‘inside’.
“This is incredible,” Casey says.
“It looks like a daycare, with all these paintings on the walls.” Julia points out birds and butterflies flying over the hills on the murals.
“I guess it’s to make it feel bigger, if people had to spend years down here.”
“How could this all be abandoned?”
“It’s got to be some kind of government place, and the drug guy bought it along with his property.”
“How big is it?”
The video cuts out here.
CLIP SIX
Casey holds the camera as he moves from room to room in the bunker’s fake house. It is furnished with old beds, and a couch and armchairs that look as if they’re from the Fifties. A boxy, wood-panelled television sits at the head of the living room. In the kitchen is an old refrigerator and stove, cabinets, table and chairs. There is, however, no artwork or photos or any signs of life.
“It looks like one of those houses, you know, they used to blow up in nuclear bomb tests,” Casey says. “Imagine how creepy it would be if there was a bunch of mannequins or whatever sitting around the living room.”
“It’s creepy enough as it is!” Julia says from behind him. “Did you hear that? Oh, my God, did you hear that?”
It is worth noting nothing has been picked up here by the audio. It is possible the phone’s microphone simply wasn’t powerful enough.
“Hear what?”
“A knocking! I thought I heard a knocking sound.”
“I didn’t hear anything. Check this out, this place just keeps going!”
Casey reaches what appears to be the front rooms of the ‘house’. Windows show painted scenes of a false outside. At the end of a short corridor Casey comes across another heavy door. His hand comes into frame, reaching out to open it.
“Case, don’t! I’m telling you I heard something.”
“Jules, think of the views! This place is crazy!”
Casey opens the door. Beyond the threshold is complete and utter blackness. Casey hovers in the doorway. Suddenly, with a low bang that makes the camera jump, a set of lights power on overheard. Immediately outside the doorway is another fake lawn bordered by a white picket fence. More lights come on, far overheard, in a sequence moving away from the house. They reveal a cavernous warehouse. Rafters cross the roof far overhead, above towering metal shelves. The shelves appear totally empty but there are dozens of them.
“Are you seeing this?” Casey says.
“It’s huge, it’s like the size of a football stadium. Case, how? How is this all underground and we don’t even know about it?”
“This is government, this is definitely government. I don’t think this place could have possibly just been bought by some guy, something else must be going on.”
Something makes a distinct noise, like a knock. It is clearly picked up this time by the phone’s microphone. The warehouse remains largely dark in spite of the lights overhead. The sound is similar to someone rapping a metal bar against metal shelving. It happens again, and again.
“What is that? Something’s down here!” Julia hisses.
“I don’t know, it might just be the electricity.”
“We have to go back, Case!”
“But look at this place!”
“No, no way! I don’t care anymore, no one even knows we’re down here! I’m going back with or without you. Maybe, maybe, we come back with more people, some supplies, I don’t know, but I’m not staying down here right now.”
“Okay, okay, we’ll go back.”
CLIP SEVEN
“This is impossible!” Julia says.
“It’s-, we got turned around.”
The camera moves too fast, in surroundings that are too dark, to make out where they are for several seconds. As it settles, Julia and Casey can be seen in the long, dark hallway from earlier or one that looks just like it. Julia holds the camera, with its flashlight illuminated. Casey feels along the walls as if looking for something.
“It moved! This place changed!” Julia says.
“It can’t have changed, not really. Maybe we missed something?”
“This is the way we came! This hallway is the same but the first rooms, and the ladder, are gone!”
“No, it can’t be.”
“We still don’t have any phone reception.”
“Well, of course not. I mean, we are underground.”
They backtrack to the area with the empty storage rooms and look around. Another doorway leads into a large, dark room but it is clearly not the same as the part of the complex where they walked through originally.
“We missed something,” Casey says. “Maybe, maybe there’s more automated systems, like those lights that came on. Maybe the door is hidden and it automatically slid closed.”
“It was right here, look at the video!”
The phone is fumbled and the video abruptly stops.
CLIP EIGHT
Julia and Casey move through another enormous and windowless space, this one filled with towering machines that resemble hydroelectric generators. The camera is being used as a flashlight but the room is dark and its overall dimensions and total contents remains indistinct throughout. A low level hum persists across the entirety of the recording.
“If you’re watching this, we came down into this crazy bunker,” Julia says, apparently addressing the camera. “We went exploring but when we came back the way out had changed into this room, here.”
“These machines look like generators or something,” Casey says. “But I don’t think they’re turned on.”
“What is that humming noise then?”
“I’m not sure, maybe some kind of standby mode? It kind of sounds further away.”
Julia and Casey reach the far side of the room, and a large window. Inside, through the glare of the flashlight, the camera can make out panels covered in dials and switches and meters, all abandoned. As Julia scans the window, a knocking sound is picked up clearly by the phone. Julia jumps and whips around to scan the nearest machinery.
“Did you hear that? Did you hear that?” Julia says.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard it.”
Nothing can be seen as Julia sweeps the camera across the room. The sound comes again of metal tapping against metal as if someone is knocking against one of the pieces of machinery.
“It’s in the room! Someone is following us!”
“No, it’s-, I don’t know what it is but there’s no one down here!”
“You don’t know! There’s someone following us!”
“Come on.”
The pair move along the wall until they come across a pair of swinging doors. They hurry into another hallway, this one with larger rooms, possibly locker rooms, offices, meeting rooms, etc. Julia sweeps the camera from side to side.
“If we keep going, there’s got to be another exit,” Casey says.
“There’s got to be? Why?”
“Because there’s got to be!”
The two of them reach what looks like some kind of dormitory. Around two dozen cots line the walls, unmade. Julia and Casey hurry past them to another set of doors.
“This has got to be government, got to be. Even if it was abandoned, they built it down here to hold people during the Cold War or something,” Casey says.
Suddenly, Julia screams. The camera whirls around in a blur and settles on the hallway behind them. A humanoid figure appears clearly in the doorway. They are shirtless with a black mask covering their face. From this perspective, their arms cannot be fully seen and details are hard to make out but this is almost certainly the individual known as HOOK HANDS who appears more clearly in CLIP ELEVEN.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Julia screams.
The figure lingers for a few moments more and then slips slowly back into the corridor. Something can be heard knocking against the walls.
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Julia says to Casey.
“Yeah, uh, yeah. Maybe they could help us?”
“They don’t want to help us, Casey! They were holding a knife or something! Oh, my God, we’re going to die down here!”
CLIP NINE
Julia and Casey move through another area resembling an abandoned hospital or laboratory. The walls, floor and ceiling are a mixture of concrete and tiles and there is no suggestion of natural light, only weak fluorescents. Patches of black mould grow across the walls and ceiling. Casey moves ahead of Julia, who is still holding the camera.
“Okay, I’ve got the video, I’m recording,” Julia says.
“I think we’ve found something. I still don’t know what this place is but I think we’ve found something.”
Through another window, the camera scans a room full of medical equipment. Coffin-shaped pods rest across the room, four of them in total. In spite of considerable research and debate, no recognised purpose or manufacturer of these pods has been uncovered. Tables cluttered with surgical tools are gathered around the pods.
“Is that blood? It looks like really, really old blood,” Casey says.
Casey points to black stains on some of the trays of surgical tools, and on the sides of the pods. More black mould grows around the bases of the pods and tables.
“Case, we have to go! We have to go, I’m stopping this for the battery.”
CLIP TEN
The camera’s flashlight bounces off concrete steps as whoever is holding the camera climbs and climbs. They reach a platform, turn, and continue climbing. Casey can be heard breathing hard. This goes on for over a minute with nothing else of note happening.
“We found these stairs,” Julia says finally, addressing the recording again. “And we thought there’d be a way out but we’ve been climbing and climbing and I still don’t have signal. I don’t know what we’re going to do, and I keep hearing it. I keep hearing the knocking on the walls.”
CLIP ELEVEN
“It’s a wall! It’s a fucking wall!” Casey howls.
The video seems to be in the same stairwell, on the topmost platform. Casey runs his hands across walls that appear to be made of solid cinder blocks, with no doors or other exits in view.
“There’s got to be something here! There’s got to be a hidden door or something!”
“This place isn’t right! We just climbed like thirty stories! How far did we come down that ladder? Three stories at most? We should be way above ground right now but I still don’t have a signal on my phone.”
“Maybe we came up inside a hill, and this entrance was bricked up? Or maybe we’re inside, like, the shell of a fake building, that’s been shielded.” Case hammers his hands against one wall. “Hello? Can anyone hear us? Hello?”
“It’s this place, Case! I’m telling you, the place is changing around us!”
“That’s impossible, this is just some, abandoned, fucked up government place with some homeless people living in it or something. There’s got to be another way out.”
The camera points at the floor for another minute and a half. Casey apparently moves around, feeling for a gap and yelling.
“What do we do now? Just go back down?” Julia asks.
“I guess we don’t have a choice, Jules. Fuck! We’ll find our way out eventually, we have to.”
“There’s someone down there, I heard them!”
“If they’re still following us, I don’t know, they backed off before.”
“I’m going to keep recording.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Casey leads the way again, using his phone as a flashlight. He pays close attention to the walls as if still searching for a hidden door or control. Julia follows, filming him from behind. They quickly descend eight levels with no sign of doors or signage of any kind.
“Oh, shit! Shit!” Casey stops and recoils.
“Oh, God!”
Seen clearly in the beams of their phone flashlights is a humanoid figure who has been nicknamed HOOK HANDS. Male, muscular, extremely pale, he is shirtless and wearing black pants, no shoes, and a featureless black hood. Both of Hook Hands’ arms appear to have been amputated below the elbows. Large hooks emerge from the stumps. Based on video analysis, these hooks appear to be permanently fixed into the stumps for so long that skin has grown back over their bases, rather than being attached like prosthetics.
“Oh, what the fuck? What are you, man?” Casey asks.
Hook Hands appears to regard them for a moment. There are no eye or mouth holes in his mask. He taps one hook against the stairwell’s metal railing, making a ringing sound that echoes through the concrete passage.
“Go away!” Julia screams. “Go away!”
Hook Hands doesn’t react. Julia and Casey back away.
“What are we going to do?” Julia asks.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Casey says. “Jules, Jules, I’m going to hit him. When I do it, you run! Run past him and keep running!”
“What about you?”
“I’m just going to-, I’m just going to knock him down and come after you. Now, go!”
Casey barrels forward, down the steps, and tackles Hook Hands around the shoulders. He manages to avoid the man’s weapons. The next few seconds are too chaotic to make out even in frame by frame analysis. Holding the camera, Julia runs down the stairs, past Casey and Hook Hands, and down the next flight of stairs. Here, however, she hesitates and goes back. Casey appears to be struggling with Hook Hands. Julia joins in, although her actions are difficult to make out, swinging and kicking. As the shot steadies, Julia and Casey can both be seen on their feet, moving down the steps away from Hook Hands.
“Hurry!” Julia says.
The next ten seconds are again chaotic and can only be made out frame by frame, but something clearly hits Casey from behind. One of Hook Hands’ hooks appears over Casey’s shoulder and buries itself in his chest. He drops his phone and is yanked backward.
“Case!” Julia yells.
“Jules!”
Casey reaches for her but Hook Hands’ second hook appears and buries itself in the side of his throat. Spitting blood, Casey is pulled backward into darkness.
“Oh, my God! Oh, God!”
Julia spins and continues to run. Her phone light bounces off the walls. She makes it down several levels but then clearly reacts to hearing or seeing something below. She stops, breathing hard, and more tapping and knocking can be heard.
“Oh, God.”
Julia turns the camera back but only thumping can be heard behind her. Cautiously, she keeps going down the steps. After another couple of levels, two more humanoid figures can be seen on one of the platforms below. Both appear similar to Hook Hands but not identical. Male, muscular, pale, and wearing hoods and pants but no shirts. These two have been nicknamed KNIFE HAND and SPIKE. Knife Hand has, as the name suggests, had his right arm removed below the elbow and replaced by a large blade. The other man appears to have multiple spikes, at least a dozen, inserted into the flesh of his arms, chest, and legs, so that they bristle at various angles. Knife Hand taps his blade against the railing.
“Oh, what the fuck?”
Julia turns to bring into view a dark doorway set into one wall of the stairwell. In the distance, down a dark hallway, fluorescent lighting flickers. Based on analysis of the video, frame by frame, this doorway was not present in the stairwell until this moment.
“This wasn’t here! This wasn’t here a second ago, I swear it! I swear to God!”
Julia moves into the hallway, hurrying away from the stairs. Eventually, the camera is turned back. Knife Hand and Spike can vaguely be discerned in the doorway. Julia turns the light off and keeps moving for another minute, nothing appearing on the recording except some distant tapping and the sound of Julia’s movements.
“This wasn’t here! There’s something wrong with this place, it’s alive!”
The video goes on for another minute and eleven seconds with nothing of significance before cutting off. Frame by frame analysis fails to reveal any more clues as to Julia’s location.
CLIP TWELVE
The camera points backward at Julia’s face. Little can be seen of her surroundings. The wall behind her appears to be concrete and a weak light shines on the right side of her face. Throughout the recording, taps and knocks can be heard distantly on the audio.
“It’s been about an hour since I lost Case. Oh, my God, it’s only, like, one o’clock out there. I’ve only been in here for like two hours. It just keeps going and going. I’ve tried to go in as straight a line as possible, it doesn’t stop, it doesn’t repeat, it just goes on and on!”
Julia stops and listens. Sniffling, she wipes her face.
“I keep having to use my phone for light, my battery won’t last long now. I’m just making this recording in case anyone finds it. I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, I love you, Leslie, I love you. Oh, God. Casey’s family, I’m so sorry I left him, I’m so sorry. We never should have come down here!”
Julia stops and listens again. The sound of tapping is still distant but registers as closer according to audio analysis.
“They keep coming! I don’t know what they are, I don’t know if they’re-, a part of this place or if they just-, infest it, like some kind of parasites, but they keep coming no matter how far I go. I think they’re-, I think the tapping is like some kind of bat-thing, I think they do it to hunt. I have to go, I’m sorry, I love you all, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
CLIP THIRTEEN
The contents of this final clip are the source of the most fierce debate to surround the ‘Bunker’ video. Given the poor lighting and quality of the recording, without enhancement as it appeared when first released, the video is only a brief jumble of shadows and then a long stretch where nothing happens.
When enhanced by several different sources, in a combination of both watching and viewing frame by frame, the following appears to be seen:
Blackness, something blocks the camera. But there is a sense of motion, and what sounds like movement picked up by the phone’s microphone. It then sounds as if the phone is placed down on a hard surface.
There is a brief shot of a hand pulling away from the camera. The clearest frame appears to show claws growing from the ends of the fingers. Most believe the shape of the claws indicate that these are not claws but scalpel blades that had been inserted into the hand’s fingertips. Some enhancements appear to show dark liquid, possibly blood, on the fingers, as if the implants are still fresh.
The light in whatever room the camera is facing is exceedingly poor and the camera struggles to find a point of focus. A doorway and window can be seen across the room, looking out on a hallway. The only source of light comes from some point down the hallway to the right of screen but it is distant and flickering. Some visual clues indicate this might be part of the ‘hospital’ that Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher passed through in CLIP NINE or a similar area.
A person stands briefly in front of the doorway. They seem to stare directly into the camera. They have been nicknamed, among other things, VENGEANCE. The figure, a woman, appears to be wearing a featureless black mask, black pants and a small black top similar to what was seen worn by the bunker inhabitants in other clips, or, debatably, could match some of the workout clothing worn by Julia Noah. Large spikes, like kitchen knives, jut from their elbows and shoulders and potentially their hips, seen mostly in silhouette.
Vengeance turns and walks quickly out of the room. They are seen briefly but not clearly in the window to the right of the doorway. Close audio analysis has picked up an irregular ‘ticking’ sound that starts shortly after they disappear from frame, like bits of metal being tapped against metal. The camera continues to record the empty room for another two minutes and eight seconds before it suddenly slips and falls over. It records a patch of ceiling for several more seconds before cutting out.
******
This recording was uploaded to various video sharing sites on March 13th, three weeks after the apparent disappearances of Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher. It was widely considered to be a hoax or viral advertising for an upcoming horror movie or series but no one has yet claimed responsibility for the video or its posting.
Independent reports from other urban explorers, and from the current owners of Peter Deguara’s former home, confirm there is a room below the house that looks identical to one the one where Julia and Casey begin their journey - except there is no metal hatch set into the floor, and therefore no ladder and no bunker. No locations have been positively identified to match any of the rooms seen once the pair enter the bunker.
The investigation into Julia Noah and Casey Gallagher’s disappearances have failed to uncover any evidence as to what happened to the pair, or their current location.
For 2022, I’ve been wanting to write more ‘creature features’ and generally improve my short story writing. My partner got me a Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual for my birthday so I came up with the idea of writing a story every week based on a different creature from that. This week’s inspiration was 'Hook Horror'.
More in this series is on my website, accessible through my profile if you're interested!
2022.09.09 05:01 The_Mad_Crafter Walkers
— Date: 22-10-3015 — Location: System - Cortix, Planet - 7, Moon - 2 — Terran Walking Armored, 1st Battalion, Unit: Tyrannis, Synapse: Black, Jay
— Begin Playback —
Through the eyes of the machine, both arms rose, outstretched in front of it as all one dozen GUA-13 wrist mounted autoguns began to pour fire into the oppositions armored formation. Tanks and APCs exploded in balls of blue-green flame as the orange tracer rounds highlighted the meat-grinder-like efficiency of the guns.
“[Static], increasing power output by three percent, turn fifteen degrees and fire incendiary plasma as target designated AC-1787. Follow with straffing fire from wrist weapons to provide covering fire to friendly troops moving up from segment H-17 to I-6,” a human sounding voice says calmly despite the scene.
The response came in a deep bass voice speaking non-sensible words, followed by a digitized voice reciting code, then mechanical screeches and feral growls and roars.
KRUUUKZZZHHHK *SCREECHING* 01001000 01101001 01110000 00100000 01001101 01100001 01101100 01100110 01110101 01101110 01100011 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 HUUUR VOHT *SCREECH\*
“Yes, [Static], I am aware. Increasing power to left hip servos to compensate. Shit, incoming ordinance! Deploy flares and counter-measures!”
Explosions cloud the machine view, shards of armor and metal flying across its view as some shots hit true.
*SCREECH* [SIREN]01010011 01110100 01100001 01110100 01110101 01110011 00100000 01010010 01100101 01110000 01101111 01110010 01110100
“I’m fine…” the human voice says, clearly in pain. “Mobility lost in the left mid-torso. Fuck that hurt…engaging repair syst-incoming!”
01010000 01100001 01101001 01101110 [SIREN] 01010000 01100001 01101001 01101110 *SCREECH* 01010000 01100001 01101001 01101110 KUUUURUTZ HOR VORUN
“You and me both…[Static], engage Rampage Protocol.”
01000011 01101111 01101110 01100110 01101001 01110010 01101101 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01101101 01100001 01101110 01100100 [SCREECH]?
“You fething heard me. Crank the tunes and unleash hell. Weapons free, old friend. Unleash hell.”
[Low feral growl]
From outside the machine, music begins to blare from hull mounted speakers as the machines growls increase. Then just before the lyrics blared, the machine roared in fury.
Journey with me into the mind of a maniac Doomed to be a killer, since I came off the assembly rack Been a murderous monster With a heart full of terror I see the devil in the mirror “Weapons free! Clear to engage! KILL THEM ALL!”
[ROAR] [ROAR [ROAR] 01001011 01001001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01001011 01001001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01000100 01000101 01000001 01010100 01001000
—PAUSE PLAYBACK—
— Date: 07-03-3067 — Location: System - Jezel, Orbital Station: Federal Officers Academy
The forum was a din with muffled excited conversations.
Students from three dozen different species and twice as many empires and governments buzzed with clashing emotions and thoughts on the speaker for the course, a rare event that warranted recording drones to hover in the empty space above the assembly to preserve it for future generations. As the Attention Chime sounded, the five hundred recruits of the Federated Armed Forces stamped their feet, their hooves, drummed on their desks in respect to the High Commandant as they strode onto the stage, and went silent.
“Students of War,” the High Commandant said, looking up into the five hundred faces of the audience. “Today, you are most privileged. For only the third time since their joining into our glorious Federation, you will hear the wisdom and the truth of one of the most secretive and elite forces in the Federated Armed Services. It was these soldiers that smashed the invincible defenses of the Cortix VII Siege. It was their machines that broke the advance of the Hive Swarms at Kiggirian Ultimae. It was their power, as Apex Predators upon the battlefield, that have brought us victory in countless conflicts over the last two-and-a-half centuries, and their sacrifices that have saved untold tens of thousands over a dozen fields of battle. What you will learn from our speaker today will shape your tactics in conflicts to come, it will force you to consider how to use one of the most mighty and terrible resources of the Federated Armed Services, and realize the terrible cost of their use.”
The assembled audience stomped their feet, stamped their hooves and drummed their desks again.
“The Human you are about to meet is a veteran of thirty-eight battle campaigns, his Walker strode upon the soil of dozens of worlds both in defense of, and to attack, enemies of the Federation. He is one of only six known Walker pilots to survive the death of his Walker,” the High Commandant continued as a rhythmic sound began to faintly echo from behind the stage.
Click. Draaaag. Click. Draaaaaag. Click. Draaaaaaag.
“Students of War,” the High Commandant said, gesturing to the side of the stage. “It is my great honor to present to you, Colonel Jay Davi Black, of the First Terran Walking Armored.”
The stomping and drumming became uproarious, only to abruptly peter out as the wretch of a human limped onto the stage. An arm-crutch on his left arm supported him as his right leg dragged along, his right arm hung limply at his side, the right hand trembling with a constant tremor. His face was a mess of scars that seemingly dipped down under the rounded collar of his shirt. His left eye was cybernetic, and a number of cables from his skull were artfully tied and mananaged with ribbons to lead down the back of his jacket. This hadn’t been what the audience had been expecting; they’d been promised a hero, a god of war, a titan that smote armies with a wave of his hand.
This…this was just a ruined husk.
— Date: 13-12-3022 — Location: System - Kiggirian, Planet - 1 — Terran Walking Armored, 1st Battalion, Unit: Tyrannis, Synapse: Black, Jay
— Begin Playback —
The machines eyes looked down at the swarm of biological warriors swarming around its feet, heedless of the danger of each of the machines steps that crushed them by the hundreds as it strode forward and the enemy flowed around it like river water around a stone.
“Target at two hundred meters. Heavy warform. [Static], how you want to take this?”
[Growl] 01001001 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01101000 01100101 01100001 01100100 *SCREECH* JUURHORT FAHL NETH
“I figured. Increasing reactor power twenty-five percent, all munitions loaded.”
[Growl] 01000001 00100000 01110011 01101111 01101110 01100111 [GROWL]
“Oh? Is that so? Alright…how about…this one?”
Heavy guitar and bass riffs begin to blare before the singer comes in.
I’m ready for combat, ready for rage Haven't you heard? Luck favors the crazy I'll make you fight back, yeah how you like that? And just like that I got you Ready for combat, give me a war Tick like a time bomb, ready to roar Let me ignite that, yeah how you like that? And just like that I got you Ready for combat.
[GROWL] *SCREECH* 01001000 01110101 01101110 01110100 00100000 01101101 01110101 01110011 01101001 01100011 00100000 01100001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 01100101 01100100 [SNARL]
— PAUSE PLAYBACK —
— Date: 07-03-3067 — Location: System - Jezel, Orbital Station: Federal Officers Academy
The Colonel gave a quick wince at the memory, rubbing the side of his head before seamlessly turning to the auditorium before him.
“I know,” the Colonel said with a coughing chuckle. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Who is this wretch? How could THAT…pilot this?’”
The Colonel gestured up with his right hand, the motion making the tremor in it so obvious it could be seen from the rear-most seats of the auditorium, and a massive holo projection flickered to life overhead.
A three-hundred foot tall walking war machine charged, slamming its fists into the the thick walls of a fortress as weapon batteries opened along its shoulders and poured fire and fury into the fortification. Concrete, steel and defenders turned to slag as the massive construct wrenched its embedded hands out and tore the walls open with a shower of molten debris.
The breach of Cortix VII, one of the most iconic moments in the shared civilian and military memories of the First Terran Walking Armored.
“Or,” the wretch continued with a wave of his trembling hand. “How could this man possibly manage this?”
The image flickered and changed.
The same machine as before was being recorded from the ground, looking up at it as it punched down through the skull of a massive Hive Mind warform, its other arm crossing its body as wrist and forearm mounted weapons unleashed a storm of fire and hell to push back a second massive charging warform, a massive foot coming down to crush a lesser warform and hundreds of its subordinates as ten thousand Federal infantry charged.
The Kiggirian Ultimae Push.
“Only to end up here,” the Colonel said with a final gesture towards himself.
The image flickered, showing the same massive machine under an apocalyptic barrage of fire, both arms extended as wrists, forearms, shoulders and chest weapons seem to vomit out enough ordinance to snuff out a star. A munition hit to the hip brings the machine down to one knee, it roars in defiance and seems to fire faster and more heavily. More ordinance slams into the machine, it tries to shrug it off and keep firing, more hits, the machine roars in defiance again as cracks in its torso begins to glow with white light.
Melt down.
The struggle goes on for only a few more seconds, but it seems to stretch on for hours. The machine thrashes, lashing out with weapons fire and roaring in rage, another shell bringing it down to both knees before a final hit fractures something in its heart. The machines back bows, it screams, a tiny explosion bursts from the top of its head…and then it screams as white light consumes it in nuclear fury.
“What you just saw was the closest thing to a partner, a mate, a spouse, that I will ever have, die.”
The room was silent as the Colonel gestured, the film rewinding to the tiny explosion from the warmachines skull and zooming in to reveal a casket-like projectile begin jettisoned from the machine.
“That’s me. A human, helpless and alone, watching, feeling, the being whose very soul was bonded to mine, die.”
Click. Draaaag.
— Date: 01-09-3031 — Location: System - Heriklade, Planet - 6
[SIREN] HUURTZ VOKON 01000011 01010010 01001001 01010100 01001001 01000011 01000001 01001100 00100000 01010011 01011001 01010011 01010100 01000101 01001101 00100000 01000110 01000001 01001001 01001100 01010101 01010010 01000101 *SCREECH* [SIREN]
“I know! I know! Come on, we can fix this!”
[SIREN] 01001110 01000101 01000111 01000001 01010100 01001001 01010110 01000101 [SIREN]
“Cut the shit. I’m diverting power fro-SHIT!”
A heavy beam of plasma slams into the machines torso, both the human and machine scream in agony.
*PEACEFUL SOUNDS* 01000101 01001110 01000100 00100000 01001111 01000110 00100000 01001100 01001001 01001110 01000101 [SOFT PURR]
“No…no no no no…[Static]! Don’t you dare! No!”
Another beam slams home, both souls scream.
[PURR] 01001110 01101111 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01000110 01110010 01101001 01100101 01101110 01100100 00101110 [PURR]
“NO! [STATIC]! NO NO NO! SHIT! ABORT COMMAND AUTHORIZATIO-”
A third beam.
Blackness.
01000101 01101010 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01010011 01111001 01101110 01100001 01110000 01110011 01100101
—Pause Playback—
— Date: 07-03-3067 — Location: System - Jezel, Orbital Station: Federal Officers Academy
“The Terran Walking Armored are often seen as little more than tanks with legs,” the Colonel said, slowly moving across the stage. “But the reality is that we are nothing more than the shepherds of beautiful and terrible souls, because that is what a Walker is, Students of War. The great Walkers of Terra are not simple machines, but independent beings with wants and desires all of their own which we Synapses must manage. We must be the shepherds of wolves.”
A green light alighted in the dark of the audience, the Colonel pointing towards it.
“Our first question, excellent. Ask away recruit.”
“Colonel Black, you refer to yourself as a Synapse of the machine, rather than its pilot?”
Click. Draaaag.
“Yes,” he replied. “Walking Terran Armor is much different than many other races. The machine, you see, has its own Artificial Intelligence. Every Walker is unique, and we as Synapses act as intermediaries to what we would consider the ‘real world’ and the machine consciousness. The pilot of a Walking Armor becomes a Synapse, a part of the machine mind, but one that helps direct it. Without a Synapse, a Walking Armor would simply act on instinct and lay waste to anything it saw as a threat, the human Synapse allows for direction and cooperation. However, the bond comes with a cost.”
The Colonel gestures to himself.
“Synaptic Overload is one of the most common and accepted forms of death for Walker pilots. What the machine feels, we feel, and what a machine feels can be thousands of times more what a human nervous system can process. Most times this results in the Synapse dying along with their machine as Battle Fury overtakes them both. Hexus Ultus, the True Name of my Walker, chose to eject me before its death to spare me from its fate.”
Another green light from the audience.
“Colonel, you say your machines ‘true name’ was Hexus Ultus, but official logs name it has Tyrannis. So much so that when your engine fell, it was lauded as ‘The Fall of Tyrannis’ and was declared a Federal Mourning Day. Can you please elaborate?”
Click. Draaaaag.
“Every Walker is a unique and independent being. As such, every Walker AI has a unique and personal name with which it identifies, a name only revealed to the Synapse which is accepts. Along with this comes the Cypher for it’s own unique Machine Speak. No one, even Federal Intelligence, can decipher a Walkers Machine Speak without the cypher granted by the Walker itself. The AI communicates in a combination of binary code, code transmitted by screeching or siren-like pulses, primordial noises and empathetically transmitted emotions. While some may be able to decipher the very basics of Machine Speak, the true message is known only to the Synapse for which it was intended.”
A cable slowly snaked down from the rafters as he looked out at the audience.
“Would you like to hear the True Voice of Tyrannis, who I knew as Hexus Ultus?”
The audience stomps, stamps and drums enthusiastically as the Colonel grasps the cable and jacks it into a port in the base of his skull.
“What you’re about to view is something only seen or heard by members of Federal Intelligence before today. I have been given special dispensation to share a single recording with you. This is combat footage directly from my neural drive, what now serves as my memory. It is the one way, the only way, to hear a Walker’s True Voice.”
The Colonel glanced at the professor.
“With your permission?”
The professor nodded and gestured for the lights to dim as the screen flickered to life and the speakers crackled.
— Date: 02-08-3019 — Location: System - Lexin’Varah, Planet - 2, Moon - 3
The deep bass, screeching, feral noises and mechanical binary were now the soothing voice of a woman.
The wall is too thick, attempting to asses. Jay, can you compensate?
“Yes. Turn Plasma Incinerators to segment Y-37a, tuning reactor now.”
Shells slam into the side of the machine and the female voice cries out in pain along with the Colonels voice.
Jay, you’ve sustained neural damage.
“I’m fine, Hexus. Spinning up left wrist cannons, unload them into that artillery, then fire Incinerators into previous target…fuck…ow…”
The eyes of the machine turn to the offending mechanized unit, shredding it with heavy autogun fire. Reflexively, the machines hand rests on its wounded torso as it turns towards the wall and the plasma canons on its shoulders begin to melt them to slag.
Jay, you require medical attention. I will summon evac one the objective is-
“No. I’m fine, Hexus. We see this through. I just need some fight music. We’re going to finish this.”
I do love your fight music. Please, select one. It will focus us.
The feed begins to become blurry and full of static as the recruits moan, then see the Colonel twitching and sobbing as the professor withdraws the datajack and several aids rush to the Colonels side.
“We will…will have to pause for now,” The professor said, looking at the Colonel in corner as blood began to seep through his uniform from the same site that he’d been wounded in the memory, the aids bringing a wheelchair to him. “This lecture will continue tomorrow, the Colonel needs rest. Make sure you review Neural Networked Hardware and its Perils, along with Chapters 11 through 15 of Mechanized Combat Ethics on the Modern Field.”
[To be Continued]
submitted by The_Mad_Crafter to HFY [link] [comments]
— Begin Playback —
Through the eyes of the machine, both arms rose, outstretched in front of it as all one dozen GUA-13 wrist mounted autoguns began to pour fire into the oppositions armored formation. Tanks and APCs exploded in balls of blue-green flame as the orange tracer rounds highlighted the meat-grinder-like efficiency of the guns.
“[Static], increasing power output by three percent, turn fifteen degrees and fire incendiary plasma as target designated AC-1787. Follow with straffing fire from wrist weapons to provide covering fire to friendly troops moving up from segment H-17 to I-6,” a human sounding voice says calmly despite the scene.
The response came in a deep bass voice speaking non-sensible words, followed by a digitized voice reciting code, then mechanical screeches and feral growls and roars.
KRUUUKZZZHHHK *SCREECHING* 01001000 01101001 01110000 00100000 01001101 01100001 01101100 01100110 01110101 01101110 01100011 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 HUUUR VOHT *SCREECH\*
“Yes, [Static], I am aware. Increasing power to left hip servos to compensate. Shit, incoming ordinance! Deploy flares and counter-measures!”
Explosions cloud the machine view, shards of armor and metal flying across its view as some shots hit true.
*SCREECH* [SIREN]01010011 01110100 01100001 01110100 01110101 01110011 00100000 01010010 01100101 01110000 01101111 01110010 01110100
“I’m fine…” the human voice says, clearly in pain. “Mobility lost in the left mid-torso. Fuck that hurt…engaging repair syst-incoming!”
01010000 01100001 01101001 01101110 [SIREN] 01010000 01100001 01101001 01101110 *SCREECH* 01010000 01100001 01101001 01101110 KUUUURUTZ HOR VORUN
“You and me both…[Static], engage Rampage Protocol.”
01000011 01101111 01101110 01100110 01101001 01110010 01101101 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01101101 01100001 01101110 01100100 [SCREECH]?
“You fething heard me. Crank the tunes and unleash hell. Weapons free, old friend. Unleash hell.”
[Low feral growl]
From outside the machine, music begins to blare from hull mounted speakers as the machines growls increase. Then just before the lyrics blared, the machine roared in fury.
Journey with me into the mind of a maniac Doomed to be a killer, since I came off the assembly rack Been a murderous monster With a heart full of terror I see the devil in the mirror “Weapons free! Clear to engage! KILL THEM ALL!”
[ROAR] [ROAR [ROAR] 01001011 01001001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01001011 01001001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01000100 01000101 01000001 01010100 01001000
—PAUSE PLAYBACK—
— Date: 07-03-3067 — Location: System - Jezel, Orbital Station: Federal Officers Academy
The forum was a din with muffled excited conversations.
Students from three dozen different species and twice as many empires and governments buzzed with clashing emotions and thoughts on the speaker for the course, a rare event that warranted recording drones to hover in the empty space above the assembly to preserve it for future generations. As the Attention Chime sounded, the five hundred recruits of the Federated Armed Forces stamped their feet, their hooves, drummed on their desks in respect to the High Commandant as they strode onto the stage, and went silent.
“Students of War,” the High Commandant said, looking up into the five hundred faces of the audience. “Today, you are most privileged. For only the third time since their joining into our glorious Federation, you will hear the wisdom and the truth of one of the most secretive and elite forces in the Federated Armed Services. It was these soldiers that smashed the invincible defenses of the Cortix VII Siege. It was their machines that broke the advance of the Hive Swarms at Kiggirian Ultimae. It was their power, as Apex Predators upon the battlefield, that have brought us victory in countless conflicts over the last two-and-a-half centuries, and their sacrifices that have saved untold tens of thousands over a dozen fields of battle. What you will learn from our speaker today will shape your tactics in conflicts to come, it will force you to consider how to use one of the most mighty and terrible resources of the Federated Armed Services, and realize the terrible cost of their use.”
The assembled audience stomped their feet, stamped their hooves and drummed their desks again.
“The Human you are about to meet is a veteran of thirty-eight battle campaigns, his Walker strode upon the soil of dozens of worlds both in defense of, and to attack, enemies of the Federation. He is one of only six known Walker pilots to survive the death of his Walker,” the High Commandant continued as a rhythmic sound began to faintly echo from behind the stage.
Click. Draaaag. Click. Draaaaaag. Click. Draaaaaaag.
“Students of War,” the High Commandant said, gesturing to the side of the stage. “It is my great honor to present to you, Colonel Jay Davi Black, of the First Terran Walking Armored.”
The stomping and drumming became uproarious, only to abruptly peter out as the wretch of a human limped onto the stage. An arm-crutch on his left arm supported him as his right leg dragged along, his right arm hung limply at his side, the right hand trembling with a constant tremor. His face was a mess of scars that seemingly dipped down under the rounded collar of his shirt. His left eye was cybernetic, and a number of cables from his skull were artfully tied and mananaged with ribbons to lead down the back of his jacket. This hadn’t been what the audience had been expecting; they’d been promised a hero, a god of war, a titan that smote armies with a wave of his hand.
This…this was just a ruined husk.
— Date: 13-12-3022 — Location: System - Kiggirian, Planet - 1 — Terran Walking Armored, 1st Battalion, Unit: Tyrannis, Synapse: Black, Jay
— Begin Playback —
The machines eyes looked down at the swarm of biological warriors swarming around its feet, heedless of the danger of each of the machines steps that crushed them by the hundreds as it strode forward and the enemy flowed around it like river water around a stone.
“Target at two hundred meters. Heavy warform. [Static], how you want to take this?”
[Growl] 01001001 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01101000 01100101 01100001 01100100 *SCREECH* JUURHORT FAHL NETH
“I figured. Increasing reactor power twenty-five percent, all munitions loaded.”
[Growl] 01000001 00100000 01110011 01101111 01101110 01100111 [GROWL]
“Oh? Is that so? Alright…how about…this one?”
Heavy guitar and bass riffs begin to blare before the singer comes in.
I’m ready for combat, ready for rage Haven't you heard? Luck favors the crazy I'll make you fight back, yeah how you like that? And just like that I got you Ready for combat, give me a war Tick like a time bomb, ready to roar Let me ignite that, yeah how you like that? And just like that I got you Ready for combat.
[GROWL] *SCREECH* 01001000 01110101 01101110 01110100 00100000 01101101 01110101 01110011 01101001 01100011 00100000 01100001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 01100101 01100100 [SNARL]
— PAUSE PLAYBACK —
— Date: 07-03-3067 — Location: System - Jezel, Orbital Station: Federal Officers Academy
The Colonel gave a quick wince at the memory, rubbing the side of his head before seamlessly turning to the auditorium before him.
“I know,” the Colonel said with a coughing chuckle. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Who is this wretch? How could THAT…pilot this?’”
The Colonel gestured up with his right hand, the motion making the tremor in it so obvious it could be seen from the rear-most seats of the auditorium, and a massive holo projection flickered to life overhead.
A three-hundred foot tall walking war machine charged, slamming its fists into the the thick walls of a fortress as weapon batteries opened along its shoulders and poured fire and fury into the fortification. Concrete, steel and defenders turned to slag as the massive construct wrenched its embedded hands out and tore the walls open with a shower of molten debris.
The breach of Cortix VII, one of the most iconic moments in the shared civilian and military memories of the First Terran Walking Armored.
“Or,” the wretch continued with a wave of his trembling hand. “How could this man possibly manage this?”
The image flickered and changed.
The same machine as before was being recorded from the ground, looking up at it as it punched down through the skull of a massive Hive Mind warform, its other arm crossing its body as wrist and forearm mounted weapons unleashed a storm of fire and hell to push back a second massive charging warform, a massive foot coming down to crush a lesser warform and hundreds of its subordinates as ten thousand Federal infantry charged.
The Kiggirian Ultimae Push.
“Only to end up here,” the Colonel said with a final gesture towards himself.
The image flickered, showing the same massive machine under an apocalyptic barrage of fire, both arms extended as wrists, forearms, shoulders and chest weapons seem to vomit out enough ordinance to snuff out a star. A munition hit to the hip brings the machine down to one knee, it roars in defiance and seems to fire faster and more heavily. More ordinance slams into the machine, it tries to shrug it off and keep firing, more hits, the machine roars in defiance again as cracks in its torso begins to glow with white light.
Melt down.
The struggle goes on for only a few more seconds, but it seems to stretch on for hours. The machine thrashes, lashing out with weapons fire and roaring in rage, another shell bringing it down to both knees before a final hit fractures something in its heart. The machines back bows, it screams, a tiny explosion bursts from the top of its head…and then it screams as white light consumes it in nuclear fury.
“What you just saw was the closest thing to a partner, a mate, a spouse, that I will ever have, die.”
The room was silent as the Colonel gestured, the film rewinding to the tiny explosion from the warmachines skull and zooming in to reveal a casket-like projectile begin jettisoned from the machine.
“That’s me. A human, helpless and alone, watching, feeling, the being whose very soul was bonded to mine, die.”
Click. Draaaag.
— Date: 01-09-3031 — Location: System - Heriklade, Planet - 6
[SIREN] HUURTZ VOKON 01000011 01010010 01001001 01010100 01001001 01000011 01000001 01001100 00100000 01010011 01011001 01010011 01010100 01000101 01001101 00100000 01000110 01000001 01001001 01001100 01010101 01010010 01000101 *SCREECH* [SIREN]
“I know! I know! Come on, we can fix this!”
[SIREN] 01001110 01000101 01000111 01000001 01010100 01001001 01010110 01000101 [SIREN]
“Cut the shit. I’m diverting power fro-SHIT!”
A heavy beam of plasma slams into the machines torso, both the human and machine scream in agony.
*PEACEFUL SOUNDS* 01000101 01001110 01000100 00100000 01001111 01000110 00100000 01001100 01001001 01001110 01000101 [SOFT PURR]
“No…no no no no…[Static]! Don’t you dare! No!”
Another beam slams home, both souls scream.
[PURR] 01001110 01101111 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01000110 01110010 01101001 01100101 01101110 01100100 00101110 [PURR]
“NO! [STATIC]! NO NO NO! SHIT! ABORT COMMAND AUTHORIZATIO-”
A third beam.
Blackness.
01000101 01101010 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01010011 01111001 01101110 01100001 01110000 01110011 01100101
—Pause Playback—
— Date: 07-03-3067 — Location: System - Jezel, Orbital Station: Federal Officers Academy
“The Terran Walking Armored are often seen as little more than tanks with legs,” the Colonel said, slowly moving across the stage. “But the reality is that we are nothing more than the shepherds of beautiful and terrible souls, because that is what a Walker is, Students of War. The great Walkers of Terra are not simple machines, but independent beings with wants and desires all of their own which we Synapses must manage. We must be the shepherds of wolves.”
A green light alighted in the dark of the audience, the Colonel pointing towards it.
“Our first question, excellent. Ask away recruit.”
“Colonel Black, you refer to yourself as a Synapse of the machine, rather than its pilot?”
Click. Draaaag.
“Yes,” he replied. “Walking Terran Armor is much different than many other races. The machine, you see, has its own Artificial Intelligence. Every Walker is unique, and we as Synapses act as intermediaries to what we would consider the ‘real world’ and the machine consciousness. The pilot of a Walking Armor becomes a Synapse, a part of the machine mind, but one that helps direct it. Without a Synapse, a Walking Armor would simply act on instinct and lay waste to anything it saw as a threat, the human Synapse allows for direction and cooperation. However, the bond comes with a cost.”
The Colonel gestures to himself.
“Synaptic Overload is one of the most common and accepted forms of death for Walker pilots. What the machine feels, we feel, and what a machine feels can be thousands of times more what a human nervous system can process. Most times this results in the Synapse dying along with their machine as Battle Fury overtakes them both. Hexus Ultus, the True Name of my Walker, chose to eject me before its death to spare me from its fate.”
Another green light from the audience.
“Colonel, you say your machines ‘true name’ was Hexus Ultus, but official logs name it has Tyrannis. So much so that when your engine fell, it was lauded as ‘The Fall of Tyrannis’ and was declared a Federal Mourning Day. Can you please elaborate?”
Click. Draaaaag.
“Every Walker is a unique and independent being. As such, every Walker AI has a unique and personal name with which it identifies, a name only revealed to the Synapse which is accepts. Along with this comes the Cypher for it’s own unique Machine Speak. No one, even Federal Intelligence, can decipher a Walkers Machine Speak without the cypher granted by the Walker itself. The AI communicates in a combination of binary code, code transmitted by screeching or siren-like pulses, primordial noises and empathetically transmitted emotions. While some may be able to decipher the very basics of Machine Speak, the true message is known only to the Synapse for which it was intended.”
A cable slowly snaked down from the rafters as he looked out at the audience.
“Would you like to hear the True Voice of Tyrannis, who I knew as Hexus Ultus?”
The audience stomps, stamps and drums enthusiastically as the Colonel grasps the cable and jacks it into a port in the base of his skull.
“What you’re about to view is something only seen or heard by members of Federal Intelligence before today. I have been given special dispensation to share a single recording with you. This is combat footage directly from my neural drive, what now serves as my memory. It is the one way, the only way, to hear a Walker’s True Voice.”
The Colonel glanced at the professor.
“With your permission?”
The professor nodded and gestured for the lights to dim as the screen flickered to life and the speakers crackled.
— Date: 02-08-3019 — Location: System - Lexin’Varah, Planet - 2, Moon - 3
The deep bass, screeching, feral noises and mechanical binary were now the soothing voice of a woman.
The wall is too thick, attempting to asses. Jay, can you compensate?
“Yes. Turn Plasma Incinerators to segment Y-37a, tuning reactor now.”
Shells slam into the side of the machine and the female voice cries out in pain along with the Colonels voice.
Jay, you’ve sustained neural damage.
“I’m fine, Hexus. Spinning up left wrist cannons, unload them into that artillery, then fire Incinerators into previous target…fuck…ow…”
The eyes of the machine turn to the offending mechanized unit, shredding it with heavy autogun fire. Reflexively, the machines hand rests on its wounded torso as it turns towards the wall and the plasma canons on its shoulders begin to melt them to slag.
Jay, you require medical attention. I will summon evac one the objective is-
“No. I’m fine, Hexus. We see this through. I just need some fight music. We’re going to finish this.”
I do love your fight music. Please, select one. It will focus us.
The feed begins to become blurry and full of static as the recruits moan, then see the Colonel twitching and sobbing as the professor withdraws the datajack and several aids rush to the Colonels side.
“We will…will have to pause for now,” The professor said, looking at the Colonel in corner as blood began to seep through his uniform from the same site that he’d been wounded in the memory, the aids bringing a wheelchair to him. “This lecture will continue tomorrow, the Colonel needs rest. Make sure you review Neural Networked Hardware and its Perils, along with Chapters 11 through 15 of Mechanized Combat Ethics on the Modern Field.”
[To be Continued]
2022.09.08 19:48 IlluminaBitz Possible Match for #UP11892 (1985)
Hello everyone, I found a case on NamUs back in March and wanted to look into it a bit more. While I was doing so, I found a forum post that might have found a possible match for a Detroit Jane Doe.
The UP was a teenager or young adult (16-25). Her torso was found in the rafters of a garage at 12770 Appoline St. in Detroit, Michigan on May 14th, 1985. She had light brown to blonde body hair.
In the forum thread I found, someone mentioned a woman named Terry Gayton (25) who went missing from Millington on September 22nd, 1984. After looking into Terry's case, I learned that she was last seen committing retail frauds with a man named William Bibby. Bibby told investigators that he and Terry parked behind a farmhouse and eventually got into a fight. Terry then met with somebody in the nearby area and stayed with them. After that, she was never heard from or seen again. So, with this information, I came up with a theory(?) of some sort. I think it may be possible that Terry was murdered by whoever she had met up with; her body could have been dumped in Detroit.
With that being said, I'll explain why I think Terry may be a potential match for this unidentified person. Both have blonde/strawberry hair. The UP was found missing one or more limbs; Terry had a tattoo on her left arm/shoulder. It's possible that the UP's left arm was missing but it was not specified. Terry's age (although just barely) fits the estimated age range of the UP. Also, the drive from Millington to Detroit, as mentioned by someone in the thread, is only about an hour and a half, which makes me believe all of this is possible.
It's likely that there isn't any DNA records of the UP to help with identification, but this is something I still want to discuss as I find it interesting. Let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading.
Sources:
UP11892 at NamUs
Terry Lynn Gayton at NamUs
Charley Project
Websleuths Thread
submitted by IlluminaBitz to gratefuldoe [link] [comments]
The UP was a teenager or young adult (16-25). Her torso was found in the rafters of a garage at 12770 Appoline St. in Detroit, Michigan on May 14th, 1985. She had light brown to blonde body hair.
In the forum thread I found, someone mentioned a woman named Terry Gayton (25) who went missing from Millington on September 22nd, 1984. After looking into Terry's case, I learned that she was last seen committing retail frauds with a man named William Bibby. Bibby told investigators that he and Terry parked behind a farmhouse and eventually got into a fight. Terry then met with somebody in the nearby area and stayed with them. After that, she was never heard from or seen again. So, with this information, I came up with a theory(?) of some sort. I think it may be possible that Terry was murdered by whoever she had met up with; her body could have been dumped in Detroit.
With that being said, I'll explain why I think Terry may be a potential match for this unidentified person. Both have blonde/strawberry hair. The UP was found missing one or more limbs; Terry had a tattoo on her left arm/shoulder. It's possible that the UP's left arm was missing but it was not specified. Terry's age (although just barely) fits the estimated age range of the UP. Also, the drive from Millington to Detroit, as mentioned by someone in the thread, is only about an hour and a half, which makes me believe all of this is possible.
It's likely that there isn't any DNA records of the UP to help with identification, but this is something I still want to discuss as I find it interesting. Let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading.
Sources:
UP11892 at NamUs
Terry Lynn Gayton at NamUs
Charley Project
Websleuths Thread
2022.08.24 11:01 cathousebrown Ridge board question
I know the ridge board is supposed to extend beyond the cut end of the rafter, so my 2x6 rafters should use a 2x8 ridge board. However it looks like the LRUZ Simpson rafter hanger allows for 1 3/4” of the rafter to hang below. The question I have is whether that is for a ridge board, or only for a ridge beam?
If that won’t work, does the ridge board need to be one piece from top to bottom, or can I use a 2x6 with a 2x4 stacked on to fill the gap, while using the LRUZ hangers?
The reason I ask is I only realized the need for a 2x8 board after I ordered the lumber, and I ordered 2x6s for the ridge. The wood is cypress that took a while (months) to get. The lumber was 2x10 boards that they ripped to 2x6 but I also got the drop ends, so I can “make” a 2x8 to match the cypress. I saw on some kind of home inspectors forum where inspectors had had contractors add 2x material to ridges that weren’t deep enough. I figured I could nail most of the rafter to the 2x6, with the smaller piece stacked on top. Since the ridge board doesn’t serve a structural purpose is this ok?
Any ideas or help would be appreciated
Edit: link to strong tie tech info. https://www.strongtie.com/facemounthangersssl_solidsawnlumberconnectolruz_hangep/lruz#ProductDetails
submitted by cathousebrown to HomeImprovement [link] [comments]
If that won’t work, does the ridge board need to be one piece from top to bottom, or can I use a 2x6 with a 2x4 stacked on to fill the gap, while using the LRUZ hangers?
The reason I ask is I only realized the need for a 2x8 board after I ordered the lumber, and I ordered 2x6s for the ridge. The wood is cypress that took a while (months) to get. The lumber was 2x10 boards that they ripped to 2x6 but I also got the drop ends, so I can “make” a 2x8 to match the cypress. I saw on some kind of home inspectors forum where inspectors had had contractors add 2x material to ridges that weren’t deep enough. I figured I could nail most of the rafter to the 2x6, with the smaller piece stacked on top. Since the ridge board doesn’t serve a structural purpose is this ok?
Any ideas or help would be appreciated
Edit: link to strong tie tech info. https://www.strongtie.com/facemounthangersssl_solidsawnlumberconnectolruz_hangep/lruz#ProductDetails
2022.08.14 02:46 ToughConcentrate2724 Oklahoma City help. For son
I’ve seen the band 12 times . Last two times were both nights at The Forum in Los Angeles (I’m from Louisiana ).
Got my son and I tix for Oklahoma City . He is going to be 18, has never seen them , and is moderately interested (he’s into modern music ). He likes Vedder, digs the lyrics , is familiar with “ten” songs . I want so much for him to connect .
Anyway , the tickets I got are supposed to be premium, but are in a level up , behind the floor (thanks to a ten club friend ). I’d like to get my son up close , to possibly pass on great rock n roll (get him to understand ). Don’t care if I have to stay in the back (I’ve seen them from the rafters to the front row ) , but I want him to feel the blood sweat and tears (and also be part of that group that shouts part of the anthems ). Any help would be appreciated.
Peace .
submitted by ToughConcentrate2724 to pearljam [link] [comments]
Got my son and I tix for Oklahoma City . He is going to be 18, has never seen them , and is moderately interested (he’s into modern music ). He likes Vedder, digs the lyrics , is familiar with “ten” songs . I want so much for him to connect .
Anyway , the tickets I got are supposed to be premium, but are in a level up , behind the floor (thanks to a ten club friend ). I’d like to get my son up close , to possibly pass on great rock n roll (get him to understand ). Don’t care if I have to stay in the back (I’ve seen them from the rafters to the front row ) , but I want him to feel the blood sweat and tears (and also be part of that group that shouts part of the anthems ). Any help would be appreciated.
Peace .