For anyone who wants to see how things began.
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/S97b2fqIjx
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

For anyone who wants to see how I got into this situation.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/R0DAycoVIm
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark, when out of the blue, my wife called me at work. "We're going to Niagara Falls for the weekend. I got us an awesome deal!"
We had both been working at our first "full-fledged" jobs for a year and had reached that moment after graduation when you suddenly realize you can't make that impact on the world your student enthusiasm once promised. At first, I just sighed. It was the dead of January, and I had already expended all my energy on a week of inconsequential stress. I just wanted to collapse on the couch for two days. Sarah felt a similar weary exhaustion. I could tell. Her tone was more hopeful than excited, but she had dreaded the routine we were sinking into and was trying her best to pull us free.
I looked to the ceiling and adjusted my telephone headset. At that time I was working at Stats Canada on the tele-query desk. I took a deep breath and, as convincingly as possible, said, "Sounds good." I don't think she bought it, but we went nonetheless.
This was Niagara Falls before the casinos when there was a very distinct off-season. When we got to the hotel, we were given the details of our "lovers' special". One dinner to be used either Friday or Saturday, two breakfasts, a roll of tokens for the arcade, 10% off some "4D" movie ride experience, and a 2-for-1 coupon to Max Tussaud's. I guessed it was Madame's nephew? We also got a bottle of sparkling wine in our room and chocolate treats on our pillows. I was impressed. It sounded good.
When we got into our room and saw the "bottle" of wine - basically an aeroplane-sized glass and half - and the chocolates - "fun wrapped" Oh Henry's left over from Halloween - we both started to laugh. The tone for two wonderful days had been set. We decided to cash in on our dinner coupon right away.
The restaurant off the lobby had hopes of being better. There were huge panoramic windows that promised a view of the gorge. Unfortunately, they had some winter moisture problems that day, and it felt like we were defrosting amid the dripping streaks and foggy patches. The decor was your standard booths and tables though the "romantic" lighting was unique. Dollar store battery-powered tea lights were lodged inside thick tumbler glasses and shed a muted pleasantness in a "what a great idea for a craft" sort of way. I had a feeling they were created by our waitress since she was the one who always seemed to be fussing with them. Only one other couple was in the dining room, so she attended to us immediately.
"Can I get you something to start?"
"Sure." "Thank you, that would be nice." We both responded simultaneously.
"And what would the lady like this evening?"
Sarah smiled at the flattery. "I think I'll have a glass of white wine." She glanced over at me to see my reaction. This was a subtle cue of the mood to follow. Diet Coke was usually the beverage of choice. She didn't normally drink alcohol. One glass numbed her nose and made her giggle far too easily. When she did drink, however, it meant she was comfortable with my company and open to anything to follow. I raised my eyebrows in a debonair way.
"And for the gentleman?"
"Do you have Foster's on tap?"
"Yes we do."
"I'll have a pint please."
Sarah smiled at the happy memories I invoked. At university, Foster's was my signature beer. It was at a time when Crocodile Dundee was a known name, and Australia was inexplicably cool. 15 cent buffalo wings and a pitcher of Foster's was the Tuesday night special at the London Arms pub. There the Classics Club would meet and, as a group, circle the wagons and drink ourselves into extroverts.
As soon as the waitress left, Sarah smiled at me. She reached out and held my hand across the table. With my gaze on hers, she slipped her foot from her shoe and slowly began sliding it up my pant leg.
"I got a pedicure this morning." She announced seductively.
I nodded and pretended I didn't notice her invitation. "What colour?" I asked.
"I'm not telling." She teased. "You'll just have to find out later." Her devious little smile was gorgeous.
"Mmmm. I can't wait."
When the waitress returned with our drinks, we immediately retreated to our personal spaces as if we had been discovered by the chaperone. Sarah opened the menu and began to salivate at the variety.
"Can we add an appetizer to the package dinner?" Her question seemed innocent enough.
"You're on the package?" Our friendly waitress disappeared, and we were no longer a lady or a gentleman. She ripped the menu out of Sarah's hand and took mine before I had even opened it. She then scurried to her podium and brought back a tattered, grease-stained, photocopied page that we had to share. We both burst out laughing.
The waitress was flustered that we were not as bothered as she was. "The drinks are NOT included!"
"What choices do we have?" I asked, expecting the usual chicken or fish. I had been on many packages before with my parents.
"Coffee or tea." The waitress snapped.
Sarah and I looked at each other in amused disbelief.
"I'll have coffee please." I didn't even flinch at the ridiculously limited package. I was eager to get my order in early.
"And I'll have the tea!" Sarah followed my lead. "Can I have some milk with that?"
"Yes." The waitress snarled.
"Fantastic!" I enthused.
"Yes, great! I'm glad we got the package, Honey." Sarah joked.
The waitress stormed off and returned sometime later with our lettuce-only salads drowned in Kraft's Italian dressing and our chewy chicken dinners, which she had thoughtfully allowed to cool. She tossed the plates on the table and left us to peacefully devour our deal. We didn't see her again until we requested the bill. For some reason, we found it amusing to leave a generous tip, which of course, defeated the purpose of the package, but we didn't care. It was fun.
The rest of the holiday was marred with similar off-season products and services. The wax museum was only half open, so we couldn't see the pop stars of the seventies. I didn't think it was a problem, but Sarah pouted playfully. She really wanted to see young Bowie. Meanwhile, the arcade was particularly stingy about spitting out coupons. So much so that Mike, the scraggly-haired repair guy, ended up escorting us from game to game and repairing the devices on demand. In no time, he was acting like an old drinking buddy. He joked and laughed, then, out of the blue, revealed that working at the Niagara Falls Fun Centre wasn't his career choice, that his dream was to be part of a travelling carnival. He desperately wanted to see more of the world, he explained and socialize with a greater variety of "wildlife." Mike winked at Sarah to punctuate his meaning, then began advising her on which games to play.
Sarah was partial to Skee ball and clearly had career potential in the sport, but Mike quickly pointed out that the token-to-coupon payout was not the best. In a furtive whisper, he revealed that The Storm Stopper was your best bet, provided the arcade had left it on its original factory settings. He assured us the ones here were "cool." The game had lights that ran around the outside in opposite directions and you had to hit the button at just the right spot to win. It looked impossible, but Mike was right; if you calculated tokens in versus coupons won, it was the best deal. It only took a little practice to win a minor jackpot every 5 or 6 times.
We would cheer each win as if Toronto had won the Stanley Cup. I would give a quick fist pump and a full lung "Yes!" while Sarah would jump up and down screaming, "WhoooHooo!" Of course, in the end, when we cashed in, "Mike's secret" only bumped us up from a key-chain flashlight to a "deluxe" nail beauty set. Mind you, it did come complete with clippers, scissors, a file AND a cuticle scraper. Not only that, it was all neatly packaged in a paisley-patterned pink and green plastic vinyl case. Mike was so pleased to give us our prize and to be honest, we were thrilled to win it if only to see his broad chicletted smile. It was more of a trophy than a grooming set.
That night, I made reservations for us at a fancy Chinese food restaurant - the Bamboo Garden. When we arrived, we had half-expected renovations of some sort. Instead, the place was immaculate. Gentle pools teeming with goldfish highlighted the epic black and red Ming dynasty decor. Real candles flickered on crisp white tablecloths. Again, the restaurant was virtually ours. The reservations on my part were entirely unnecessary. In fact, as soon as we entered, they knew us by name and guided us directly to our table. A live lounge piano caressed the air, its notes danced vaguely around familiar harmonies until finally, as if prompted by our presence, a song emerged immediately accompanied by the velvet voice of oriental karaoke. It was our song remastered

1. LCS - Local Card Shop
2. SSP - Super Short Print
3. RC - Rookie Card
4. SP - Short Print
5. MOJO - A type of refractor with a unique pattern
6. RPA - Rookie Patch Autograph
7. COA - Certificate of Authenticity
8. PSA - Professional Sports Authenticator
9. BGS - Beckett Grading Services
10. SGC - Sportscard Guaranty Corporation
11. RAW - An ungraded card
12. POP - Population Report, indicating how many of a specific card have been graded by a grading service
13. TSA - True Serial Number
14. HOF - Hall of Fame
15. GU - Game-Used (referring to memorabilia cards)
16. 1/1 - One of One, indicating a unique card
17. PC - Personal Collection
18. FT - For Trade
19. FS - For Sale
20. HTG - Hard to Get
21. BIN - Buy It Now (often seen on eBay listings)
22. TTM - Through The Mail (referring to autographs obtained by sending cards to players)
23. IP - In Person (referring to autographs obtained in person)
24. VHTF - Very Hard To Find
25. BVG - Beckett Vintage Grading (for older cards)
26. SLAB - A graded card in its plastic case
27. YGR - Your Grade/Grading (commonly used to indicate the grade you think a raw card would receive)

Last year (21 August to 4 October 2023) I did a retreat at “Ayahuasca with Celinda” which was recently renamed to Sama Nete. I’ve tried to cover the practical aspects in my review, but if you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me :) (however I'll be heading off to this retreat again in a few days! So I might not be able to reply until I'm back in a month or so)
This review based on my time and my observations at this retreat. I’ve tried to keep most of this factual, however it is also just my opinion at the end of the day.
Cost:
It cost me $1750USD per month (this may be subject to change as they enhance their facilities).
Getting there:
The retreat is located in San Francisco, Peru. I flew into Pucallpa airport and the facilitator (Nathan) met me at the airport. The drive in the taxi on the “roads” was more intense than any 4WD-ing I’ve ever done, which I enjoyed a lot, but maybe some people won’t like it. I can see how it could make some people nauseated.
Your room:
Accommodation is rustic (i.e. bats, bugs, spiders, etc live in the “ceiling” which is made from leaves), but clean.
They are still in the process of furnishing rooms, so each room’s contents varied slightly. All rooms (as at October 2023) had at a minimum:

• Bed, pillow, sheets, blanket
• Mosquito net over the bed
• Electric free standing fan
• Really big water jug
• Ceiling light, electrical socket and windows

My room had the minimum, however other rooms had some additional things such as:
Hammock Shelves Cupboard Bench seat Little logs for stools
Facilities:
My understanding is that because they’re a new retreat, they’re enhancing their facilities with each guest, so this is just based on when I was there (21 August to 4 October 2023):

• 2 toilets
• 1 shower
• 1 “sauna” (which is a little make shift “box” big enough for you to sit on a little stool with a huge pot of steaming herbal infused water)
• Plant baths and plant saunas as needed (I think based on Celinda’s assessment as they were inconsistent I didn’t notice a pattern to them)
• Washing machine (cold only) and clothes line
• Nathan will share internet with his hotspot once a week/fortnight (on request basically) so that you can message loved ones, do banking etc but it should be kept minimal so that it doesn’t interfere with your dieta.
• Kitchen (not really used by guests unless you wander in to chat to the facilitator, make tea, fill your water jug, wash your dishes etc)
• Ceremony room
• 2 chairs under a beach umbrella in the “courtyard”
• A small selection of books left behind by other guests
• Yoga mats you could borrow from the ceremony room (have to bring them back for ceremony though)
• Guests also had Mapacho, palo santo and insect repellant coils available to them in the kitchen
• 2 little cats (the mama cat had kittens while I was there!) and a puppy (a new addition while I was there)

You are in town BUT you are in the jungle. There are spiders and bugs that will come to visit you. I went into this trip with a genuine phobia of spiders and a fairly dramatic fear of certain insects like bees, wasps, centipedes etc. My comfort levels have improved but I’m not free from fear – for example. I can now stay in the shower if a spider or scary insect comes to visit (I watch it the whole time lol but I don’t run out screaming).
Wild chickens wander the yard and they really brightened my days. However, the roosters cock-a-doodle-do all day and night which really bothered some other guests, I didn’t really mind though. What I did find a bit annoying/disruptive though was constant loud speaker announcements from the town, I think they were excessive during the time I was there because it was leading up to the celebrations for the anniversary of San Fransisco (the town). Sometimes you could smell burning rubbish (which mainly smells like burning plastic). And the other disruption was that there were a few interruptions to water being available for showers (we never ran out of drinking water), but this is not common, there was a problem with the town’s water while I was there.
The biggest issue for me was being bitten excessively by bugs. Some things that may bother other guests would be the constant noise (frequent announcements over speaker from town, lots of loud or gentle music (especially Saturday nights), dogs barking all night, roosters cock-a-doodle-dooing all night), quite a bit of light at night (I think a kitchen light is left on so people can find the toilets in the night), and of course the monotony of dieta food (but Nathan did a pretty good job at coming up with some creative variations like potato soup, boiled vs scrambled eggs, etc).
Meals:
You’re provided 3 meals a day on non-ceremony days and 2 meals (breakfast and lunch) on ceremony days
Meals consist of:
Whole small fish Unripe plantains Eggs Lentils Rice Carrots Potatoes Squash Celery and cabbage as a bit of a garnish Optional teas
Although the meals were bland and repetitive, I quite enjoyed them and the boiled medley of beetroot, carrot and celery was so delicious to me that I’ve made it since coming home lol. Personally it wasn’t until about week 4 that I got bored of the repetition but I also think that’s kind of the point, to become detached to the joy of waiting for your meal etc. TMI but I did have some constipation and Celinda had an oily concoction to remedy that which was effective for me :)
Ceremonies:
There are 3 ceremonies a week – Monday, Wednesday and Friday (drink once at the beginning, I’ve read about other retreats where you drink several times).
There was not a formal schedule for discussion after ceremonies, it was done ad hoc with each individual guest as needed (I mostly had ceremonies where I didn’t feel the need any interpretation). There also wasn’t any formal “pre-discussion” or sharing group to discuss your intentions, something else that I had read about for other retreats.
The dieta goes something like this:

• Lemongrass purge (drink a cup of lemongrass something then chug gallons of water until you vomit it up, keep chugging, keep vomiting until you finish the water)
• 3 days of drinking Marosa “smoothie” (in my opinion tastes like grass but it isn’t bad, it’s kind of refreshing) – might be different depending on the plant you diet.
• While your drinking the Marosa smoothies you will still attend ceremony but you won’t drink ayahuasca
• The next ceremony after you finish your smoothies you drink ayahuasca and deeper work begins!
• You’ll have 3 ceremonies a week for the duration of your dieta - I think one month minimum but I did 2 months (if you’re a woman who still gets her period, you don’t drink during menstruation and must not speak with other guests while you're bleeding)
• For me emotions were a bit of a roller coaster, lots of very high days and a few lows. Most of the “lows” I was ecstatic about as it was resolving some very old and very deep wounds, but some low days of general restlessness, home sick, etc were difficult for me - these seemed to mainly happen during my week of having some kind of gastro, so I already wasn’t feeling good.

Other notes:

• You don’t need to speak Spanish (Nathan, the facilitator speaks English as did all the guests while I was there), but I wish that I had learned some Spanish before going as I would have liked to converse with the family while I was there beyond just saying “good morning”. If you have internet while you’re there you could probably pick things up quickly and interact using google translate (or bring a Spanish/English pocket dictionary).
  
• You can immediately tell that Celinda is kind and nurturing and her icaros had a big impact on my mood or the direction of my ceremony. I found Celinda’s icaros to be gentle, but by no means weak. For me, it felt like they were doing intricate work in my body and mind. She also had many natural (and effective) remedies for some issues I faced (constipation, diarrhoea, excessive bug bites, stomach cramps/pain, dermatitis rash from sweat). In some ceremonies Freddy (her son, also a shaman) sung some icaros. His voice is beautiful and strong and his icaros felt very engulfing and comforting. I had the pleasure of the facilitator Nathan also singing icaros one ceremony and he also has a really strong and beautiful voice, one icaros of his in particular was perfectly synched to my visuals which was really cool.
  
• I loved it so much and I'm so excited to go back. I had only experienced LSD and mushrooms once each before going, so it felt like a big leap to do a retreat like this but I felt very supported and safe the entire time. I also haven’t been to any other retreats so I can’t offer any comparisons.
  

Things I wish I had packed the first time:

• My electric toothbrush instead of the manual one as my teeth never felt clean
• Battery operated fan with water spray and or hand held fan (occasionally the electricity went out)
• Insect repelling clothing or at least more long pants for when it gets dark
• Flashlight with a red option (the one I packed last time was too bright and white)
• Maybe yoga blocks and a spiky trigger point ball
• Lighter (they do have matches you can have but a lighter would have been more efficient)
• A soft brush or similar for showers (something more exfoliating than a flannel)
• Spanish/English pocket dictionary (my phone provider didn’t offer roaming, so google translate the one day I did need to use it cost me $180 -.-)
• Spending money is Soles instead of USD for buying local crafts

The world seemed to slow down, as the Picapao shot an energy bolt at the human emperor.
None of us had any time to react. We couldn’t have. But somehow, the sector governor lunged himself at the emperor, pushing him out of the way, and getting hit by the blast in the emperor’s stead.
The avian terrorist curses as he lands and aims the weapon again, as a few more Picapao terrorists approach the platform.
The imperial guard aimed at the first terrorist and used their kinetic weapons, landing four shots on the chest and head of the bird.
The Emperor however does not move, and I tilt my head in confusion as I notice the imperial guards are not blocking the emperor. He kneels and places his hand on the wound, as the governor’s blood slowly pools on the ground.
“Send a medic, quickly!”, shouts the Emperor in an authoritative tone. We look around confused, as we did not anticipate such a thing as terrorism on our planet, but we quickly realise he was speaking to the other humans, and shortly after, two humans dressed in green come out with a stretcher and a bag full of stims.
“Take him to the shuttle and take care of him”, ordered Augustus, unbothered by the violent chaos around him, “and you lot, take cover in the shuttle as well.”
We didn’t need another word to comply, but my curiosity couldn’t be contained. Why was this human, who was so important to the Terran empire, not taking cover or running away? He was one of the most important people in the galaxy. I stay behind as I enter the shuttle to glean the bloodbath outside.
One of the humans was kneeling, holding on to his stomach, groaning in pain.
“Marcus, are you wounded?”, asked the emperor, walking towards the guard.
“I am fine, your highness. My shield simply malfunctioned and I took the concussive force of the blast instead of it being deflected. Might have cracked a few ribs.”
“Go inside as well and ask the medics to patch you up”, ordered Augustus, “and the rest of you, hold your fire. I want to speak with these…”
He pauses, his stare locked on the body of the first terrorist, his face perfectly still. His emotions were hidden well beneath his emperor’s persona.
“... People.”
The terrorists land and aim again, holding their fire as they notice the emperor approaching them with his hands up.
“Valiant Winged Warriors of Kloaria”, he said in Piapia, the native language of the Picapao, “I understand you blame me, for the deaths of the K’krai.”
“Quiet, ape”, said one of the winged criminals, “Your accent is hideous and so is your soul.”
“I apologise for my accent. I have not had many opportunities to train my speech to capture the nuances of your language.”
“Why would you even care?”, said another, “You are nothing more than a monster. You killed billions!”
“Indeed I have. I carry their blood on my hands forever. My name is a curse amongst many people. But I dream that the entire galaxy one day can receive the bounties of Terra. And for that, I need to reach everyone, personally…”
Interrupting him, one of the terrorists curses aloud and shoots his energy rifle at the Emperor, who makes no effort to dodge. The blast hits an invisible barrier, diffusing through the air around the human.
“Bounties such as this. A personal penta-dimensional quantum diffuser. An energy shield that can protect the user from almost any harm.”
He points at the centrepiece of the gold embroidery of his vest, and a barely noticeable glow emanates from it.
“I have a question for you Picapao. Who sent you?”
“We will not tell you anything. Your little imperial guard will have to kill us, as we have no intention of being imprisoned.”
The emperor nodded, sniffing, his eyebrows raised slightly.
“I respect that. You have ideals. Standards”, the human turned away from them and faced the shuttle, his eyes locked on mine. They were sharp and cold. Calculating. The true self of humanity did not replace the once warm presence. The apex predator persona had awoken.
“I believe it was Thucydides, a human of an age long past, who once said -The society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting by fools.”
He revealed a bracelet, which glinted in the sunlight. It appeared metallic in the distance, but liquid at the same time.
“With me as emperor, Humanity has embraced this motto. But I go further. I believe that the rulers should be as prepared to die for their subjects, as the subjects are for their ruler”
The bracelet started to glow, morphing into a sword in a fraction of a second. The sword was silvery with a similar pattern of golden embroidery along its blade.
Why would the leader of such an advanced race be using such an antiquated weapon?
“Your enemy will not be my guards, but rather it shall be me. If you kill me, you shall return to Kloaria, being acclaimed as heroes”, the emperor said, turning to face the avians, “but if I defeat you, you shall tell me who else was involved, as the sector governor Elder Prin could have died thanks to your actions. And if you don’t, then the Senate and People of Terra shall have no choice but to consider Kloaria a bastion of hostile powers and decisive action will have to be taken. Agreed?”
The birds yelled in rage and shot their weapons again.
But instead of letting the blasts hit the energy shield, the emperor started dodging as he made his way towards the terrorists. The blasts were near light speed, but the emperor was dodging them nonchalantly. It felt magical, until I noticed his eyes, darting around. He was predicting the trajectories of the blasts.
He got to the first terrorist and cut his rifle in half, delivering a powerful kick to the temple of the bird and making the most of the motion to jump towards the second hostile, ducking and then lunging, the sword cutting through one of the arms of the avian as if it was warm huglun butter.
Finally, the last terrorist yelled in rage and fear and started spraying blasts at the emperor, who retracted the sword back into the bracelet and then performed some sort of human martial art, punching the chest of the avian with such force and precision that a loud crack of bones echoed throughout the platform, as the final Picapao was sent flying around 5 meters without the use of his wings.
The emperor then made his way towards the gasping bird and squatted down.
“So, who else was involved in this attack?”
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“Can you hear that? It sounds like the Strawberry Fête has been set up in the usual spot by the central lake. I imagine they’ll be there for a few days so you should all visit when you can. The sooner the better, however. Keep an eye on the cloche.” - Mabel
The start of summer is a strange time in Raifee Wood. Just as the dour and deadly creatures of the colder months retreat (or at least settle down a little), the more mischievous beings of the warmer months begin to rear their heads. The Strawberry Fête is one such group, making two visits each year: Once near the end of May and another at the end of July. While the exact day of their arrival is never consistent, you’ll know when they’re here- the raucous music can be heard throughout the forest. They’ll linger in the woods for a few days before vanishing, so if you choose to visit, it is best to go as soon as possible.
For once, you have a choice of whether you wish to expose yourself to the potential dangers of the fête. It is entirely self-sufficient so Mabel does not have any tasks for us to do for them. The only reason to go is to trade: While the opportunity is valuable, you must evaluate the risk yourself.
Before visiting the Strawberry Fête, consider what you are willing to trade. For some of the more unusual items, you will need specific things, but also consider bringing the following to trade for standard goods:

• Milk: If you can find one of the goats who occasionally hang around the cottage, it is worth trying to milk them. You'll have to get the animal's permission for this by offering a flower or vegetable and waiting until they approach you. They all belong to Mabel, and if she feels you have mistreated them, you’ll have much more to worry about than a lack of trading items.
• Honey: Universally craved by the vendors, if you have been fortunate enough to have been gifted a jar of honey from Mabel, you can trade spoonfuls of it for many things.
• Blood: Small vials of coagulated human blood are a popular trade item, but the vendors favour fresh samples. Bring a clean dagger and some bandages.
• Teeth: Animal, inhabitant or your own. They are all valuable so if you find one, pocket it for the market.

In addition to your trade items, find the red basket in the supply closet and grab one of the cords inside it. If there aren’t any left, wait until someone returns- you must not enter the Fête without one.

1. The Strawberry Fête takes place next to the central lake of Raifee Wood. The fête is quite noisy, but you will not be able to see it. Locate the petrified stump on the lake’s border. Next to it, you should see a small circle of rocks- this is the location of the Strawberry Fête. Do not touch the circle or step into it until you are ready.
2. There is a branch on the petrified stump which you should knot the cord tightly to. Tie the other end around your wrist. We are not 100% certain what the cords are, but after examining one, Natalia compared it to an umbilical cord specimen she saw during her nursing course. We’ve decided that we shouldn’t ask Mabel about them- we'd rather not know. Whatever they are, they're a crucial tether to the mortal world and without being tied to one, you won’t be able to leave the Strawberry Fête.
3. When you’re ready, jump into the circle. Ensure you don’t fall over and that both of your legs enter the circle at once. If you try to step into it or stumble and land only partially in the circle, part of your body will be ripped into the Fête while the rest remains in the Wood. I’ve only seen it once before and it’s… gruesome.
4. When you enter the Fête, you will see a bustling market filled with vendor stalls, a bandstand and a maypole. Everything will be contained within a ring of tall standing stones, much larger than the ones you saw in the wood. Do not stray beyond these stones at any point during your visit. The mist outside has the same quality as the mist surrounding Raifee Wood- it is incredibly corrosive.
5. The vendors and customers at the Strawberry Fête are the typical sprites you will see flitting around Raifee Wood, although much larger than you will be accustomed to. Usually no taller than a pencil, the ones in the Fête are just a foot or two shorter than the average human. Unfortunately, this makes their unusual features more notable too. Big, expressive eyes look fine when the sprites are small, but up close the way their pupils bulge and dilate is unsettling. The twitchiness of their dragonfly wings and sharp teeth can be unnerving too. Refrain from commenting on these things. Sprites are easily offended and will either refuse to trade with you or make your visit actively difficult if they feel slighted.
6. While you are walking around the Fête, you will notice that your cord stretches upwards, disappearing from sight. Nobody should mention or bother you about it but do not remove it at any point. A few sprites may try to convince you to untie it: To help you try something on, or for them to hold onto while you dance. Firmly reject these suggestions, even if they seem upset- they know full well what they’re doing. Thankfully, due to our status as rangers, the sprites won’t try to forcefully cut or untie your cord, save for in a specific place. More on that later…
7. When you arrive, look for a cloche, in the middle of the Fête. Inside, you will see a cluster of strawberries with human faces. Note the appearance of the fruit. As the Fête continues, the berries will degrade, shrivelling as the faces twist into pained expressions. Check on the cloche every 20 minutes or so. It is very easy to lose track of time in the fête, and you do not want to be around when the strawberries are completely rotten.
8. There are normally several stalls selling food throughout the market. Do not buy or eat anything. While perfectly fine for the sprites, the majority of sprite delicacies cause nasty side-effects for humans or contain ingredients that you don’t want to consume. The pasty vendor is especially pushy, so avoid him. He has a sadistic interest in getting rangers to try his goods claiming that they’re ‘a taste from home’. Fortunately, nobody has tried any of them yet- sprite wordplay is painfully blatant.
9. Aside from food, many of the stalls will be peddling unusual but useful supplies which can be traded for using the general items listed at the top of the entry. Fertilisers for keeping the cottage’s St John’s Wort healthy, winter furs that pulse warmly as if still alive and plenty of toys and trinkets for entertainment and decoration at the cottage. The important thing is not to accept anything for free, even if the vendor claims that it's a gift. Sprites never give anything away for free and will be keen for you to accept the offer since it gives them the liberty to choose their payment. For example, a former ranger named Clover once accepted a complimentary winter hat from a vendor and lost her scalp. We were able to patch her up, but she didn’t last long after that.
10. The stall decorated with spider webs sells a lot of useful fabrics. It is worth a visit- the spools of web thread are incredibly durable and can be used to fix garments, while the circles of dried caul membrane can adhere to small injuries and scars to heal them. Avoid red lace, however. The delicate material is composed of veins, and can instantly adhere to your skin like the caul membranes do, even if you so much as brush past it. However, rather than smoothing over or healing wounds and scars, the lace creates sensitive sore spots that throb uncomfortably.
11. The elderly sprite running the blue tent sells dreams in bottles. For obvious reasons, our line of work can make sleeping difficult so having a guaranteed peaceful rest is very useful. However, the dream vendor will only accept one trade- a dream bottle for a happy memory. You won’t get to choose what memory he takes so this is a bit of a gamble- it could just be a field trip you went on at school but it might also be your mother’s face. The only off-limit thing seems to be our true and false names. If you decide to trade a memory, the sprite will extract it with a long thin hook inserted into your nose. While safe (provided you stay still) I will caution that the sensation of having a memory pulled out is uncomfortable- a bit like a fingernail hooking under a crease in your brain and unpicking it. Thankfully, the procedure has no physical ill effect. Once you’ve paid, take care when selecting your bottle. Each will contain a multi-hued mist and these colours are important. The majority are safe, and will contain peaceful dreams that can be used up to five times- open the bottle and inhale some of the mist before recorking it. However, avoid any bottles with blue or yellow hues. The seller only sells good dreams, but a good dream for a sprite can differ greatly from a good dream for a human. I don’t know about you, but dreaming about eating a newborn child or tormenting an old woman by sticking pins under her fingernails hardly sounds appealing to me.
12. Avoid the red marquee. While most of the humans being traded in there are very young, the sellers in the tent may try to forcefully cut your cord and sell you off too. The atmosphere in the marquee is very intense and we think that is what emboldens the sprites who hang around in it. The thick material of the tent should muffle most of the noise and smell, but it is best to keep away from it altogether. Trying to disrupt the marquee’s proceedings will likely shatter the social contract which allows us to enter the fête in the first place. Besides, if in theory you did manage to save someone, they couldn’t leave with you- the cords can only lift one person at a time. Better to be bartered, butchered and consumed in one’s sleep than be woken up and forced to choose between an angry mob or the melting mist.
13. If you require companionship, visit the brightly painted caravan near the bandstand. It sells some useful monsters called umbramites. These small creatures appear as nothing more than a shadow on the nearest surface, unable to interact with anything in the physical realm. However, they are excellent at alerting to unseen dangers, can be sent off to locate missing objects and according to those who do choose to own them, can provide much-needed companionship. Ask Arata or Bea for more information if you are interested. However, life requires an equivalent sacrifice. Alongside a large initial trade of standard goods (the vendor has an affinity for teeth if you have any), the time that your umbramite lasts is determined by how much of your lifespan you’re willing to give up. It can be a few weeks or a few decades. You won’t age physically when the time is taken, but you will feel a distinct sense of heartburn as your lifespan reduces. The trainer who runs the stand will stitch your shadow to the umbramite using a black thread- it dissolves after a few days so you can both move independently. The umbramite will stay loyal to you and last until its allotted lifespan runs out. While lifespan feels like a steep price, it is worth remembering that virtually no rangers ever reach old age- you may as well put those years to use, right?
14. The twin sisters who own the silver stall offer extractions of all kinds. If you have a rotten tooth, or a stubborn splinter from the Steward, they’ll remove it for a small fee. For a bigger fee, they can also remove more evasive troubles- traumatic memories, heartache and regrets. For this, they have a jar filled with silver leeches. Once attached to the temple, they will extract the unpleasant memory of your choosing with only moderate discomfort. Just be careful not to let them remove any important information about the inhabitants- if you ask them to remove a memory associated with one, re-read their guide entry carefully afterwards.
15. If you are invited to take part in the maypole ceremony, decline. The young female sprites who usually participate are viciously competitive. If you mess up the pattern they are weaving or look as if you’re showing off they will attack you violently, ranger or not. They’re not above inflicting this treatment on other sprites either- the maypole dance typically ends with at least one casualty.
16. It is safe to dance within the crowd of revellers at the bandstand, but only on your own or with another ranger. If you dance with one of the sprites, they will become attached to you and follow you around the market obsessively. Furthermore, when it is time to leave, they will cling to you and the extra weight risks breaking your cord. If you do notice another ranger in this predicament, do your best to restrain the sprite so the ranger can leave quickly. Ignore the whining and sobbing, sprites are fickle and they would quickly lose interest in you even if you stayed with them in the market. Once discarded, the merchants of the red marquee would likely pick you off.
17. As mentioned previously, you must be careful to monitor your time in the market closely. Time passes at an uneven pace: An hour can feel as short as ten minutes or as long as a day. To be safe, you should leave when the larger strawberries begin to cave in and darken, if not before. From what Mabel has told us, once the strawberries have fully decayed the market shifts location, severing your cord and leaving you at the mercy of the merchants.
18. To leave the market, make sure that everything you have with you is securely packed away in your buttoned pockets or rucksack. Loop both of your hands into the cord securely and pull yourself up. When you are around a meter or two off the ground, the cord will retract sharply, pulling you up and out of the Strawberry Fête. The force will normally fling you clean from the circle, so be prepared for a rough landing.
19. Once resurfaced, untie the cord and check your inventory thoroughly, including all the linings and pockets of your clothes. On occasion, one of the sprites will sneak an extra unpaid good into your pockets before you leave. If you are concerned that you might not be able to keep track of your inventory, bring a list, including everything you brought in and purchased. If you do find something, throw it into the circle before you leave. If kept, the sprite will find you on your next visit and as mentioned before, take whatever payment they feel entitled to. It won’t be a fair trade.

Previous Entry: Entry 33, The Blightswell
Introduction and basic guide to surviving in Raifee Wood

Hi all, please delete if not allowed, but I was thinking about one of my childhood (late 90s early 2000s) GI Joes and was wondering if you might be able to tell me what set it was from? I had a 12" Joe who was either bald or had shortcropped hair that came with a blue camouflage-patterned suit and had a helmet that went to his shoulders that looked like a space helmet, black plastic with a moveable green visor. Does this sound familiar to anyone, or is it from another toy line than Joe?

I’m having issues with finding shoes that are comfortable for my rt foot. Either the top surface is uncomfortable with the tongue of the shoe sitting on it (no matter how loose it is) or the toe box keeps collapsing into my toes when I take a step no matter what size so it’s not a too big/too tight issue. I’ve tried different lacing patterns without help and stuffing the toe box with something to make it fit better but to no avail. I’m wondering if there’s something wrong with the structure of my foot or with my stride or if there’s something else going on. Left foot feels fine with everything. Thanks.

in middle school i had a book from Klutz and this was one of the patterns in it. are there any on bracelet book that have beads in them like this? i’m not very good at making my own patterns and need something to follow.
also, is there a discord group for friendship bracelets? i’d love to join!
thank you!

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Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 3 “Of Fire And Fury”

“Boss, you-”
“No. Santos, you’re an animal expert and you’ve done more than enough as it is. Vess, one of you needs to be here and between you and Marik I’d rather take him with me, I’m sure you appreciate it. Nila, you have a long career and basically never fielded. That’s enough skeleton crew, the three of you are staying here. That’s final.”
Keya sighs, the closed walls of the van offering little distraction from wayward thoughts. She turns her attention to the rest of her officers in it, trying to distract herself from memories of earlier in the paw “Been a while since I’ve been in an actual transport van” she drops, hoping for a response.
Her officers tiredly turned their attention to her. Marik, Lunek, Aren and Kessa were all here with her in the transport and none looking too joyful at the situation “Somehow our cruiser is more comfortable” Aren chuckles.
“That’s ‘cause it’s a secondhand retrofit bought in an auction” Keya shakes her head before tilting her ears to the front of the van “We got much longer to go?”
“No, ma’am” comes the chirp of a krakotl “In fact just past the corner”
Though it was impossible to see from within the enclosed van, the slow deceleration and eventual full stop made it clear they were, in fact, at their destination. Stepping out of the van the first thing to strike is the noise, a distant cacophony of shouting and howling. The second thing to strike was the colors, usually in such a large congregation of exterminators one would be seeing a light of bright colors, the silver and white of thermal suits, the reds and yellows of their tools, but what was most abundant here were darker colors, mainly black. “Briefing’s over in that tent, you should be the last team for this paw” their driver mentions, having stepped out herself.
Which brings the third thing called to attention- The tents. An entire operational outpost had been set up here, taking over a little park, and by the number of tents present running logistics and command this was far from a small operation. “They’re still bringing in more people?” a voice from behind draws her attention.
Tilting her ear back while they move Keya keeps track of a conversation “Whatever is going on here is big it seems” Aren had begun conversing with someone else that was out of her sight, but they had places to be and she had to keep walking.
“Herd’s just been getting bigger for the last four paws, tension just getting worse. Crap, I’m surprised it didn’t boil over just yet” the bassy voice in what she believed was mazic language added “Well, good luck you all, I’ll have to get back on the line soon”
It did not take much longer before the Blackriver crew arrived at the tent where the briefing was to be held. A scattering of plastic chairs was spread in front of a projector, another two dozen exterminators were already here and seated, the number of venlil among them was also surprisingly low. Or perhaps it was not quite so surprising given why they were here, most surprising was the presence of humans. “Ah, the last group we were expecting” says someone at the front by the projectors. An older venlil whose age-grey had overtaken whatever his natural color was, as well as a human with a long patch of black fur dangling from under his nose were there. “Take a seat”
“Alright, here’s the rundown of the situation” the venlil officer starts. “Four paws ago a protest started in front of the Regional, Ilfran’s Landing is a big city but it became obvious people came from everywhere here. The protesting started getting heated, so the Guild decided to send personnel to prevent it from causing any harm. I’m sure a few months ago we all believed prey wouldn’t get up to these antics, that the human stampede from the memorial service was unique to predators. I’m sure we have been all disabused of this notion by recent news” he sighs “For the last four paws the protest has been building up, they’ve set up food stalls even”
“You know it’s serious when the grills come out” one of the humans pipes up
“Fact they brought some meat is something we’re overlooking right now” the venlil commander adds, causing a few worried signs from everyone present “Planetary HQ decided to get their paws dirty with this protest, however, and sent directives as well as called up reinforcements to deal with this. Officers on site have been rotating in and out to keep a paw-long presence.”
“Here are your priorities: First, the safety of unrelated parties. Second, safety of the protestors. Third, integrity of unrelated material. Last, integrity of the Regional” after a moment to let the information settle he continues “Look… I think it bears saying… None of us is happy with our Regional Firebase. I bet most of you want to be there with the protestors. Speh, I bet the protestors don’t even know how many exterminators are in there with them.”
He starts pacing “We’ve all seen how often promises of funding ended up with badly maintained gear and suspiciously rich chiefs. We’ve all seen how many people complaining about malpractice just happened to be diagnosed with PD. We’ve all seen how reports of extortion seemed to just vanish into thin air. Or how when the omnivores among us learned the truth they kept silent, even when the HQ was giving out statements of succor for their officers.”
“We all joined the force wanting to protect the herd. No, no- Not all of us. Quite a few joined out of lack of choice, but we’ve all bought into the lie we were supposed to be protectors. I think recent history has shown that was never the true intent of the guild.” the venlil commander stops pacing and turns to the assembly “But we’re here to make that lie a reality. We’re here to protect our herd, from ourselves if that has to be it. And HQ agrees. The Regional has fucked up too much.”
“So they’re leaving it out to dry” he adds with a finishing tone “We are only here to make sure those people don’t hurt each other and other innocents around, because they can.” with a paw wave he directs attention to a map being projected, it shows the local streets with a large red mark on multiple of them, as well as blue lines encircling the mark “This is the current protest zone, yes it’s huge. You are not to attempt to contain them too much, for now they have been happy with being herded around somewhat, the only point of real contest is this street” he points to said street “That is to be kept clear for traffic at all times. Solgalick’s Mercy is one of the largest hospitals around here, I’m sure the herd will be understanding of not blocking access to it.”
Then the human commander picks up the briefing “Alright… My turn. You already got the gist of the situation, so I’m adding my experience here. Used to be military police before I volunteered to get here, closest thing we have on earth to the actual job the exterminators do. Been at my fair share riots, both sides. Broke quite a few windows when I was a teenager.”
“Let me tell you one thing, the big bad predator here is scared alright?” he adds with a serious tone, scanning his eyes through everyone “These people are angry, and they’re not aimlessly angry. They know every crime hanging over the Regional, they have lists of the guilty, they have a plan and have goals. And those are the most effective and dangerous kind. They’re not aimless civilians angry at the police because something happened.”
“Or at least their leadership is. I’m sure whatever changes they are pressuring for will go through, with how the headquarters is dealing with things here. Wouldn’t surprise me if they just decided to throw the Regional’s staff to the wolves” a couple of people flinch at the imagery “Don’t pretend that’s not what y’all are right now… No, no you’re worse than that. Let me tell you something-”
“If this shit was going down back on Earth? We could rely on the group being disorganized. When a large group like this happens, they can’t work together very well without training. It takes years to teach a human to work in large groups like this, but I’m seeing a lot of venlil in here, this is your home after all. And you people? You don’t need that training to work in a group, it’s in your nature. And in the worst case scenario, and those people get riled up? We’re not looking at a mob, we’re looking at an army.”
The human’s gaze turns back to the map “But as I’ve said, they’re a people with a plan. The organization of the protest has no plans for things to turn violent, they want pressure and not damage. But that doesn’t mean those aren’t just people here, who have more than enough reasons to be angry. If just one of them decides that the organizer’s plans aren’t enough justice… Well, the herd follows. And I’ve come to realize that’s true regardless of species.”
He turns back to the assembled “My point is be careful, because if the worst comes to pass, well… It’ll be bloody.”
With an affirmative flick of his right ear the venlil commander steps up “I’m sure you’ve all took in the map as is and have found your sectors” he waits for a few seconds, watching as multiple signs from ear flicks to thumbs ups to tail swipes to nods respond “Good, go to the armory tent to get the riot gear and a quick briefing on it and… Good luck”
As the group filters out of the briefing room, Keya steps last behind the rest of her own officers. “Lunek you alright with being in the shield line?”
“Yeah… Don’t worry boss, I can handle it” his voice is shaking a little bit, but he isn’t flinching “I hope nothing bad happens… I understand what those people are thinking.”
“We all do, if it helps… I think they’re doing the right thing as well. It’s this Regional that let Long Cliff happen, who straight up goaded Striped Hill on. Just remember, we’re just here to make sure nobody gets hurt… Too much.”
It wasn’t long until they'd made their way to the armory tent. It was as organized as it could be, a tarp had been set up as a tent off the back of a transport van, inside of it visible are mostly the black padded armor that every other exterminator had been wearing in this place as well as tall translucent shields. The first one to step up was Marik, curiously scanning through the unusual gear.
“I know a gun nut when I see one” says the human that’s manning the station “All less-lethal gear here” she points back with a thumb at the sparsely fitted weapon racks before starting to pull out and give armor sets “Standard issue riot armor, ceramic plating with shatterweave layer. Will take any reasonable hit, fire-resistant, in case any high caliber weapon has found their way here the shatterweave will take one punch no matter how hard” Keya is the first to step over “Fasten over here, and over here. Those are venlil fit”
As the human pulls out two shields Nila and Lunek step up front, both still fastening up their armor “Riot shields, put your hands through this place here and hold on tight. You’re going to have to hold it at a bit of an angle since they’re human-sized. Can take bullets if need be, should stop anything they can throw at you.” Lunek is the first one to strap the shield to his arm, finding that it is as she had said, just a few centimeters too tall and scraping hard at the floor if he tries to move. “I’m sure you’re well acquainted with the sticks, though”
Then, she pulls out a short gun, single-barreled with a strangely wide barrel and a long magazine at the back of it loaded from the top. Marik picks it up, inspecting the empty gun and then the magazine that she puts down “Shotgun with rubber rounds. Low-power, hits like a punch from god, can still break bones and rip an eye off so aim at the limbs. You’re staying right behind the shield line, right?”
“Yeah” Marik adds simply, loading the magazine full of large rounds in it “Keep holstered until command”
Then, the human pulls out two pieces of gear that make the officers look confused. “UX-1s, new thing your people came up with” sitting on the ground was a rather familiar object, a gauntlet-mounted fluid projector with a long tube attached to a back-mounted tank. Unlike the usual flamethrower design, however, it was not just a single tank but two half-sized ones. One of them was a familiar blue but it had yellow stripes while the other one was a bright green.
“Experimental?” Aren is the one to ask “Also I never heard the ‘U’ classification. Are you sure we should be bringing experimental gear to this sort of situation?”
The woman shrugs “Actually better than the stuff we used on Earth, amusingly.” she taps the side of her head “Took a stickyfoam canister to the noggin once, got a cranial fracture out of it. Anyway” she points to the gear as Keya and Aren put them on, its shape feeling familiar to them “Utility-type Mark One fluid projector. Designed first and foremost as a tool. You’re equipped with the riot loadout, shockwater” he taps the blue canister “And stickyfoam.” the green canister.
“There’s a selector here” she flicks the selector unceremoniously in Keya’s palm “Shockwater is water laced with minerals to increase conductivity, when you fire you have more than just high pressure water but also a mild shock, less than a taser but enough to dissuade anyone.” she flicks the selector again “Stickfoam, it remains liquid for a few seconds before hardening and sticking to any surface, solid as stone. Originally used as an anti-tank weapon but we employ it in riot control, be sure to aim for the feet and whoever it is isn’t going to be moving anytime soon” then she pulls out two handheld canisters “Stickyfoam solvent, in case you need it”
Keya pulls up her holopad, looking at the clock. Bit more than a tenth of a claw had passed, very little time, and they were already strapped in gear and ready to go. “Alright” she swallows a deep breath “Meven Street, we’re going to be by the road to the hospital. Everyone be as relaxed as you can-” but her words are interrupted.
Aren had gently swinged his tail to touch her shoulder “Hey, you’re just another officer right now, boss. Don’t worry, we all know our positions” she only answers by flicking an ear forward once, and keeping silent.
The cacophony of noise grew louder and louder as they got closer to their assigned position. There were shouts, not in unison but in a disparate stream of white noise, there was music being played loudly and annoyingly both in real instruments and out of devices. A thousand and one different ways to make oneself heard were being played out within the mass that had overtaken the street.
Even knowing she was just another officer this time, Keya still couldn’t stop herself from watching her officers go their respective ways.
Nila and Lunek quickly ran off to the line of officers standing right beside the crowd, as soon as they approached a gojid and a takkan wearing the same riot gear quickly came back after being relieved, visible bags under their eyes as they sluggishly started heading back towards the temporary base.
Marik quickly found his way beside a group of humans standing just a few meters behind the shield line by a parked cruiser. The group seems to acknowledge him wordlessly at first, but when one of the humans goes to leave he attempts to pat Marik on the head. Predictably, the loudness of the slap is strong enough to even attract attention from some in the protest, who stare inquisitively as the other humans the group laugh at the one leaving.
“Really put us right in the fuel line…” Aren’s voice calls her attention to her side. Tracking where his ears are turned to, she finds the tallest building in the street- Solgalick’s Mercy Hospital. “You think there’ll be a problem?” he asks.
She looks around to where her post is. A small tent had been set up here as well as a large vehicle she hadn’t seen before with a strange turret on top comprised of a long barrel and two round objects by the sides, a couple of people with white bands bearing the green paw symbol of field medics were sitting on plastic chairs “Either there’ll be none or all of them at once” she says. There were two others here, another couple of venlil wearing the same UX-1s as they were and quite clearly the ones they were meant to relive “What’s with that?” she asks, pointing at the vehicle with her tail.
“Humans call it a riot control vehicle” one of them answers “Got a bunch of things in it in case people get rowdy to take them down without harm.” They wave a paw at it “My opinion, though? Looks like one of those arxur transport vehicles. Kinda creepy.”
Aren’s chuckle makes her twist an ear at him “Nah this is definitely not that. Look up human tanks later, then you’re going to see a real vehicle like that”
“Aren, stop making things awkward” she sighs “Everyone’s tense enough as is”
“Nah, it’s alright” the one she’s relieving answers “I’d rather have this stuff on my side anyway” they say before leaving with a wave.
Keya’s role was very obvious. Armed with the heaviest-duty crowd control gear and stationed beside an armored vehicle they were quite clearly the final resort in case something happened, which meant she’d have time to watch. She felt a little bit guilty, it was probably her seniority that got her placement here and knowing some of her officers were right up there in the shield wall while she was here…
But for now, all she could do was observe and… Wait. She watches as the line of officers of many species ahead stand tall as the cacophonous mass of protestors shifts like water past them. The noise is great, but surprisingly not grating, there are a multitude of voices but they seem to be working together in some way. A few more officers come to relieve men at the wall as others leave. Once or twice officers at the wall need to leave and then quickly return. including one of her own.
Lunek needs a bit more endurance training… crosses her mind.
At one point Marik gets inside the cruiser with the human officers and the vehicle speeds away. It doesn’t take long for it to return, they stop the vehicle at the same place it was and step out, nothing seemingly having happened. But the protest is louder at this point.
Nearly an entire claw had passed at this point, with the noise slowly rising higher and higher, when a small commotion happens by the shield wall. For a couple of seconds she puts her entire focus there trying to figure out what is going on, until a krakotl officer waves a beckon with their tail and she and Aren rush towards the position.
When they get there the shield line had let through a human carrying a venlil in her arms “I can walk you know?”
“No you can’t, you’re limping”
“That was my tail, not my leg”
“Fuck you, man, just let me-”
“Excuse-me, what happened?” Keya interrupts the bickering duo
“I don’t know, someone stepped on his tail and he just crumpled, I need to take him to the hospital!”
“Girl, it’s just a tail torsion-” the venlil wiggles in her arms
“That’s not nothing!” Aren howls “Speh, that’s a part of your spine, you shouldn’t be on your feet” he turns around, scanning the direction of the hospital “Do you need help carrying him”
“No, I got it, thanks… Thought you weren’t going to let us pass.”
Keya shrugs her tail “We’re just keeping the way to the hospital clear” she turns her focus to the venlil in the woman’s arms “Stop trying to play tough, just let her take you”
The two of them escort the grumbling pair until they’ve past the area with the vehicle and let them continue on their way to the hospital “Ick, I’m surprised he’s awake. Tail torsions hurt like death” Aren comments
“Don’t I know it, suffered one during stampede response training. Felt like someone was pulling my brain out through my tail” she shudders at the thought “... Why did it happen, though? Takes a lot of effort to cause it”
Aren looks over at the mass of the protest. There were now a lot more signs raised then before, and the noise was louder “Dunno, they look super packed right now” and she sees Aren’s hackles visibly raising “I don’t like this”
Keya turns around, she can hear sounds coming from the large vehicle beside her, like claws on metal. The first thing she notices ahead is the group on the cruiser having opened the vehicle’s doors and standing ready, then she notices that the shield wall had lost some of their lightly casual posture, holding tighter to their shields.
It was just one person.
One agitated venlil having some form of heated argument with a human. The shouting can’t reach her here, she can’t hear the words, but she can see the energetic swings of the arms and the erratic tail.
The venlil turns around suddenly, a bottle of drink in her paw. The human moves quickly, but not quickly enough- He grabs her by the waist, lifting her up on his shoulders and starting to drag her out of there- But the bottle had already been thrown, it sails the piddly distance between them and the shield line.
The glass shatters against a translucent shield, a light crimson fire of high proof alcohol erupts on the impact. And the shouting begins.
In a matter of moments what was disorganized yet harmonic shouting turns to vicious howling and roaring, the crowd on the other side of the shield wall starts moving faster and some voices on a megaphone can be heard. But the cries for organization go unheard as the tension continues to boil- But for a few moments, nothing else happens. There is one officer in the shield wall who is shaking, Lunek’s ears are pinned to their head in fear, but he holds his shield steady- The dying flames still lick at the other side of the transparent barrier, Lunek attempts a gentle motion of reassurance with his tail towards the crowd, nobody around moves and for a fraction of a moment it seems the worst had passed as silence seems to rule.
And then there was gunfire. The supersonic boom of overheated air familiar to magnetically-accelerated weapons, a crimson streak in the sky of a tracer round originated from the Regional.
Sound returns in a terrible roar of a multitude of voices. The officers at the shield wall change their posture and steady their feet just in time as the crowd seems to crash against the shields like a tide and then retreat. For a few moments Keya holds on to her breath, readying for action but… The wall holds, and for now she needs not act.
“Hell, it’s going to shit!” a voice calls out from behind, a human Keya hadn’t noticed here had come running “Everyone, keep this street clear! The riot is breaking out in earnest and we already have a few wounded, they’re coming in from the other side of the street!” It was the same human commander from the briefing. He stops in place for a few seconds, left hand over his ear “Shit… Hell… FUCK! Fine” he runs ahead of her closer to the shield wall “Keep holding, keep the hospital lane clear!”
Keya can just stare as the shouting from the other side of the line grows to a crescendo and… The shield line starts to move. Each and every man in the shield line is holding steady to their shields, their feet planted firmly on the ground… But the herd is moving forward with similar intensity, except with so many more bodies they have begun to physically drag the officers along.
“Attention protesters!” it was a venlil’s voice on the megaphone this time, familiar, of the same man who held the briefing “Please keep this street clear! Keep the route to the hospital open! That is all we ask!” but the cries fall to deaf ears.
“Hell… Shield line, move back! Suppression cannons!” Keya jolts as the armored vehicle beside her whirs to life, she makes space for it as it moves forward and the shield line starts slowly yielding ground. The turret on top of the vehicle turns towards the mass of protesters and- From it erupts a powerful jet of water, not unlike that from a firefighter’s vehicle, but instead of aimed at flames it is aimed at people. The powerful stream of water strikes them, causing many to stumble backwards for a bit-
But the ones behind them prop them back up, and the combined might of the herd beats off the pressurized water. She can’t see it from behind the shield wall, but the simple thought of being pressured front and back by different forces, the water- “Cannons, switch to shockwater!”
It takes only half a second, what was once a combined, mobilized force against the torrent scatters. The combined block loses cohesion, but they do not retreat- For a moment all they do is cease advancing as they huddle like a wall against the amplified assault. But a moment is all they need, no longer pressured the shield wall relaxes for just a moment, and then those at the front of the riot rush. The shields close in again, but not fast enough before a few dozen break through running forward.
Keya readies herself, flicking the selector to shockwater and lowering her stance, Aren does the same at a distance. But they’re not the first ones to move, instead Marik and the officers with him move first, bringing up their shotguns and firing. The blasts are loud- The first few runners just fall over, the impacts swiping their limbs from under them. A couple of humans had clearly been hit and continued to rush despite the crimson soaking their clothes. A venlil had to be hit five times, he stumbled at the first two hits, seemingly shrugging them off unharmed, the two next caused him to flinch and the fifth hitting a glancing strike on his head sending him tumbling down. “STAND DOWN!” the officer who fired the last shot yells, she can see Marik hollering at him but the din of battle had become too powerful.
“Shields, retreat! LRAD, active!” the human commander shouts. The shield line starts to move back, Marik and the rest of the shotgunners walk back as well- Then, a strange piercing noise erupts from the vehicle. She keeps her primary focus on the advancing riot but she can see enough to notice a pair of speakers mounted on the turret, speakers directional not unlike her own ears, and the annoying noise finally processes to her as a mere echo of whatever the real sound would be like. A couple of seconds after that realization she sees the majority of the riot just stop on their tracks, pulling ears closed and clutching their head. If the simple noise bleed beside the vehicle was giving her a mild headache, she couldn’t imagine what being in the direct cone of sound would be doing.
But another sound, much lower, attracts her attention. A sound from behind her that causes her to twist an ear back to catch it. Whistles. The periodic whistles had a very particular cadence, a cadence of whistles that everyone learns the importance of very early in their lives- After all, the sound of an ambulance is familiar to all. She chances a glance behind her to see that there isn’t just one, but multiple. Some arriving, some leaving, they’re going as fast as their engines can, unloading people inside the hospital.
But it is a terrifying bugle that turns her eyes back to the crowd that seemed disabled. The sound cannon had done its job, but there were still some people running. But in that instant something became clear: They weren’t trying to get anywhere, nor were they trying to get away from something no. It was clear where they were heading, she was their target, as was everyone else here clad in black. And there were still dozens driven by raw emotions that had overcome every weapon employed against them.
Aren had taken position beside her, the men that once held the shield line had now become separated from each other, using shield and baton to fend off rioters whose new objective was to bring punishment with their own paws. Keya flicks the selector, she’d already seen those people power through shockwater, and aims her gauntlet low.
Six, there were six rushing towards her and she couldn’t spare mental power to process even their species. She clenches her paw, grasping the trigger and firing a short stream of green fluid, the six raise up their arms expecting something else and leaving their lower limbs unprotected as the sticky substance covers feather, fur, scale and cloth. They have time to take one more step before the mess solidifies, their upper bodies lurching forward while their lower bodies refuse to move, they struggle to move to no avail resorting to their voices as their final weapon.
She spares a glance at Aren who’d been turned on by another half dozen, then focuses forward once again, Marik and his team had already retreated behind her and the shields were starting a slow retreat. Most of them had made it past behind her and Aren, their stickyfoam doing the final job of keeping people contained where the riot vehicle failed, but Lunek and a few others had remained ahead to cover against all manners of thrown objects.
The rage-fuelled burst, however, could only drive the rioters for so long and their will started to falter. The larger groups had begun to disperse, the whistles of the ambulances were starting to sound louder than the shouts, the noise of the LRAD had died out and the pressure gauge was indicating her stickyfoam tank was down to the last third. Keya felt, for a moment, that the crowd’s fury had been spent and she could relax.
And then she saw him. A man with a silver coat of fur, eyes filled with feral rage, body marred by scars new and old, twitching claws and angrily pawing at the ground. When their attentions crossed he ran at her, she aims her gauntlet low at him but he leaps, she tries to track his movement but he was too fast and lands with both hindpaws against her chest- She simply presses the trigger and swings her gauntlet up as the impact brings both of them to the ground.
Falling on her back against the backtank leaves her breathless for a moment. But Keya quickly recovers to stand back up, first assessing that nobody else was running at her- But even before she can do that the horrible gurgling sounds from the ground call her attention. The man had fallen, body partly immobilized with one of his arms stuck to his side, but he desperately claws at his face- Green viscosity covering his snout and leaking also out of his mouth.
“BRAHK!” Keya quickly kneels down beside him “MEDIC!” she shouts, pulling out the canister of solvent from her belt with a shaking paw “Stop- Stop it!” she says, trying to control the man’s frenzied free paw as she sprays the solvent on his face and mouth, before venturing her own paw between his teeth to attempt to pull the softened mass blocking the airway.
“Move, move, move!” a commanding voice comes from beside her, people with the green paw band had arrived “We got a blocked airway here, get the-” they quickly shoo her away and she’s more than happy to let the experts do their job. She stands back up and looks around, the sounds have died off save for the whistles of the ambulances.
There were people scattered on the ground, sitting on the curb, resting against walls, all of them nursing wounds. Glass littered the streets from every storefront and house in sight, no object present in the street was spared the pent up rage, and illuminating everything was the orange glow of flames. Flames, thankfully, contained to just one place.
Even from here she could see it, the front of the Regional had, in a twist of irony, taken ablaze. The flames threatened to spread further into the nearby buildings but as the rage of the riot died down people had arrived to stop it, a group was helping escort the water cannons towards the flames, one of them had already arrived and was dowsing the nearby buildings with water, wounded people refused being taken to the nearby hospital as they set up a bucket brigade to draw more water from nearby buildings to help soak the flames. Echoing in the distance were the sirens of the fire engines coming to the rescue.
Keya just stands there watching the shifting chaos, taking in deep breaths… “Hell…” is all she can say.
[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
Even the most well organized, well prepared, demonstration can fall part. When so much wrong has been brought, when you finally have the chance to let the world hear you... Sometimes all that is left in you is pure fire and fury.
And in the end it just takes one person, and the herd follows. That is true for any thinking mind.
And always remember: Even the gentlest of blows is still a deadly strike.

Blaze 3: Demonic Arc 4: Spirit World³
Last time Shunsuke and Ayame were experiencing some alternate worlds. They ended up in a flooding situation. Will they survive? Find out right now. The water is filled to the tipy top. Oxygen is fading. Suddenly the change occurs and they are in another area or world. Both are together. Ayame” There you are. Are we in our regular world or not.” Shunsuke” There's no telling. All of those tricks we'd witnessed; there's no way we'll know for sure sure.” Ayame” We have to let it play out for now.” Ayame looks into a mirror. Ayame” That looks .” Shunsuke” What?” Ayame” It looked like it was moving.” Shunsuke” I don't see anything but it could be moving eventually.” Things move in slow motion.
Their mirror selves come from the mirror slowly. Ayame” Yikes! Seen it coming.” Shunsuke” Lets get started.” More mirrors appear and they look into it but not intentionally. They must fight themselves. Endless cycle. The mirrors break and but continues to appear. Ayame” This has got to end now!” Shunsuke” Stupid mirrors.” The world begins glitch up and they have returned to real life. Shunsuke” We're finally back.” Ayame” How can you tell?” Shunsuke” I just can.” Afterwards they complete their mission. The Defense Team get together and discuss what happened. A woman overhears thier conversation. She says" My name is Hakura. I've heard about what you were talking about."
Cakashiro” That's great.” Hakura” They used an item called the Reality Juju or the Juju of Reality. It can tamper with reality and fiction. Any non living things can be made real but the user must be nearby.” Jeem” Nearby you say.” Hisoni” Wait! They were close the entire time.” Those bastards.” Hakura” It is a deadly item and must be brought back. It can also trap you within the fictional world forever.” Lilitia” That means we have to be extra careful.” Sebastian is watching once more. He says” Those fools don't even know. I'm almost done with my last part of the plan.” He looks behind him. Sebastian” Is someone there? Oh well.” Alpha Team gets the information. They are preparing themselves.
Attack Team returns to the scene. Last time the Impersonators took Garner. Things will be told at a faster rate. This Arc isn't exciting. Arc will be changed. Garner will be impersonated for a few days. The people they copy becomes under their control. The same happened with the Moon Guardians. Theodore is Garner. He is trying to find a way to take out the Guardians by staying near them and studying them. He makes up a lie about barely escaping. The real Garner has been inserted back. He is under mind control and is sent to watch. Moon Guardians are kept secretly. Different area. The Impersonators continues to steal. Weeks later crime has went down. Even with the Defense Team. Scenes show everyone working on their jobs(Guardians). Sid, Phil and Fasha appear in the Spirit World.
Spyro wants them get equal training as Sid. Before training, they're giving a tour of the Spirit World. Cakashiro trains Phil. Kaori calls Fasha's name and insists she trains her. Alpha Team is giving out assigned missions even to Sid, Phil and Fasha. Esi is getting better in training. Spyro has two new Subordinates. Keema Wasaka and Tai-Jo(tie-jo) Momoku. They aren't training under anyone. Keema started out as a Private. Has blue eyes and hair. Long hair but tied in back. Tai-Jo has low black hair. Mustache and beard combo. Cakashiro has one to. Pon-Jo Momoku. Tai-Jo's younger brother. Black hair. No mustache. Sideburns connecting to mustache. He's under Hisoni's watch. God Spyro expects that the person behind the Reality Juju is also working with the criminals. Both incidents stopped happening around the same time.
Crime has picked back up. The stealing patterns are not the same this time. The Guardians don't know there's a completely new group. More weeks later. People are getting killed. This wasn't happening with the first incident. They only robbed people. They were robbing the low end areas. Now killing is added to the mix. This can't be the same person's doings. What are they after? Eventually the group reveals themselves. They are on the most wanted list. Team Carte(cart). Team(Greek names): Daphne(Leader), Cora, Phoebe(fee-b), Atlas(male), Lyra, Acacius(ah-cok-c-us)(male), Tobias(toe-by-as), and Alexander. They are targeting both teams. They were the ones who took the supplies. They are challenging any 8 members of their's. Attack Team's location.
Cakashiro chooses 4 people. Not including himself. Spyro does the same thing. Doega, Aereasa, Garner and Kitoro from Attack Team. Jeem, Shen, Shunsuke and Ayame from Defense Team. Team Carte chooses their opponents. Daphne vs Kitoro. Cora vs Jeem. Phoebe vs Garner. Atlas vs Ayame. Lyra vs Doega. Acacius vs Shen. Tobias vs Aereasa. Alexander vs Shunsuke. This group is more crafty in battle. Not like the other opponents. Some of the Guardians win but overall Team Carte wins. They return with a rematch. This time there's an added stipulation. They're fighting for keeps. To the death. Same people fighting. One fight at a time. Highlights: Lyra vs Doega. Ending of fight. It begins to rain. Rain drops on Doega's face. Doega” Oh a rainy day. Guess you know what this means!” He begins to laugh crazily.
Lyra” What is he blabbering on about?” Etatsu” It looks like Doega is finally getting serious.” His body has lightnig around him and Rain(blade). Doega” You see this. That means you're fucked Pancake(nickname). I'll show you why they call me the White Lightning Demon.” He charges at light speed. She can't keep up. His body spins and rotates. Lightning Torpedo finishes her. Finish move. Her body is know where to be found. Daphne" Impressive! Now who's next?” Acacius vs Shen. Shen puts his axe in the ground. Buried below. Things start to move slow. Pieces of the axe begin cut ground up from below. Shen can control the direction of the axe blade. Acacius tries to move but makes it worser. He gets cut in up into tiny pieces. Deck Destruction. Finisher.
During Jeem's fight, she doesn't kill her. Daphne” Aren't you going to finish her off?” Jeem” I'm not heartless.” Daphne” That's not what I wanted to hear.” She kills Cora herself. Jeem” You monster!” No more fights will get finishers to them. Last fight. Kitoro vs Daphne. Kitoro is the strongest member chosen. Daphne knocks out Kitoro. His body disappears. Daphne” Where'd he go?” Kitoro appears in the air and says" I'm up here.” She attacks him and he disappears again. This continues. Daphne” What's the big Idea here?” Kitoro puts his hands together in a hand seal position. Multiple Kitoros appear all around. She is trapped. Kitoro” You fell for the ol Shadow Clone technique. It's time for you to eat defeat.” Daphne” This doesn't scare me. I'll you all on.” Being bold.
All of the Kitoros charges and delivers combos. He goes for his finisher. The real Kitoro throws his blades at her. They connect. While still inside, Kitoro's clone(only one) throws his blades. 8 Kitoros throws their blades. They all remove their swords. One Kitoro removes 2 blades one at a time. Each sword represents an organ being crushed. When you take out a blade then only one organ will be crushed. 20 organs crushed. Organ Compress. Finisher. She is dead. A few weeks later. Now the Impersonators are back reeking havoc. Alpha Team is now facing the Reality Juju. Afterwards Sebastian is being watched again. The voice says” We've been watching you. The jig is up.” Sebastian” Who are you?”
They come out of hiding and it is the Impersonators. Theodore” We are not going to rat you off. We are Impersonators. We want you to join us." Sebastian” Now why would I do that?” Iris” We're much better at staying out of sight.” Evangeline” You are always leaving yourself wide open.” Ophelia" If we can spot you then anybody can.” Atticus” We need help with those Guardians. They're in our way.” Theodore” So what is this plan you were talking about?” Sebastian” Okay. I'll join you. I'm looking for Burial Ground key. I'm trying to bring back the dead. I need that key in order to do so.” Theodore” We're trying to use the Moon Guardians power but are having problems.” Other things are talked about. They exchange names.
Two weeks later. The Attack Team is talking. Garner's eyes turn red and he attacks his comrades. Under mind control. The people begin to act crazy and run into everyone. Suddenly, it becomes night out of no where. A bunch of dead people are roaming around. The Spirit World is on red alert. During red alert, the sky is red and a siren is heard. The other Teams are supposed to meet up at the spot. The alert occurs when severe damage occurs. Spyro” Whose behind this?” Theodore appears and says” That would be me." Maniya” How did you pull it off?” Theodore” It took me awhile to get it going. You Guardians were in the way so I took one of your member. I made the swap but not for that long. I put him under my control and put him back. He was basically watching you.” Aereasa” So that's what happened?”
Theodore” We won. Victory is ours.” Sebastian shows off his Reality Juju. Sebastian” Thanks for the help.” Defense Team has appeared and Cakashiro says” So that's the guy who has the Juju.” Everybody fights but are no match. The Spirit World in utter trouble. Everybody gangs up against the Guardians. The Alpha Team shows up at last. They have their eyes covered. Special eye gear. God Spyro started to realize that when Akahiro covered his eyes, he wasn't effected by it. They're using it to their advantage. Sebastian has been exposed and they exploit his weakness. He isn't a good fighter. He is taken out. In a trap. The Reality Juju has been retrieved. The dead returns to the Burial Ground.
A Burial Ground is a place where special bodies go when they die. Saida's body was buried there. Blaze definition. The Impersonators say they don't need him. They try to change the time/weather but the real Moon Guardians appear and cancel their surprises. The area is back day. The impersonators plan is failing and fast. There's only one thing left. Mind Control. God Spyro” You can either fight or surrender. What's your choice?” Theodore” We surrender.” God Spyro” Excellent descision.” Just like that. Without breaking a sweat. It's over. No more mind control. Garner and others who were affected get headaches. They are in prison now. The Reality Juju is put in a safe place. It is a new year. 2013. January. Weeks passes.
Things are balanced again. At night. Someone is sneaking around. They go into the Research and Development Center and the Registration Room. The scene is reshown and is revealed to be Kitoro Kuujo. What is he doing? His body disappears. He's now on Earth Realm in someone's house. A little girl” Who are you?” Kitoro” I'm supposed to watch over you.” Little girl” Like an angel.” Kitoro” Yeah. Sort of. I know who you are.” Little girl" You do?” Kitoro” Your name is Keina(kay-nah) Kiyoshi. You're 7. You have light pwer and your mother died earlier last year. You love to eat pizza.” Keina” Wow. You got it right. So you are an angel then.” Kitoro” Oh by the way my name is Kitoro Kuujo. If you need my help, here take this.” He gives her a bracelet so she can stay in contact. He shows her how to use. He spends the rest of the night with her. Spirit Guide.
He returns to the Spirit World. By morning, people are talking about the Registration's door wasn't closed. Kitoro hears and knows his mistake. Garner” What kind of a person breaks into the Registration Room?” This information gets to Alpha Team. They run the cameras back. The CCD are on the case. The individual is blurry and can't see them. Has black on. They follow their wearabout. It is hard to see but they can tell that they come from the Attack Team side. They were coming from that direction. It's an Attack Team member. Everybody has gathered together. Maniya” Judging from the statistics, that means the person is from our Attack Team. That means even Subordinates. This eats me up inside but I must put my differences aside and do my task.” Cakashiro your team is off the hook.”
Cakashiro” Thanks for the good news.” Everybody is worried for the Attack Team. Weeks later. Kitoro is coming from Keina's home. He tries to stay quiet but gets caught. CCD member” So it was you? How could you.” Kitoro kills him. Kitoro” I can't believe I was caught again. Gotta be careful next time. The next day, everyone(CCD)has noticed that a member has not come back yet. Doega isn't on the the case. Maniya” They must know we're on to them. They've already resulted in needing to kill to keep their name in check.” CCD1" I know this is hard for you. Having to arrest someone from your teammates.” CCD2" It'll be okay.” Maniya" Okay! It could even be my husband.”
Maniya and the others are now currently on a mission. They are going to Haephestus(huh-fey-stuhs) Heights(Mountain). Cold area. Spyro” Maybe this will take your mind off of the CCD.” Maniya” Hopefully.” Maniya's messenger(their version of a cell phone) , goes off. CCD member” Maniya there's some special news. The person is….” He gets killed. Static sounds heard. Maniya” They killed the CCD member. That means it can't be us.” Garner” I'm so glad to hear that.” Aereasa” I thought we'd end up fighting each other.” Kitoro” What a relief.” Etatsu” Then that means it's a Subordinate.” Doega” I wonder which poor sap it is?” Maniya makes it back to CCD HQ(after mission).
Maniya takes a look at the body. Killed by a sword. Maniya is in the middle of a conversation with King Spiro. King Spiro” So you believe that it's a Suborzdinate.” Maniya" Sure.” King Spiro” Great more investigations. Well you're doing tremendous work.” Maniya” Thank you father.” Days later Quainga is behind bars. There was evidence found. One day Maniya is in trouble. A monster appears but Kitoro steps in and kills it. She Thanks him. She glances at his bloodied swords and gets freaked out(in her mind). The patterns matches the person's body. It was him. Kitoro Kuujo was the real culprit. She doesn't let him out of her sight. She follows him around.
Kitoro” I know you've been following me all day.” She comes out. Kitoro” So why are you following me?” Maniya" Cut the crap. I know it was you. The blood pattern on your sword matches the CCD member's.” Kitoro” Wow. Wow. You ARE a great detective.” Maniya” What are plotting and how long has this been going on. I can't believe you're my friend and I didn't know this was going on.” Kitoro” Let me stop you there. This has been happening for many years. I am the reason why you have your rank. Not just you, the entire team. Even the Defense, Mercenary, and the Alpha Team.” Maniya” What are talking about?” What will Kitoro's response be? Find out next time on Part⁴. “To Be Continued”