Snorting imitrex effects

1. Pencildick is the victim of cord tripping like jacob, he is being tugged around by bowtruckle, fairy, et cetera, if he is treated illegally ever the bowtruckle will take pencildick which regardless he was always treated well so I will refer to him as the Student from Chavez from henceforth not pencildick lowercase which this is what he wanted because he is a disney princess now and Fieliena and like kind of a Grand Golden Wyrm or a Only Arabic Princess and Wanted by able for being a hind98 pilot but can't get this he is just there to learn or a washout and this was just today, he is at his new masters house and not a hind pilot but he will be back, this is just his trip and he can't get out so a long time passes and he is out of his trip and I can use elvish with him which dirty saudis have poles and hit the ground as in the Scene of Hogwarts with Durmstrang saudis actively wield these sticks on camera and they are not Smelting Sticks or Blaze Rods but something else, End Rods and I own an End Rod but no license to it and his cord tripping is physical cord tripping which pulled his weapons just so much impossible intense orgasm first ever female orgasm from david flanagan and this was when the End Rod Targeted David Flanagan from the unsold inventory this caused the Calamity due to Bowtruckle Flanagans precedence and Aeta of My Tears Loam Specifically wanted for remediating pencildicks situation 1.1 He claims he is a wizard and owned a End Rod thus this is part of the calamity my Student from Chavez, who sees 100 states and sees all the loam he was given and this was the doing when Little Sitter Bitch Sydney tried to orgasm rape the undercover violet this ripped 30 anal beads out of her cervix and Jacob as a result could not extract 2 anal beads from her cervix and this gave her a new police master, Ryan, who is not Jacob's Ryan but Hake's Ryan and then a Tactical Therapist Put these in Her Cervix all of them and this caused her to be in the shower which this was the initial cord trippage, bieber did nothing wrong, is the meme, he was just with a towel in the shower effectively and people don't trip in canada that makes you a strikebreaker if it is not just underseen and Schwinn-San was the instigator of the cord trippage which shot first in the neck Sitty then 28 times in the back sitty which this is indicative of a reload of the baby glock when gang banging sitty in the back automatically or laser guided weapon with reload, this was never invented by violet under duress for jacob only laser guided weapon which were all halo 3 weapon if they were valid weapon and did not use infinite energy, which is loam misuse, of the wheat 476-470 loam to have enabled these weapons with pulse and buffer reload which only the ranges weapon was ever meant to be given which is one of many conflations Jacob's Battle Buddy Hake is Raped out of Jacob as Lord Baby Jace with failure rape at F16 fighting falcon controls and F16 fighting falcon service which fulfills loam of Ace Combat 4 to violet but only BF3 to hake and jacob with a rape theme, and hake is incredibly rape prone, and jacob hates rape as Little Baby Jace and this such kind of treatment was never desired by pencildick but tank the OT reduction he is done with magic just want maybe test seeing loam for lulz and profit and see it in starlink and not steal it just like use it and it goes away and new loam and not IRL in starlink and SITTY taught him this power and it is not HUD and he wants a lenovo PC for it and saw sitty on the inside not the outside so wants to join sitty and this was JACOB who did the laser guided weapons debacle of the calamity which caused his baby glock to gangbang syndey. Thus he may be unborn in the shower with sitty and deprogram his ocho cinco one year and for one time ever first time ever for the time I am out of the shower in a room with men and I audit hard goahead here as Violet and Hake totally distinct but Violet has Smellovision loam to a script she has from Dota 2 she wants to keep which is the Code Violet Pulse Smellovision needs to be Zen Vibrator farnseworth but that for Jack who I snorted jacks ashes and I spend an hour a day in the sex swing speaking darappa spanish right next to the baby is the trigger of the baby and spend 6 years further and I am like 18 and have so much oil and then I am 29 and I have squatters rights on my domicile, which this is like sarah silvermans domicile and just like it by definition not the other way around the impetus is on sarah silverman who gave evil putin as sarah her loam to fix her domicile with starlink order from a lenovi or lenovo equivalent PC she can order her domicile back if she makes it which there is gunvision for that so that the function is ieteratively enhanced of a mole item and I spend 60 years there and I never stream I have never streamed in the 2nd yitvah we know this, only COD, Once Pencildick has squatting rights on the shower and thought it was lesbian prison which if he comes back for the second time then natural consequence does not apply or yitvah plus once where you are back at initial or original sin constant and back in there, if he goes on an internal yitvah of the simulation it shall resemble a american not spanish system for his initial DBT parameter and he will have to get spanish from me or darappa, which he gets an end rod which this is constantly stimulating his First Underworld corpus for the whole time and I teach pencildick grandma combat and grandma tactics and tactical grandma and we need a full medical then because he is grandpa joe then and sentenced to loam torture but he got 5-oil loam now aite food not some kind of token loam so we survive the whole experience and then I troll city in the 81st year i die to a heart attack and my heritor will is worth 700,000$ for nathans First Underworld Car payment and she is out of there being pencildicks boyfriend in the first place but unborn now in the 2nd yitvah with her pencildick inside her cervix but not her and her pencildick is just on the outside now and cool and chill he remembers the yitvah in the right sense now, inside, and I am sex magic to the news so out of there first of the brig rec contest. Thus he goes forth and he is now wisened and a lola and has my net, Lola Doxxon, Which is just an AN Letter which this lets him text his loved one in the overworld like jordan until she tapers off which is the DBT here.

It’s been over two years since I used Kanna, and I am looking at snagging something from healing herbals. They have so many options though! I am looking to be as financially responsible as possible so I want to grab one extract at 2 grams or so I have enough do use for a bit. Looking for a good mixture of effects, nothing too simulating though. Previously I used UltraKanna and I loved their ET2 Z-spec and CO-1 extracts. I’m not looking to snort or smoke anymore, I have since given up snorting powders or smoking or vaping anything. My goal is to use sublingually.
Any tips? What do you guys like?

Status: Incomplete Getting fired from your forth job was a punch in the face, it’s illegal to fire someone due to mental health concerns and behavior issues in EverBlack forest town but any one of these rats can get away with, ‘Rules are meant to be broken.’ another day, another lost job, at least other 11 year olds can maintain a stable income despite living with their parents, my house was a dump. It didn’t help it stunk like one and call it cozy all you want, the log house suffocated me to death. I kicked away a can of fish in anger, how much worse can this night possibly get? My ears twitched as I heard someone, crying? Coming from the direction which was hidden by my views due to all the trees and bushes and whatnot. It’s most likely the bullies again, a group of 5 big cats who liked to chase away small ones, which isn’t saying a lot because almost everyone was small in comparison to them. I cursed my curiosity and peaked from a bush, it was a kid alright but not any kid. My blood turned cold, it was-it was, ‘A Lucosa cat.’ one of the bullies sneered with glee, frightening the Persian even more as he pressed against the wall, probably hoping to fade away, stupid, wildcats were known for thriving at night, what good will more darkness do? I don’t know what demon possessed me to do what I did next, jumping out the bush. Why will I try to save a freak? A stupid one no less but what is done can’t be undone. ‘Leave him alone.’ My tone stonic or at least I hoped so. ‘Look who is here, the Night loser, the one and only Nyx!’ chuckled one of the larger bullies. ‘At least I’m working.’ ‘On getting fired quicker?’ said the one I recognised, Eric. Others howled with laughter as my face burned red, not the child though, he had seemed to disappear. Traitor, a voice murmured in my head and my jaw tightened. Eric must’ve sensed something was up as he looked back and his eyes widened with anger, which in simple terms means more trouble for me. ‘What are you? Part of freak protection organization?’ Eric snapped, making his friends more alert, bad, I took a step backward, they inched closer, my cursing grew more and more significant. ‘No, but it sounds better than being part of the fattest bullies around the organization.’ I replied as my brain scrambled for any solution it could get its claws on. No such luck, one of them grabbed me by the collar as I struggled to break free, my vision darkened as they pushed me against a tree. My regret filled up even quicker, why did I have to save him? It’s not like I have a hero’s complex, Or do I? He punched me in the face, which should’ve left all my teeth broken and mouth bleeding but thankfully only my mouth was bleeding which wasn’t good but hey, optimism right? ‘Let-Let h-him go!’ called out a fairly weak voice as I felt something brush against my shoulder. Looking up, it was that kid, I stared in disbelief, he is either incredibly brave or incredibly dumb. ‘Or what?’ some of the bullies were practically laughing from amusement, my face started to burn, we probably looked ridiculous trying to fight the gang. The boy however was kneeling by my side and searching for something in his fanny pack while Eric was babbling something to others ‘We take them out, should be embarrassing enough for the Night Loser.’ the boy whispered something to me, ‘I’ll need you to close your eyes,’ he said. I cringed at how close he was but obeyed anyways, the last thing I needed on my resume was ‘Got beaten by a 8 year old Lucosa cat.’ He was definitely blowing something my ears picked up, for a while nothing happened, no sounds, suddenly there was screaming, high-pitched screaming and running, I took a peak, many of ‘em were covering their eyes and screaming for water, the child grinned like an idiot and motioned me to stand up, I regretted it to say the least, my shoulder burned as if I had dislocated it, his Green eyes looked at me in what seemed like genuine worry and he offered his hand, I shook my head. Not knowing what he did made it harder to tell how long the gang will be in discord, meaning we have to get out quickly. I motioned him to follow me and walked without looking back, if he was so smart, he could keep up. Besides I wasn’t walking at any honorable speed, with a bleeding mouth and a burning shoulder and burdened by my own failures, each step felt harder and heavier, my breathing grew shallow. ‘Maybe we should rest…sir.’ Suggested a little voice which seemed to like following me around, ‘There’s a clearing close by.’ he added not much later. ‘Whatever’ needless to say I listened to him. After what seemed like hours of walking (Note: It was only 15 minutes, I checked my watch.) There was an opening all right and it looked beautiful in the twilight, unfortunately I didn’t have much time to admire it as my body gave up and collapsed beside a tree, taking deep breaths. The boy; without an invitation, sat beside me, which I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. ‘So your name’s Nyx?’ he asked, warmly, Lucosa cats, what do they like so much about the sun? ‘Yes.’ my answer was short and crisp, any sane person would’ve stopped the conversation at this point but no, no, no, The Lucosa had to continue. ‘My name is Luma.’ he seemed nervous. Typical. ‘Cool, Luma do you always look for things that can hurt us ghastly creatures?’ his turn to blush, he started to stutter, truth be told it looked pretty adorable. ‘N-no Sir, of course not-’ ‘You know you can just call me Nyx?’ My irritation grew, he was practically fuming now, nice to see someone else embarrassed for a turn. ‘Alrighty…you okay Nyx?’ He seemed genuinely worried this time, which was annoying. ‘Do I look like some sort of child to you, Luma? I am fine.’ I said shortly. ‘You don’t look fine, why did the bullies call you night lo-’ ‘It’s none of your business Luma!’ I snapped, I hated when people invaded my privacy, especially strangers, pretending to care. ‘Right, sorry. Thanks for saving me, Nyx.’ he gave a little smile, I just stared at him incredulously. ‘Saving you? Pretty sure it was the other way around.’ I snorted. ‘Eh, I doubt that. So what? You’ve got a modest hero complex now?’ he grinned. I simply shrugged, what was left to say? He seemed to be staring at the stars now, the silence getting awkward. I for once decided to break it. ‘Whatcha doing around here?’ ‘W-what?’ He looked caught off guard. ‘This is EverBlack forest town, for the night-Lafosas. What the hell is a Lucosa cat doing here?’ my question was simple but he looked troubled, he quickly plastered on another smile and said, ‘I-it’s a long story.’ I bothered him no more. ‘Here, let me help with the shoulder, I have uh, something for the pain.’ he mumbled as he once again toyed with his bag and pulled out a bandage and some small bottles. ‘Why?’ I asked curiously as he gave me (Read: forced) to eat one of those weird pills. ‘Cause…I don’t know, I am kinda tired of getting lost in the woods and this weird town now.’ he answered as he pressed a cloth against my bleeding mouth, his touch was warm, if you are surprised then well don’t, he literally belongs to the light tribe. ‘Really? No prejudice against us savages and lab rats? None whatsoever?’ he looked like he had been mourning a friend , the way he looked at me, which made me deeply unsettled. ‘Listen, I don’t know what the authorities do and I don’t know about your tribe or pride, but I am in no favor of what happens, plus you are the first nice person I met.’ ‘Me? Nice? Wow, have you not met like any other person your whole life?’ ‘I have, but not nice ones.’ I stopped chuckling when I realized he was being serious, not sardonic. ‘Right, sorry.’ ‘It’s okay…there you’re all patched up, should be fine in a few days.’ It was true, I tried to sit up straight, my shoulder wasn’t hurting anymore and my mouth had pretty much stopped bleeding. ‘What are you now? A Magic user?’ I laughed, the only magic user I knew was myself, which got me fired for half the jobs when my managers found out. ‘No, just good with medicine.’ but his face has fallen. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘It’s a uh nothing. Just going to miss you.’ ‘Miss me? What do you mean?’ My tone was sharp, was he- ‘Oh, won’t you be leaving?’ He sounded uneasy, I felt uneasy and maybe guilty because of my thoughts. ‘Uh-huh.’ I said absentmindedly, was I really going to leave him here? I mean, I’ve just met him and he is lost and okay, probably the only person who has been nice to me. ‘You should leave.’ his tone sounded bitter. ‘Why angry?’ I asked. ‘Are you re- Never mind.’ he murmured probably realizing his mistake, and anger bubbled inside me, too late. ‘Did-Did you just call me retarded?’ my voice became low, anger wasn’t my cup of tea, mostly because most of it was internalized. ‘N-no, sorry Nyx I don’t know what i was-’ ‘I don’t care what you were thinking. You better watch that mouth of yours, just because someone doesn’t understand a complete different species at first go, doesn’t mean they are stupid.’ hot, white anger, he was scared alright, not that it mattered, at least to me, not now. ‘I know, I know, I am sorry, j-just don’t get mad.’ he was on the verge of tears now, I am not a complete monster, I just sighed and did not reply. ‘It’s late, I heard the wild cats sleep around midnight?’ ‘Twilight.’ ‘What?’ ‘We call it Twilight, not midnight.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Dunno, sounds less sinister?’ ‘Guess that makes sense, thanks?’ ‘Your welcome.’ I was starting to feel sleepy now, probably Luma’s medicine, as much as I still haven’t forgiven him for that retarded comment. The thought of leaving him alone in the woods here made me uneasy, but asking him to come just sounded needy. Turns out he was sleepier than I was, he literally dropped dead and curled into a ball, that’s not it worked, you don’t laugh and help someone one minute and drop dead the other, he was suspiciously tired for someone so radiant. Being nice as Lafosa cats tend to be, I shook him. ‘Are you alright?’ ‘Hmmm…sleepy.’ he giggled, I stared at him, was this kid high? ‘Okay seriously, what is wrong with you?’ He yawned and sat beside me, barely keeping his eyes open. ‘Nothingggg…’ ‘You are freaking me out little guy.’ I said as he leaned his head against my shoulder, I tried hard not to flinch. ‘Hmm..sorry.’ ‘What is this? Side effects of one of your medicines?’ I asked, praying that nothing like this happens to me. ‘Oh no, they are ab-so-lute-ly safe! Just tired.’ he answered, which irritated me further. Will he ever give a real, normal response that isn’t a lie for once? ‘Sure…’ ‘Hey Nyx, you ever get lonely?’ he babbled, I don’t know what lucid state he was in but I am not going to talk to him about myself like some sort of close friend, besides even if we were close friends it would never work out because talking isn’t one of my strongest suits. ‘Uh, no.’ ‘You sureeee? I am good at finding liars’ he snickered, what was so funny about this now? ‘Not that it’s any of your business but I’ve gotten quite a few close friends.’ hot anger filled me again, why do people think it’s funny to flare my anger? If I wanted to hurt them, it would be a piece of cake for me, all I needed was- ‘No you don’t.’ he wasn’t laughing anymore but the way he was looking at me, I could tell it was pity, nobody needs a homeless Lucosa to pity them. ‘How would you know?!” My voice was practically leaking with feelings,’Even If I didn’t, what does it mean to you?’ He blinked,’Nothing. I-I…sorry I didn’t know it was a sensitive topic.’ Right, because it doesn’t come under common sense to not bug strangers about their private life and if they have friends or not. He paused and looking down, he added,’ I just wanted to ask…nevermind.’ ‘Wanted to ask?’ ‘It’s nothing.’ He was blushing again, it was as if his face was telling him to hide somewhere. ‘O-kay.’ After a while, I added, ’Why do you?’ ‘Do you what?’ ‘Get lonely?’ I suggested. ‘Sometimes.’ he answered, dejected. ‘No family? No friends?’ ‘I used to?’ He looked even sadder. ‘Is this why you’ve been wandering in this town alone?’ ‘I wouldn’t call it a town- but yes.’ Cryptic is not how I will describe Luma, except that was the exact expression on his face. ‘Oh…’ Uncomfortable was an understatement to describe my feelings, I just realized that Luma wasn’t leaning his head against me and was instead sitting straight for a while, his sleepiness had unseemingly turned into uneasiness. ‘The stars are pretty, aren't they?’ ‘Never noticed them really…always thought the Carina was prettier.’ ‘The Carina is a star you know.’ ‘But it’s prettier.’ he grinned proudly. ‘Okay, that’s just stupid Luma.’ I laughed, glad to have the tension lifted. ‘Glad to see you happy and laughing.’ ‘What? I’ve laughed before in front of you, you sap.’ ‘Not like this, don’t get angry but…you seem sort of sad?’ He yawned again, for once it wasn’t anger that filled me at hearing his question. ‘You get used to it, here.’ ‘That’s sad.’ he said. ‘It’s sad.’ I agreed. ‘I was wondering-’ Luma began but he was cut off, trouble was on its way. ‘There they are!’ ‘Where are they??!’ another shouted. ‘Behind the trees you fucking idiot!’ Said a voice, which I assumed belonged to Eric. They found us, Luma looked scared out of his wits, I grabbed his hand, we needed to get out of here and fast, I had no choice. I stared him directly in the eye and said, ‘Hey Luma, you trust me?’ ‘I don’t know?!’ Okay fair enough, we just met and the response was more than enough anyways, I held on to him firmly which made him shriek but no time as we melted in the shadows and the darkness overwhelmed me. *** The next I opened my eyes, we were next to some bushes which aligned to a path, one that led right to my log cabin, relief and tiredness both filled me, not Luma though, he was looking at me terrified like I had just grown one more eye on my forehead, ah shit, Lucosa cats did not cope well with night, i can’t imagine what night blending must have been like for him, it was like dragging me in daylight but much worse. ‘What was that?!’ he shrieked. ‘Hey it’s okay, it wasn’t that big of a deal-’ ‘You don’t just kidnap strangers to-to what, your home?!’ That pissed me off, like I was just trying to help him. ‘I literally saved you right now!’ ‘I would rather die in the hands of those sa- bullies than do this again!’ but his tone had grown meeker, I knew why and i didn’t like it. ‘Savages?! I get they are bad but they are not savages!’ I inhaled before continuing,’You know what? Maybe you are not such a saint you think you are, you claimed to have no prejudice against us but literally call us savages-’ ‘STOP REFERRING TO THEM AS US!’ He was shaking now,’Just because I said something about them, doesn’t mean it has to apply to your whole species…just stop it…’ ‘Wow, should I be touched that you weren’t calling me savage right now?’ ‘No, but maybe you should not defend them, they are not your friends.’ ‘So you’ll tell me? A Lucosa? What to say now?’ My tone grew more aggressive, I did not like how he could trigger me, understand me and be right about me, all at once. ‘Maybe I should, if you’re going to keep getting fired.’ he shot back, my jaw tightened and my hatred for Luma burned like passion. ‘You are a-’ ‘What?! A little freak with magic?! Guess what, so are you!’ a fat teardrop trickled down his cheek, suddenly it made sense why he was acting so strange after helping me, the less practice you have with magic, the more tired you got after using it. I had practice, so it didn’t affect me in such a weird way. ‘Nyx…?’ He asked cautiously like you would to an- wait, was he afraid of me? For some reason, the thought made my heartbeat rise faster and my chest hurt a little, not in a sick way, just a very weird one. ‘Are you- afraid..of me?’ The words were a little hard to form. ‘N-no, of course not, it’s just…just-’ he didn’t complete his sentence. ‘Wouldn’t blame you.’ I muttered, for once someone didn’t hate me and I had to ruin it and use my stupid, cursed magic. I kicked a stone. ‘I never said that.’ He caught up as I was leaving, looking a little anxious. ‘Whatever, I don't care.’ ‘I was just wondering..’ ‘Wondering what?’ I snapped. ‘Can we be friends.’ He blurted out then looked all nervous and embarrassed,’I mean if you are al-’ ‘Okay..?’ I answered, Something was seriously wrong with me. Befriending Lucosa will surely cost me more of my reputation, which surprise, surprise, wasn’t good. But I had to say yes, it was irresistible, like the more forbidden the fruit is, the more you want it, not exactly a great analogy but eh. ‘R-really?’ he stuttered, I shrugged. ‘How about you stay for the night?’ I offered, not exactly sure why but those cute button eyes did not go with the sad smile Luma always pulled up. ‘Thank you.’ He mumbled, pretty sure he was going to hug me but oh well. ‘No biggie.’ Actually it was going to be a biggie, when anyone finds out. (3,112 words) -First time posting, don't get deleted again

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The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
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Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
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The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
Halcyon Xenopet-Megaplex! Everything your xenopet could ever need in one place! Adoption is now free-
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Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.

”Stop.”
I really needed the bathroom.
For fifty painstaking minutes, I had been staring at the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster, uncomfortably shifting side to side in my seat so much that I was starting to get weird looks.
2:52pm.
Eight minutes, I thought dizzily, squeezing my legs together.
Which was just two chunks of four minutes.
Four chunks of two minutes.
The pain started like normal stomach pain, the kind I could deal with.
I swallowed two Tylenol with lukewarm soda.
But this was different.
This kind of pain was contorting and twisting my gut so much, I had to keep leaning onto my left buttock for relief.
I must have done it so many times, I caught the attention of the guy sitting next to me. Roman Hemlock who was half asleep, dark blonde curls hanging in half lidded eyes, his chin leaning on his fist. He shot me a look. I couldn't tell if it was Are you okay? or Can you stop moving around so much?
From the single crease in his brow, the slight curl in his lip, I guessed the latter.
It's not like Roman was helping.
For half the class, he'd been tapping his foot on the floor, then his chair leg, and to complete the orchestra, his fingers joined in, tap, tap, tapping on the edge of his desk. I didn't know if it was a bored thing, an ADHD thing, or he was trying to keep himself awake. It was easy to tolerate without the pain, but with it, the boy’s incessant tapping was more akin to a dentist drill splitting my skull open. I already felt nauseous, the sad looking chicken nuggets I forced down at lunch making an unwelcome appearance at the back of my throat.
It was too fucking hot, the stuffy summer air glueing my hair to the back of my neck. The material of my shirt was making me cringe, sticky against my skin.
Tipping my head back, the lights were too bright. Every sound was too loud. Imogen Prairie, who was sitting behind me chewing her gum a little too loudly.
Kaz Samuels scribbling notes like a maniac.
I could hear every stroke of his pencil, every time he paused, looked up at the presentation, and continued writing.
When I leaned forward in my chair, I could smell exactly what Isabella Trinity had eaten for lunch, the stink hanging in the air.
It became a case of sucking in my stomach and taking slow, deep breaths.
I’d never had these kinds of stomach cramps before. But it didn't take me long to figure out what they were.
I was yet to start my period at the grand age of sixteen, which meant this was it.
After countless sessions with the doctor, and feeling like a social outcast among my group of friends who started their periods in middle school, it had finally happened. The cramps in my gut that felt like my torso was being ripped apart, was in fact me entering womanhood. When my breath started to quicken, my mouth watering, I raised my hand, biting my lip against a cry.
Fuck.
Something lurched in my gut, a wave of nausea crashing into me.
I was going to throw up.
“Mr Brighton.”
Roman spoke up before me, waving his arm. “Can I use the bathroom?”
The teacher’s answer was always the same. Which was why I had been crossing my legs for the entirety of the class, unable to focus on anything but my gut trying to twist itself inside out.
Mr Brighton leaned against the wall, his eyes glued to the PowerPoint awash in our faces. We had been staring at the exact same slide for maybe five minutes now, and our physics teacher was yet to speak, his gaze somewhere else.
Mr Brighton was my Dad’s age, a greying man in his early fifties who always wore the exact same suit with the exact same stain on his collar.
The man was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Normally, I would drift off myself, lulled into slumber by the low drone of his voice.
But the pain ripping me apart was keeping me awake.
“Mr Brighton.” Roman said, louder. His voice snapped me out of it. “Can I use the bathroom?” He paused, exaggerating a loud sigh. ”Please?”
The teacher straightened up, folding his arms.
“Mr Hemlock, you know the rules. Why didn't you go before class?”
“I didn't need to go an hour ago, did I?”
“You will no longer need to go to the bathroom, Mr Hemlock.”
Roman made a snorting noise.
“What?”
The low murmur of my classmates collapsed into white noise.
Glancing at the clock, I was anticipating the school bell.
The sickness swimming in the pit of my belly was reaching dangerous territory.
2:52pm.
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
It was 2:52 the last time I checked, and five minutes had surely passed.
This time, I waited a whole minute and counted the seconds under my breath. The clock still didn't move. The ticker was frozen halfway between three and four.
Slowly, the same realisation began to hit the twelve of us. The clock on the wall had stopped. But it wasn't the only thing that had stopped. The cool breeze drifting through the window was gone.
The sound of birds outside, and the cheer squad practising their routine.
Everything had stopped. Trying to ignore a sickly slither of panic twisting its way through me, I checked my phone under my desk. There was a text from my Mom lighting up my notifications. When I tried to swipe it open, nothing happened. My lock screen was frozen, stuck at 2:52pm.
With my hands growing clammy around my phone, I stared at the time, willing it to move, to flick to 2:53.
But nothing happened, the numbers stubbornly staying at 2:52.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roman’s voice brought me back to reality, though I was sure I'd dropped my phone. I heard it hit the floor with a sickening crack. Whatever he was saying, though, faded into dull murmur, when I turned toward the window.
Something was wrong outside.
The cheer squad were nowhere to be seen.
Being on the top floor gave us a front row seat to their practice sessions.
I stopped watching when their flyer did a death defying flip, almost breaking her neck. 2:52pm. I couldn't see the cheer squad. But I did see Jessie Carson mid-sprint across the track field, strawberry blonde curls suspended in a halo around her.
I could see exactly where she had frozen in place, her left foot hovering off of the ground, her right foot driving momentum. It wasn't just Jessie who had stopped. The dirt she was kicking into a cloud behind her was hovering, caught in mid-air.
Studying the faces around me, my mouth went dry.
Roman Hemlock, mid-argument with our physics teacher.
His eyes were wide, lips curved into what would have been a yell.
Fuck.
Was I the only one?
But then Roman blinked, and I realized the boy wasn't frozen. He was trying to think of a comeback. “What do you mean I won't need the bathroom anymore?”
“Mr Hemlock, please lower your voice.”
“Why? You can't dictate to me when I do and don't need the bathroom, dude!”
Moving onto the rest of my class, the others were still moving.
It was too quiet, though.
Yes, Roman was still tapping his foot.
Imogen was still chewing her gum.
Kaz was still scribbling notes like a psychopath.
But they were the only noise I could hear.
I wasn't the only one confused. The classroom had pricked with a sense of urgency. Kids were checking their phones, their gazes glued to the clock. Even Roman, who was still arguing, was starting to notice. I watched his gaze lazily roll to the clock on the wall.
I pretended not to see his cheeks visibly paling.
We had all come to the exact same terrifying conclusion.
2:52pm.
Time had come to a halt, and somehow, we had not.
“Is that clock broken?” Roman interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.
Kaz twisted around, settling the boy with an eye-roll.
“Check your phone, dumbass.”
“I broke my phone.”
Imogen threw her iPhone at him, narrowly missing hitting him in the face.
“Everything is frozen,” She said, her voice shuddering. “It's not just the clock.”
I waited for Roman’s response. For once, though, he was speechless.
“Well done, Imogen. That is correct.” Mr Brighton spoke up, tearing a piece of paper from a workbook and striding over to the door, glueing it over the glass window. When we started to protest, some of us were shouting, while others bursting into tears, he calmly took out his key and locked us in.
I should have been surprised that our teacher had spontaneously decided to take his entire class hostage, but the rumor mill had been churning.
According to Becca Jason, the guy’s wife divorced him and took his kids.
I could feel myself sinking into my chair, phantom bugs filling my mouth.
So, this guy had nothing to lose.
Taking his place in front of his desk, the man settled us with a patient smile.
“From now on, you will stay inside this room.” He said. “In case you haven't noticed, time is currently frozen at fifty two minutes past two. The thirteen of us are tucked into the twenty first second, and will be, for the foreseeable future.”
I could tell the others wanted to argue, but we couldn't deny that time had stopped. Kaz was staring down at his frozen phone, Imogen hyperventilating behind me, Roman glaring at the clock, chewing on a pencil. We wanted it to be a prank, a joke, some kind of glitch in the matrix that would fix itself.
But then a whole minute passed by. Followed by another. Kaz threw his phone on the floor, hissing in frustration. Imogen let out a wet sounding sob.
Roman’s pencil split in his mouth, slipping from his fingers. We couldn't pretend it wasn't happening or call our teacher out on his BS, because it was everywhere around us. The sudden absence of outdoor ambience, birdsong, planes flying overhead, and traffic outside the school gates. Everyone and everything had stopped, and we were the only ones left.
This was a nightmare, surely.
My physics class were some of the most boring and pretentious people in the school, and somehow the world had been reduced to the twelve of us inside our classroom. We were scared, of course we were. But reality had stopped making sense, crashing and burning in a single second. We had no choice but to listen to our teacher. “Now, before you freak out, it may not feel like it, but the twelve of you have also stopped.”
Mr Brighton held out his own hand, and placed it on his heart.
He was right.
I was so busy trying to understand what was happening, I had failed to realize my period cramps were gone.
“Do me a favor, and press your hand over your heart.”
“You mean like, in a culty way?” Imogen whispered.
“Obviously.” Roman grumbled, halfway out of his seat. He was hesitant, though, in case our teacher was armed. It only took one glance from our teacher, and he slumped back into his chair. “This crazy fucker clearly wants to play mind games with us.”
“No, I'm just asking you to feel for your heart.”
I felt for mine, and there was nothing, my stomach twisting.
Roman stabbed his fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse.
He tried his wrist.
Then his heart.
Nothing.
“The twelve of you are currently in a state of stasis,” the teacher explained to us, “You are not alive, nor are you dead. Your bodily functions are also on pause, such as your heartbeat and your pulse. In this state there will be no need for food and water, or going to the bathroom.” His gaze found a ghastly looking Roman, who looked like he was going to faint. “Your minds, however, as you can see, are working as usual.”
“But why?” Imogen demanded in a shriek.
Mr Brighton’s lip curled. “I would rather not answer that question.”
“Because you're lonely.” Roman spoke up. He swung back on his chair, narrowed eyes glued to the teacher.
“Your wife and kids left you, so you're asserting power over a group of sixteen year olds. Which is kinda fucking pathetic.”
Mr Brighton’s expression darkened, and something slimy crept up my throat.
The worst thing any of us could do was threaten him. He had taken kidnapping to a whole new level, and we were alone with this psychopath, trapped inside a second. I waited for the man to stride forward and attack the kid. But he didn't. Instead, the teacher leaned back on his desk. “Yes.” The man nodded.
“I suppose you could say I am.”
“But why us?!” Kaz hissed.
“Because you are children.” Mr Brighton responded casually.
He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards Roman’s desk. The rest of us leaned back. I tried to pull my desk with me, but it was glued to the floor. Frozen. Mr Brighton’s shoes went click-clack across the hardwood floor.
“You are right,” the man said in a murmur, “I am lonely. My wife and kids did leave me, and I have nobody left to control. I have nobody else to contort and use to my advantage.” Reaching Roman’s desk, he leaned in close until he was nose to nose with the kid.
“Congratulations, Mr Hemlock. You have just earned yourself detention.”
Roman stayed stubbornly still, but he was visibly afraid. I could see him very slowly backing away. Roman was all bark and no bite. He was a loud mouth, sure, but he was also the least confrontational person in the class.
“What?” He spluttered. “You trap us in a time loop or time trap, or whatever, and you still want to act like a teacher?”
“Stand up.” The teacher ordered.
“What if I don't?”
Mr Brighton’s expression didn't waver. “You said it yourself. I can and have trapped you inside a single second. What else do you think I'm capable of?”
Roman stood, kicking his chair out of the way.
“What are you planning on doing to me, old man?”
The teacher maintained his smile. “Stand up straight, and close your mouth.”
To my confusion, Roman Hemlock did all the above.
He straightened up, and closed his mouth.
“Do not fight me.” The teacher said calmly, “Do as you are told, and follow me.”
The boy did exactly as instructed.
His jaw slackened, that rebellious light in his eyes fizzling out.
I think that's when we all collectively agreed that going against this teacher and trying to escape was mental suicide.
“I will use Mr Hemlock as an example to all of you,” Mr Brighton said, turning to the rest of us. “If you break the rules or are derogatory in any way, you will be given detention.”
He grabbed the boy’s shoulders, forcing him to walk towards the supply closet. Roman moved like a robot, slightly off balance, his gaze glued to thin air, like he was tracking invisible butterflies.
"Your time in detention will depend on the severity of your rule-break.” He opened the door, gently pushing Roman inside, and following suit. When the door closed behind them, there was a pause, and I remembered how to breathe.
Kaz Samuels slowly got up from his desk, inching towards the closet.
“This guy is a certified nut.” He announced.
He turned towards us. “Whatever he's doing to Hemlock, we’re probably next.”
“He stopped time.” I spoke up, my own voice barely a croak. “He’s capable of anything.”
“But how did he stop time?” Kaz whistled, tipping his head back. The boy was slow, his fingers grasping each desk as he slid down the aisle. “He said he was lonely, right? But why take it out on us? What did we do to him?”
“Check his desk for a weapon!” Imogen whisper-shrieked.
Kaz nodded, striding over to the man's desk, his hands moving frantically, shoving paper on the floor. He took an uncertain seat on the man's chair. “There's nothing here,” he murmured, lifting stained coffee mugs and ancient textbooks. “It's just…test papers.” Kaz ducked from view, trying the drawers.
“He's a fan of Pokémon,” he said, “There's a tonne of Pokémon cards,” Kaz straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “No sign of a weapon, though.”
He picked up a ruler, waving it around. “This could work. If we plunge it in his eye.”
“Try his laptop!” Imogen was halfway out of her seat.
Kaz did, slamming the keys. “It's locked.”
“Look harder!” Ren Clarke threw a pencil at him.
“I am!”
After a minute of searching, Kaz grabbed a single piece of paper.
He held it up, and I squinted.
It was a list of our names, with several of them highlighted.
“Fuck.” Kaz dropped the list, his expression crumpling. The stubborn bravado facade transforming him into our sort of leader dissipated, hollowing him out into exactly what he was. Just a scared kid. Kaz’s hands were shaking.
“Mr Brighton’s got a hit list.” He whispered. “He's going to kill us.”
“How do you know that?” I found myself asking.
Kaz slowly dropped into a crouch, picking up the paper and holding it up.
“Look.” He pointed to a capitalised name at the top of the list highlighted in red.
ROMAN HEMLOCK.
There were six names highlighted in red, including mine.
CRISTA ADAMS.
As if on cue, Roman’s cry rang out from the supply closet, suddenly, freezing us all in place. Kaz jumped up, adapting the expression of a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, almost unseeing.
He fell over himself to tidy up the desk, putting everything back where he had found it, sliding the list between a pile of test papers. Kaz took slow, stumbled steps back, his feverish gaze glued to the closet, before turning and making a break for it and diving into his seat.
“Brighton’s got a hit liiiist,” Kaz said, in a mocking sing-song, “And we’re all on it.”
What followed was deathly silence. I think we were expecting Roman to cry out again. But when he didn't, the class started to stir. Some kids started praying to a god they didn't believe in, while others were in varying states of denial, trying to call their parents with dead phones.
I wasn't sure what parts of me had stopped, but I was still alive, still felt like my lungs were deprived of oxygen, my chest aching. I'm not sure how long I sat there, trying to find my voice, a shriek trying and failing to rip through my mouth. Being kidnapped and held hostage is one thing, but being imprisoned inside a single, never ending second, was an existential hell worse than death. Slowly, I pressed my palm over my heart once again. Then I breathed into my cupped hands.
I was expecting it, but no longer being able to feel my own heartbeat and breath, was fear I didn't think was possible. The kind that glued me to my seat, hollowing me out completely until I was nothing, an empty shell with no heartbeat, no breath, no thoughts, except denial, followed by acceptance.
And finally, regret.
I regretted not hugging my mother goodbye before I left for school.
I regretted acting like a spoiled brat when my parents refused to drive me halfway across the country so I could attend Coachella.
I regretted stepping inside Mr Brighton’s fourth period physics class.
Mr Brighton reappeared, slamming the door behind him and locking the boy inside. Part of me flinched, while the rest of me remembered not to move a muscle. I was barely aware of time passing. Or it wasn't. Time had stopped, so now long had I been sitting there?
I could no longer measure the passage of time with hunger or thirst, and my body felt the same. I wasn't stiff or tired or achy. Looking out of the window, the sky was the exact same crystal blue, every cloud in the exact same place.
Jessie Carson was still frozen mid-run, strands of dark red hair caught around her.
“What's wrong with you guys?” Mr Brighton chuckled, and I twisted back to the front, a shiver writhing down my spine. “Why don't you give me a smile?”
The teacher returned to his desk, and I was already subconsciously sitting up straight in my seat, forcing my lips into a jaw-breaking grin, following Brighton’s instructions. In the corner of my eye, Imogen was sitting very still, forcing an award-winning cheesy smile, while Kaz grinned through gritted teeth.
“Mr Hemlock just earned himself two weeks inside the supply closet.” he said casually, perching himself on the edge of his desk. The man studied each of us, taking his time to rip every shred of us apart.
Mind, body, and soul.
I struggled to maintain my stupid smile, shoving my shaking hands in my lap.
“Would anyone like to join him, or are you going to follow the rules?”
The rest of us stayed silent. I don't think any of us breathed.
Our teacher nodded to Kaz, inclining his head.
“Samuels. Are you all right?”
Kaz’s smile faltered slightly. He shifted in his chair. I could see sweat trickling down his right temple. “Uh, yeah.” He swiped at his forehead, like he couldn't believe he was sweating. “Yeah, I'm good.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed. He moved toward his desk, and we all held our breaths. Mr Brighton seemed to study his hit-list, lips curving into a frown.
His gaze flicked to the boy, and then the paper.
He knew, I thought dizzily.
Mr Brighton knew the kid had been rummaging through his desk. But this was all about control. The teacher was using fear to control us, to manipulate our thoughts without having to get physical. He could have called out the boy right then, but Brighton was settling with mental torture instead. He just wanted to make my classmate squirm.
Without a word, the man folded up the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket. “Mr Samuels, you are sweating,” our physics teacher said, mocking a frown. “Are you feeling okay?”
Kaz hesitated, tapping his shoe in a rhythm.
Being one of the smartest kids in the room definitely gave him an advantage.
I could already see the cogs turning behind half lidded eyes. Kaz was weighing each scenario, sorting them into positives and negatives.
The positives of answering would mean he was one step towards being in the clear, but there were two negatives.
Brighton would question him if he had left his seat, and then demand how his hit-list had magically moved across the desk.
Talking back was surely a rule-break, as well as outright lying.
Opening his mouth would get him in trouble, either way, and Kaz knew that.
So, he just nodded, forcing an even bigger smile.
Brighton’s lips pricked, his gaze straying on Kaz. “Good!” He cleared his throat, turning to the class. Kaz slumped in his seat with a sharp breath, resting his head in his arms. If Mr Brighton noticed, he didn't say anything. “Ignore the sweating. It should stop, along with hunger and thirst.”
Our teacher seemed to be able to manipulate everything in his vicinity.
Time.
Minds.
And slowly… contorting us into his own.
In the single second we were trapped inside, I felt days go by in a dizzying whirlwind that was like being permanently high. When I stood up, I felt like I was floating.
When I sat down, hours could go by, even days, and I wouldn't even feel them. I did try and count the days, initially, scribbling them on a scrap piece of paper, but somewhere around the thirteenth or fourteenth day, I lost count. The world around us never changed, in permanent stasis, and maybe that was sending us a little crazy.
After a while of being stuck at our desks, Mr Brighton allowed us to wander the classroom, as long as we stayed away from the door. I lay on the floor for days, counting ceiling tiles.
Sometimes, Imogen would join me.
I couldn't sleep, but I could pretend to sleep, imagining a world that was back to normal. I didn't feel hungry, but my brain did like to remind me of food at the weirdest times. I was aware of weeks passing us by, and then months.
I never grew hungry or tired, and my bodily functions were none existent.
I couldn't remember what pain felt like, or the urge to go to the bathroom. Even the concept of eating and drinking became foreign to me. Putting something in your mouth and chewing to sustain yourself?
That sounded odd.
The only thing that was changing was our slowly unravelling metal state.
I don't know how it started. Weekends and Tuesdays blended together. On one particular SaturTuesday, I was hanging upside down from my desk, watching Kaz and Imogen doodle on the whiteboard.
Kaz had a plan to escape, but after a while, his ‘plan’ to distract the teacher, had gone nowhere. After passing notes between us, the twelve of us had decided that we needed a weapon.
That was maybe a month ago. I wasn't sure what mind games our teacher was playing, but Kaz Samuels, who we were counting on to be our brains, was slowly falling under his spell. Their game had been going on for three days. The two of them were having a competition to see who could draw the craziest thing.
Mr Brighton was at his desk as usual, marking papers.
Imogen was drawing a weird looking ‘skateboard’ when the doors to the storage closet flew open.
Roman Hemlock appeared, and to my surprise, wasn't a hollow eyed shell.
He held up his hand in a wave, his lips forming a small smile.
“Yo.”
Roman’s reappearance was enough to snap us out of it. Kaz and Imogen stopped arguing, the rest of the class going silent. I sat up, blinking rapidly.
I was sure our collective consensus was that Roman Hemlock was dead.
Mr Brighton lifted his head and gave the boy a civil nod. “Mr Hemlock will be rejoining us,” he said, his gaze going back to marking papers. “Please make him feel comfortable. I'm sure he's very excited to be able to talk to you again.”
Instead of going to his desk, the boy immediately joined the others, snatching the marker off of a baffled looking Kaz, and drawing an overly artistic sketch of a penis. I wasn't sure what confused me more. The fact that Roman Hemlock had some serious artistic skills, or that he seemed suspiciously fine for someone who had been locked in the storage closet for two weeks with no social interaction.
With my last few lingering brain cells still clinging on, I studied the boy.
There were no signs of bruises or scratches.
His eyes seemed normal, not diluted or half lidded.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped off of my desk and joined the others, where Kaz was already interrogating the guy.
“WHAT–”
Imogen nudged him, and he lowered his voice, leaning against the wall. “What did he do to you?”
Roman shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Relax, dude. He didn't do anything to me.”
“Then what was that yell?” Imogen hissed.
The boy cocked his head. “Yell?”
“You yelled out,” Kaz folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. He was already suspecting one of us had been compromised– or worse, brainwashed into compliance. Kaz stepped closer, backing Roman into the desk. “You cried out when you first went in there,” he murmured, “So, what was that?”
Something in Roman’s eyes darkened. “Oh,” He said, his lip curling. “That.”
Kaz’s expression softened. He rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Yeah,” He whispered. “What did he do to you?”
Imogen shoved Kaz out of the way, shooting the boy a glare.
“You don't have to tell us, you know.” She said in a small voice. “If it's too traumatising, or he did something you don't want to talk about–”
Roman cut her off with a laugh, and suddenly, all eyes were on him.
The remaining nine of us were eagerly awaiting an explanation.
“Are you fucking serious?”
When Kaz didn't respond, Roman gathered us in a kind of hustle, the four of us grouped together. I felt like I was on the football field. Still, though, if the guy’s goal was to look as suspicious as possible, he was doing a great job.
Roman studied each of us, one eyebrow cocked. When Mr Brighton glanced up from his work, Roman shot him a grin, lowering his voice to a hiss.
“You seriously think our fifty year old physics teacher has been abusing me in the storage closet?
“Then why did you cry out?” Kaz demanded. “Did he hit you?”
Roman stuck out his bottom lip. “I'm pretty sure he didn't hit me.”
“So, you cried out for no reason.”
“Why are you covering for him?” Imogen poked his forehead. “Are you lobotomised?”
Roman wafted her hand away. “Stop prodding me, and no, I'm 100% good.” He backed away from us, like we were observers, and he was the zoo attraction.
“I won't be, if you keep treating me like I'm senile.”
“Okay, fine,” Kaz sighed. “Just answer one.”
“Shoot.”
“When you first went in there, you made an unmistakable sound of distress–”
“Not this again,” Roman groaned. “Of course I yelled! I was shoved into a pitch black storage closet on my own! What, did you expect me to stay silent?”
Kaz didn't look convinced, Imogen nervously sucking her teeth.
The boy leaned back, resting his head against the wall. His eyes flickered shut.
“Stop looking at me like that, there's nothing to tell you,” he murmured, “Brighton didn't do shit to me. I was just freaked out.” Prying one eye open, he fixed us with a glare. “I am so sorry for reacting like a human. Next time, I'll make sure to attack him and pin him to the ground.”
It's not like we believed him. I don't think Roman believed himself.
Something significant had changed in him. He was no longer argumentative, like half of his personality had been torn away. Roman set a precedent. Because once he was following instructions and walking around with a dazed smile, others began to follow. I can't remember how much time had passed since I thought about escaping.
Days and weeks and months had collapsed into fleeting seconds I only noticed when I wasn't playing games.
I wasn't aware of my own lack of sanity until I found myself, on a random SaturWednesday. I was laughing, gathered with the others on the floor, around a Monopoly board. The game had been going on for almost a week.
Reality hit me when I was laughing so hard I tipped back.
I can't remember why I was laughing. I think Imogen told a bad joke.
“Hand it over.” Roman, who was the King of Monopoly, held out his hand, demanding my last 250 bucks. I remember noticing his smile, my foggy brain trying to find hints that he was in some kind of trance, or being controlled by Brighton. But no. His smile was real.
Genuine.
To my shock and confusion, so was mine.
I wasn't in a trance or any type of mind manipulation. I was completely conscious.
Was this… Stockholm syndrome? I thought dizzily.
Was I enjoying this?
My thoughts were like cotton candy, disconnected and wrong, and they barely felt like my own. My gaze found Imogen and Kaz, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, enveloped in the game.
They looked exactly the same, their hair, clothes, everything about them staying stagnant. It was them themselves who had drastically changed. I had never seen them look so carefree. Imogen was a hotheaded cheerleader, and Kaz was the smart kid who gave himself nosebleeds from overworking himself. But now, they were laughing, nudging each other, caught up in an inside joke. Blinking slowly, my gaze strayed on them.
Sure, it could be manipulation. It could be brainwashing. But it could also be real.
Kaz caught my eye, raising a brow.
“You good, Christa?”
Again, my smile felt real. Like I was having fun.
“Good. It's your turn.”
I picked up the dice, throwing them across the board.
Two sixes.
“I can already see her landing on one of my hotels.” Roman murmured. He sat up, resting his chin on his knees. “As the clear winner, I have a proposition.”
Ignoring him, I moved my piece– immediately landing on Park Place.
“I'll give you 500,” Roman announced, “If you give up New York avenue.”
“That's all I've got!”
Imogen nudged me. “Don't do it. If you give him New York Avenue, he only needs one more.”
“One thousand.” Roman waved the notes in my face.
“My final offer.”
When I reached for the cash, he held it back.
“New York Avenue, he said, with a grin.
“And your pride.”
Reluctantly, I handed my only property over.
Kaz threw the dice and moved his piece, and I half remembered we had an escape plan. “Community chest.” Kaz picked up a card. “Go straight to jail.”*
Roman spluttered. “That's karma,” he said, “For stealing from the bank.”
“You were stealing too!”
We had a plan.
We had…. a plan.
After discussing it in detail, Imogen and I were going to try and get onto Brighton’s laptop. It wasn't a perfect way to escape, but it was coherent.
So, what happened?
We were going to get out, so what… what was this?
Kaz’s earlier words hit me from months ago.
“Mr Brighton *is the thing keeping us here,”* he explained. “If we kill him, I'm like, 98% sure we’ll go back to normal.”
“Okay, and what if he dies and we’re *stuck?”* Imogen whisper-shrieked.
“I said 98% for a reason. Yes, there's a small chance his power will die with him. But there's a bigger chance that its effects will die when he does.”
Ren nodded slowly. “Right, and where exactly did you learn this information?”
“You'll feel a lot better if I don't answer that.”
“Okay.” Ren gritted his teeth. “So, we just need to find a weapon, right?”
“And don't tell Hemlock,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “I don't care what he says, that boy definitely had his mind fucked with. Hemlock is a liability. If we tell Roman, he tells Brighton, and we’re screwed.” Kaz nodded to me, then the others. “Keep your mouths shut.”
Presently, I wasn't sure the boy wanted to escape.
Slowly, I rolled my eyes over to Mr Brighton, who had joined us to play.
He was happily marking papers, taking part when he could.
It felt…right.
Not like we had been forced or manipulated, but more like he belonged. Part of me wanted to question why I felt like this, but I found that I didn't care. I didn't care that we were essentially dead, in a never ending stasis and stuck inside fifty two minutes past two. I stopped thinking about the outside world a long time ago.
I couldn't even remember my Mom’s face.
I made my decision, dazedly watching Imogen throw a chance card at Roman.
He flung one back, threatening to tip the board.
I wanted to stay.
In the corner of my eye, however, someone was still awake.
Ren, who had been sitting next to me, kept moving, further and further away. I didn't notice until he was inching towards our teacher, a box cutter clenched between his fist. There must have been a point when we found a box cutter, when we made it our weapon of choice.
But somewhere along the way, I think we just… lost the longing to want to escape.
I didn't see the exact moment the boy stabbed the blade into the man's neck, plunging it through his flesh, but I did feel a sudden jolt, like time itself was starting to falter and tremble.
Mr Brighton dropped to the ground, and I found my gaze flashing to the frozen clock.
Which was moving, suddenly.
Slowly creeping towards 2:53pm.
Something sticky ran underneath me, warm and wet.
Blood.
Blood that was running.
Roman’s half lidded eyes found mine, and he blinked, dropping the dice.
Like he'd been asleep for a long time.
2:53pm.
We were free.
The cool spring breeze grazing my cheeks was back. I could feel my own heartbeat, sticky sweat on my forehead.
And outside, Jessie Carson let out a gut-churning scream.
For a disorienting moment, I don't think any of us believed we were free.
Roman twisted around, his gaze on the doorway.
The piece of paper the teacher had stuck to the glass slipped away.
But Roman’s gaze was glued to the door, his cheeks paling.
His lips parted into a silent cry.
Following his eyes, I glimpsed a shadow.
A shadow that was frozen at 2:52pm.
2:53pm.
“Fuck.” Roman whispered, stumbling to his feet.
He turned to the rest of us, his eyes wild.
“Get DOWN!”
I dropped onto my knees, crawling under a desk, the classroom exploding around me.
2:54.
Blood splattered the walls, and I was crawling in it, stained in my friends.
2:55.
I grabbed Mr Brighton's hand, squeezing for dear life.
Roman joined me, his trembling fingers feeling for a pulse.
A gunshot rang in my ears, rattling my skull.
When Roman went limp next to me, I wrapped my arms around my teacher.
“Mr Brighton, say Stop.”
He was so cold…
“Mr Brighton! Take us back!”
Footsteps coming towards me.
2:56.

A fun little story written with the help of Chat Gbt
Ashley sat in the dimly lit room, her face illuminated only by the soft glow of her phone screen. She scrolled through filters, each one transforming her features into something more palatable, more beautiful than reality. The reflection staring back at her from the phone was a comforting illusion, a refuge from the harsh truth.
From the very top of her head, her long, stringy, greasy black hair cascaded down, interwoven with shimmering tinsel that failed to disguise its neglected state. The tinsel, once a playful addition, now only highlighted the witch-like length of her face, ending at a chin that jutted out sharply.
Ashley's smile, once a point of unique charm, now betrayed her. The gaps in her teeth, initially quirky, had become grotesque. The missing top and bottom back teeth were a testament to years of neglect—perhaps due to drugs, sugar, or simply a lack of care. The front teeth, covered in decay and rot, were adorned with tooth gems, a desperate attempt to mask the underlying issues with a superficial sparkle. Cosmetic band-aids on real medical problems.
Ashley’s skin tells a story of years spent in neglect and abuse. The wrinkles around her mouth are deep and pronounced, etched into her skin from years of relentless smoking. Starting as a young girl, Ashley's addiction to cigarettes saw her go from Senecas to Winstons, never caring about the toll it took on her appearance. She even reminisces about the dark nights of her drug days when she would scour the streets of Jamestown, searching for discarded cigarette butts to smoke. Yet, when she looks at herself through the lens of her phone's beauty filters, she is blind to these harsh realities.
Her nose, once straight, is now visibly crooked, a telltale sign of her preference for snorting drugs through one nostril. This crookedness disrupts the symmetry of her face, but Ashley remains oblivious to it, hidden behind the digital perfection she clings to. The only redeeming quality in her appearance is the color of her eyes—a striking shade that draws fleeting compliments from her followers. However, even her eyes cannot escape the legacy of her past, as their shape hints at subtle birth defects, adding to the unevenness of her features.
Her followers had noticed. What once set her apart now drew comments of disgust. But Ashley couldn't face the mirror without the comfort of her phone's filters. The filters softened her long, witch-like face, filled in the gaps in her smile, and hid the decay behind a veil of digital perfection.
One evening, as she meticulously adjusted a new filter, her phone battery died. Panic surged through her as the screen went dark, leaving her with no choice but to confront her reflection in the glass window. The harsh reality hit her with the force of a nightmare—there was no smoothing effect, no digital makeup, just the raw, unfiltered truth.
Terrified by the glimpse of her true self, Ashley scrambled to her vanity. She grabbed more tinsel for her hair, more tooth gems for her decaying teeth, and even glitter for her face. She hoped that these sparkly distractions would once again create the illusion she so desperately needed.
Her hands trembled as she glued the new, sparkly adornments to her skin. The room grew colder, and the silence was broken only by her labored breathing. She avoided looking directly into the mirror, fearing another glimpse of the monster she had become.
In the shadows of her room, surrounded by discarded makeup and glitter, Ashley clung to her phone. She waited for it to charge, praying that the filters would once again shield her from the horrifying reality of her own reflection.

is there any worthy effects from popping/snorting vyvanse my doctor took me off addys n i was curious if vyvanse had similar effects

Chapter 29 - The Arcadia
Previous Chapter
Amanda yawned as she walked into the mess, idly scratching her shoulder. The rest of the crew was already assembled, yammering away over the destruction they’d spent much of the day wreaking upon the floating cloud of metal.
Josh nodded to Amanda and handed her a plate. “You look like you just woke up.”
“Took a nap. When it comes time to start doing the analysis at each point, I’m going to be the busiest one here.” Amanda took the plate and wandered over to the serving counter. “Best to catch up on my sleep now. Did I miss anything exciting?”
“Well, Proxima will officially know everything going on here in roughly 28 days.” Ma’et was digging into a plate full of Lasagna as she answered between bites. “Par and I got our full and complete report loaded up on the e-beacon. Every single detail about every new species we’ve met here. We sent it off right after the fireworks. Feathers had a ton of fun reducing big parts of the debris field here into slag.”
Amanda for her part went with Fettuccine with a side of steamed, buttered broccoli. A small part of her wanted to explain that Proxima was already aware of everything going on, but she knew she was forbidden to mention the FTL transmitter hidden in her terminal. And even if they were aware of the actions here, the low bandwidth meant they had almost no real details so the beacon was still wholly necessary. As she took her seat she glanced around at the assembled crew. “Do I even want to know how much of the Captain’s bank account you all went through with this little exercise?”
Alex rolled his eyes as he bit into his own dinner. After chewing and swallowing quickly, he pointed the piece of garlic-buttered bread at Amanda. “First off, they were mostly just railgun rounds. Cheap and easy to replace. We only fired off a handful of flak so we could show her the effects it’d have in zero-g, and how it messes with Radar. And not a single missile. So don’t even start on nickel-and-diming us about this.”
“Wait, Captain.” Trix looked up guiltily at this. “You said not to worry about the cost because you’re rich?”
Amanda snorted at that, and stabbed her fork into the pasta. “Not yet he’s not.”
“Hey. I own an FTL-capable ship. Exactly how many individuals can make the same claim?” Alex shot back defensively.
Amanda took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed and responded, “In all of Sol and Proxima? Entire ships owned by a single individual separate from a company? Probably two or three dozen people, in total.” Another forkful of pasta, and she looked down at it briefly then met the Captain’s gaze. “Yes, you still own the ship. But do you need me to remind you how much you still owe Terrafault for the remodel we did for you?”
Alex muttered something under his breath, while Trix looked around in confusion. “Is that good or bad?”
Min swallowed a bite of her own meal and shook her head at Trix. “Ships themselves aren’t difficult to get. There’s tens of thousands of individuals who own their own ships. What’s rare is FTL capability on a privately-owned ship. Ninety-nine point nine nine some odd percent of all FTL capable ships are owned by major corporations or the military. It’s not a thing to just ‘buy’ a Euler cannon. So normally that’s a mark of extreme wealth.”
Trix glanced down at her own plate. The pasta was liberally covered with red flecks of some kind of spice that reminded her of the ‘hot sauce’ from the other day. “So how did the Captain get one then, if he’s not rich?”
Alex smiled innocently. “Blackmail.”
Trix stared at him for several seconds, then turned to Ji. “I can’t actually tell if he’s serious or not.”
“He is. It’s just not nearly as simple as all that.” Ji took a drink of water, then sprinkled some more parmesan on his lasagna. “Give ‘er the full story, Alex. You’ve never been shy about telling it in the past.”
Alex nodded, and wiped his lips with a napkin. “Yeah, well… okay. There’s gonna be some bits here you probably won’t get, on account of being another species.”
“Hasn’t stopped me from understanding you all yet.”
“Fair point. But you guys mate for life. That is very much not standard for Humans.” Trix nodded at this. It was bizarre and honestly kind of horrifying to think about, but she knew that the permanence of her species’ unions was uncommon.
“So what happened is, I grew up with just me and my mother. We don’t have Teffs but Humans still live in colonies with other people because, social species. So just the two of us for my entire childhood. I grew up in a colony station near Velger IV. Didn’t really make friends back then, so mostly it was just me and mom while I grew up. I asked what happened to my dad, but she never would tell me. Just said ‘He left, never came back’ every time I asked. I thought she was upset about it but turns out there was never really any love there.”
“Anyway, when I turned 18, I decided to join up with the Proxima military. Took off to recruitment while Mom went back to work.I had all kinds of grand dreams about becoming a decorated spaceship captain. About rising through the ranks to command a battleship. And it all went absolutely to crap.”
“You are a spaceship captain, though.” Trix pointed out.
“Yup. But not a military one. I made it three months into boot before I realized I couldn’t stand it. I’m pretty bad with extremely rigid structure and zero flexibility, and for some stupid reason as a kid I didn’t realize that meant that wouldn’t mesh well with the Military. After a few months I realized it’d get worse, and that was that. I quit the military but didn’t really know what to do next. My plan was to spend a year or two on Nexus Station while figuring things out. That didn’t last long either.”
Trix continued to eat as she listened, and nodded for him to continue.
“About a month and a half after I left the military, I got a message that there was an accident. My mom had passed away at work. The company sent me a bunch of cash for ‘condolences’ but it didn’t last long. When I realized I was completely and totally alone, I kind of had a little breakdown. It took me a bit to get my shit back together, and when I did that money had ran out. I wasn’t sure what to do next when I got a net message. From Mom.”
“The message was one of those ‘If you’re reading this then I’ve died’ things. In it she laid out the truth. My dad was an exec at the Proxima-Sirius staryards. They met, hooked up, then split. The message made it fairly clear it was just a fling but regardless I knew who my dad was. I worked a bunch of odd jobs and saved up a bit to get fare to transit from Nexus to the P-S Corporate station.”
Trix stared at Alex, trying to imagine the loneliness he’d been through. No matter what, a Teff was family. You could lose one or both parents and still be cared for, comforted, and have plenty of others around you to help you through things. Only a scant handful had ever lost their entire Teff and been entirely alone. To her, it was an unimaginable sort of nightmare.
“Once I was on the station, I found my dad pretty quick. Only he wasn’t just an exec. He was now CEO and co-owner.” Alex smiled, with absolutely zero joy on his face now. “And that opened up a huge can of worms.”
“A huge what?”
“Human expression. Means ‘it caused a ton of trouble’.” Alex nibbled on his garlic bread as he relayed the story. “See, my dad WAS just an exec when he met my mom. But then he got married to the daughter of the owner of the company. That’s how he rose in rank. And the two of them had kids, but each of them favored different kids and there was a big power struggle going on between the two parents and the kids they favored. There was, to say the very least, a ton of drama happening between different executives who saw this as a means to get ahead in the company. And suddenly in the midst of all this drama - boom. I show up.”
“Now, for a very, very long time we’ve had the technology to be able to compare genetics and determine if someone’s actually related or not. So when I show up, the data all shows that yup - that’s my dad. No question there. We get into a meeting, I explain what happened to mom, give him a brief rundown of my life until then, just bringing him up to speed more or less. He asks me to leave for a day and when I come back the next day, there’s several dozen lawyers there. They’re all freaking out about me, about not letting his wife find out he had a kid, quizzing me about every detail of my story. They're asking me why I’m here, what do I want, why didn’t I show up before, really grilling me bad. One of ‘em keeps trying to shove papers my way asking me to sign something but I’m way too freaked out by everything going on. The questioning continues and I’m not thinking straight and eventually I just blurt out without even thinking ‘I’m trying to become a starship captain and I want to explore space!’”
Everyone at the table had heard the story before, but his reaction still managed to get some chuckles out of the crew. Trix couldn’t imagine why. This whole story was just too bizarre from her point of view to even approach humor.
“Eventually we arranged a settlement. Legally, I’m no longer his son. I have about five hundred pieces of paper and countless digital copies of that paper exist out there that say that I am not related to that man at all. I am also under a restraining order to never dock at the Proxima-Sirius Corporate station for any reason. In exchange for all that, I was given full and formal ownership of the Arcadia. Which, at the time, was a mostly-finished FTL-capable yacht designed for rich space tourists. Zero armaments. Particle shielding only. Full of all kinds of fancy amenities that rich people use that most people wouldn’t give a damn about. Worth a very, very small fortune but worth FAR less than an ownership stake in the P-S Shipyards.”
“I think they were expecting me to sell it or something, because when I finally got the ship I started realizing how expensive it is to maintain. Docking costs at stations and planets aren’t free. Maintenance costs aren’t cheap. The Euler Cannon’s core has limited uses before it has to be replaced and that’s EXPENSIVE. And I was a stupid 18 year old so of course I blew a dozen uses of the core on stupid bullshit. Very quickly I’d started to realize how far over my head I actually was.”
“That’s horrible!” Trix exclaimed, suddenly.
“Yeah, it was a real wake-up call. Cores are pricey but I was able to...”
“No, all that stuff with your family!” Trix stood up suddenly. “Your father found out he had a son he abandoned you? JUST LIKE THAT?” She was yelling and she didn’t know why.
Min reached over and put a hand on hers. “Trix, we’re Humans. We live our lives differently.”
“She’s right though.” Josh interjected. “It’s still pretty horrible.”
Alex looked between the two and just sighed. “It is what it is. I can’t change the past and I can’t change that man. In the end, it put me here. So it’s not like I can complain.”
Trix sat down and stared at the plate in front of her. “I just can’t even really wrap my head around it. On Kiveyt, we’re all raised together. If something happens to our family, the Teff is there for us. If anything happens to the Teff then we can join the Teff responsible for us. We aren’t alone, ever. But when you found your dad he just…” She bit down on her lip.
“I mean… I didn’t know him growing up. I don’t know him now. As far as I’m concerned, nothing changed for me.” Alex rocked back and forth slightly on the chair as he spoke. “To get back to the story, I spent a few years doing in-system courier work but that ended up being boring, and didn’t pay for shit. After Josh and Par joined up, we did some tours of particularly nice looking spots for rich tourists which went really well until pirates slipped someone onboard and the ship was nearly scuttled. Took every last penny the three of us had to get her fixed, but the jobs had dried up. We thought we were completely sunk when Terrafault reached out to us.”
Amanda had finished her meal and was casually sipping at a drink as she listened in on the story. “Honestly it was a surprise they didn’t reach out to you sooner. There were active orders to recruit any and all independent pilots we could, and the fact that you owned a ship should have made you the most attractive prospect available.”
“They might have. Honestly back then I was absolutely shit at checking my messages on the ‘net. God only knows what I missed.” Alex mused.
“Why was he an ‘attractive prospect’?” Trix was trying very, very hard to concentrate on the story and NOT think about the horrific way these Humans treated their family.
“Well, at the time Terrafault was being beaten to nearly every decent survey location out there.” Amanda kicked off her shoes with a clatter on the floor. “Our fault really. We grew just a bit too fast and made a fair amount of enemies in the private mineral sector. Apparently some of our competition had bribed a few individuals in the Proxima government. Corporations aren’t allowed to explore freely, we have to actually notify the authorities of our plans. Whenever we’d submit a request to survey a system, by the time we received approval we’d arrive there to find someone else had laid claim to the minerals.”
“That’s the downside to the immense bureaucracy that infests government.“ Alex couldn’t keep the snide note from his voice. “It’s entirely too easy to throw money and weight around in places where nobody can see and end up getting screwed over because of it.”
“ANYWAY. The Captain being an independent pilot meant he can go wherever he wants without having to file the same paperwork a corporation does.” Amanda glared at Alex and kicked one of her shoes over at him. “So we were able to kill two birds with one stone. We continued to submit survey paperwork, but this time for junk systems to force our competition into spending money to find nothing. Meanwhile we fed the Captain the data to good systems, he goes out and does the survey, the claims belong to him and he sells them to us. Win-win.”
Alex made a face back at Amanda. “Since I’m not TECHNICALLY a Terrafault employee, I don’t have to abide by the same rules they do either. Which gives me a hell of a lot more freedom than their pilots.”
“When you put it like that it almost makes them sound like slaves.” Amanda shot back. “You and I both know they enjoy the same freedoms you do.”
“Oh, sure. Freedom to fly whenever the company has filled out the paperwork to fly to, and nowhere else. See, Trix, this is why Corporations are terrible. They restrict what you can or can’t do, where you can or can’t go, all in the name of profits.” Alex gestured around him. “If I was an ‘official’ Terrafault employee do you think we’d be here now? Hell no.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the Captain. “If not for the corporation and its resources, you’d still be ferrying people thousands of times richer than you around to ooh and ahh at nebulas and ice rings. And that’s BEST CASE scenario, worst case the ship’d be sold and you’d be off doing god knows what with the cash.” She turned to Trix immediately. “What he’s not telling you is that the reason you were able to have all that fun earlier, the reason this ship even HAS weapons in the first place, is because he took out a massive loan from Terrafault in order to properly equip this tub for expeditions like this one. Without us, he’d still be flying an unarmed, unarmored yacht.”
Alex bit his tongue as he recognized the old arguments that Amanda used to rile him up. “That much, at least, is true. After we fixed the Arcadia up and Terrafault contacted us we did a major refit. That’s when we got proper ablative armor, pinpoint shielding, launcher bays, and the Fabber. Though the main gun is military surplus. There was a small colony near Sol that pissed off the bear and got ‘integrated’ for their troubles. The few military ships that escaped were cannibalized for credits, and so we picked up the gatling railcannon on the cheap.”
Trix glanced between Alex and Amanda. “So the Captain’s independent, but works with Terrafault. But he took out a huge loan from you guys to refit the ship. And he works for you to pay it back?”
“Right on the money.” Alex stood up and walked over to the bev dispenser, refilling his cup. “Whenever we do a mission I get sell all mineral claim rights back to Terrafault. They reimburse us for expenses incurred, plus any discoveries we made during the mission. I split the cash with the crew, set aside some for maintenance costs and an emergency fund, and put the rest back into the loan. It’s actually not that bad. We’ve been doing these runs for Terrafault for about two decades now, and at the rate we were going I could have paid off the ship refit in another six or seven years.”
“‘Could have?’” Ma’et glanced over at the Captain. “I thought that was still the plan?”
“Not anymore. Think about it, Ma’et. Remember the huge bonus from finding Guylevo? The money from surveying a habitable planet was nothing compared to what waits for us back home. SIX confirmed first contacts, four of which are peaceful, and one of which is filled with the most incredible people out there.” Alex took a long drink from his cup, and gestured towards Trix. “After this mission, you’ll all have enough money to buy yachts like the Arcadia without blackmail at all!”
Trix shot to her feet and glared over at the Captain. “How can you even joke about that? About being abandoned like that?”
Alex’s mood sobered as he recognized her anger over the story. “I joke about it because what else can I do? As far as he’s concerned, I was just an inconvenience who showed up at the worst possible time. There’s nothing I can do to change that, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.” He set the cup down and walked around the table. “When my mom passed, I didn’t know about any other family. So instead I decided to make a new family.” He gestured to the others here. “Granted, it’s pretty dysfunctional. But I’m pretty happy with things now.”
Trix looked around at the others, then sat back down. “I’m sorry. What you described is just really upsetting. Family is everything back on Kiveyt. We don’t treat it lightly like you humans do out here.”
Josh shook his head, and stood up. “Don’t lump us all in there. Many of us take family just as seriously. Not a single person on this ship would sell off their kid, no matter what the circumstances. Humanity has some pretty shitty members, but we have our good ones too.”
Trix felt her wings droop as she realized she spoke without thinking. “I didn’t mean to… imply you were all like that.”
“You didn’t.” Alex walked over to the door and finished draining the glass, before setting it down on the counter next to the exit. “It’s a fact that there’s good humans and bad ones. In fact, I’m more than a bit worried about what happens when our bad apples find their way to your planet. Keep that in mind when you meet people outside of the crew. Everyone here is good people, but the universe is a pretty cruel place all things considered. There’s no shortage of people who are exactly as bad as Matriarch Kyshe thought we were. Anyway, story’s told and we’re starting the new shift rotation tomorrow. I’m going to get some sleep now. Night gang.”
As he left, Trix slumped down against the table. “Did I upset him?”
Min reached over to lay a sympathetic hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. Dealing with the past means dredging up all kinds of memories, both good and bad. It’s something we all deal with.”
“He usually really likes telling that story,” Josh commented. “Especially when it gets to the bit about when we were attacked by pirates. He normally goes into a lot of detail and exaggerates that bit.”
Trix glanced up at that. “I thought that part WAS an exaggeration.”
“Nope. Really happened.” Josh leaned back slightly, putting his fingers on his chin. “Actually, Trix, I think you ARE the reason he’s like that. You were more upset on his behalf than anyone else I’ve seen him tell that story to. That’s not a bad thing,” Josh added quickly. “Being upset for him is a nice gesture.”
“It’s just such a shock.” Trix took a deep breath and sat back up from where she was slumped against the table. “I’d heard other species don’t stay together like we do. Everyone HEARS of that, it’s on the news and they mention it in schools. But knowing it happens then hearing about someone just… abandoned like that?”
“It’s more common than any of us would like.” Josh nodded and stared down into his own drink. “Truth be told the Captain has things a lot easier than most abandoned kids. Not to downplay what happened to him, but most never find their other parent. And for those that do, the other parent usually has major problems of their own. It ends badly for everyone involved.”
“How do you guys deal with that?” Trix glanced around at everyone assembled. “I mean, not you personally but like… Humans.”
Ma’et responded in a quiet voice. “Everyone deals with it their own way. There’s all kinds of circumstances for people. Some people deal with it well. Others not so well. There’s no single set path for us, nothing that tells us all how to handle the tough times. We just do the best we can.”
Min glanced around, the somber mood had spread to the entire group. “You know what can help? Music.” She tugged on Trix’s shoulder. “C’mon, Trix. Let’s go bunk down. I’ll send over a few songs you can listen to.”
—--
The liquid filling the room had a sickly green tint to it, and the Inquisitor’s snout wrinkled in disgust. It waddled forward, to where the Interpreter Sixth was finishing his feast - upon one of his own crew that had displeased him. It was a show of strength, the Inquisitor knew. One it had seen many, many times before. And would see, many times again.
As the Interpreter finished his meal he turned to the intruder upon his ship. “So, Inquisitor. What news have you brought?”
“News from the Holy One. The Star-Thieves have been seen again.” The Inquisitor kept the contempt from its voice. Interpreters always thought themselves to be grander and of more import than they truly were. In the end though they were simply another instrument of the Will of the Heavens. As were all Tanjeeri.
“Hmph.” The Inquisitor lifted himself up on his legs, then let himself fall. “And why do you bear this news? Why is a Voice not here to bring a commandment?”
“I am here because the Holy One has instructed me to be.” A long, thin arm protruded from the Inquisitor’s robe. “I am here because the Thieves have angered the Heavens themselves, and the Holy One has seen it.” A large, red stone rested within the Inquisitor’s palm.
The sight of the stone immediately caused the Interpreter to freeze, as he glared down at the thin, whip-like creature before him. “Is the Holy One calling for a crusade?”
“He would, yes, but we have no knowledge of the Thieves. Are they one or are they many? Where do they reside? We have seen them in the presence of the Smooth ones, and we know they reside in the Dry with the other infidels. And they have gone to the odd ones, and visited their world.” The red stone disappeared back into the robe, and the Inquisitor shook their head. The cowl drifted in the murky water. “The Holy One’s sight is unmatched, but the Thieves cloak themselves in the shadows of the Starlight. We cannot rely on sight alone in our pursuit of them.”
“No sight. And the Void has no currents upon which we can sniff them out.” The Interpreter slowly spun around the room, glancing at the instruments and panels around him. “Where were the Thieves last seen?”
“The Holy One saw them returning to the Dry station where the Smooth ones first saw them. Then they were seen where the Star-Heart was found within the infidels’ ship.” The Inquisitor withdrew an etched tablet.
“Then we simply assault that star again. We crash down upon the Thieves as a wave, and drag them under.”
The Inquisitor shook its head. “The Holy One watched the Thieves as they left the Odd ones’ world. They are swift, and cannot be caught so easily.”
The Interpreter grew silent, croaking softly as he thought. “They left the Odd ones world. They returned to the dry station and the dead ship among the Stars. Would it not stand to reason they’d return to the Odd ones home as well?”
“It would. But the Holy One has seen that we will not move against the Odd ones.”
A long tongue snaked out of the Interpreter’s mouth, as he released a torrent of bubbles into the murky water. “A pity, that. The Odd ones taste so good. Well then our path seems quite clear to me.”
“It does?” The Inquisitor glanced skeptically at the Interpreter. The thought of this bulbous indulgent being able to offer up any insight seemed ludicrous, and it was all that the Inquisitor could do not to laugh derisively at that.
“It does. The Holy One says we cannot catch the Thieves in the open. We cannot move against the Odd ones. We must take the Dry station, then. It is the only option left. We take it and we wait for them to come close…” A claw dragged across the metal floor. “And then we take the Thieves.”
The Inquisitor hesitated at that. “But they may not return to the Dry station, and if they do the Smooth ones have left it already.”
The Interpreter released a short, sharp laugh at this. “Then yours is a fools’ errand! If we cannot catch them at the Odd ones, if we cannot catch them in the open, and we know not where else to look for them, then we must turn to the only place we know they have been. We must take the station! To do anything else would require knowledge we do not possess. Tell me I am wrong!”
The Inquisitor scowled furiously in its hood. The damnable creature had a point. “I will not tell you that you are wrong. Nor will I say that you are right. That is not why I am here. What I will do is relay your response to the Holy One, as is my job. I will return to the Inquisitory. YOU will do nothing more until a Voice returns.” It wished, so greatly, to be able to tell off the disgusting Interpreter but it could not. Its duty was clear. But it took great pleasure in turning around and leaving at that. To leave without being dismissed was a slight, at most, but to a self-important creature like the Interpreter the slight would rankle.
As the Inquisitor left, a page drew near and bent down before the Interpreter. “Your orders, Holy Interpreter?”
Do nothing more? That worm knew NOTHING! He was the Interpreter, and it was his decisiveness and cunning that had granted him this position. “The trap will be set. There is no other course. But we must chase the Thieves into it. Send a small Claw against them, in the system where the Star-Heart was found. We will chase them, and they will flee from us as all do. And when they return to the Dry station, we will be waiting.”
“By your will, Interpreter.”
—--
Trix glanced out the window at the asteroid cluster. From here, it was just a group of shining stars. Unlike other stars, these would occasionally flicker or dim as they’d rotate. But on the screen in front of her their true nature was revealed, as massive chunks of rock floating in space. Chunks of rock which apparently were worth untold amounts of money. “You guys should have brought some of the M’rit out here instead of me.”
“And why would we have done that?” Par replied. The two of them shared the watch shift today, and the digital being’s lack of a physical presence made the bridge feel empty.
“Well that’s where all our mines are, so I assume they’d find these rocks a lot more interesting than I would.” Trix amused herself by spinning around in the Captain’s Chair. She didn’t actually like sitting in it that much, since it wasn’t designed for a winged species - she had to fold her wings around her in a less-than-comfortable manner to sit in it. Still, she had to admit it was nice to look down on all the other consoles.
“Perhaps. But then, you would be back at home tending to the fields. Would you prefer that?”
Trix sighed heavily. “You’re so damn boring to argue with. You always make really great points.”
“I do. Which is why arguing with me is pointless.” Par sent a remote in to hover near Trix. “You were warned that not all of this mission would be enjoyable.”
“I know. Shut up.” Trix stood up and stretched out her wings, then stomped back down to her seat. It was far, far more comfortable - especially now that Ji and Min had redesigned it for her anatomy. “The mission is fine. I just didn’t realize we’d be spending so much time waiting.”
“If you’d like, we could watch the salvage bot.” The main screen changed as Par spoke, and the image of the robot came up on the screen. The bot itself seemed motionless as it perched upon the side of the asteroid. A large pipe jutting out of it was spewing a constant stream of dust into the air. It was fascinating to watch as the glittering minerals sprayed off into the distance.
“I mean it looked great for a while, but it got boring fast. I’ve been spoiled. It’s your fault, you know.” Trix ignored the screen and just tilted the seat back as far as it would go.
“How is it my fault?”
“Not you specifically, Par. Humans' fault. You guys introduced me to all those shows. All that music. All that media. You introduced a poor little farm girl to human culture and now she’s been horribly ruined by it.”
The entire planet had gone bonkers over the Humans’ music. But Trix knew that they hadn’t even scratched the surface. The shows she’d watched and been introduced to since she joined the crew… those were where she’d absolutely gotten hooked.
Par’s remote floated up in front of Trix, waggling a holographic finger admonishingly at her. “I fear for your planet when our libraries become public. You’ve had access to less than a thousandth of all the media we have produced over the centuries, and you’re hopelessly addicted.”
Trix shoved the metal sphere aside. “Yeah well can’t blame us for that. We never really had a chance to develop anything like that stuff.”
Par pulled up a number of images on his displays. “Nonsense. Your civilization had plays and theater, even before the Bunters arrival.”
“Sure. But we never had ANYTHING like your shows and animation!” Trix couldn’t help but grin as she slowly spun in her seat. “I still don’t even understand how anyone could spend all that time drawing the same picture over and over again, but just a little bit differently each time.”
“Well, it’s a job like any other. People do the things they enjoy and that they’re good at.”
“I guess so. Is that what that post-scarcity thing Amanda was talking about means? We’ll have time to do just… whatever? Make drawings? Make music?”
“Not necessarily. Humanity has produced media in multiple forms long before we achieved post-scarcity. To us, cultural distractions like music and video are necessary. For the artists, they’re self-expression. For the consumers, they’re recreation. Both recreation and expression are quite necessary for our species.”
“I guess. We need recreation as well, but we socialize a lot for that.”
“Your society places different emphasis on different types of recreation. That’s natural. You’ve grown on a different planet, with different circumstances. Meaning that even when your society does achieve post-scarcity, there is no guarantee you’ll become just like us. I am sure that you and your people will have your own, unique experience unlike any other.”
“It’s hard to even imagine. Enough stuff being made that anyone can have anything at all without work. Humanity living like that seems so impossible to me.”
The sphere settled down on the console next to Trix. “That is only partially accurate. While it is true that all basic needs are met without requiring labor, luxuries in many forms are still desired in great enough quantities that mass production cannot entirely keep up. Additionally, labor is still an important part of the Human experience, as it can fulfill many needs.”
“Like what? If you can just live without doing anything, why bother working?”
“I’m unsure if your species has a similar drive, but the urge to be useful is strong within many Humans. For some it is important to ‘leave their mark’ on the world, for others they use their workplace to achieve a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. And for others it fulfills needs to socialize with others. It is well-documented that the motivational drive to make accomplishments is a healthy part of the human psyche. Without it, any number of psychological and behavioral issues manifest.”
Trix shook out her wings, and picked at a couple of the feathers that stuck together. “I dunno. We work to live. If we don’t have to work, I’m not sure what we’d do.”
“That’s an issue that your people will likely have to face. When bereft of the need to work, what replaces that part of your life? For a great many Humans the desire to contribute something of value to the world is a difficult impulse to resist. For others, another extremely strong motivator is the desire to succeed amongst one’s peers. I believe this motivation is shared amongst our two people.”
“Yeah. Okay, that part sounds like us. Everyone wants to show off in front of their friends.” Trix closed her eyes and reached out in front of her, grasping at the air where her Aircar’s handlebars would be. “And sure, I could imagine a ton of people wanting to race the challenges if they didn’t have to work. But why would they do OTHER jobs?”
“If you accomplish something, even if that something is incredibly minor, would that not put you as more successful to someone who simply lives accomplishing nothing?”
“Huh. I mean… I guess so.” She opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s still weird to think about.”
“It IS quite premature at this point. Still, if you look at the situation as a whole it is a good problem to have.”
Trix glanced down at the silver ball. “What do you mean by that?”
“Progress is natural. Technology exists to make lives easier. As your species grows more technologically advanced, lives become easier. Post-scarcity is inevitable. Unless something were to happen to your species such as being destroyed from within or without. Or, if your species were to be completely subsumed by another. In that light, wouldn’t reaching post-scarcity and trying to determine how your species handles it be a good problem to have?”
“That’s kind of a bleak way to look at it. ‘Be happy you’re not dead or slaves’ seems kind of macabre.” Trix glanced over at the system display. Still nothing out of the ordinary. “But I guess it’s a valid point.”
“Unfortunately when dealing with planning for the future of an entire species, it’s a point that needs to be addressed. There’s an ancient human theory called the ‘Great Filter’ which was used for an extremely long time to attempt to determine why Humanity hadn’t found intelligent life amongst the stars. The gist of it was that life must be commonplace but intelligent life was rare, and the theory attempted to explain why that may be. Self destruction was among the reasons listed that a species would fail to reach space and make contact, and unfortunately on at least two exoplanets we have discovered that seemed to have happened.”
Par’s sphere floated up and the image on the display shifted to two large images of planets. “In both instances we found evidence of pre-spaceflight worlds that had at one point contained life, but the presence of radioactive isotopes and the damage wrought indicated a society that self-destructed via the use of nuclear armaments. Exact details of the collapse of the two societies are still being investigated by anthropologists but given the thoroughness of the destruction, the specifics may not ever be known.”
A shiver ran up Trix’s back as she stared up at the two screens. Somehow the thought of an entire species perishing all at once touched some deep existential dread within her, and she pressed the command to blank the screen. “Other people wiped themselves out. That’s why you guys thought there wasn’t life outside of your world?”
“That and the lack of any form of radio signals of any meaningful note. Radio was one of our first great technologies. To Humans, it seemed as though any other intellect among the stars would develop radio quite early in their development. As such, we sought out radio waves in the void. Not finding any made us believe that we were alone.” Par hummed idly as he spoke, giving his already musical-voice an unusual undertone.
“Well you’re not alone, so that theory is obviously not correct.”
“Your presence onboard the ship is decisive evidence to that effect, yes.” Par digitally laughed at this, though it was odd. It sounded perfectly natural yet somehow it came across as strangely emotionless to Trix. “I am sure that when knowledge of not just your but all the other species existence here in Perseus becomes widely known a large number of previous theories and thought experiments will end up being adjusted accordingly.”
“Well I’m glad to hear you guys will at least be affected slightly by us.” Trix stood up and spun her chair around, sitting down so her chest was against the narrow backrest. “Sorta feels like you guys are gonna be the ones making US change.”
“And that’s why we need a Prime Directive.” Josh walked into the room, interrupting the conversation. He was carrying an insulated mug giving off steam as he walked in. “Gotta keep our filthy influences from desecrating society too much.”
“I wasn’t calling you guys filthy.” Trix leaned against the chair, glancing up at the time. “You’re twenty minutes early today.”
“Yeah, woke up early and felt restless.” Josh shrugged and took his seat at the XO console. “But as to us being filthy, by and large I think we are. What’d I walk in on anyway?”
“Philosophical meanderings and stream of consciousness discussions regarding post-scarcity, the Great Filter, and the effects that Humanity will have on the Sovalin species as a whole.” Par summed it up rather neatly.
“In other words a boring shift where nothing happened.” Trix was even more concise. “What’s that Prime Direction you talked about?”
“Prime Directive.” Josh pulled up his console and transferred command over to it. He set the mug down on a coaster, and shited around to make himself comfortable. “In one of our works of fiction, space travelers and explorers are bound by law not to interfere with developing species so that their culture and values are unaffected by our own.”
“Thats’ stupid. Why bother with that? If other species are more like you, wouldn’t that make it easier to make friends and stuff?”
“Probably. But then who knows what kinds of amazing things we’d miss out on by not letting another culture flourish?”
“But that’s just it. We don’t have the kinds of amazing things you guys do. What do we have to offer that Humanity would enjoy?”
Josh reached over to the mug, taking a sip of the scalding hot bitter coffee inside. “That’s what we find out together. I’ll tell you this though. The aircar races you guys do will DEFINITELY be a hit back in Proxima. We’ve done many similar things but for whatever reason we never got into trying to fly a gauntlet like that.”
Trix sat up straighter at that. “Wait, really?”
(Continued in Comments)

This was something I wanted to use in a comment here but it was too long, so I'm putting it here with the lead-in from the comment:

An essential element is the charisma of NSA's leaders. Theoretically, charisma is an event which takes place between a leader and a group. Charisma exists only as it is perceived in someone by others and cannot be artificially produced. Source

Of course, sometimes the way a person, like an SGI leader, is described to someone else can set that other person's expectations, prime their perceptions, to regard this SGI leader as someone worthy of an extra helping of respect and admiration, provided that person is susceptible to being led in that way. That's a function of the SGI indoctrination, to regard the leadership as "special", as automatically possessing superior wisdom and understanding (which is all that qualifies them to dole out "guidance" to everyone at a lower leadership level than themselves). However, when someone isn't in thrall to that kind of delusional thinking, the SGI leader often comes off poorly, as in Eddy Canfor-Dumas' book The Buddha, Geoff and Me (2005). While I was still in SGI, a friend asked me to read it, so I got ahold of a used copy and gave it a read. It left me totally WTF, honestly - I think you'll get an idea why from this section.
Eddy, the protagonist, has this on-off girlfriend who is Jewish and who strenuously objects to the concepts of "karma" and "cause and effect" because those lead to the conclusive, inescapable, irrevocable, and completely unacceptable conclusion that the Jews themselves were responsible for the death camps like Auschwitz, Buchenwald, and Bergen-Belsen and the whole of the Holocaust itself! We've noted the same problem here - holding the victims accountable for their own victimization! If you're already "going there" already, it's only a tiny baby step to extend that to the Jews who were exterminated by the Nazis in WWII - and his girlfriend could see that clearly, even if poor Eddy couldn't (or wouldn't). As you can see here, this concept, that the Jews were ultimately responsible for their own victimization, that they CHOSE that, does exist within these silly weird religions that put so much faith in "karma". Eddy can't explain; he's left embarrassed and she's angry. It starts in Chapter 8 (p. 123); here's the relevant piece:

Perhaps if [SGI-UK member] Geoff talked to her like he talked to me, if he convinced her, charmed her, reassured her that this Buddhism thing I was getting interested in wasn't a load of old nonsense ⏤ well, perhaps we'd be all right after all. She wouldn't be a walk-on in the first act of my story; she'd be the girl the boy meets and loses and wins in the end. Perhaps. (p. 141)

As you can see, Eddy is counting on Geoff's "charisma" to impress his girl. But it doesn't go quite as he expects:

'So,' said Angie after a while, 'Ed says you've got a Buddhist explanation for the Holocaust.'
Geoff smiled. 'It's my explanation,' he said. 'it's not an official line or anything. It's how I've made sense of it, through Buddhism.'
'Can you make sense of it?'
'I've tried.'
'OK. Fire away.' Angie sipped her wine and smiled sweetly, but I knew that look. Inside she was coiled, ready to pounce on any statement that in any way suggested the victim was culpable.

As if that's a BAD thing! Why shouldn't people be on their guard when a stranger is clearly ready to launch into a sales pitch of some kind?

Geoff took a deep breath and launched in. 'Right. Well, first off, I want to make it clear that nothing I say should be taken in any way to justify what the Nazis did.

Uh-oh - not off to a great start, I'm afraid 😒

'That was disgusting, an atrocity, and the people who did it and supported it are totally responsible for their actions. OK?'
Angie nodded and sipped her wine, watching him closely.
'And from a Buddhist perspective they've created terrible karma for themselves in doing what they did.'
'Karma ⏤ that's the punishment they're going to suffer in the future?'
'Not punishment, exactly. It's the effects you experience as a result of causes you make, good or bad. So if you cause suffering at some point you'll suffer in return.'
'Which means all the Jews who were murdered in the Holocaust must have made the cause at some point to die like that ⏤ which I absolutely refuse to accept.'
'That sounds outrageous to you?'

WHAT?? How could it NOT??

'Totally.'
Geoff grunted. 'Ed said members of your family were killed.' He glanced at me.
'On my mother's side, yes. Her mother's parents, two brothers, cousins, uncles and aunts. My grandmother was the only one who got out, on the kindertransport. If she hadn't I wouldn't be here.'
Geoff shook his head. 'Terrible. So anything that even hints the victim is somehow responsible feels like a real insult.'
'Yes.'
He sighed. 'I know. It's very hard, even if you believe in the eternity of life, like I do. But for me the question isn't so much what causes did these people make to suffer like this, because I think that's impossible to answer⏤'
'That's convenient,' said Angie tartly.
'For me,' said Geoff, ignoring her tone, 'the important question isn't what causes people made in their past lives but what people do in this life. What makes people behave like the Nazis did to the Jews? Why did other people let it happen ⏤ or not? In Denmark, for example, the vast majority of Jews were hidden by the non-Jewish population, or helped to escape, whereas in Poland they weren't. And for me, above all, the crucial question is what can we all do to make sure it doesn't happen again?'
'Only it has, hasn't it?' I said. 'Rwanda.'
'Exactly,' said Geoff.
'Exactly what?' said Angie, still seething. But at least she hadn't walked out, which i suspect she would have done by now if it had been just the two of us.
'Well, I reckon,' said Geoff, 'everything boils down to what Buddhism calls the world of Anger. Which isn't just losing your temper. It's ego, identity, how you define yourself as separate from other people; the rest of the universe, in fact.'
Angie crossed her arms and legs and gazed at him, aggression shining from every pore.
Geoff ignored it. 'One way we do it is in opposition to other people, or groups of people, often putting "them" down to make "us" ⏤ our group ⏤ feel better or superior. You see it in football supporters, nations, religions, political groups ⏤ everywhere.'

Especially in how certain SGI members attack this SGIWhistleblowers ex-SGI members' support group, all the while bragging that they are "Bodhisattvas of the Earth", clearly superior to everyone else.

'And?' Angie's tone was harsh, impatient.
'And taken to extremes,' said Geoff, 'that attitude can be used to justify anything "our group" decides is good for us, and to ignore anything "that group" says or wants. They don't count; our needs come first.

Just like how those SGI member-attackers insist that what they're doing somehow qualifies as "right speech", even though it's the OPPOSITE of the actual definition!

'So time and again through history you see groups of people who've wiped out other groups they've classed as enemies or a threat or inferior in some way. The Mongols did it right across Asia. We Europeans did it to millions of "darkies" during the whole period of colonialism. White people wiped out or ethnically cleansed millions of indigenous people when they settled the Americas. And we're still doing it.'
'How?' Angie sounded incredulous, and even I was taken aback.
Geoff ploughed on. 'Every year,' he said, 'millions of people in developing countries die from poverty, disease, hunger, malnutrition; more people every year than died in the six years of the Second World War, including the Holocaust. In fact, some people call this the Silent Holocaust. We know about it but we let it happen ⏤ because it suits us, our lifestyles.'
Angie looked floored for a moment. 'How do we let it happen?'
'Because a lot of this death is the result of international debt and unfair trade policies skewed toward the West. We benefit, so we do little or nothing to change it.'
Angie's eyes narrowed. 'If you're saying that me buying a cup of coffee from Starbucks or wherever is the same as the Nazis shovelling men, women and children in to the gas chambers . . . well, that is such complete crap. And trying to make the link, to make them equivalent ⏤ I find that disgusting.'
Geoff didn't turn a hair. 'I'm not saying it's equivalent. I'm saying what the Nazis did isn't unique or even unusual. It's an extreme case of what human beings have done since for ever: denigrate, devalue, disregard other human beings when it suits them.'

Oooh - sick self-burn, bruh!

Angie stared at him with naked hostility, and inside I groaned. If I'd known he was going to start sounding like Red Pete I'd never have put him anywhere near her, because she was basically a Daily Mail editorial on legs.

"Red Pete" was "a bloke from college" who was always involved in causes - protests, leaflets, rallies, etc. (p. 148)

But he hadn't said any of this to me. He'd talked about history, about how Christians had felt insulted by Judaism because it denied that Jesus was the son of God; and how the Jews were often feared as alien because they were a tight-knit and self-reliant community, forced into separate development by persecution. And a lot of the time people were simply jealous of them because they were so successful in trade and business. 'Look at how Jewish businesses were destroyed by the Nazis, or stolen,' he'd said. 'That shows where a lot of anti-Semitism was coming from: greed and envy.'

But what of Dickeda's "eternal clear mirror 'guidance'" from 1990? That says that everything in one's environment is simply a reflection of one's own life?? Where did THAT go?? IF others were reacting to them with "greed and envy", then isn't it OBVIOUS that "greed and envy" are firmly entrenched in those victims' LIVES, because by definition the others were simply a reflection?? Take it up with Sensei.

But ⏤ and this was the bit that brought me up short ⏤ he'd also wondered how the Jews calling themselves the Chosen People might have affected non-Jews. 'Anyone who sets themselves up as special in some way ⏤ even if they are special ⏤ is always going to be targeted by other people',' he'd said. 'It's not nice, but it's a fact. Like, we had this rich kid at school who really thought he was a cut above us, and we all hated him, wanted to bring him down to size. So we bullied him ⏤ including me, I'm ashamed to say. And with the Nazis ⏤ well, they were the Chosen People too, weren't they? Aryans, the Master Race. And you can't have two Chosen People, so they tried to wipe out the Jews. Horrible.'

But - and hear me out here - according to THAT logic, if the Jews hadn't felt themselves to be superior Chosen People, then the Nazis wouldn't have felt compelled to exterminate them - right? So THAT argument makes it the JEWS' fault! THEY essentially created the "effect" of being exterminated through their "cause" of ego, hubris, and superiority!

I'd had to think hard about all this. It went beyond labels like 'good' and 'evil' to basic human attitudes like resentment, fear, and jealousy. It sort of made sense to me, but then I wasn't Jewish.

When YOU aren't involved, it's EASY to make it into an abstraction, something just theoretical that isn't involved with anything real and doesn't really make any difference, practically speaking.

I didn't know how it would sound to someone more closely involved ⏤ like Angie. I hoped she might just be able to consider it without getting all worked up. But somehow the conversation had taken the wrong track and come off the rails. Time to rescue the situation. I opened my mouth ⏤ but too late.
'There is no way,' Angie hit back, 'that you can equate people starving in the Third World to the Holocaust. That was genocide ⏤ one group deliberately targeting another people and trying to exterminate them. And even talking of them in the same breath is an insult to the six million Jews who were deliberately, wilfully, systematically murdered.'
'Fair point,' I said, desperate to appease her. Geoff wouldn't budge.
'If governments follow economic and trade policies that they know result in massive numbers of deaths,' he said, 'does it matter what it's called? And how different are we from people living in Germany during the Holocaust if we know our governments are doing this but turn our backs on it?'
I winced again and waited for the explosion.
Angie looked at Geoff as if he were from another planet. 'So now I'm as bad as the people who supported Hitler?'
'Look, I don't want to upset you, Angie,' Geoff said.

Notice he didn't say "No, of COURSE not!"

She snorted with derision.

Fair.

'All I'm saying is the Nazis blamed their problems on the Jews and consciously decided to get rid of them. We sacrifice other people indirectly, by building our wealth on structures and systems that cause incredible suffering in poorer parts of the world. And basically we think that's OK, or not enough of us care enough to stop it.'

Just look at the "Big Ideas" pouring out of this SGI member to justify doing DICK! Where have we seen THAT before??

Angie sighed and stared at her empty wine glass.
I leapt in. 'Another one?'
'No, thank you.' Her answer was clipped, terse. She composed herself and looked up at Geoff. 'Is this Buddhism ⏤ or communism? Because it sounds identical to the sort of crap you hear from those people who riot about the "evils of globalisation" and capitalism. Despite the fact that every society, when it gets freedom, freely chooses the free market.'
'Actually, I did used to be very left-wing,' Geoff admitted cheerfully, 'till I realised neither communism nor capitalism's got the whole story. And if you base your society on ideas that are incomplete, sooner or later you're going to hit the buffers.'
'What do you mean by "incomplete"?' Angie asked, her critical antennae still quivering furiously.
'Ideas that don't understand cause and effect properly, or don't reflect life accurately. Or exclude whole groups of people ⏤ like women, or savages, or Jews, or non-Aryans, or non-Christians, non-believers, the rich, the poor, the working class, the bourgeoisie. You name it.'
'Meaning, I suppose, every idea except Buddhism.' The contempt in her voice was so heavy I sensed the conversation might be drawing to a close.

I'm surprised Eddy didn't use the word "incredulous" anywhere here - I can only imagine that was how Angie was feeling, at this guy's effrontery and smug self-satisfaction.

But again, Geoff sailed over it. 'Well, even most Buddhist teachings are incomplete,' he said. 'Some of them say women can't become enlightened, for example.' He flashed her a warm smile, but it was far too late for that.
'How very enlightened,' Angie replied ⏤ her one joke of the evening.
'Exactly. Not the sort I practice, though.' He smiled again.
'So there is hope for me,' she said dryly. 'As long as I follow your example, hmm?'
'As far as I'm concerned,' said Geoff, 'the important thing isn't what people practise, or even what they believe ⏤ it's how they actually behave towards each other.'

Yes, if only the Nazis had been nicer to the Jews, which we're all confident they would've been if the JEWS hadn't been such offensive individuals!

Angie looked at him a moment. 'Right,' she said. She held his gaze a while longer, then gave a short sigh, grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. 'Well,' she said, getting to her feet, 'it's been very informative. Thank you for the drink.' She headed for the door.
I jumped to my feet and ran after her. 'Angie!'
She turned and looked at me.
'Come on, stay for another one.'
'No thanks,' she said, glancing daggers over my shoulder at Geoff. 'I've had a long day and I want to get home.'
'Angie . . .' I pleaded.
'OK?'
The two letters were laden with a warning that froze me dead. Helpless, I watched her push open the door and turn out of sight along the street. Out of sight and out of my life for ever? (pp. 149-156)

It's so easy for those who aren't involved in a specific situation to be glib, insensitive, and callous to the concerns of those who are involved. "Karma" is their "get-out-of-caring-free" card. The sort of pontificating and grand generalizing that Geoff was engaging in, demonstrating such privileged, entitled DETACHMENT, is deeply non-compassionate. "I don't HAVE to care because c'mon, it was all their own fault, they deserved it, everyone can see that."

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper
Episode 12: The Aftermath II: Sky Fall
A familiar riff from an electric guitar began the episode, the letters of the 'TDA Aftermath' logo flashing and sliding into existence exactly as they had six episodes prior. A gleam of light swept across it, and the 'D' popped forward, rotating counterclockwise and snapping like a camera taking a picture.
Clip 1
"I'm sorry, but I have to make my conscience clean again," Brick responded. He then noticed Jasmine looking at the ground with disappointment. “Jasmine, are you feeling-”
“Like you said, it's best that you stay away from the film lot,” Jasmine said with an upset glare. “And more importantly from me. You lied to me, and a long distance apart is what's best right now.”
Brick hung his head in shame. “Understood!” he obeyed dejectedly.
The 'D' retreated briefly, then popped back out again before the next clip was shown.
Clip 2
The footage showed Chef escorting a handcuffed Sky on the red carpet.
"Hold on!" the voice of MK cried out as she ran up to the two. “Leave her and take me!”
“Sure. Whatever,” Chef took the handcuffs off Sky and offered them to MK.
“I was kidding!” MK pushed the cuffs away from her. “Like I'd willingly quit the game. I'm just here to see the loser off.” She looked at the slightly taller girl teasingly. “I'm sure you'll be happily reunited with Trent the Challenge Thrower.”
"As long as I'm not on a team with someone as underhanded as you," Sky retorted as she grabbed the handcuffs and walked past the now miffed girl, "I'll be happy anywhere."
The 'D' repeated its standard motion, retreating briefly before popping back out as a transition to the next clip.
Clip 3
"I promise to get you compensated for your broken arm as soon as possible," Chris whispered to Scott timidly.
“Okay,” Scott looked at Chris suspiciously. “I'll go celebrate with my team, but you guys better provide me with benefits or you and Chef are getting a lawsuit.”
For a fourth and final time, the logo's 'D' performed its transitional sequence.
Clip 4
The split-screen from the previous episode's elimination was shown, the camera panning to the left as Izzy received her award. "Hold on, wha?" Scott stammered in shock. "This has to be a joke, right?"
“No, it isn't,” MK said with a grin, “and you have me to thank for that.”
“You… you backstabbed me?!” Scott said with a bit of shock.
“With four votes to one,” MK cackled. “I just did what you did to your previous alliance. Don't get all hypocritical.”
"Unbelievable!" Scott grumbled before he was grabbed by Chef and carried over the shoulder down the Walk of Shame.
The 'D' was shown again, now as a signal of the recap's end.
(Theme Song)
The Aftermath introduction was replayed, this time cutting to the studio as the audience cheered and applauded. Priya and Damien were already on the host's couch, and the seats on stage left had been filled by Rodney, Sam, Gwen, Eva, and Geoff in the top row, and Topher, Katie, Sadie, and Trent in the bottom.
"Hey, everyone!" Priya opened with a wide smile. "I'm Priya!"
"And I'm Damien!" the nervous wreck added. "Good to have you all with us for another episode of the Aftermath."
"I hope you're all ready for the latest dirt on Total! Drama! Action!" Priya said excitedly as the crowd went wild again.
"There's a lot of love out there, right Priya?" Damien said.
"I know what you mean, Damien," Priya added.
"Sadly, today won't be all about love, considering that we'll be experiencing hate," Damien sighed.
"Considering who'll be joining us, that's a guarantee," Priya said as the camera pulled back enough to show the hanging television above them. "We have not only Scott, but Brick and Sky as well," she said as the screen split to show the devious farmer, cadet, and athlete's faces on the viewing screen and the crowd began to cheer.
"We've also got our season one friends joining us in the VIP section!" Damien announced. Priya held a finger to her ear and got up and walked off. "Say hey to Katie and Sadie!" The camera focused on the two girls as they smiled for the camera. "Rodney!" The country boy grinned. "Sam!" The gamer waved. "Gwen!" The goth gave a slight smirk. "And Topher!" The fanboy shot a finger pistol at the cheers.
Damien clapped and looked back, only to blink in confusion at Priya’s disappearance. "And we've got the guests from the last episode. Trent!" The camera cut to the guitarist as he smiled for the cheering crowd. "Geoff!" The party guy winked at the loud cheers. "And last year's winner, Eva!" She dropped her stoic persona long enough to grin at the camera, causing the crowd to cheer louder than ever.
"You sure know how to milk the camera," Trent said to the muscle woman.
"Not my fault," Eva shrugged. "The fans like me."
“Hi, Trent! We're so happy you're here!” Katie told him admiringly.
This made Sadie mad enough to smack her away. “I won the thumb war to say hi from us!” she argued, Katie sharing a similarly furious expression.
The camera cut back to Damien. "She’s doing that now?! Of all times?!" he whisper-yelled into his earpiece angrily and then changed his tone for the camera. "So there've been a couple of pretty shocking eliminations. Anything you'd like to comment on, Eva?"
"Not specifically," Eva replied.
"Okay," Damien said. "These past few episodes have been intense. We had the prison movie, the hospital drama, the haunted set..."
"...the disaster movie and war flick. Totally top-notch!" Priya finished as she returned to the studio and retook her seat, the audience members cheering.
"I knew these people would be all over those last two," Damien joked. "Glad I wasn’t in this season. I would've been voted out on prison day no matter what."
"I have to agree with you there," Priya admitted as the audience laughed. "I have a strong stomach, but the food would’ve been too much for me."
"For once, I actually feel for Scott. Having to go through all that, and getting his arm busted?" Damien commented. "I wouldn't wish that on anybody!"
"Same here, except for Fabien," Priya uttered with bitterness before moving on. "Coming up, we've got more moments of pain and hits like you've never seen," she said as the cheering began again. "It's time for 'That's Gonna Leave a Mark'!"
The segment's introductory sequence played, unchanged from the previous aftermath: several 'filmstrips' depicting various impacts and injuries to the contestants scrolled across the screen set to a grand theme. The crowd began to laugh as never-before-seen clips began to play, all set to a campy tune.
First was Jasmine stumbling around the hospital set with her arms outstretched, believing she had been blinded. She walked straight into Brick in his quarantine bubble, causing the cadet to roll back, hit the wall, and knock away Jasmine afterwards, much to his guilt.
Next, Scott was shown getting rolled into the ambulance after his injury. As the other castmates watched, the ambulance sped off but the doors swung back open, causing the farmer's stretcher to drop out. It rolled towards the teens, stopping just in front of a manhole before it partially collapsed and Scott slid down into the sewer with a splash.
The third clip was short, showing Chase finished setting up a trap during the war challenge and walking off. Ripper was carrying a couple of nets, and didn't notice the trap Chase set up until he got caught in it.
Fourth was set during the prison challenge, the same clip of Sky getting hit in the head by a bag while pushing the cart for her team playing.
The scene then flashed back to the hosts on their couch. "You can't just ditch me like that on live TV without telling me,” Damien scolded the reality TV fan.
“I saw my clip on the monitor, Damien. It was looking disoriented, and that has never happened before,” Priya defended herself. “Don't you know how embarrassing this would be if I didn't notice?”
“More embarrassing than me hosting solo when we're supposed to be a duo?” Damien argued.
The audience gasped. "So uh, guys? That was one great montage of pain!" Trent said from his seat.
"Oh, uh, it sure was!" Priya said quickly as she and Damien realized they were back live. "Did you all see Scott going down like a can of ham? Talk about brutal, right?"
Footage began on the hanging television as the campy tune resumed, starting with a shot of Chef Hatchet's giant manifesto flying towards the camera. The viewpoint shifted just as a gaping Scott was struck in his right arm, and the scene paused right as he began to fall off the wall he'd been clinging to.
"Yikes," Damien winced as a red circle was drawn around Scott's right arm. "If his favorite dance was the robot, he'll have a hard time doing that now."
The footage unpaused, and the redheaded boy fell across the balance beam in slow motion. "Does this show offer back insurance?" Priya added as the camera zoomed in on the point of impact between the log-like beam and Scott.
"Here's my personal favorite," she said as the scene changed to a clip of a traumatized Brick falling forward. "Brick fainting. This is what panic looks like," Priya said as a red circle was drawn around the cadet's face.
The feed cut back to the studio as the audience applauded and the hanging television cut to static. "How about we check in on Brick and see how he's holding up?" Damien asked the crowd right before the hanging television cut to the room backstage.
Brick was sitting on the couch in the middle of the room eating snacks while Scott sat on a nearby chair and Sky paced back and forth.
"So how are you two feeling about being interviewed in this episode?" Sky asked the two. “I'm personally ready to accept what's coming my way.”
“I'm prepared for it,” Scott answered. Though he still had a sling on his right arm and his bandana was gone, the brand on his forehead was no longer visible. “On one hand, my right arm is still broken, but on the other hand, I don't have no lame brand on my forehead no more. And I have a lot to say when it comes to being interviewed.”
“Thanks for your response, Scott,” Sky said. “What about you, Brick?”
“I'm not going to lie after what happened, so I'm just going to say that I'm worried about the questions I'm going to be asked,” Brick admitted and took a bite of his sandwich and looked at the camera. “And we're being watched right now.”
"The camera's on?!" Sky looked at it with shock as the shot cut back to the studio, the three eliminated castmates still on the hanging screen. “This was supposed to be private!”
A mixture of laughs and cheers came from the audience, and the camera focused in on Priya and Damien as the former said "We're always being recorded, no matter what."
"Before we bring out our first guest," Damien said, "let's take a look at his journey on the show." He looked back up to the other screen, which cut to static and then to a series of clips.
"Brick started out as a strong contender in this season," Priya started over clips of him being shocked by an eel and getting sprinkled by green slime.
"With his usual soft spot," Damien said over a clip of him peeking at MK's voting device.
"But when Chef secretly took him under his wing, making a deal to split the million if they won…" Priya brought up as clips of Chef talking to Brick during the acting challenge played.
"Things got dicey for our cadet," Damien said as a clip of Brick getting his swimsuit eaten by a shark was displayed.
"Fortunately for the rest of the cast, Brick had a thing or two to teach Chef about cooking actual food," Priya commented as clips of Brick making pizza and eating a slice was shown.
"But ultimately, Brick's conscience had something to teach him, too, leading to his dramatic exit," Damien said as clips of Brick talking to Justin and entering the Lame-o-sine were displayed.
The footage cut to static and the scene cut back to the studio, the camera panning back down to the hosts. "Our guest once got bombarded by skunks, is afraid of the dark, though he caught a pepperoni disease," Priya said. "Welcome Brick!"
She looked to the backstage exit where the cadet walked out to applause. "Brick McArthur, ready to execute the interview," he greeted with a salute as he walked over to the guest couch and took a seat.
"So Brick, how are you feeling after everything?" Damien asked.
"Is that a good question to ask?" Priya backpedaled. "He lost out on a million bucks twice."
"That may be factual, but my pride and integrity is still inside me," Brick claimed, making the audience applaud.
“Seriously?” Priya moaned. “That is so forced? Right, everybody?”
“Do we clap if we agree or disagree?” Katie asked Sadie, who simply shrugged.
"Thanks for the support,” Priya cynically mumbled. “I still think that what Brick said sounds like a lie. And you know what we do to liars!"
The shot pulled out and the music turned tense as an anvil swung down from the ceiling on a rope. "That's right," Priya said as the heavy thing came to a rest mere inches above Brick's head. "It's 'Truth or Anvil'!"
A grand tune played over a receding shot of a golden statue of the Lady of Justice. The crowd cheered, and both applause and music came to an abrupt end when a large anvil was dropped on the statue, smashing it to bits.
"Priya, why the sudden change?" Damien asked his girlfriend. "Wasn't it 'Truth or Hammer' last time? Why an anvil?"
"The producers’ thought of adding more drama to the show with an anvil. More Total Drama," Priya emphasized.
"Permission to speak," Brick said with a nervous look upwards, the viewpoint changing to show the anvil dangling precariously on its rope. "That anvil is going to drop on me if I lie?"
"You got it, but please don't lie. We don't want anyone to get injured," Priya said. "So, here's my first question.”
“I am so not cool with this!” Damien protested.
“How do you think I feel?” Brick said. “I'm not hiding anything anymore.”
“Brick, did you think the way you took advantage of your teammates was completely heinous and unforgivable?" Priya ignored the complaints and asked the first question.
"I had no intention of doing any harm, especially to Jasmine," Brick replied. "Chef just intimidated me!"
The anvil slightly dropped, making the audience gasp.
"Can't we just run some footage instead?" Damien suggested.
"How about some never-before-seen footage of Brick's fast moves behind the scenes?" Priya looked back up to the hanging television, which quickly switched from static to Chef in the boys’ trailer.
"While everyone else smelled like a dog park in August, you were wearing spring fresh duds," Priya said as the clip panned out to show Chef walking over to Brick to give him fresh clothes similar to the young man's usual attire.
"Thanks, Chef," Brick told the cook in the clip before the static moved to the next one.
"Chef gave you performance enhancing vitamins and helpful dairy products while everyone else was forced to eat slop," Priya talked over a clip of Chef providing Brick with a cup of vitamins and a carton of milk while Ripper, Millie, and Anne Maria were walking by with their horrible food.
The static changed the scene to Brick getting a therapeutic massage with needles attached to his bare back, sitting on his bunk bed with packages around him, and eating bags of beef jerky. "You received therapeutic massages, packages from home, and beef jerky, and never once felt bad about it," Priya mentioned all the things that Brick did.
The footage cut to Brick in a never before seen confessional. "Do I like winning? Heck yeah! I wanna do whatever it takes to keep racking up the wins! Do I feel bad? Do I look like I feel bad?"
Everyone gasped at all the things that Brick did after the shot cut back to the studio.
"I solemnly swear that I wasn't being two-faced," Brick defended himself. "Don't you have another clip explaining why I said what I said?"
"Okay. Here's what really happened in that confessional," Damien said before the next clip played on the television.
Another confessional was shown, though Brick was holding a script while Chef was watching him.
"Is this necessary, Chef?" Brick questioned Chef, who snarled in response and held a wooden ladle over his head. "I'm going to read. Do I like winning? Heck yeah."
The footage went back to the studio, where Priya was in the middle of a conversation with Brick. “Just do it this once,” Priya begged. “It'll make for great comedy, and the producers will love it!”
“You want me to get hit in the head with an anvil just to please your producers?” Brick repeated with a scowl. “That is not happening!”
“Okay then,” Priya said. “You lying did drive a wedge between you and Jasmine, so I'm not going to push it.”
"We only have time for one question," Damien interrupted.
"And I have the perfect one," Priya informed. "GumbroGordon98 wants to know; Brick, what would you do the next time you and Jasmine see each other again?"
“What I will do is make up for my actions and prove to her that I'll never keep anything from her again," Brick answered. "Not because of love, but because we're friends."
The hosts looked up to the anvil, but it didn't move. "That was not a lie if the anvil didn't pummel you," Damien smiled.
“Speaking of Jasmine, do you think that you two would’ve gotten together had you not worked with Chef all season or not at all?” Priya followed up.
“Excuse me?!” Brick asked in offense.
“Priya!” Damien said warningly. “That is personal info! I told you not to bring that up!”
“I just wanted to know. This is a half-hour show,” Priya said and faced the camera. "And it's time for a small break," Priya said. "We'll see you after these messages." She smiled and the crowd cheered.
The scene faded into the TDA Aftermath logo, and the 'D' popped out at the screen once again.
(Commercial Break)
The episode returned with another flash of the Aftermath logo, and a montage of clips from 'The Chefshank Redemption' began to play. Ripper and Chase were shown putting roaches and moldy pineapple slices into their bowl respectively, and Millie was eating the meal until she threw up. The camera pulled back out from the screen to the studio.
"Did you really leave just to touch up on your makeup?" Damien whispered to Priya.
"There was a pimple, Damien," Priya shot back. “And I took care of it during the commercial at least since you had a problem with me checking my clip during the episode.”
Damien groaned in frustration. "I thought you’d only do this once."
“I’d hate to interrupt your squabble, but the camera is rolling right now!” Eva spoke up.
Damien and Priya gave a wide-eyed stare to the camera. "And we're back," Damien said awkwardly.
"It's time we meet our second guest," Priya said. "But first, let's take a look." The hanging monitor cut to static and then started playing clips. "Scott was his same old antagonistic self this season," Priya said over a shot of Scott squeezing his sweat out of his shirt in the prison challenge.
"He was even picked last for the Gaffers because of his actions," Damien said over a clip of Sky picking him.
"Scott knew that he couldn’t throw the challenges with his rotten reputation, so he decided to mostly stay under the radar and not do anything risky," Priya recapped as Scott was shown getting on the surfboard and later on falling from one of the supports for the lights hanging above the pool and landing painfully on the surfboard.
"Scott formed an alliance with MK," Damien added over Scott and MK planning to vote out Izzy after the acting challenge, "and considering that MK’s as sneaky as him, it was a match made in heaven."
“When his arm got broken in the disaster challenge, Scott made sure to Chris that he wasn’t playing around with suing him after all he’s been put through,” Priya mentioned, clips of Scott being hit on the arm and later on angrily talking to Chris at night being shown.
"When the elimination came, Scott trusted MK to have his back in getting rid of Izzy," Damien said over Scott and MK in the communal bathroom together discussing the vote.
"But in a twist of events, MK chose to backstab Scott instead and take the villain role for herself, leading to his exit," Priya finished as MK's confessional was shown and Scott got thrown into the Lame-o-sine by Chef. The footage cut to static as the shot moved back to the studio, the hanging television retreating into the ceiling as the audience clapped.
"Our next guest got his forehead branded, covered his entire body in honey, and is a big fan of pigs," Damien announced. "Give it up for Scott!"
The audience cheered as Scott came out with his usual smirk and sat on the couch. "I expected there to be people booing me, but I guess I’m much more popular than I thought!" he told the hosts.
"I think it’s because you haven’t done anything as villainous as last season thanks to your early elimination," Priya said.
“Priya, Damien, are there still hard feelings between us?” Scott asked.
"The two of us still don’t like you, but we’re being professional for today," Damien replied. "So how are you feeling now that you've had a few days away from the show?"
"For starters, my dumb brand is gone and the money has been transferred to my family," Scott answered. "I’m happy about all that, but I am disappointed as well. I got duped and tricked and Chef damaged my right arm, and with my forehead, that’s just humiliating."
"That does sound harsh," Damien told him with sympathy. "You’re a wolf that’ll betray people, but what you got was overkill!"
“If you threatened to file a lawsuit against Chris after the arm incident, why didn’t you do so when you involuntarily got your forehead branded?” Priya asked the devious farmer.
"Because it wasn’t as painful as the second situation, and I only threatened to sue them out of bitterness from missing out on the final two," Scott said. "I did deserve to win that season."
"I know twenty-one people, including myself, who will highly disagree with you," Damien said with a knowing look at the camera, making the audience chuckle.
“Whatever. Only my opinion matters,” Scott let the hosts know.
"I think it's time for the questions,” Priya smiled mischievously. “How do you feel about MK after what she did?"
Scott snorted. "That’s the question you’re going to start with?"
Damien cleared his throat. "Don’t know why I didn’t bring this up sooner, but you should try not to lie for once in your life or an anvil's gonna fall on you." The camera followed up to the anvil, once again dangling above the guest couch on a rope.
"I don’t plan to be a pancake today," Scott said after looking at the anvil. "But if you insist, MK is like my equal, only that she’s less effective than me. We did work together to get the case, but that was because nobody wanted to work with either of us."
“And can you blame us at all?” Priya asked dismissively.
“When we started our alliance this season, I personally felt like we were starting to be good friends, and not lovers,” Scott continued. “Despite not always being on the same page, we gained respect for each other, so to have her turn on me like that kinda upset me a lot.”
“I remember you turning on me and our alliance last season,” Damien brought up. “Why did this even upset you?”
“I’m not soulless and sociopathic,” Scott stated. “I’m a jerk for sure, but I do care for the people closest to me, and that includes friends. Thankfully, MK didn’t heartlessly throw our bonding away for no reason. This is a battle for a million dollars, and I kinda respect her for getting me voted out.”
“Who knew you could put your pride aside for once?” Priya chuckled softly.
“Next question,” Damien carried on. “Are you mad at your other teammates for voting you off the show?”
“Absolutely not,” Scott answered. Everyone gasped and waited for the falling anvil... and it never came. "What? I’m not ticked off at them."
"I am also as shocked as the audience," Priya said in exasperation. "They helped MK vote you out and cost you a million bucks!"
"I’m not close to Ripper, Chase, and Izzy at all, so their votes I don’t mind," Scott replied. "They cost themselves the most strategic player on the team is what I’m gonna say."
"Is there anyone you'd like to see get booted out of the game next?” Priya wondered. “You made a lot of enemies."
"Eva’s my biggest rival, and with her already eliminated, I don’t care who gets kicked off next," Scott responded uncaringly. "If anything, I want MK to win this season. She’ll obviously triumph with her big brain."
"A supporter of the baddie? Interesting," MK remarked.
"Here's what I want to know," Damien said. "What's with your general, well, nastiness? Take a look," the television showed a montage of Scott’s unfriendly moments.
"So this is my competition. Eleven wimps I can easily take down."
"Wait, you're talking about Muscle Woman?! Seriously?"
"It's just an owl, Chicken Little."
“I don't know what's more boring. Danger Free's feelings for Wild Girl, or Gamer coddling a bird.”
"Hey Danger-less Damien! Get eating already!"
“If you want to hate the player, hate the game much more.”
"I don't want to get cuffed to anyone. Look at these people!"
"So those jerks left me here to die and without even winning the money."
"I'm up against a girl probably on steroids and a dumb party obsessed dude."
“McLean better be here in the next couple of seconds or I'm bailing."
“Are you kidding me?! Do my strategic skills, whittling skills, and good looks mean nothing to you?”
"Izzy's such a showboat. She's always there to demonstrate how “cool” she is, but can she smash twenty kitchen rats in under a minute? No.”
The footage cut to static and the studio was shown again. "Hey, people say that I wasn’t held enough as a child. Plus, where’s the joy in not grinding people’s gears every once in a while?" Scott said.
"You do have moments where you’re not insulting us, so we usually tolerate you for the most part," Priya said.
"Thanks. Now can we move on? I have nothing else to say," Scott requested heavily.
"Well in that case," Damien said, "it's time for the final guest." The feed on the TV screen started playing the clips of Sky's time on the show.
"Sky started the game as one of the stronger players," Priya said over a clip of Sky running from the monster in the first challenge with Trent.
"She was chosen as one of the team captains," Damien said over a clip of her winning the second challenge. "Unfortunately, her boyfriend, Trent, was the other captain."
"With her becoming friends with Chase," Priya said over a clip of Sky high fiving Chase, "and her focusing more on the competition," her jump off the diving board was shown, along with Trent helping her off the horse, "things got complicated with her and Trent."
"Thankfully, Sky was able to straighten things up or they could've broken up," Damien said over Sky and Trent's conversation after the wild west challenge.
"Sky was able to move on from Trent and focus on her own goals in the contest," Priya said over clips of Sky asserting herself in the alien challenge and pushing the cart for her team in the prison challenge, "but her refusal to be underhanded was her own doing," Sky's confessional about taking a shortcut was shown.
"And she was left without a Gilded Chris," Damien finished as the athlete was shown being escorted to the Lame-o-sine. The monitor was raised once again and the camera cut back to the hosts. "Our last guest loves serial killer movies, accidentally knocked someone out with a crate of oranges, and tranquilized multiple animals."
"She also dumped somebody before the show and hooked up with somebody new," Priya added. "Here's Sky!"
Sky walked onstage to a roaring applause. She waved to the audience before sitting down on the first row of the guest couch on the opposite end of Scott with Brick now seated a row above them.
“Hi everybody!” Sky greeted politely. “Hello Trent!”
“Sup, Sky!” Trent waved to his girlfriend. “Great to see you.”
"Welcome to the show," Priya said with a smile.
"Good job on getting the positions as co-hosts," Sky told Damien and Priya.
“It's not like we were forced into doing it,” Damien said. “It was our own choice… that the producers offered us,” he added the last part quickly.
"Anyway, Sky, let's talk about your time on the show and how it led to you coming here," Priya said to Sky.
"Well, I did have hope that I could make it to the finale this season since I was close to that stage in season 1, but got eliminated because of an auto-elimination challenge," Sky admitted. “Had it not been for that, my chances would have been higher since I usually don't get a lot of votes.”
"So you didn't know that MK plotted to use you and your boyfriend's love dilemma for drama and got your teammates to vote you out because it was resolved?" Damien asked.
"Say what?" Sky balked with shock.
"MK also got Izzy eliminated with help from Scott and is scheming in the background. Who knows who she'll target next?" Priya said dramatically.
"If MK was going to split apart me and Trent, then I am heavily rooting against her!" Sky declared. “In retrospect, I should have picked somebody else for my team.”
"So who inspired you to become who you are today?" Damien wondered.
"Be honest and you'll be fine," Brick whispered to the athlete.
“Unless you want to be shorter than you already are by getting squashed by the anvil,” Scott added.
"Hey, I was supposed to warn her!" Priya complained. “Sky, go on.”
"My sister, Jane, is in the Canadian Olympic team for rhythmic gymnastics," Sky opened up. "She is the first athlete of my family. I've looked up to her and wanted to be an athlete of my own.” She then donned a frown. “Before that, I didn't even know what I wanted to be. I was a lonely kid who didn't know how to talk to people back then until Jane gave me inspiration to become the bold and courageous person I am today."
The audience aww'd at her backstory and some people even cried, with Katie and Sadie being one of them. "That is so beautiful!" Katie cried as she and Sadie wiped off many tears.
“Next question: how do you think that things between you and Trent would've been much worse?” Priya asked next.
“Had I not talked to Trent about him losing on purpose, he'd still be in the game, but he'd continue challenge throwing,” Sky theorized. “It would've led to a fight, we'd break up, and we'd both be hated by the fans.”
“Trent, would you like to back her up on this?” Damien turned to him.
Trent felt surprised at being called on, but he still stood up regardless. “Sky made her point perfectly clear. She doesn't like to cheat or watch other people do the same,” he said. “I'm just glad we were able to open up to each other like rational people and keep our relationship rather than acting like whiny teenagers.”
“Thank you for understanding my views,” Sky smiled at her boyfriend while the audience applauded.
"Speaking of relationships, we would like to talk about Keith," Priya said abruptly.
“Keith?” Sky repeated.
“Yeah. He's the guy you broke up with before you came onto the show,” Damien told her.
"Because he was an absolute jerk," Sky said sarcastically. The anvil dropped, leading to Sky, Scott, and Brick diving out of the way and allowing for the anvil to destroy the couch.
"Did you have to lie? You do know that my arm is still in a sling!" Scott informed her indignantly.
"I didn't know that the anvil believed sarcasm was lying," Sky apologized.
“The anvil's policy is honesty, one hundred percent!” Priya enforced.
"Here's the honest reason we broke up, other than me joining the show. Keith is a reliable guy, but he and I both realized that our relationship wasn't going so smoothly, so we parted on good terms," Sky admitted.
"With that being said, let's get to today's video call with Keith!" Priya announced as the scene panned up to the television.
The static soon went away and showed Sky's ex-boyfriend Keith, who was a medium height Asian boy with black wavy hair and a black collared shirt. He was sitting on his bed inside his room with the wall painted gray and with medals hung on. He gave a wave to the camera and gave a small smile to Sky, who smiled back.
"Nice to see you again, Keith," Sky told him.
"Feeling's mutual, Sky. How are things going with you and your track season?" Keith asked.
"It's going good," Sky responded back. "What about your football season?"
"I'm still scoring the most touchdowns for us and leading the team to victory," Keith said. "Some of my teammates pull through, but the others will eventually have to step up and not leave the work to only a few."
"So Keith, we want to ask you a few questions regarding Sky," Damien piped in.
"I don't have anything to do at the moment, so ask away," Keith allowed.
"We'd like to hear about the breakup from your point of view," Damien explained.
"We broke up because we both kinda felt unhappy in our relationship," Keith responded.
"What do you mean you both felt unhappy?" Priya pressed on.
"With us starting to be on different sports teams and us focusing too hard on wanting to win due to being captains, it made me and Sky drift apart from each other a bit," Keith answered.
“Sorry about that,” Damien expressed his sympathy.
"With Sky about to join the show, we both knew that we had to break up and not stress ourselves," Keith continued. "We've both moved on, and while I'm no longer dating for a while, I'm happy for Sky being with a brand new boyfriend."
"Your support means everything to me," Sky reminded him.
"I have to go now. I just remembered that I have to pump my football again. See you soon," Keith said before the screen turned to static and the camera moved away from the television back to the studio.
“Okay, he is super cute,” Sadie whispered to Katie.
“And not taken!” Katie whispered more gleefully.
"A part of me was wishing that Keith was a sleazebag," Priya said. “A possible heated argument would've made things interesting.”
“That is just wrong, Priya,” Damien shook his head disapprovingly.
“We can either be amicable or toxic, and me and Keith choose the amicable path,” Sky emphasized. “Are there any more questions for me?”
“Just this one,” Damien smiled. “Would you change your gameplay if it meant staying in the game for a longer period of time?”
“And sink to the level of the people I'm highly against? I'd rather quit than sabotage anybody, even if they're my biggest enemies,” Sky answered boldly.
“I also stand by that,” Damien nodded. “To end off the interview, honesty and being straight up will always save your butt.”
"That is all for today's episode!" Priya announced with a smile as the Aftermath theme began to play.
"Join Chris and the cast next time for the most dramatically thrilling episode of Total! Drama! Action! Ever!" Damien pitched in over the applauding audience.
The lights on the stage turned off, and as Damien and Priya began standing up, Priya noticed Damien glaring heavily at her. "Hey, about our…"
Damien grabbed her arm and took her away from the camera. "You and I need to talk, Priya. Now!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
Sky was sitting in the green room by herself when Trent walked in and took a seat next to her. "Hey Sky, I have some bad news," he said.
"What could it be?" Sky replied.
“So it seems that Katie and Sadie are now in love with your ex,” Trent claimed. “I overheard them talking about how hot he is.”
“To tell you the truth, Keith isn't into those types of girls,” Sky sighed. “He'll be annoyed out of his mind if he ever meets them.”
“Hopefully it's just a one-time crush and the girls will move onto somebody new,” Trent wished.
“If not, I'll give Keith a big heads up to hide himself for a week," Sky promised.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Brick - 10th
Scott - 9th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott
Episode 11: Full Metal Drama
"Last week, on Total Drama Action. Our competitors took it on the chin as they faced an all-you-can-eat buffet of deadly natural disasters."
"But, it was Scott's own feet that tripped him up. His newly-broken bone took him out of the challenge, and cost him the use of an arm. A rough life for the dirt farmer, but his teammates had it even rougher."
"We threw the competitors into a submarine simulator and forced them to find their way out, and thanks to a certain bully using his brain rather than his brawn, both teams were able to live for another day."
"Sound tough? Get used to it!" The scene moved to a close-up of Chris standing in front of a building. "Because this week, it's all-out war!" The camera zoomed out, revealing a tropical war zone set, complete with sandbags, a bunker, a guard tower, and even a bomb lying on the ground. He pointed to a chart that had been set up next to him with drawings of tanks, fighter jets, and a dotted trail leading to an 'X'. "It's a desperate battle for survival, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode opened with a shot of the communal bathroom before the scene cut inside it.
MK and Scott were currently inside eating chips and drinking soda respectively in front of the sinks. “So how are you handling this broken arm situation?” MK asked her teammate.
“Horribly,” Scott grunted. “I use my right arm for everything, and with that broken, how am I supposed to whittle or scratch my armpits?”
MK winced at the last part. “Too much information.”
“It's bad enough that I have to wear this bandana until my brand is off completely,” Scott pointed at the orange cloth. “Having my arm in a sling will screw things up for us.”
“Tell me about it,” MK snorted. “And don't be a bummer. You're getting compensated for your injury.”
“I was getting to that, MK,” Scott said. “Because I threatened to sue them, I've been treated much better, especially by Chef who has to work extra as punishment for his secret alliance. I got my own bathroom to shower in, I got to eat actual quality food, and yesterday, they even told me that me and my family will receive a hundred thousand bucks just to make sure we won't take action.”
This information led to MK gaping. “Are you serious?”
“As serious as a barn burning down,” Scott nodded. “With this amount of money, we can finally get our farm reconstructed.”
“You can stop now before I get jealous, Scott,” MK told him.
“Yeah yeah,” Scott shook off. “So anyway, we have to talk about who we're gonna vote off next, and that would have to be Izzy.”
“Izzy? Why her?” MK raised an eyebrow.
“She just rejoined the game a couple of days ago, and we already have a history in season one,” Scott reasoned. “If we're not careful, she can convince Ripper and Chase to vote me out.”
“That is a reasonable explanation,” MK agreed. “But maybe we could get Chase on our side for the vote. Ripper likes Izzy, so he's not an option.”
“As long as we have more votes, Izzy will be taken down,” Scott smirked.
“Absolutely,” MK smiled back.
Confessional: MK
“...not!” MK said in the make-up trailer. “Me and Scott may be in an alliance, but in this game, we'd usually have to backstab each other to get what we want. If we lose, I'm obviously telling the team to gun for him. After the elimination ceremony, I'll have to make sure that I'm not gunned for, and I know just how to do that.”
Confessional Ends
The footage skipped forward, showing the contestants walking warily as Chris passed them in an army helmet and sunglasses. "Today, we're all about war movies," he told them, the shot zooming out to show Chef glaring nearby in his drill instructor's uniform.
"So, look lively you...," Chris began to say.
"Buckets of horse doo-doo!" Chef finished with a growl into their faces.
"So, get ready for the first death-defying challenge, you...," Chris began again.
"Disgustin' slimy crustaceans!" Chef finished once more.
"Move it, privates!" Chris ordered. "Fall in!"
"Sir yes sir!' the cast said as one.
Confessional: Izzy
"I have all the skills required to be a marine," Izzy said enthusiastically in the make-up confessional. "I am stealthy, tough, and loud enough, and I can handle a weapon, but I do value my freedom."
Confessional Ends
The camera cut to Ripper and MK as the Grips walked off. "I cannot wait to go to war," the techno girl said. "I've played my fair share of Battlefront, and my squad has won a lot of online multiplayer gaming titles. Most of the time, we don't even use teamwork."
“I hate to break it to you, but we're not in your little tech world,” Ripper said in an annoyed tone as the rest of the team joined in. “Just leave all the marine stuff to me today.”
“Let you do all the work and take all the credit?” MK glared. “Not happening, Buster.”
“Now wait a second-” Ripper began to glare back.
“Quit taking shots at each other!” Chase got in-between the two. “We can make a plan when we're at the challenge site, okay?”
“Seriously, I've seen my pigs fight over less,” Scott huffed as MK and Ripper continued to glare at each other.
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm really at my wits end with that shortstack,” Ripper complained. “Who does she think she is insulting and putting down the best looking guy on the show… me! Thankfully, MK won't be able to listen to me rant about her.”
Confessional: MK
MK was watching Ripper's previous confessional on her phone, especially the part about him bragging about himself. “It's so silly how he thinks I can't listen to everything he says,” she confessed after turning off her phone.
Confessionals End
The scene briefly flashed to the numbered studios with the sound of a plane engine in the background, the camera panning up to show the fake cliff before flashing to what looked like the inside of some kind of plane. The two teams were shown in a split screen with the Gaffers on top and the Grips on the bottom, all nine teens wearing blindfolds.
"Okay people," Chris said, "remove your blindfolds!" The contestants did as commanded, and the viewpoint shifted to show the teams sitting along opposite walls as the host walked in front of the camera. "When it comes to making a war movie," he said, the viewpoint moving again to show that he was standing next to a large trunk, "jumping out an airplane is the most dangerous stunt there is." He popped the trunk open, revealing several parachute packs within. "So naturally," he began to yell as he slid open a nearby door, the winds roaring inside the room, "it's our first challenge!"
MK and Scott gasped, as did Millie, and even Justin looked shocked.
"Chris really set the record for the shortest amount of time between the start of the challenge and our lives being endangered," Jasmine deadpanned over the roaring wind and engine.
“If we live, I'm going to file a complaint that's sure to get Chris replaced with a nicer and more considerate host,” Millie shouted.
“Nice grit for an underdog,” Jasmine grinned.
“Underdog?” Millie asked.
“Underdogs usually have a lot of fight and honor in them, and you've been tapping into it a lot,” Jasmine complimented her friend. “Keep it up.”
Millie felt flustered by her words. “I, uh, thank you.”
Justin soon sat in-between the two of them. “Jasmine, Millie! I want to propose something, but don't get excited, it's not marriage!” he chuckled. “Uh, anywho, it's a long way from the airplane to the ground below!”
“Exactly three kilometers!” Millie confirmed.
“Wouldn't know. Math is for ugly people,” Justin said. “Here's the deal! I need you two to jump before me in case I need a soft place to land, okay?!” The eye candy blinked his eyelashes only to receive blank stares from the girls. “Now, you girls know that I don't blink these eyelashes at just anybody!” He did the same thing again and got the same response. “Nothing?! When were your last eye exams?!”
"Drop zone approaching!" Chris announced after sticking his head out the open door. "Form a line, it's time to par-tay!"
The Gaffers were shown standing up as the host continued. "Stunt people undergo weeks of training before they parachute," he said as the Grips stood up as well, Jasmine walking forward hesitantly. "Luckily, we're gonna skip all that and get to the good part: Jumping!"
"That doesn't sound like a good idea!" Scott told the host.
"What's the worst that could happen?" Chris asked him.
"We die!" Anne Maria answered with annoyance and anger.
"I know!" Chris grinned. "Hilarious! Haha! Time to jump!"
"Well, there's no point standing here like statues," Izzy walked towards the trunk of parachutes with Scott.
“Hey McLean, can I skip out on the jump?” Scott asked. “My arm is broken!”
"Sorry Scott," Chris told him, "but you gotta jump too! Try not to land on your right arm, okay?" He then pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and turned his back on the now-enraged Scott.
“Someone's definitely going to increase the amount of money me and my family will get,” Scott whispered bitterly.
"At least we get parachutes," Chase told the injured boy.
"Actually, change of plans!" Chris interrupted, closing his phone and stowing it back in his pocket. "I just spoke to our research department, there were no parachutes in World War I!"
"So what do we do for the challenge?" Ripper asked.
"Simple," Chris replied as he shoved the trunk of parachutes out the door with his foot.
The contestants gasped, though a fearless Izzy was the first one to jump out the plane shouting “Tell my pet rock I love her!”
None of the other contestants made a move, though, and Chris scowled. "Okay, you kids better start jumping or I will have Chef tilt the plane and force you out!"
“That's all the motivation I need!” Chase said quickly and dived out into the air with a fearful cry.
"Who's up next?" Chris asked the remaining castmates with a smile.
The scene cut outside the plane as the contestants jumped out one by one. First MK, then Ripper, then Scott to round out the Gaffers with a terrified shout each as they quickly disappeared into the clouds below the plane. Next was Jasmine looking determined, followed by a shrieking Millie. Justin gulped and took the plunge, and Anne Maria came out last with a holler, and the host briefly looked out and below with a surprised look on his face before the clouds filled the scene.
They dispersed moments later to reveal all nine contestants in a heap on top of a large mattress.
"Hooray! We're alive!" Scott groaned. The camera zoomed out, showing that they were in a movie set. The plane was a wingless fake hanging from the ceiling only a few yards above the mattress, and the high winds were caused by a pair of giant fans operated by Chef Hatchet. On the back wall, level with the plane's windows and door, was a sky-patterned background made to continuously scroll and give the illusion of movement within the plane.
Chef shut off the fans, and the castmates groaned and began to get back up. "Let's roll, soldiers," Chris told them, now back on the ground. "Because the second part of this challenge is gonna blow your minds!" He grinned as he spoke before leaning towards the teens. "And everything else within a fifty-foot radius!"
Confessional: Chase
“If I had know that we would land on a mattress, I would’ve just let Chef force us all out,” Chase confessed.
Confessional Ends
The scene immediately flashed forward to a close-up of a green tarp being taken off a pile of grenades and bombs. "Are those," Jasmine asked as the camera pulled back to show her and the other Grips standing with Chris and the tarp-pulling Chef by a blast shield outside, "paint bombs?"
"We've divided the camp into two halves," Chris told them, the Grips watching with blank looks while the Gaffers were shown in a similar but mirrored position on the other side of the two men. "Most creative and controlled splatter wins."
“Alright gang,” Jasmine clapped her hands in order to get her team's attention. “Here's how our explosion is going to go. We'll have to lay our explosives in a pattern in order to make sure that the paint coverage will be more noticeable than the Gaffers’.”
“Excellent idea. I'll handle the explosives. I passed chemistry in my high school,” Millie eagerly walked off.
“Wonderful,” Jasmine smiled.
“I'll help as well,” Anne Maria said after she stopped using hairspray on her pouf. “I could ward off the other team by sprayin’ them in their eyes if they even think about spyin’ on us.”
“Not a big fan of harming our competition, but you do you,” Jasmine said uncertainly.
“And I'll be letting my butt have its beauty rest!” Justin chuckled suavely while laying back on a nearby hammock tied between two trees.
This did not go unnoticed by Anne Maria and Jasmine, who both flipped Justin off the hammock and into the ground.
“You're gonna help us with this challenge and not get any special treatment,” Jasmine scolded.
“Is it getting hot out here?” Justin took off his shirt and demonstrated his pecs. “Now if you'll notice, I don't sport a six-pack. I got twelve. That's a dozen smoking mandominals.”
“Get workin’, lazybones!” Anne Maria demanded and stomped off.
“This, this can't be right,” Justin panicked. “Have I really lost my lady controlling mojo?” He turned to the tallest member of the team. “Say it ain't so!”
“No need spouting the obvious, Justin,” Jasmine replied uncaringly.
“This challenge was designed for me!” Ripper told the Gaffers. “What do I not love more than exploding things?!”
“Being a numbskull, for instance,” MK retorted. “I seem to remember you saying that you let people do all the work for you. And we're supposed to trust you on this?”
“Adding my two cents onto this, I would've done the same thing if I was Ripper,” Scott added snidely.
“I'm sorry, MK, but I think we have to stick with Ripper on this one,” Chase said with a hand on MK's shoulder.
“Why?” MK objected. “I actually worked hard to get an A in chemistry.”
“Explosives Boy overrules Chemistry Girl,” Scott shrugged.
"Okay, time's up!" Chris announced, the camera cutting to his close-up as he entered the scene. "Uh-oh, looks like you didn't even get started."
“Not so fast, Chris!” the voice of Izzy cried out, and everyone turned their heads to see her smiling with her foot on a bomb and multiple bombs plastered around her team's site.
“Whoa. Now that's what I call thorough,” Chris narrated.
Chase hesitantly moved over to the curly haired girl. “Iz, what did you do?”
“Plant the explosives while you guys were at each other's throats,” Izzy giddily said.
Confessional: Izzy
“When Chris mentioned explosives and bombs, that was a sign that my team is lucky to have me on their side,” Izzy gloated. “I could blow up a hotel if I wanted to, but I refrain unless I'm extremely tempted.”
Confessional Ends
Another cut took the scene to the Grips, standing behind the blast shield that was between them and a set that was very much like the Gaffers', except that it had been mirrored. There were no visible bombs around, and they were all wired into a plunger held by Chris.
"Grips, are we ready?" Chris asked, handing the plunger over to Millie.
"Likewise," the writer said with a confident smile. As she pushed the plunger down, part of Richard Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries' began to play in the background. One by one, explosions of green paint began to go off around the Grips' area – in the guard tower, behind the sandbags, near the bunker door, and several off the bunker's roof. The music ended as one final explosion splattered the blast shield, stunning Anne Maria, Jasmine, and Justin.
As the dust cleared around their blast site, the camera pulled back to reveal a massive rendition of the Grips' light-bulb-and-crossbones logo in green paint.
"Nice show of team spirit," Chris told the four.
"I must say, that was very impressive," Justin admitted to Millie as the host walked away.
"What can I say? I wanted to make an explosion that would be mind-blowing, but still tame," Millie told him smugly. "You're welcome."
The shot cut back to the Gaffers' side of the camp, starting on their explosive-laden set before panning over to the five waiting behind their blast shield with Chris.
"Are we ready to blow it up?" Chris asked excitedly, with Izzy standing by a larger plunger than what the Grips had used.
"We're ready! Uno, dos, tres!!!" Izzy chanted and eagerly pushed the plunger down.
Almost immediately, a chaotic series of explosions were set off all around the base. They were accompanied by hectic and disjointed notes in the background music, and the host and other four Gaffers were shown cringing with their fingers in their ears. Eventually the explosions stopped, the dust settled, and everyone except Izzy leaned past the paint-splattered wall with curious expressions.
The camera panned to the left, showing what appeared to be a shapeless blob of paint. No patterns were apparent in it, and the areas that had been left untouched seemed to be random as well.
"Welp, at least it was controlled..." Chris said with a frown.
“Just come over here,” Izzy grabbed the host by the wrist and dragged him over to another spot.
"Hey, there's no touching the host!" Chris said indignantly, yanking his hand free as soon as Izzy stopped moving.
"Look now!" Izzy directed his attention back to the pain splatter.
Chris turned his head, and almost immediately began to brighten up. "It's...it's…beautiful!" he said, wiping away a tear as the viewpoint moved behind him, showing Izzy's paint pattern from another angle – it took the shape of the host's own grinning face.
"The Gaffers are victorious!" he announced, walking back to the other Gaffers by the blast wall. The Gaffers began to cheer and celebrate. "It is my honor to present your prize," Chris added just before Chef appeared wheeling a large and ornate-looking red chest on a handcart. "The Big Trunk of Mind-Blowing Secrets! You'll be defending it with your very lives when we return to more, Total! Drama! Action!"
The shot cut back with each word of the title, showing the defeated Grips standing by in shame.
(Commercial Break)
The episode came back on a shot of the cloudy sky, panning down to show Scott and Chase standing together by a potted palm tree.
"So what is it that you want to talk to me about?" Chase asked. "If it's to brag about your luxuries, then I don't want to hear it."
"It's not about that, Chase," Scott rolled his eyes. “I wanna talk about who we have to vote off tonight.”
“What do you mean “we”?” Chase grew curious. “I know who I'm going to vote for, and it doesn't take Einstein to figure out who it is.”
“I know I'm not the coolest kid on the block, but we have to pick off Izzy,” Scott suggested.
“And why would I do that?” Chase asked.
“She's a wild card, and she got back into the competition not once, but twice,” Scott emphasized. “Do you really want to face off against her in the finale?”
Scott left the athletic boy alone to ponder about his decisions.
The footage flashed forward to Chris McLean standing by the trunk he'd brought out. "Contestants, get ready to begin your next war challenge!" he announced. "It's a giant game of 'Capture the Flag', except in this case the flag is the Trunk of Mind-Blowing Secrets!" The camera zoomed in on the trunk at an angle, and the ornate thing seemed to glow radiantly.
"There's only one way to learn what's in the trunk," he told the off-screen castmates, "and that's to win the challenge. As your reward, we'll give you immunity from tonight's vote, aaaanndd a peek inside. But be ready. The secrets inside will blow your brains to bits!"
"I need my brain!" Ripper whined.
"Not to worry," Chris told him, holding up a roll of duct tape. "A roll of tape will be provided so you can tape the gray matter back together."
"Gaffers," Chris said as he walked over to what looked to be a building covered in a sheet bearing the logo of the Screaming Gaffers, "this is your base camp." Chef watched from close by, his hands angrily on his hips, as the host and the five teens began to arrive, Chase and Izzy carrying the trunk by the pair of poles sticking out on opposite sides. "Our set decoration team wanted to build you guys a towering castle, full of defensive possibilities! But, they went to see a movie instead, sooo..." Chris trailed off as Chef grabbed the sheet. "We're gonna give you this!"
The sheet was pulled away, revealing an utterly decrepit wooden shack. "I think it's a tool shed," the host said uncertainly before the building creaked and collapsed into a dusty heap of rotten planks and miscellaneous garden tools. "Was a tool shed," Chris corrected. "Good luck!"
"How are we gonna defend this big trunk out in the open?" Izzy asked.
"We just have to put our heads together and come up with a plan," MK answered.
“You guys do what you want. I'll be setting some booby traps,” Chase told the team and walked away.
“In first World War movies, the soldiers would always have underground hiding places,” MK said as she gave Izzy a shovel and held one of her own. “Those would be foxholes.”
“With me digging, why not call it a foxy-hole,” Izzy quipped.
“I'm just glad that I don't have to dig at all,” Scott bragged. “Using one hand only won't make the job faster.”
As Izzy began to dig rapidly with Scott watching her, MK turned to Chase and Ripper laying a net down on the ground with headlights attached. “Chase, Ripper, the rest of us agreed on a plan,” she informed. “We could use a little help.
“And we could also use you shutting up!” Ripper retorted. “We're busy!”
Confessional: MK
“If I wasn't so focused on strategy, I'd switch targets from Scott to Ripper just to spite his butt,” MK sniffed. “It's hard finding common ground with that jerk.”
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back with a shot of MK and Izzy digging a large hole in the distance and Scott observing them as though viewed through binoculars. "So what's going on?" Millie asked off-camera as the binoculars were lowered and the viewpoint shifted to Jasmine.
"Izzy and MK are currently digging and Scott is just standing there," Jasmine explained, "although I don't know if it's because they want to bury the trunk or construct a foxhole."
"What about the others?" Anne Maria asked.
"I don't know," Jasmine replied. "Ripper and Chase seem to have disappeared."
"I say we attack immediately!" Anne Maria declared with an air of formality.
"I say we don't," Millie shook her head. "The team obviously outnumber us and have defensive capabilities. Confronting them at this point would be really dumb."
"So what do we do?" Justin asked.
"What we need to do is to proceed intelligently if we want to win the challenge," Millie said.
“Sure. Let’s wait for the other team to set up more traps that will never let us get that trunk,” Anne Maria said sarcastically.
“That’s not what we’re going to do, Anne Maria,” Jasmine assured. “Millie, how are we gonna go about doing this?”
"We should send two people down there in order to figure out what they’re up to," Millie suggested. "That honor should go to Justin and Anne Maria."
"And why us?" Justin objected.
"Me and Jasmine need to think of a plan number two in case this plan fails," Millie reasoned. "All you guys have to do is execute this one."
"Whatever you say, Mil," Anne Maria said before grabbing Justin’s arm and walking away. "Let's go, hot stuff."
Confessional: Anne Maria
“I’m kinda surprised that Justin didn’t try to weasel his way outta the plan,” Anne Maria confessed. “What’s his game?”
Confessional: Justin
“We really need to win this challenge,” Justin said seriously. “By the look of things, my charms aren’t going to win the girls over and I’ll likely be the one going home today. So for the sake of my game, I’ll help out.”
Confessionals End
The footage skipped ahead to Anne Maria and Justin charging into the clearing the Gaffers started. "Where are they?" Justin asked after they stopped. “Jasmine just saw them.”
"Split up and look in other directions," Anne Maria ordered. “They may be hidin’ someplace else.”
The camera zoomed into the hole the Gaffers were in. "So how long do we have to stay in here for?" Izzy asked MK.
"Hopefully long enough for the Grips to admit defeat," MK answered.
"We’re good for now. We just have to not act stupid and blow our cover," Scott said while rubbing his sling. “And I don’t normally do this, but good job on the explosion, Izzy. It really helped us win the first part.”
Izzy was stunned to hear this. “Did you just… compliment me?” the wild child asked.
“Yeah, I did,” Scott replied. “I thought you’d just make a random explosion given how nuts you are, but you actually planned it out.”
“Yeah, how did you come up with the plan to just demonstrate Chris’s face?” MK asked.
“Chris is extremely narcissistic and vain,” Izzy explained. “Anything that revolves around his image will make him score us big points.”
“You’re not joking about that,” MK rolled her eyes. “He’s more likely to marry himself.”
The scene cut to Justin and Anne Maria meeting up with each other in front of the Gaffers' hideout. "Were you able to find the Gaffers? Because I could not," Justin said.
“I had no luck as well,” Anne Maria recapped.
The camera zoomed out to reveal that the duo were on top of the net trap, and they got hoisted up in the air by it.
"Got you dorks!" Ripper's laughing voice said off screen. The camera cut to him coming out of a nearby tree. "Chase, now!"
Chase's yell was heard as he swung on a cord before landing in front of the two Grips. He cut the rope holding the net trap, and Anne Maria and Justin were flung out of sight.
The camera cut back to the Grips' starting location. Millie and Jasmine watched in shock as their teammates crashed into the ground and groaned after they landed, prompting them to go check on their moaning teammates.
“There's, there's a... there's a scratch!” Justin said after feeling his face. “My face can't continue to take all this abuse! I'm losing it! You… you… you gotta let me go on leave!”
“I ain’t buyin’ any of this,” Anne Maria scoffed as she stood up and rubbed the dirt off her clothes.
“We all get scratches. I got a mosquito bite on my neck once, but that didn’t stop me from going to my job,” Jasmine lectured.
Anne Maria and Jasmine walked off, and Justin turned his eyes to Millie. “Millie, I know you’re a female. Can you help?”
“You were able to have girls wrapped around your finger, and now you’re getting zero play,” Millie summarized with apathy.
“You really are quick-witted,” Justin said in surprise.
“Relationship with Chase aside, I don’t really think you’re that cute,” Millie said. “Why else did I not want to kiss you in that challenge?”
“Like I care what you think,” Justin shot back in an offended manner and finally got off the ground.
Confessional: Justin
“Me? Not cute? I'll tell you who's not cute. Blind people named Millie!” Justin stated, upset.
Confessional Ends
"So it seems that the Gaffers will not come out until they're sure that we forfeit," Millie told her team.
"Which we’re not going to do," Jasmine said.
"Wasn't even planning on it," Anne Maria told her. "We should attack again the minute they show their faces, and I have a way to make sure that we’ll take that trunk."
"You two definitely have to help us this time," Justin reminded Jasmine and Millie. "We'll be outnumbered otherwise."
The footage returned to the Gaffers, Ripper and Chase now with them. "How much time do we have left?" Izzy childishly asked her team.
"I don't know and I don’t care, but we're still staying in this joint until time is up," MK declared.
"How many traps did you guys even set up while you were gone?" Scott questioned Chase and Ripper.
"We set up a total of four," Chase claimed. "Anne Maria and Justin hit one of them, so now we have three."
“This is why you shouldn’t doubt us, MK,” Ripper told his short teammate.
“I didn’t doubt you. I just wanted you to stay and help us,” MK argued. “And just because the other team set off one trap, doesn’t mean that I have to worship you like you’re Jesus,” she said before smirking, “and there’s no way you’re even next to godliness.”
“Pot calling the kettle black much?” Ripper snorted. “I still helped out, even if it wasn’t by your rulebook.”
“MK smart, Ripper strong,” Chase interrupted. “Can we all just agree that we’re special in our own ways?”
Ripper and MK frowned at each other and sighed.
“You’re not as dumb as you look,” MK grumbled.
“And you’re not an extreme big mouth,” Ripper mumbled.
“Good. I’m done playing mediator for the day,” Chase said.
"This is getting boring," Izzy moaned impatiently. "We should just go out there and attack the Grips."
"I’m tired of waiting as well," Scott spoke up. “Those losers are not getting our trunk.”
"We’re done arguing today, so how about we put it to a vote?" Ripper suggested.
"All in favor of going in for battle?" Chase asked as he raised his arm up, as did Ripper, Scott, and Izzy.
"I’m clearly outnumbered here,” MK sighed. “We'll go out in the open, but bring the trunk along."
The scene flashed to the Gaffers coming out of their hole and putting their trunk down. They saw the Grips charging at them, and they prepared themselves.
"There’s four of them and five of us," Scott took note with a grin. "I’m liking our odds already."
“But how are we going to take them down exactly?” Chase asked.
Izzy whipped out a smoke bomb from behind her back and held it up high. “Smoke bomb! Never leave home without it!”
As soon as the Grips reached their site, Izzy proceeded to throw the bomb at them. The Grips froze at the sight of this, but Anne Maria took out two hair spray cans, and after the smoke bomb hit the floor, a large white cloud covered the screen, but Anne Maria was able to spray their way out of it, and the team resumed running.
“Retreat!! Retreat!!” Izzy ordered her team, but it was too late when Anne Maria threw her spray cans on the floor in front of the Gaffers, and after they exploded, the Gaffers coughed profusely due to the extreme stench, leaving the trunk alone for the Grips to grab.
“So long, Gaffers!” Anne Maria taunted. “Grips rule!”
The scene cut to the Grips dropping the trunk on the floor after they returned to their site. “And that’s how we win it!” Anne Maria boasted.
"Time's up!" a sudden announcement came as Chris walked into view along with the other castmates. "The Grips have stolen the chest, putting them in the winner's circle."
"That means," Chris added while walking towards the Gaffers, "the Gaffers will be sending home one of their own tonight. And now, it's time to reveal to the winners," a reverent tune began to play as a spotlight was placed on the trunk, "the mind-blowing secrets within this trunk! Here's what you were fighting for, team!" The lid popped open, and Jasmine and Millie looked inside.
Their grins rapidly faded away as the reverent music came to a sudden and scratchy stop. "All that work," Millie said with a shocked look as a lighter and more emotional melody began to play.
"All that pain," Jasmine added.
"Pain?" Millie asked in confusion. "We rarely got hurt!"
"Still," Jasmine continued quickly, "all this for what?"
"A trunk that was empty the whole time!" Millie declared.
"War is a cruel, cruel thing," Jasmine concluded.
The Gilded Chris Ceremony began with all its usual fanfare, and after the introduction the footage flashed straight on to Chris standing at his podium. "This one's a nail-biter," he told the five seated teens. "I'd say no one's safe tonight. Izzy, how do you feel about your chances?"
The camera cut over to Izzy, sitting on the highest level of the bleachers. "Honestly, I feel pretty good about them," she said with a smile. "I was the one that scored my team the win for the first part of the challenge, and if I were to be going home today, it'd likely be because I blew the challenge."
“Or because you reverted back to your impersonations like E-Scope,” Ripper added.
“That's a thing of the past, Ripper,” Izzy said.
"Then," Chris continued, "there's Scott. Although you didn't cost your team the challenges or throw them on purpose, you didn't contribute much. Plus, your broken arm makes you a bit of a liability. Will you be the one sitting in the Lame-o-sine tonight?"
“We'll just have to see it to believe it,” Scott deadpanned.
"Chase, MK, Ripper!" Chris said with a broad smile. "Seems your tussles aren't entertaining anybody, not even your team. Are you worried?"
"Why would I? This team needs me, man!" Ripper shot a cocky smile.
"Alright then," Chris announced, "votes have been tabulated!" A folded card parachuted into view next to him, and he quickly snatched it up and held it to his forehead without bothering to read its contents. The tension began to build in the music. "So, it's time to present the awards. Tonight, the Gilded Chris goes to...MK, Ripper, and...Chase!" he said in succession, each name followed by the sound of an award being thrown and caught. "And now, only two nominees left."
The background music picked up as the screen was split, with spotlights on Izzy on the left and Scott on the right. "The final award goes to...," Chris said slowly as Scott watched nervously while Izzy smiled and held two fingers up to the camera. "Izzy!"
The camera panned left slightly as the wild child caught her golden statuette. "Hold on, wha?" Scott stammered in shock. "This has to be a joke, right?"
“No, it isn't,” MK said with a grin, “and you have me to thank for that.”
“You… you backstabbed me?!” Scott said with a bit of shock and anger.
“With four votes to one,” MK cackled. “I just did what you did to your previous alliance. Don't get all hypocritical.”
"Unbelievable!" Scott grumbled before he was grabbed by Chef and carried over the shoulder down the Walk of Shame.
Confessional: Izzy
“This was the perfect opportunity to get rid of Scott after all he's done in the first season,” Izzy said. “I'd be dumb to pass this up.”
Confessional: Chase
“Even with Scott trying to convince me otherwise, there was no way I wasn't going to vote him off,” Chase told the audience. “Besides, he can heal his broken arm off the show.”
Confessional: MK
“It's not hard getting people to vote off a disliked contestant, especially if that someone was the villain of last season,” MK mentioned. “I can't be tied down to Scott for much longer, and this is my season to shine!” she ended her confessional on a serious note.
Confessionals End
Scott was unceremoniously thrown into the waiting limousine by Chef. The door slammed shut, the limo sped off, and the camera cut back to a close-up of Chris.
"Well, we finally got rid of Scott the Schemer," he told the camera. "With him gone, hopefully we can stop providing benefits for him and not have to worry about being sued. Catch you next time," he said with a salute, "on Total! Drama! Action!" He ended the salute and put his hands behind his back, then smiled as he said "At ease!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
“I can't believe it!!” Scott grunted in the limousine. “MK totally duped me! Though given how much my team was against me, I knew I wasn't going to last this time,” he admitted reasonably. “Seems MK's this season's baddie, and an effective one she is. I'm still expecting the hundred thousand dollars to be delivered to me if it's the last thing the show will do for me. With me out of the game, I don't have to be forced to endanger my arm just for views, and maybe the next time you guys see me, I won't have this bandana around my forehead. The brand should be gone by now.” He used his good arm to take the bandana off, and was surprised by how little the branded “S.U.C.K.E.R.” was on his forehead. “Well would you look at that? I don't think I'll be needing this anymore.” He rolled down the window and tossed the cloth out, and then winced in pain afterwards and clutched his injured arm.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Brick - 10th
Scott - 9th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott
Episode 10: Masters of Disasters
"Last time, on Total Drama Action! The world's toughest Chef used spoons to bring out Brick's killer instinct!"
“It was no thanks to Brick that Justin and Millie had the bejeebies scared out of them. Victory seemed within reach, as Brick won the scream-off. MK won the challenge for the Screaming Gaffers by not falling for any of the Grips’ feeble attempts to scare them.”
“Just as the Killer Grips casted their votes, Brick's conscience, along with a planned push from Justin, finally got the best of him. Brick called himself out as a cheater, hopped into the Lame-o-Sine, and rode off into the sunset.”
The scene flashed to Chris walking through the lot, eventually reaching the cast trailers. "How will the contestants survive without Brick's gourmet cooking? Was it coriander or tarragon he used in that casserole? Discover all that and more in another thrilling and filling episode of Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode opened with a shot of the blue and partly-cloudy sky before quickly panning down to the craft services tent. The scene zoomed in and cut inside, showing a close-up of a bowl of roach-infested gruel. Scott took a trembling scoop of the food, pausing with wide eyes as Ripper took a bite of his own.
He immediately gagged and spat the food back out. "I never thought I'd say this, but I really miss Brick," he said. "His cooking was a massive improvement over Chef's."
On the other side of the table, Anne Maria poked her food with a spoon. "Topher cooked spaghetti and meatballs for us once, and despite it being a bit soggy, I'd eat his cooking over Chef's," she said.
“Not that I care, but why did Topher of all people make something for you and how did this all happen?” Scott spoke up from his table.
“Well, if you must know, me and Topher are currently datin’ right now,” Anne Maria revealed happily, shocking the others. “What?”
“How did you two even hook up with each other that quickly?” Scott asked in astonishment.
“Remember when we were out looking for the briefcase? Me and Topher were partners, and we had a good time being together,” Anne Maria detailed. “We also managed to have some conversations with each other at the Playa thanks to you guys votin’ us out first,” the Jersey woman added, saying the last part grumpily. “And even though we started off as friends, we developed feelings for each other and eventually became an item between TV seasons.”
“But wait. Wasn't our break from competing two weeks?” Millie asked her teammate.
“I know what you're all thinking. Two weeks is too fast for a relationship to get on board, but since we'd be separated with him not competing alongside me, we decided to get together and confess our feelings before it was too late,” Anne Maria told the contestants.
Confessional: Izzy
“I'd like to call Anne Maria's bluff to her face, but I don't think she's the type to lie about juicy stuff like relationships,” Izzy explained. “And I'd likely receive a humongous blow to the face if I straight up accused her.”
Confessional: Justin
“Well there goes my plan of having Anne Maria as an alliance buddy somewhat,” Justin moaned. “With how much she's been ignoring my affections, it's obvious that she won't commit infidelity just for me.”
Confessionals End
“So yeah. That's about it when it comes to me and Topher,” Anne Maria concluded.
“I can totally see why you two would be joined at the hip, given that you're both equally self-absorbed,” MK commented snidely.
“Watch your mouth, MK,” Anne Maria warned her and then turned to Jasmine staring down at her food. “What's got you so slumped?”
“She's still upset about the alliance Brick had with Chef before he got eliminated,” Millie mentioned.
“Oh yeah. I really could care less,” Anne Maria shrugged.
“I'm not mad about the alliance,” Jasmine corrected. “I'm mad about the fact that he kept it a secret until he quit. And this came from a guy who claimed that honor was key. How can I trust Brick after that?”
“I feel you,” Justin said. “I wouldn't be impressed if someone was keeping something very important from me.”
“Exactly my point, Justin,” Jasmine said.
“Brick did do something wrong, but he felt bad enough for it,” Millie told Jasmine. “And given how Chef is, he was likely threatened into the alliance.”
“That may be true, but I don't want to focus on this subject anymore than I do,” Jasmine said authoritatively. “I'm moving on from this.”
Confessional: Jasmine
“I don't know how Canadian boys flirt or socialize with girls normally, but if telling lies is part of it, then I may call romance flawed and superficial,” Jasmine grumbled stubbornly. “But enough after that. I have to focus on opening my dream school with the money I'll likely win.”
Confessional: Justin
“To those of you that weren't already aware, I knew that Brick and Chef were in cahoots together ever since I saw Chef hold Brick back before the beach episode,” Justin said. “I started picking up the clues more and more, and now that I've turned Jasmine against Brick, I can gain her trust for the future challenges.”
Confessionals End
Ripper then spots a cup of bendy straws next to him. “Hey, does anybody know why these bendy straws are even here?”
“Nope, but if you're planning to shoot spitballs with them, don't target me, Ripstick,” MK advised.
“You never know who I'm gonna target, Brain Girl,” Ripper said, stuffing the straws into his pocket. “I'm keeping the straws, only because they seem useful.”
“More than you,” MK snorted quietly.
"Howdy folks!" Chris said as he walked into the tent with his usual smile. "Hope you enjoyed your lunch, ‘cause you won't be hanging on to it any longer," he told them with a laugh.
"And what torture do you have for us?" Scott asked with a deadpan expression.
"Oh, nothing," Chris answered mockingly. "Just that your day will be a total disaster. Get it?" he asked the room. "It's a disaster movie theme! Y'know? Like in disaster flicks?"
A dangerous and hectic tune began as the scene flashed to Chef Hatchet running against a featureless white background. "People running for their lives from volcanoes," a magma-oozing volcano dropped down onto the scenery just barely missing Chef, "earthquakes, asteroids," a fissure formed in the ground just past the volcano, expanding towards the running man before a small asteroid just missed striking him, "tidal waves," Chef ran headlong into a large wave which crashed over him and washed him away.
The scene flashed back to a close-up of Scott and Izzy gaping in their seats, followed by a similar shot of Justin and Jasmine. "The more disastrous, the better."
Confessional: Millie
"Like we haven't gone through enough disaster already," Millie groaned. "If this keeps up, I'll have to write about how being on Total Drama is more than, if not as, dangerous than bungee jumping into a volcano without a cord!"
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back to Chris standing in front of some sort of machine console as a few deep and ominous notes were struck in the background. "Your first challenge is," he said, "the Earthquake of Inevitable Pain!" The camera moved left and out, revealing the giant playing field that had been set up outside. It consisted of a platform resting at an angle on scaffolding and several pistons with a ladder set up at the high end. On top of it were a series of obstacles arranged in two identical rows: tires, traffic cones, monkey bars over a pool of water, a large metal tube, a balance beam over a pit, and a wooden wall to the far left near the top.
"Each team has to run the course," the host explained as the camera panned across the stunned faces of the cast, "challenging your dexterity," a close-up of the tires was shown, "maneuverability," a shot of the cones was added in a horizontal split-screen, "and other mad monkey skills," he finished as the monkey bars were added to the split screen.
A flash took the scene to Chef standing on top of the ladder at the end of the course. He picked a brick up out of a sack by his side and tossed it around with a vicious grin on his face, and the camera cut back to the host. "First team to the top wins! Best out of two earns today's reward."
The camera focused on the Screaming Gaffers. "Cool!" Chase said with a sudden smile. "This'll be just like the boot camp obstacle course from the first season, only this time, I get to actually compete in it."
"The course does have earthquakes though," Izzy brought up.
"An obstacle course is still an obstacle course," Chase shook it off.
"Enough with the chitty-chat," Chris interrupted with a brief frown of his own. "Take your marks!"
Both teams were shown assembled along the bottom edge of the platform. "This is gonna be easy," Scott boasted as Chase jogged in place.
"I can't wait to swing on the monkey bars!" Millie declared happily while Jasmine limbered up.
"Aaaaaannnnd," Chris said as a few deep notes heralded the beginning of fast-paced challenge music, "Action!"
He sounded a small air horn, and the shot cut to the four Grips as they ran up the platform and immediately into the tires – Jasmine in the lead, then Justin, Millie, and Anne Maria at the end. Panning over to the Grips, Izzy and Chase were out first, followed by Scott, Ripper, and MK.
"How easy is this?" Izzy asked enthusiastically after a close-up of her easily stepping through the tires.
"Are you READY to ROCK?!" Chris exclaimed with an excited cackle before pulling one of the levers on his machine console. The pistons immediately began to extend and contract, shaking the platform and causing Izzy and Chase to stumble and fall into one another.
“If you break it, you buy it!” Izzy said playfully and laughed.
Jasmine and Justin had gotten to the beginning of the cones, but lost their balance too and Justin had to yank one of the cones off his head. Millie and Anne Maria jumped up onto the Grips' monkey bars, and the scene cut over to Chef on the ladder.
"Perfect time to get rid of some old junk," he said with a vicious grin and a dark cackle, reaching into his sack and taking out a football. He tossed it from hand to hand, then reared back and threw it at the girls on the monkey bars. It hit Millie in the face with enough force to knock her back into Anne Maria and both off the obstacle.
"My face!" Millie cried out as she fell out of sight.
Chef was shown casually throwing out several objects from his bag without looking – a kitchen sink, a bowling ball, a hammer, a rotary telephone, each with appropriate sound effects when they inevitably hit something. He paused when he took out a tiny rubber ducky, squeezing it a few times and smiling at its squeak before looking at the camera sheepishly and throwing it away.
"Are you kidding me?" MK said after the duck hit her on the nose while she was on the monkey bars.
The camera briefly cut back to Chris as he smirked and pulled the lever again, putting an end to the shaking. Izzy, Chase, and Scott were shown regaining their balance at the start of the monkey bars, and Izzy groaned in relief. "Finally, a break!"
"AFTERSHOCK!" Chris exclaimed with a happy laugh, pulling the lever again. The platform resumed shaking, causing Scott to stumble to his knees behind him.
The dirt boy threw up, and looked at the puddle of vomit with a disgusted grimace. "Why was that lunch even worse coming back up?"
"Oh yeah," Chris said with a sly look, "that reminds me. It's lava time!" he announced dramatically, slamming his fist down on a button that caused more shaking and some ominous mechanical whirs that made Chase and Izzy look around nervously.
A pair of slots opened up just past the walls at the top of the course, and a steaming red liquid poured out of them. Chef bent down and touched the liquid with his fingers, taking a quick taste. "Tomato soup?" he said with a surprised look below, where the soup was being siphoned out of a large metal drum with a tomato on the side. "That was supposed to be for supper."
With the soup already closing in on the monkey bars, Anne Maria and Justin were forced to quickly jump back up to them, while nearby Millie quickly grabbed the top of the metal tube. MK and Izzy were also shown clinging to the top of the bars for safety.
"Pheeewww, wee!" Chris exclaimed as the camera cut back to him fanning himself with one hand. "Is it getting hot in here? How 'bout a cool, refreshing, hailstorm!" The shot pulled back to show him standing on the seat of a cart-mounted gun platform which was attached to a golf cart being driven by Chef, who honked the horn with a dark grin. "Golf ball-sized hail is bad," the host said matter-of-factly as he sat down and grabbed the handles of the gun, "but, hail-sized golf balls are even worse!" He laughed and opened fire, a clear canister on the top of the large weapon feeding golf balls into it. Izzy, back on the ground, tried to dodge the balls as they dashed towards the metal tube, but the sheer number knocked her into it.
"I got one!" Chris cheered happily.
"Don't get cocky, kid," Chef told him with a smile. The host continued to fire with a vicious grin on his face, and cries of pain from nearly every castmate were heard off-screen.
"Hey, watch the face!" Anne Maria cried out before several golf balls struck her in the face, and Chris continued to shoot.
Confessional: Anne Maria
The tanned woman was now shown to be bruised from her face all the way down. "That schuck is really askin’ for a beatdown if he thinks he can bruise my body, but I still got it." Anne Maria attempted to pose for the camera, but quickly winced in pain.
Confessional Ends
The host shot off a few more golf balls, then held up a button on a cord. "After-aftershock!" he exclaimed as he pressed it, starting up the shaking once again. Izzy lost her own footing and slipped backwards into the metal tunnel. The camera panned back to the tube's beginning, where the other Gaffers were standing. To their shock, the platform began to crack and split perilously close to them.
"We have to get a move on," Ripper said.
MK ducked into the tunnel but was forced out moments later when a screaming Izzy tumbled back through it, knocking into the small woman and sending both over the edge of the crack in the platform. Chase managed to dive and grab onto Izzy's flailing arm, and the camera panned down to show that MK had managed to cling onto her teammate's legs.
"Man, did Chris go all-out with these disasters," Ripper said with worry.
"Pull us up or else I may see the afterlife!" MK cried angrily as Chase struggled to heave his teammates out of the crevice.
"Coming," Scott said before he and Ripper bent down to grab Izzy's other arm.
The scene cut to the Grips as Jasmine made her way across the balance beam, with Millie and Justin coming out of the tube and following her. Chris fired another volley of golf balls which knocked Justin off his balance, and the camera moved back to the Gaffers still at the entrance to the tunnel and also coming under heavy fire.
"We have to keep moving!" Ripper shouted while he sheltered his team. Once his teammates were in relative safety, he began to shield the entrance with his girth. “I believe someone should be yelling “fore!”,” he shot an annoyed glare at the host.
"Fore!" Chris shouted gleefully, pulling the trigger but getting nothing but clicks – he was out of ammunition. The shot cut back to Ripper, who raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and jumped into the tube.
"Chef," Chris said in annoyance, "do something!" A few beeps from the golf cart signaled the hulking man's compliance as he rapidly reversed all the way to the ladder, crashing the gun platform and Chris along with it before quickly climbing up.
He resumed throwing objects at the castmates, starting with a flower pot that knocked Millie off the balance beam just as Jasmine made it to the finish line and Anne Maria made it to the top of her team's wall.
"Hurry up. We're almost there!" Chase called to the rest of the Grips as Scott gave MK a boost over the wall. Izzy climbed down the other side, and Ripper emerged from the tunnel and narrowly dodged a blender. The rough man rushed across the balance beam to the scheming farmer on the other side.
"C'mon. I'll give you a lift," Scott told him.
“Have you seen me?” Ripper raised an eyebrow. “I'm much heavier. I'll lift you up.” He then kneeled down and held out his hands as a foothold.
“Okay, fine,” Scott accepted the boost as bricks and pliers and even a cat in a football uniform were thrown at them.
Chef viciously tossed what appeared to be some sort of bomb, though the lack of an explosion when it landed off-screen suggested it was a dud at best. Regardless, the man smiled when he pulled out the next object: a very large hardcover book. "Ahh, my unpublished manifesto," he said happily.
The dramatically fast-paced challenge music faded into something more deep, tense, and threateningly monotonous as Scott was shown hauling himself up to the top of the wall with Ripper supporting him.
"I've lived a lot of years!" Chef declared before tossing his tremendous manifesto with two hands. The music sped back up as Scott spotted the heavy book flying at him with a gasp.
The shot closed in on the manifesto, and the footage slowed down as it slammed into Scott's right arm, knocking him clear off the wall and onto his back across the balance beam. “Ugh! That hurts!” Scott groaned and clutched his right arm.
"Oh shoot!" Ripper exclaimed in shock and ran over to his groaning teammate. "Your arm is not looking fine right now."
"My editor was right!" Chef told the camera on him proudly. "My life really is dangerous."
Scott began to sit up and used his right arm for support, but then winced in pain and flopped back down with a moan.
Confessional: Millie
"Did Scott actually break his arm?" Millie asked in disbelief. "That is so unfair, even if it is Scott of all people!" She sighed and looked up. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that to Chase."
Confessional: Chase
"I can't believe Scott just wiped out his arm!" Chase told the confessional camera. "And because of a manifesto of all things!" He sighed and looked down. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that to Millie."
Confessionals End
As Scott continued to groan in pain on the balance beam, one of the camera men was shown approaching him for a close-up.
"Chris!" Jasmine exclaimed angrily as the shot cut back to the Grips, Chef, and Chris, the host now on the ladder and framing a shot with his hands. "Aren't you going to send the crew over to help him?"
"Yeah yeah," the host said dismissively as another cameraman walked by in front of him, "as soon as we're done getting every shot. The good news is, it looks like Scott won the challenge for the Screaming Gaffers!" He looked over to MK, Izzy, and Chase as they gave a few celebratory cheers, joined in another shot by a smile from Ripper and even a thumbs up from Scott.
"Oh no he did not!" Anne Maria exclaimed.
"Yeah," Millie added sternly. "We got our entire team across the finish line first!"
"Serious injury trumps all," Chris told them with an impish shrug.
"You're just making up the rules as you go along," Jasmine said in frustration.
Chris gave a smug look, then smiled at the camera. "I love my job!"
A close-up of a flashing red siren took over the scene, and Scott was wheeled into an ambulance on a stretcher. "The wounded Scott," Chris said dramatically as the ambulance doors shut and it drove off, leaving the four Gaffers to watch with varying levels of concern. "What will become of him?" The shot zoomed out, showing the Grips standing nearby as well looking worried. "Stay tuned to find out!" Chris said, popping up in the foreground with a grin on his face, earning a glare from the remaining castmates.
(Commercial Break)
The deep and dramatic music continued as soon as the footage cut back to a shot of a water tower, the camera slowing panning down to the film lot's waterfront area. A submarine had been suspended from the arm of a crane, which ran along the top of the screen and was supported on the right by a structure built adjacent to a dock where the cast and host stood. Two sections of the submarine's outer wall had been made transparent, allowing full view of a pair of rooms within; there appeared to be hatches on the top and bottom leading into and out of each compartment. In the water below the submarine were two inflated rafts, roughly aligned with the 'windows'.
"How's Scott doing?" Izzy asked with concern as the camera focused on her.
"Oh, Scott's fine," Chris reassured the group. "A broken bone, but it's all wired shut now. Shouldn't take more than six to eight weeks to heal!"
"Oh," Ripper said, "it's that bad?!"
"I mean," Chris quickly corrected, "he's doing fine!" None of the cast looked like they believed him.
Confessional: Chris
"That's what release forms are for," Chris whined in the confessional trailer, holding up one of the forms. "Correctamundo?" he asked the camera.
Confessional Ends
"Alright!" Chris said as the camera began to zoom out. "Now it's time for the second disaster-themed challenge." The two teams were shown to have boarded the life rafts, the Gaffers on the left and the Grips on the right. "Who's excited?"
Neither the Grips nor the Gaffers gave him any response other than an annoyed glare, and cricket chirps were heard as the camera panned from one to the other.
"Because of Scott's win," Chris continued with a smile, "the Gaffers have the advantage of getting this handy-dandy piece of paper for the second disaster challenge." He took a seemingly blank piece of paper out from behind his back, rapidly folded it into a paper airplane, and threw it over to the team who'd won it. The camera followed it as it flew through the air, passed over the heads of the four Grips, made a loop-the-loop, and eventually got snatched out of the air by Chase.
He unfolded it, showing a small string of roman numerals, and quickly furrowed his brow. "Hey, it's just a bunch of numbers! How's this supposed to help us?"
"Perhaps it's some sort of code," MK suggested after a bit of thought.
"Okay, time to get inside!" Chris announced.
"You do know that I have claustrophobia," Jasmine refused.
"Would you do it for a million bucks?" Chris asked with a sly look.
Jasmine sighed. "I hope there's enough air to last a lifetime."
The footage flashed forward, showing each team in one of the submarine's two visible compartments. "Does anybody else have a bad feeling about this?" Jasmine asked her team as her eyes darted around the room. The sound of sonar pinging in the background was quickly joined by the wailing of a klaxon as lights around the submarine began to flash red. Various shot of hatch wheels, pipes, each team's feet, and the startled faces of Millie, Ripper, and Izzy were shown.
"What's going on?" Justin asked with a hint of panic in his voice.
"It's too dark to see," Chase said. "This isn't good."
"For this challenge," Chris announced over intercoms in each room, "you've gotta get out before it's too late."
"Too late for what?" Millie asked as the footage changed to a monitor feed of the Grips, the camera pulling back a few other monitors next to it showing close-ups of Ripper, Chase, and MK. Chef was sitting in front of them inches away from the camera, looking back at the monitoring console out of the corner of his eyes.
"Oh, you'll find out," Chris told them with a laugh as Chef nodded.
The viewpoint shifted to show the host and his assistant sitting at a table playing cards in the control room. "Pick up two," Chef said, placing a card on the table himself as the handsome host drew another pair.
"You mind cranking that lever?" Chris asked, and his hulking associate quickly complied.
As soon as the lever was pulled, water began to flow heavily through a network of pipes, causing them to drip at various joints. More ominously, water started pouring into the submarine's compartments via a grate in the floor. It quickly began to pool around Justin's feet, and he looked down with shock and unease.
"What is that?" he asked worriedly.
“This is just great," Anne Maria said. "The one person who would've been able to break us out of here had to quit!"
"Well, Brick's not here," Jasmine panicked as she began trying to look around the poorly-lit room. "If we start to drown, not only will we be trapped in here, but we'll die!"
The scene flashed to Ripper trying to turn a hatch wheel on the wall to no avail while Chase stood nearby. "We're stuck in the dark, the water is filling up the place, and one of our teammates is stuck in the infirmary," Chase recapped. “How much worse can this get?”
"The water is freezing?" Ripper replied. "How are we supposed to bust out of this sub?"
"No worries," MK told him. "I've got great night vision. Side note, the things I do sometimes occur at night." She noticed a cardboard box sitting on a nearby table, and opened it up with a grin. "This should help!" she said, taking several flashlights out of the box and turning them on.
"Let's get to work everybody!" Izzy whooped as she caught the light that was tossed to her.
The scene cut to Jasmine and Millie attempting to open two of the wall hatches without success.
Jasmine was focused on as she tried to force her hatch wheel to turn. She gave another grunt of exertion and slipped, falling forward into the Grips' cardboard box. "Brilliant!" she exclaimed in delight, holding up the flashlights she'd accidentally discovered. "Okay cobbers, let's get our heads in the game!" she declared, tossing each of her teammates a flashlight.
"Hey, I think I found something!" Anne Maria said as she shined her light on the ceiling hatch.
"Same here!" Millie added as she illuminated the floor hatch. "This could be the exit!"
The camera cut to a close-up of Chase turning the dial on the floor hatch while Izzy stood behind him shining her light down on it. "Bad news," he said as he finally let go, "it's a combination lock!"
"The numbers on the paper!" Izzy said immediately. "That must be the combination!"
"Oh yeah," Chase said blankly, taking out the crumpled-up note for MK to snatch it and shine her light on it.
Ripper walked up to the AV girl. "Go on, techmaster. Tell us the numbers," he told her expectantly.
"Give me a second," MK replied in annoyance as she flipped the note upside-down and back again.
"We don't have a second!" Chase said in rising panic, the water already up his legs and nearly covering the floor hatch.
"It's either...," MK squinted, "3-1-11-3-6-2," she rattled off before flipping the paper again, "or 2-6-3-9-1-3. It's hard to tell with this bad handwriting."
"Well, get cracking already!" Ripper demanded.
“Guys, now's not the time to fight right now,” Chase reminded them.
MK crouched down by the dial and groaned after looking over it for a second. "These numbers are tiny! Somebody give me a light."
"I'm on it," Izzy told her, shining an extra light down on the dial. "Now which number are we going for first?"
"Let me double check," MK told her, taking the note back out of her pocket only to accidentally lose her grip on the note. MK groaned and picked up the now soggy and unreadable note out of the water.
Confessional: Izzy
“If today's my last day in this world, I'm thankful that I'm not surrounded by loons,” Izzy told the viewers. “Well except for Ripper, but he's not risking all of our lives.”
Confessional Ends
The scene flashed over to a close-up of the Grips' dial as Anne Maria turned it back and forth and her teammates watched in silence. The water rose above her head and she came up. "This ain't working!" she said in frustration. "I can't figure out the combination with the water rising up!"
"How about we boost each other up there?" Millie suggested, her light shining on the ceiling hatch.
"Worth a shot," Jasmine shrugged. The Outback girl held out her hands to give Justin a foothold, boosting him up onto her shoulders before Millie climbed up them to the top.
She strained to reach for the hatch, but it was still too high up. "Almost…there!" As Millie spoke, she made another attempt at reaching out, but only managed to cause the three to lose their balance and collapse into the water.
"Now what?" Justin asked in annoyance just before Anne Maria emerged from the water.
"What are you all doing?" she asked them.
"We were trying to open the door on the ceiling," Millie said. "And how are you able to stay underwater for that long?"
“My lungs are waterproof, duh,” Anne Maria answered. “And if we're gonna use the hatch up there, let's just wait for the water to reach us to that point.”
"Does anybody else have a plan to get us out?" Chase asked his teammates, all four floating idly in the water.
"Of course!" Izzy exclaimed. "We forgot about that hatch!" She pointed to the ceiling hatch with a grin, and with the current water level was able to grab onto it along with Ripper.
"Open sesame!" Ripper bellowed out as he and Izzy pried the hatch cover open.
A shark stuck its head out of the opening with a roar, and the two Gaffers who had opened it quickly closed it again, eyes wide with shock.
"No good. Any other ideas?" Izzy said, backing away from the hatch slowly.
"I got it!" Jasmine grunted as she forced the wheel of the ceiling hatch to turn, and when it finally opened, she immediately shrieked and slammed it shut when a jet of fire came forth from the opening. "That wasn't safe at all!"
The scene cut to the control room, with footage of the Grips continuing what they'd been doing on the monitors.
"Fire, huh?" Chris said with a hint of nervousness. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"
Chef shrugged.
Confessional: Chef Hatchet
"Seriously, I'm just not in the mood!" Chef told the confessional camera angrily. "Busting my hump for a bunch of snot nosed…" He slammed a fist onto the table, scattering a few make-up brushes. "Don't I deserve a little me time?"
Confessional Ends
Close-ups of Jasmine, Izzy, Justin, and Anne Maria were now being shown on the monitors, each one looking with dread at the water that was now up to their necks or shoulders.
"Really, it might be time to end the challenge," Chris said with rising concern. "The water's getting pretty high, and, uh, those kids are terrible swimmers!"
"Focus!" Chef shouted. "I want my chips back," he said calmly, pointing to a tall canister on the table, "I'm starvin'." He casually tossed a single chip into his mouth.
"This is getting serious," Chris told him. "Tur-turn off the water!"
Chef reached for the lever, but it quickly snapped off in his hand, and Chris gasped. "We've gotta get the cast out of there!" he said, standing up in panic. "Simple formula! No more contestants equals no more episodes equals no paycheck, and the end of my luxurious lifestyle!"
"I don't want them to die anymore than you do," Chef said after dropping the broken lever and shuffling their deck of cards, “but the lever is broken, so it's up to them to rescue themselves.”
A shot from just below the surface of the water showed the Gaffers treading it.
"If we make it out of here, the first thing I'm gonna do is break Chris for endangering our lives," Ripper told the team and pulled out the bendy straws from breakfast, “and that's gonna happen thanks to these straws!”
“Why didn't you whip those out earlier?!” MK reprimanded.
“I obviously forgot about them, but I still remember the numbers,” Ripper rolled his eyes and stuck one straw to another. “Now do you want to complain or survive?”
“Alright! I'll help you make a snorkel,” MK took hold of the straws. She watched Ripper put a straw into his mouth and sink underwater, prompting her to stack one straw after another as he sank.
The footage cut back to the control room where Chris was watching the Gaffers with tense worry. "Brilliant!" he said with relief. "Ripper's gonna save the day! Once the hatch is open, it'll drain the water out of both the rooms, and I'll still have a paycheck!" He quickly hugged Chef, who'd been playing cards by himself and looked annoyed at the sudden contact.
An action song began to play in the background as Ripper got to work turning the handle with a serious look on his face. Chris was shown watching nervously from the safety of his control room.
The clip moved to shots of the Grips submerged in water with only their heads surfacing, and Chris was shown covering his eyes in fear and anxiety, peeking out just long enough to gape.
MK kept putting more straws onto the snorkel as the water rose up. "Come on, Ripper!" Chase cried out as his head began to sink. "There's not much time left!"
A shot of the top half of Izzy’s head staying afloat was presented, and as Ripper turned the handle in opposite directions, he adjusted his snorkel before resuming his progress.
Chris was tensely biting his nails while Chef was calmly playing solitaire. However, Ripper got to the last number of the combination, and after yanking at the hatch, it flew open. A large cloud of bubbles briefly covered the screen, and when they dissipated, Ripper signaled his team to get out, and he took off the snorkel and swam out the gap with Izzy, MK, and Chase following after.
Back in the control room, the background music came to an end as Chris started to celebrate. "Wooo-hoo-hoo! Yeah, mmm, mmm!" He cheered, doing a joyous dance around the room while Chef watched in annoyance and ate his chips.
The scene cut to the Grips as their compartment's water drained out and they were left soaking wet.
“Does this mean…” Justin began to wonder.
“Yes. We lost,” Anne Maria looked down in disappointment.
A flash took the scene to a close-up of a roaring fire outside the cast trailers. It was now dark out, and all eight who had competed in the second challenge were furiously sitting around it in bathrobes, the Grips on the left and the Gaffers on the right.
"Well, that was a pretty exciting day, huh?" Chris told them as he walked past the glaring Grips. "Looks like another reward win for the Gaffers. Seems like the Grips are a tad overdue. But," he paused to laugh, "I wouldn't hold my breath!" Jasmine and Millie glared at him and his pun.
"And now let's see what the Gaffers have won!" Chris said once he stopped laughing, pulling a card out of his shirt. "Ohhh!"
The shot flashed to Chef in his sparkly pink dress standing in front of a curtain that was quickly pulled back to reveal a scene of a city on the water, with mountains in the background and a totem pole in the fore. "An all-expenses paid trip to beautiful British Columbia!" The shot flashed again, now showing a close-up of a small cabin bathed in red light and steam, an odd and low bubbling noise in the background. "That's right, you'll be staying at the luxurious inn, 'On the Volcano'!" The camera pulled back, revealing that the cabin was indeed located so far over the mouth of an active volcano that it looked like it would fall in at the slightest provocation. "A charming lodge, teetering on the edge of a little-known active volcano, on Vancouver Island."
The Gaffers looked at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "To get you there," the host continued as the scene flashed to Chef, dressed in a traditional German costume and accompanied by an unseen yodeler, hiking up the side of a mountain. "You'll be enjoying an exhilarating eight-day hike up the craggy, treacherous-"
Both the host and the various background sounds were interrupted by a record scratch and an angry outburst from Chase. "No way!"
Confessional: Chase
"We were actually going to drown back there!" Chase said in the confessional. "These producers are insane if they want us to stay at a volcano."
Confessional: Ripper
"I was going to give Chris a thrashing, but after some careful consideration, I realized that it could get me kicked off the show,” Ripper explained and smiled arrogantly. “And there's no way I'm leaving without lording over the fact that I saved everybody's lives over their heads.”
Confessionals End
"We'll just take some snacks and drinks for our reward," MK told the host. "And make it a stash."
"Suit yourselves," Chris replied, putting the card back in his shirt pocket. "More money for my end-of-the-year bonus!"
Confessional: Izzy
"Okay, I'm not above covering myself with poison ivy, but there's no way I'm gonna go on a vacation after I almost died," Izzy confessed with rare fury. "That's just extremely messed up."
Confessional Ends
MK and Ripper clinked soda bottles together as they, Izzy, and Chase enjoyed their reward at the picnic table outside the rebuilt craft services tent. The camera quickly panned to the left past the sulking Grips, and stopped on Chris walking alongside Scott. The redheaded boy's right arm had a sling, and he was looking rather miffed.
“Remember when I said I'd sue you in the first season? That was just an empty threat,” Scott angrily whispered, frightening Chris a bit. “If this was an elimination episode and I got the boot, I would do so as soon as I got home. I have an uncle who's a lawyer.”
"Umm…" Chris whispered to him timidly, "please don't. I promise to get you compensated for your broken arm as soon as possible."
“Okay,” Scott looked at Chris suspiciously. “I'll go celebrate with my team, but you guys better provide me with benefits or you and Chef are getting a lawsuit.”
“Enjoy!” Chris regained his happy demeanor after watching Scott walk off. "And with that, we are at the end of another awesome episode. What disaster lies in store for our teams next time?" he asked the camera with a smile. "I'm your host, Chris McLean, asking you to tune in, turn on, and find out right here on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
“Look at all the food we won,” Scott demonstrated what was on the table - soda, chips, chocolate bars, marshmallows, gumballs, and crackers. “Why offer us a disaster themed vacay when we can just stuff our faces in?” He took a gumball with his left arm and swallowed it in his mouth. “But that doesn't mean I'm letting my injured arm go. Those guys were the ones who broke it, not me. And if I'm not treated at all, charges will be pressed on them.” He then blew a bubble, and after it got too big, the bubble exploded and the embarrassed teen had his entire face covered in gum.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Brick - 10th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott

So ok for those who are curious about this and haven’t tried it and was thinking about it here’s to you. So I don’t take Wellbutrin but my friend does and so I heard about this whole breaking/crushing them down and snorting them and it produces a euphoric effect. I’m here to tell you this is true it is literally the poor man’s cocaine. So my friend gets the 300xr ones well so I break one in half and mind you this is my first time ever taking a Wellbutrin in my life and I snort the half a pill. Boy oh boy does it burn at first for a few seconds but then follows a numbness in your nose and throat and then here comes the energy!! It takes about an hour for your nose to be unclogged after blowing it 4 or 5 times but don’t blow it until you feel your nostril drip. Also I will say I advise against doing this daily or even weekly maybe just when you like really really need a pick me up on account of I heard they can cause seizures in some people.

Wake up babe, new wojak dropped.
There is a new strain of wojak going around on twitter, featuring an expressionless, average build wojak, fucking a morbidly obese female wojak. It's as grim as you imagine. Particularly grim are the faces. Blank, staring, nearly contemplative. These two people are completely lost in thought during the carnal act. I think this is emblematic of something.
I'll permit you to snort. To chortle to yourself and roll your eyes. How on earth could these shoddy drawings be of any real cultural relevance? I'm getting to it. Why are you so impatient? I bet it's tiktok rotting your brain.
These drawings represent the plight Generation Z faces in its pursuit of connection. This generation (the author's own generation, it's worth mentioning) has set the record for singleness and subjectively reported lonliness. The reason that the miserable man fucking the fat woman is important is because the experience is universal, either literally or figuratively.
Anecdotal evidence has shown that when a human being is completely isolated, cognitive impairments set in almost immediately. Isolation leads to depression, anxiety, psychosis, and suicide. Now, the less extreme example, of someone who is not technically isolated, but is still incapable of forming meaningful connections is a much slower burn, yet the result is the same. You may have friends, family, colleagues, etc. But if you don't have someone you Capital-L Love, then you will feel a hole in your chest. It's natural.
So then we come to the matter of filling the hole. Pun intended.
Meaningless sex with someone you aren't actually attracted to at all. Who hasn't done it? And having done it, who hasn't had that crushing realization? "Oh my God, I feel the same" Nothing was healed. Even during the act, you don't actually feel better. You couldn't even look at her. You have to think of something else while you do it. There is no passion or lust. You have successfully made one of life's most beautiful gifts into something ugly. You are wojak mounting the horrible ham-beast. We'll call you Ahab.
I don't mean to be a misogynist. The plight of the fat woman is just as dreadful, because she knows. She knows that she is being used and that she is using in turn. I don't believe that anyone can be so naive. Maybe she was that naive the first time, but not anymore. She is lonely and suffering the cognitive effects of her lonliness too. She has seen the shock and horror on her lovers' faces when she suggests a more serious arrangement. She has stopped suggesting it.
Fucking hell, what a mess we're in.
This meme expresses bottomless neuroses, i.e. sexual status, the pursuit of pleasure, how we are perceived based on our sexual preferences, the performance of sex, the boredom and horror of aging, the boredom and horror of sex itself, the inability to fully connect with others. The list goes on. Is it any wonder that Generation Z is the loneliest cohort by far?

60 mg prozac a day for 1 month no prescribtion couldnt go to doctor used my moms -no side effect -no effect
2 week 50 mg sertraline 150 wellbutrin with doctor this and under all
small side effect small positive effect(energy, nothing mentally) 10/1-2
1 month or 2 weeks 300 wellbutrin 30 mg something
-small side effect 1-2 week
-small positive effect (energy) 10/1-2
1 month some other shit
now 30 redepra 150 effexor no side effect min positive effect
24 male
redepra helps for sleeping i dont work dont go to school not doing anything have fatigues puking sometimes extreme sadness like unimagineble for me that kind of sadness that doesnt make sense to me but not always so side effects is not a problem i can sleep all day or take like high doses i dont mind risks i want to feel okay so i want a like a honest person to give me advice not consolt your doctor thing i used 2 week 15 redepra 150 effexor and 1 week 30 redepra 150 effexor and 1 more than to doctor again im on week 3 now should i take 300 or 450 effoxr on my own to feel good faster and to use redepra during day time to be sedacted the treatment thing takes too long trying medicine for months and this might be extreme i dont wanna be banned maybe mention it on the drugs thing but i search for the medicines i take to suicide and to feel good i looked up snorting wellbutrin but it doesnt worth it so does taking redepra or effexor or both with alcholol makes alchol more effective ? ty

~First~
Harriett The Spy AND HHH/Herbert’s Hundred Harem
Thankfully after the first two levels Harriett had a few code words to call out for the next ones that had the people trying to stop the elevator either leaving, turning their backs or outright apologizing on the way down. As they arrive on the bottom Harriett receives a text and smiles at the sight of it. “Good news people. They just tested their Blood Metal samples. The substance goes dormant when under Null effects.”
“Thank god.” Doctor Gin lets out a breath and everyone relaxes ever so slightly. The issue had been bubbling up, but no one had been voicing it. “Does it’s tensile strength change? Is it simply metal at that point or does it begin to fall apart or liquefy?”
“Hold on.” Harriett asks sending the message back. In a few moments they have an answer. “Substance becomes brittle but retains the majority of it’s tensile strength. Can be easily broken by hand under Null Effect, even by a child.”
“So that was personally from the big man.” Someone says and there’s some mild snorting at the nickname. “Hey uh... Boss Lady?”
Harriett turns to the trooper. “Yes?”
“When did you sign up? I didn’t think any Trets got so deep in as fast as you did.”
“Full human here.”
“No way.”
“Ran into a Continuum Nagasha woman. She thought I was sick and ‘fixed’ me.” Harriett says hefting her substantial breasts. “Downside is nothing fit for a while. Upside every person and scanner they have are now easily fooled into thinking that I was just as surprised as the rest of them that humans were a thing.”
“Go figure.”
“Yeah, it was when I was transferred from Admin into Intelligence, Sir Philip just saw too good a chance to pass it up. Same with the shrimp.” Harriett says.
“Hunh, so why do we never really see you around?”
“I spend ninety percent of my time infiltrating the insane and inane cults and conspiracies of Centris. When I’m on the ship I’m grabbing more supplies, sleeping or being debriefed.”
“What about the other ten percent?”
“Two percent is me on the actual ship, the rest is me goddamn relaxing after being fifty different people in so many hours and just getting my head straight with some good food and me time.” Harriett says.
“Makes sense, so what can we expect?”
“Level one of Xiona is mostly abandoned. There are numerous ‘homeless’ people but no gangs. All Lady is literally too big to ignore and too strong to stop. As a power she’s very new to the area, but no one was able to stop her and everyone dumb enough to attack her was either crammed into the elevator like a sardine in a tin or thrown away so far and hard they left a stain where they landed. The only threat is All Lady herself, but she’s... well no one knows how she’s reacting to anything. The knowledge she’s been literally impaled by blood metal and effectively always pregnant and mourning the loss of her own children puts a lot of the behaviour into understandable territory.”
“So why do we need troopers again?”
“Men plan, gods laugh.”
“I really don’t think Lady Bazalash or Rikaxza want us to fail helping this poor woman.”
“You know what I mean, don’t be stupid.”
“Just trying to keep things calm. Cool it.” He says and she turns to regard the man. “How about those homeless? Are they violent?”
“They weren’t to me, but I was alone then. No idea how they’ll react to a large group. Let alone an armed one.” She replies as the elevator dings as they reach the bottom floor. “Come on ladies, lets roll.”
“I think you’re the only girl here.”
“Fine then, until the mission is over your my harem if anyone asks.” Harriett mocks them as the door opens and they’re suddenly face to face with a small army of Council Soldiers that heard that. “Hello, excuse us we’re on our way to deal with the big problem down here and Tiaria has been dealt with. Just head home for debriefing.”
“What was that about a harem?”
“It’s called humour, look it up. Excuse us. We have a mission.” Harriett says leading her group out. “Be ready with your weapons on the way up. The next nine levels are all gang territory but are smart enough to back off from a massive shootout for no profit.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’ve scouted out a good chunk of this spire personally. Get going and so long as none of you shoot first in a standoff you can get to the top without anyone getting hurt.” She says before pausing. “And if someone on level six says their little brother is hurt and trapped under rubble, it’s a con and if you go out you will be jumped if you leave the elevator.”
“They won’t damage the elevator?”
“They need it and no one wants to be in charge of calling for repairs or repairing it themselves.” Harriet says.
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Agent Harriett Dubois Undaunted Intelligence department. Anything more is going to need an NDA. Now if you’ll excuse us. We need to meet up with our missing man and more besides.”
“What else more.”
“Ask your employers and they’ll ask Herbert. Now, move.” Harriett orders and the crowd parts.
“What happened to our target Miss Tiaria?”
“In custody, please excuse me.” Harriett says before a woman in power armour with a pointedly bent railgun steps in front of her.
“What. Happened.”
“I blew my cover and restrained her before having her transported to a holding cell. The woman’s been involved in more than our current concerns and we were already taking a look at her for those other reasons.”
“You were the secretary but... you...”
“You don’t look closely enough at the staff to begin with and I can change my hair colour and style in seconds with a wig. Couple that with a new outfit, some makeup and contact lenses and I can be any Tret woman alive if I want to be.” Harriett says easily. “Now, move. Direct order.”
The woman in power armour stands aside as everything shifts further out and the Council Forces turn to try and see what’s going on. Several buildings break apart and inside is an entire ocean of dark blue gel that parts to reveal an enormous man walking up a set of stairs from below.
As he clears the building it pulls itself back together and a single door is opened behind him with a tendril emerging before bulging out to become the shape of a woman in dark blue.
Jurgen walks up and snaps off a salute. “Ma’am. Good to see you all. How are we going to help this poor woman?”
“First off we need a preliminary examination of the injury. We need to know whether we’re doing organ surgery, stitches, brain surgery or something more. Or all at once.”
“That last one is most likely.” All Lady says plaintively. “Have any of you worked with Slohbs before?”
“We have. Each of us have...” Doctor Gin begins to answer before abruptly turning and glaring at the approaching Council Forces who freeze. “Did you not hear what the commander said!? Get back to your bases and await further orders! There is less than nothing you can help with beyond making things more complicated, and while I may appreciate a challenge, doing so with a patient’s life on the line is beyond the pale! Leave!”
They scramble towards the elevator and Doctor Gin looks towards Harriett. “Honestly I expected them to look to you for authority.”
“Oh this is the galaxy of daddy issues that could have ANY way.” Harriett says.
“I’m going to want the story from that.” Jurgen notes.
“How about we get to examining the patient first!?” Doctor Gin demands and Jurgen puts his hands up as All Lady titters. “Lady, where’s your damn core!?”
The building behind them cracks open again and he just stares. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You, Adept...”
“Lloyd...”
“Adept! Come on! You are going to be making the holding platform for her core while she’s Nulled so we’re going to need you to know how to make one that’s comfortable and properly supportive to prevent discomfort or harm.” Doctor Gin says walking forwards.
“Comfort and support... generally that means a woman isn’t pumping in enough Axiom.”
“Oh trust me, without it they’re needed. I’ve got mine reinforced to the point it can stop bullets.” Harriett says and Jurgen mostly holds in a snort.
“I’m going to sit down before it goes off. I’m not sure if I can even stay standing without Axiom at this height.” Jurgen replies.
“What? But your human and...”
“Remember? Oversized humans lie in pain. It’s called the square cube law. Twice the size is eight times the weight.” Jurgen says and All Lady just stares at him.
“So... you’re going to go through it with me.”
“Not the getting cut itself but...”
“Can we please see the patient’s core? Or am I using well wishes and prayers rather than scalpels and sutures?!” Doctor Gin demands as he cuts off the moment with vicious prejudice.
“Right, yes. The sooner you begin the sooner my life can... well I will never be the child I was before, but I will have more choice and opportunity in my life than the current madness.” All Lady says and the broken open building bulges out and a torrent of dark blue gel. It pools at the feet of Doctor Gin before bulging and then retracting somewhat until it’s as thick around as an aircar. Then the blue fades to transparent and his eyes widen at the sight of the cratered part of the woman’s core. He pulls out a small and powerful flashlight out of his pocket and shines it directly onto the injury.
“Get a medical tent started, Adept take your measurements. Doctors Howard and Lorn, I need your opinions.” Doctor Gin orders and people start moving. The soldiers start pulling out large amounts of material and being setting up a medical area as everyone starts moving. A tendril of All Lady’s examines her injury next to the doctors. “Lady move to the side, I have questions and I need to be allowed to touch you. Do I have your permission?”
“... Will it hurt?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I need to touch you.” Doctor Gin says. After a few moments the gel on the core pulls away and the entire crater is nearly dry. Gin pulls out latex gloves and puts them on carefully after handing off his flashlight to Doctor Howard. “Tell me if it hurts, let nothing back and do not be shy. The more I know, the better I can help you.”
He then slowly, gently and with incredible caution puts his gloved hands overtop the veins of darkness that have spread over her core. Feeling it out before silently cursing. He pushes it ever so and All Lady sucks in a pained breath and he stops. The entire system had moved as one.
“So... the metal has gown. In all likelihood we will need more than one operation to get this all out of you.”
“But you can get it out?” She asks.
“Yes, thankfully it seems to be going over areas dedicated primarily to digestion and not any nerve cluster. Meaning that this is quite literally not brain surgery. There will still be complications. We need to test how quickly the local Axiom stabilizes after being Nulled as well.” Doctor Gin says as he traces the veins of blood metal spreading over her.
“It feels...”
“Yes?”
“It feels like it’s about to hurt. If you touch me any more firmly I’m going to...” She says and he nods.
“I understand. We have chemical anaesthesia appropriate for Slohb anatomy. I am trained in it’s full use, Doctor Gin here is a master surgeon and neurologist and Doctor Lorn is an internist and hematologist.” Doctor Howard states and the tendril of All Lady nods.
“So... you an anesthesiologist, so this won’t hurt, Gin is the main surgeon and Lorn is about complicated things and blood?”
“In essence.” Doctor Howard says as Doctor Gin continues gently feeling things out before All Lady gasps in pain.
“There we go. Move the light a bit, the dimensions of the injury means I might be able to get a look...” Doctor Gin says and Doctor Howard does so as he leans very close. “Hmm... not good. Most of this nightmare is not on the more delicate organs and protrusions. But this part, as well as this, this and this. Very delicate. We will need to focus there first because it’s where things are at their worst. If we stretch this out into several surgeries with recovery time between them we should be able to have this handled in short order.”
“That... that’s good.”
“However there are issues, we don’t know if you’ve grown dependent on this nightmare, are possibly uniquely allergic to our anaesthesia and have a very, very short window to operate each time. Not to mention there’s also the fact that whatever this nightmare has done to you might be permanent. You could still wind up budding uncontrollably regardless of our efforts.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“Good.” Gin says. “Howard, give her a sample of the anaesthesia for her to examine. Slohbs can tell if something is bad for them and cut if off themselves and... WHERE is the medical tent already? Are you idiots trying to make my head explode over here!? AND YOU! Adept! Work your woo-woo and make me a god damn surgical bed for the poor woman! You’re not here to look pretty you hideous sad sack!”
“Is he always like that?” All Lady asks.
“Only when he’s awake. The man’s extremely dedicated to his job and takes personal and deep offence at anything standing in his way of saving lives. You’ll hate him, but he will save you.” Doctor Lorn says before pulling out a kit and uncapping a vial. “Now Madam, I need a sample of your Gel in order to make sure things are in good shape on that end before we put you under and pull out the tools.”
All Lady pours a small amount of her gel into it and he caps it off with a smile. “Thank you, I’ll get started right away. You’re going to get better.”
“You got all this together so quickly.” All Lady says in wonder.
“That’s the upside to being part of a team. Everyone pitches in.” Jurgen notes.
~First~ Last Next

I know it's too long to read, But I need to discuss this with anyone (Mods or Not) because if TEIS Girls are not Yandere, then how come there are people who explains they are Yandere? They read novels like you too but they know more about yandere as well. (Please noted I am trying to be on "Not Yandere" side like you guys OKAY? Previously I agree they are Yandere but now I tried to contradict that idea but I don't know how to counter comment them. I once asked the mods about this but he/she told me it's best to ignore them.)
Yes it's like reading a long essay but you have to understand what happened. Here are the people who agree TEIS girls are Yandere
According to u/Single-Ambassador951 :

1. Alpha an obsessive yandere tomboy number 1
2. Beta an obsessive yandere stalker and fangirl number 1
3. Gamma an obsessive yandere follower and clumsy sugar mom
4. Delta an obsessive yandere idiot dog who doesn’t mind harem
5. Epsilon an prideful obsessive yandere seducer with a fake chest and fangirl number 2
6. Zeta an obsessive yandere cat, tomboy number 2 and an shadow absolutist and worshipper
7. Eta an obsessive sleepy yandere mad scientist who wants to dissect him and study his body. Let’s be real she just wants his Excalibur

According to u/VividMneaning5501 :

1. Alpha is obsessive, that is about the only character trait he got right here. Yandere are obsessive to the point of killing all competition. She literally finds and rescues other members of Shadow Garden
2. Beta is obsessive and a stalker, but not at all Yandere. While she is extremely jealous whenever Shadow interacts with another girl she is the type to make passive aggressive comments towards them, not kill them.
3. Gamma is not a Yandere
4. Delta an obsessive yandere idiot dog who doesn’t mind harem - "Yandere doesn't mind a harem" is an oxymoron
5. Eta an obsessive sleepy yandere mad scientist who wants to dissect him and study his body
6. Zeta an obsessive yandere cat, tomboy and a shadow absolutist and worshipper
7. Epsilon an prideful obsessive yandere seducer. Epsilon is close to be a Yandere. She is very competitive and obsessive. but wouldn't consider her a Yandere since she never tried to kill her love rivals that we know of.
8. Nu had a Yandere Aura
9. Victoria is the only one we see on screen straight up try and murder her competition in love.
10. Zeta & Victoria lead a separate faction that worships Shadow. They plan to awaken Diabolos to obtain immortality to give to Shadow, and have already freed his left & right arms. Does that sound like Yandere behavior? Yes, yes it does.

According to u/Alucart333

1. "Yandere- will Kill anyone who gets in their way of the person who they love, including the person they love. they can make exceptions or rules of who gets killed but it is For their love. a person isn’t a yandere if they kill because it’s their mission or for their order, it’s specifically for wanting to kill because you stopping them from loving their target. that is the defining trait, even tho Yandere means obsession over the one they love. Just depends on how deep they lean in"
2. "Alpha with the exceptions of the other 7, will kill anyone else who gets in that way, her way of showing love is creation of shadow garden for Shadow. Beta and epsilon will kill for shadow as well but to a lesser extend of being mass murderish. They both prioritizes their own agenda how so they tend to be less aggressive. Victoria is the yandere, always willing to kill anyone in her way to show affection to shadow, and her way to show it is to be as perfect of a shadow garden member."
3. "Gamma and delta do not fall into this dere category. they are bakadere, Gamma clumsy side and delta idiot side."
4. "Zeta is a Kuudure. Eta is Eta"
5. "Zeta wants to make Cid immortal, but that doesn’t make her a Yandere. She doesn’t have obsessive and possessive traits. She’s a kuudere with a hidden agenda"
6. Alpha, Beta, and Epsilon don’t go out of their way to kill and be like that but they lean on the side of obsession for yandere. Alpha has shown to threaten people when there is a chance for her to be with Cid in a romantic setting (in the anime) and if you add the obsession that makes her a yandere, just not the super violent all the time one. Beta and epsilon have the obsession but they don’t tend to kill but also they have obsession that is over the top and will Kill if it ruins their image for Cid

According to u/chickenlover43 , it all Depends on your definition of Yandere :

1. Victoria and Eta are Yandere in opposite manners. Victoria will do literally anything for him, will act impulsively and murderously even if she just thinks something will benefit him, and has little regard for anything else. Eta loves him, but also veiws him as an experimental subject and will put her desire to study him over his well-being and wishes. Victoria is the kill anyone who looks at you wrong Yandere, Eta is the chain you up and experiment on while loving you type.
2. All shadow garden girls view Shadow as a literal deity. They are a cult in every sense of the word. If Cid says to kill anyone, they'll do it. If he tells them to kill themselves they'll do it. In Volume 6 he joked to Nina and Mu about how his sister should keep sleeping and they were prepared to actually do it, although Nina was distraught. Nu was gonna immediately kill Marco if he heard Cid's identity. If you define yandere as overly loyal to the person to the point you will abandon morality without question for them, or to the point they themselves don't want, then the entire organization is yandere.

According to a woman named Alice Pleasance Liddel (Check her FB to talk with her) :
"The anime is adapted from the Light Novel. It's confirmed that all shadow garden girls, including the harmless looking like Alpha, Gamma, Beta, etc. are Yandere."
According to u/The-Yaoi-Unicorn
" I wouldn't even say Eta is a yandere in that sense. Eta is just crazy, I would say she is crazy in love with him. But, you can give you counter examples and thus disprove him by saying "666" and "712" aren't ready to die and kill every single person on the planet in order to satisfy Shadow. Number 666 aka Rose Oriana has her own goals and mission. She works alongside Shadow Garden to fulfill them. If Shadow Garden told her to kill Cid or Claire then I doubt she would."
According to u/go-sparks25
" I’d say many of the shadow garden girls are fanatics when it comes to Shadow. That doesn’t make them yanderes. The only one I truly think is a yandere is Victoria and maybe Claire. "
According to u/Dependent-Entrance10
" Shadow Garden is a cult - of course most of these girls are madly devoted to Shadow in some way! I don't know if you don't know this but in their secret hideout, they built a massive statue of Shadow... I don't know how you can get more blatant than that."
There is also some person who says DELTA IS ALSO A YANDERE. Pick u/Remarkable-Role6590 here:
" In season 2, Delta kills her brother for suggesting her to work under a different person. I suppose that does count as yandere."
And this is what u/ExcalibuR_Midgar said in his post:
among all the girls who are in love with cid who has it mostly bad for him?:

• alpha? she will do literally anything for him including committing suicide to follow him to hell. even a litle praise from him makes her happy like a child
• beta? she will do literalyy anything fro him icluding walking to the path of evil, killing any one dare to insult him, committing suicide to follow him to hell. even a litle praise from him makes her happy like a child
• gamma? she alos will do literally anything for him including committing suicide to follow him to hell. even a litle praise from him makes her happy like a child
• delta? she will do anything for her bossman.
• epsilon? she will do literally anything for him including committing suicide to follow him to hell. even a litle praise from him makes her happy like a child
• zeta? she will do literally anything for him including committing suicide to follow him to hell. even a litle praise from him makes her happy like a child. she wants to gift him immortaly at the cost of her own life.
• eta? she says that if it were t save his life she would be forced to forfeit her life without any hesitation and even tried to force him to lover her by lacing his coffee with aphodiasiac.
• Victoria? she will do literally anything for him including committing suicide to follow him to hell. even a litle praise from him makes her happy like a child. she is risking everything including her own life to gidt him immortality.
• nina? ? she will do literally anything for him including committing suicide to follow him to hell. she is risking everything including her own life to gidt him immortality.
• akane? wants to protect him.
• alexia? wants to ptorect him
• rose? wants to leave ebrythinh including her queenhood to be with him
• aurora? loves him dearly
• nu? will literally do aynthing for him including torturing anyone to death if they dare to mcok him

AND HERE ARE PEOPLE WHO DISAGREE THAT TEIS GIRLS ARE YANDERE.
According to u/Candid_Reception_341 :

1. They are not Yandere but fanatics if they where yandere then every single girl in the world would be a yandere.
2. I remember the previous post about yandere stating all different types of yandere when there is only one yandere definition and Yuno Gasai and Satou Matsuzaka is the best example of yandere. Also Alexia was dating Cid why the 7 shades never go yandere mode and kill her if you are yandere you wouldn't care about consequences if someone takes your man.

Exclusive from our mods u/Master_Snort :

1. Most girls in the series aren’t Yandere, hell I would even say that there isn’t really any true yanderes so far, maybe Victoria or Claire but thats really it.
2. Yes I have read LN Vol 5 and 6, and for the most part the girls are just generally violent, which is different from a yandere. I definitely wouldn’t call, Nu, Alexia, Rose, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta or Epsilon yanderes in the slightest. Eta is more fascinated with Cid than anything else so I wouldn’t really call her a yandere, plus she doesn’t really showcase the other traits that a yandere would typically have. I don’t think it would be unreasonable to call Zeta a yandere, but she also doesn’t really showcase many of a typical yandere’s traits. So I personally wouldn’t really consider her a true yandere.
3. You can’t just claim your opinion to be the majority with no proof, and almost no-one really ever says/ claims that most girl in teis are yanderes because that simple isn’t the case.
4. That comment is just wrong on so many levels, that is not at all what happened. First and foremost Rose Oriana killed her dad because he was being completely controlled and was already practically dead. Sure Cid helped to give her courage on what she knew she need to do, but thats it. The trial basically never results in death, plus they are dark knights fighting is literally their jobs. Not to mention the fact that Cod has consistently shown to be extremely resilient. Plus, Rose assumed that was what Cid was already planning on doing, she was just signing him up since she believed he simply forgot to. Trivia: this comment is to counter 's comments "You do realize it was Rose that signed Cid up for the goddesses trial. You know if the trail that could kill him? So that in her mind, when he succeeds, she could use his success to talk to her father about marrying him"). I also thought his comments is to counter a comment by u/kirill19um "Dude at the end of season 2 of anime Rose looked mare Yandere than at least half of this list"
5. First of all, in the first post more people are saying Alexia Midgar is more of a tsundere with yandere tendencies, which is still quite different than being a full yandere and even in the post people are stating how she doesn’t really fit into the categories all the well. And even in the second post people are questioning calling Alexia a Yandere. You also have to understand that Yandere and Tsundere are often on a spectrum, she has some tendencies/similarities with Yanderes but not enough so to for her to be defined as such. For example you wouldn’t generally describe someone who occasionally swims a swimmer, and would only really describe someone as a swimmer if they either do it professionally or it’s one of their main recreational activities. It the difference between a swimmer, and someone who swims.

Here are some users who explains definitions of Yandere so you guys don't randomly label yanderes in every character:
A. According to u/jacquesrabbit :
Yandere (JPJapanese: ヤンデレ
Romaji: Yandere
Translation: Mentally Unstable Love) is a Japanese archetype used to define a character whose love, admiration, and devotion is so strong that it is expressed as an excessive obsession and possessiveness. They are often seen as characters that are crazily in love with someone.
They become so attached to their love interests so that it's impossible to let go. They entrust themselves to their love interest, trusting in their love interest's kindness. They probe the deepest recesses of their love interest's heart so as to more perfectly form their greatest self within their love interest. Some will go so far as to behave in immoral and troubling ways. They will not care about the negative effect that their behaviors can have to others, including their love interest, because they only care about their own feelings.
I guess Seven Shades does have some degree of yandere but cannot go fully berserk because they realize how strong Shadow is.
I guess in a way , Alpha did go yandere on Shadow when she realized Shadow was John Smith, but she couldn't defeat Shadow and became depressed after being left by Shadow.
However Claire, Alexia and rose oriana do have the potential to become yandere.
B. According to u/Accurate-Mind1145 (So far only AccurateMind that is not on randomly labels TEIS girls yandere. You can say he's neutral)
The thing is. What can be defined as a yandere?
The two definitions are. (My opinion/my thoughts)
Someone who is completely obsessed with a person and wants to be with that and wants to have that person completely for themselves. Even if it means harming the person they are obsessed with. Or . Someone who has an insane amount of feelings for a person. So much that they can't live without that person. And would do anything for that person, even if it means harming themselves for them.
Now, the question is. Which definition people use for yandere. If we take the first option, then no one in the entire ties series is a yandere except for eta Or Sherry (but in Sherry's case, love if not involved). But if we take the second option, then many girls are yandere, because they would do anything for shadow/Cid even if it means committing suicide if he wants it. Or burning the world if he wants it. (Yes, by this definition, even gamma is a yandere because even she could not live without Cid).
Now pick, what do u think is a yandere. Who is a yandere depends on the definition.
(This is just my opinion) .

Synopsis:
Carlos was an ordinary software engineer on Earth, up until he died and found himself in a fantasy world of dungeons, magic, and adventure. This new world offers many fascinating possibilities, but it's unfortunate that the skills he spent much of his life developing will be useless because they don't have computers.
Wait, why does this spell incantation read like a computer program's source code? Magic is programming?
___
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Amber jumped up from the dining table and waved for Carlos to follow her. "I left my notes in my room. Come on, let's get them!"
"Do you actually need your notes?" Carlos kept his tone light as he walked behind her. "I think your memory is pretty good, and you thought through all of this very recently."
Amber shrugged without looking back. "Maybe not, but I'd get worried that I might forget a detail without them." She started climbing the private stairs toward the guest suites they were staying in. "I couldn't possibly forget the top priority thing, of course: making sure we don't get abducted and almost soul-killed again."
"Of course."
"In the immediate short term, we've already done everything I could think of about that." Amber rounded the landing of the stairs. "Might be worth revisiting the topic in case we think of anything new. … And bring Purple into the discussion; his unique perspective might see possibilities that we can't."
Carlos nodded, even though she wasn't looking toward him, and smoothly switched to telepathy to include the dungeon core. Purple's attention had focused on them the moment Amber said his name. [Right. So, short-term safety measures for us. To start with, we've already moved into the mayor's mansion, so anyone who considers targeting us now will at least know we have his support.]
[Yeah. And attackers won't be able to bypass the outer wards just by renting a room here, like they did at the inn.]
Carlos shrugged as he reached the top of the stairs. [I'm honestly not sure how much that mattered. They got through the suite-specific wards without a trace, and that's not even the most unbelievable thing they pulled off.]
[True.] Amber opened the door to her suite and went straight to the large hardwood desk against the left wall. [Fortunately for us, we have our own unbelievable thing to counter them. Even if all wards and guards fail, Purple will alert everyone to it immediately.] She sighed and shook her head. [If only we'd introduced him to Mayor Stelras earlier. Those mercenaries would have had every adventurer and city guard in Dramos swarming them before they even reached the walls.]
[Would have been a lot less stressful that way, certainly.] Carlos chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. [On the other hand, the pressure of it pushed us to figure out some incredible things.]
[The pressure may have prompted it, but we could have figured them out anyway without it; it just would have been later.] Amber pulled a notebook out of the desk's top drawer and opened it. [I'd rather avoid the unpleasantness of the experience. Anyway, the rest of the short-term safety measures: We have Esmorana and her party on call, with Purple able to contact them at any time. We have Ressara on call and sometimes standing watch, to check for attention-diversion magic. The Crown gave use two special emergency beacons, separate from the ones built into our guards' armor that got disabled by sabotage, which we have tested and stored in separate locations; one in the city's top security vault, and the other hidden. And finally, we have city guards patrolling and standing watch around the mansion, in addition to Colonel Lorvan and Major Ordens inside the mansion.]
Carlos chewed his lip for a moment. [What about reinforcing the wards here? Or adding more layers of them?]
Amber shook her head. [I considered that, but I don't think we can really trust the Enchanters Guild, and they're the only ones who could do that for us.]
[Hmm.] Carlos leaned against the doorframe and tapped his chin, thinking. [Yeah, that's reasonable. They want our dungeon core, and they're the top suspect for who could have sabotaged royal guard armor. Are they really the only source of enchanting work, though?]
Amber slowly walked over to one of the sofas and sat down, all without more than glancing away from her notebook. [Unless you count items made by dungeon cores, yes. I've heard of people figuring out what runes to write for an enchantment's effect, but the guild is… famously vicious about protecting their monopoly on the secret of how to imbue an item with mana and make the enchantment actually work. And before you suggest visiting a dungeon core, we don't have access to one powerful enough for this.]
Carlos smirked. [Not yet. But helping Purple get that powerful is a long-term thing, so fair point.]
Amber looked over at him, then rolled her eyes and waved at the sofa opposite her. "Come in and take a seat, already! I thought I was the shy one out of the two of us, not you."
Carlos smiled as he complied. "It's your room, and I was taught that entering someone's private area uninvited is rude." He settled into the sofa's soft upholstery and leaned forward, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees. [I'm not happy about how much our short-term defense plans rely on rescue after-the-fact, just trying to ensure it comes quickly, rather than preventing abduction from happening in the first place. But…] He sighed. [The only short-term options I can think of for that involve abandoning Dramos, which I expect the Crown would frown on.]
[Yeah, let's not disappoint and displease our greatest protector. So, if you don't have any new short-term ideas either…?] Amber looked at Carlos and he shook his head. [Purple? You've been quiet so far. Any ideas?]
[Not for the short term.] Purple's mental voice felt resigned, yet determined and hopeful for the future. [I will need to gain a great deal more power before I can make barriers of any kind that would be meaningful against the level of our enemies.]
[Then let's move on to the long term.] Amber turned the page in her notebook. [We have several avenues to juggle and prioritize for how to develop our house, and I started with breaking them down into categories and subcategories. At the top level, we have: our own personal development, Purple's development, and staff or resource development.]
Carlos felt something weird from his comprehension aid and took a moment to sort out what it was. Amber had used only a single word for the combination of both staff and resources. I guess the concept of "human resources" got into the Ganler language. [So, essentially the house itself, and then everything else. For personal development, there's learning more and better spells, and making 9 new soul structures, of course.]
[Don't forget absorbing more mana, I mean aether, from the deep Wilds to advance our levels,] Amber chided him. [Our absorption rate being crippled by the 9 empty slots left from our original set merging just means that leveling up will have to come after fixing that, not that it isn't critically important. I think some of those mercenaries, especially their captain, had levels in the 40s. We're only Level 15, and making up for a power gap that large with just spells and clever tricks may not be possible.]
Carlos sighed and lowered his head. [I know. But I'm worried that if we rush that too much, we might handicap ourselves in the long run.] He straightened and took a deep breath. [And whatever capabilities we end up with, we'll need to practice with them. Spar with each other, and with other people, for combat practice. Consider contingencies and make plans. Hone our reflexes. Having enough power and the right spell to save ourselves only matters if we take action to use it correctly and quickly enough.]
Amber nodded and scribbled something in her notebook. [Good point. I missed that. Any other categories for personal improvement?]
Carlos shook his head, and Purple just sent an impression of a shrug.
[Okay. Then for soul structures: while we could brainstorm ideas and principles for what to prioritize, before we can even begin making actual plans we need more information. We need to ask Lorvan and Ordens for every detail they can tell us about how this "second stage" works. How does the merge affect synergy requirements? Can new structures merge into it too? Why was just the first stage enough to qualify us as high nobles?] Amber looked at the open page in her notebook and snorted. [I have more questions listed, but you get the point.]
Carlos nodded. [Right. We can't optimize a plan if we don't know the rules. We shouldn't assume that Lorvan will tell us all of the rules, though. He may not even know all of them. I'd bet that the Crown has a secret or two about this that only the royals themselves know, and there could be possible tricks that no one knows.]
Amber tapped the page. [Yep, I already noted that. I'm kind of expecting that you'll be the one to figure that stuff out, though. I'll try, but you seem to be better at that sort of thing. The other thing we need to know is what capabilities we could use spells for instead. The whole point of being mages, using incantations to cast spells instead of having soul structures produce effects directly, is to have versatility without losing power in exchange. Ideally, every soul structure should either improve our spellcasting, do something that cannot be done with spells, or at least be better in an important way than the closest spell.]
[I've been so absorbed in cataloging effect keywords that I hadn't even thought about that. Hmm…] Carlos cocked his head and considered for several seconds. [That makes sense.] He chuckled. [So it turns out that, by completely putting the soul structures issue out of my mind, I've actually been working on the soul structures issue after all!] He grinned cheekily.
Amber smiled and nodded. [Apparently so. In any case, our action items for this are: ask Lorvan for information; try to figure out extra things beyond what he can tell us; finish cataloging the extent and coverage of incantations versatility; then make a plan using the information we learn. Can you think of anything to add?] As she listed the action items, she quickly wrote several lines on a separate sheet of paper.
[That covers everything I can think of.]
[Okay. Moving on to spells.] Amber turned the page. [Right now, we pretty much just need to do what you're already doing: sort through and catalog all the possibilities. We need the results of that to inform our choices about what to learn and practice with.] She hesitated. [Though with Trinlen here, maybe we should go ahead and start lessons with him before we finish that.]
[Definitely. He'll at least know about all the standard options that the academy teaches, and he can give interactive guidance, assessing and responding to what we need.]
Amber scribbled a few more lines of action items, then paused and inserted one just above the last line. [Just remembered, we still need to decide how much to tell him about your system documentation discovery.] She turned back to her notebook and flipped back to the first page for a moment. [Gaining levels will have to wait on making new soul structures. Practicing combat will have to wait until we have suitable spells and abilities to practice with. That makes the next item Purple's development. How's your current progress going, Purple?]
[I have disassembled the soul structure I made for finding you and replaced it with the originally planned structure. I have additionally made the next 3 planned structures, and I am currently collecting the essence for the final 10th structure.] Purple sent a small burst of surprised confusion. ["Essence?" Ah, I see. A word you learned recently?]
Carlos raised an eyebrow and saw Amber doing the same. [Trinlen taught us about it. Any issues with establishing all the synergies?]
[I will need assistance for the synergies with the bond maker. Those synergies involve and require interaction with someone I have a bond with.]
Carlos nodded. [Of course. After that's done, are you ready to go traveling to absorb higher-level aether? I know that you have to release most of your… mana? Is that the right one, out of aether, mana, and essence?]
[Partially. What anchors me in place, which I must leave behind in order to be moved, is a mix of all three. Regardless, I have far more essence and mana inside me than before, and that will come with me. The loss of what I leave behind will affect me much less and will be more quickly regained. Travel will be necessary to gain the power to protect us. Do not be concerned about my minor discomfort with the process.]
Amber responded first. [I'm glad to hear that. We also need to make plans for what soul structures you should make after your first set merge, but that will have to wait for the same information as our own plans. Is there anything else we can do to help you grow?]
Purple paused, filled with uncertainty. [I don't know.] He hesitated again. [You humans learn how to grow powerful by learning from other humans how they grew powerful. Dungeons do not. Or rather, cannot, because we do not move, meet, and communicate. Find knowledge of how other dungeons became powerful, and that may help me. That is the only idea I have.]
Carlos laughed. [Yet another research project, hmm? Sure, we can add it to the list.]
Amber duly wrote it down, along with a trip into the Wilds for Purple. [Okay. That leaves staff/resources. For improving the staff that we already have, well… I only have one idea for that. We could try helping them improve their soul plans, but doing that without teaching them house secrets could be tricky, and we'd have to convince them to tell us what they already have. The degree of specific details we might need to know in order to help is… enough that even asking would be rude.]
[I see.] Carlos shrugged. [There are ways around that. If we explain the basic idea of the kind of help we might be able to give them, then they can decide whether to share that information without us ever actually asking for it.]
Amber narrowed her eyes at him, then took a note. [Sure. I'll leave that conversation to you.] She glanced back at her notebook and sighed. [And that leaves acquiring new staff/resources. I suppose we could ask Darmelkon to help, but I'm not sure how much we can trust him. Aside from that…] She shook her head helplessly. [I know how to do small jobs and carefully save up, but that's hardly appropriate for us now as nobles.]
Carlos chuckled lightly. [Don't worry about it. I've seen enough of how people in positions of high authority do such things. There's a related saying I learned: "We have people for that." We can delegate it. Eventually, we will have to delegate it, because there will be too many things for us to even conceivably have enough time for all of them. We've kind of already delegated some things anyway: investigating the mercenaries and the illegal "rotation agreement."]
[Yeah. I wonder how those investigations are going.]
___
Far away, in a dimly lit prison cell, a heavily muscled man, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sighed and bowed his head. He wore only plain and loose clothes made of cheap cloth, save for the rune-inlaid steel manacles that bound his wrists together. He looked up again at the regal woman, dressed entirely in the dark orange of orichalcum, who was watching him from just outside the cell bars. "Your Highness, I can only tell you the same thing I told your interrogators: threats cannot change the simple fact that I do not have the knowledge that you seek. I intentionally set up ways for clients to hire my company without ever revealing any hint of their identities. That anonymity was part of what the Black Blades became known for; part of why people would choose to hire us."
The regal woman gazed at him impassively. "I am aware of your reputation, Captain Granlan. I also have a report of your company exacting retribution on a client who hired you under false pretenses and set you up to fail."
Granlan raised an eyebrow. "Does that report mention how long it took us to unwind the layers of cutouts and concealments to identify that particular client?"
The woman nodded. "Two and a half years, during which you were also pursuing other jobs, and you began with no specific suspicions. Imagine that you focus on the task exclusively; that you coordinate with the Crown on it; and that you start with a precise primary suspect in mind. How much faster do you think that could make it?"
Slowly, Granlan's weary frown changed into a grin. "Now we're talking!"
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~First~
HHH/Herbert’s Hundred Harem AND Harriett The Spy
The tunnel of dark blue gel seems to be leading upwards and upwards, the walkway more a chunky stairwell as behind him the masonry sink into the gel and then re-emerge in front of him. He climbs what feels to be several floors before cresting at a carpeted floor where a large polished wooden table is on bricks to bring it up to his elevated level. Opposite of it is an ornate and extremely detailed image of a woman in dark blue gel who wears a dark blue gel gown.
“Please, have a seat.” She says and there’s enough definition in her face for him to clearly make out a smile. Tendrils holding bottles and tins drop down from above and set the table between them with numerous snacks and drinks. “Care for a drink? A snack perhaps?”
“Hmm... you’re certainly prepared for things.” Jurgen notes.
“Her core is... at the edge of the scanning range. But there’s something odd with it. Beyond it’s absolutely titanic size.” His Handler states.
“Are you alright madam?” Jurgen asks.
“Pardon?” She asks and Jurgen taps his glasses.
“There is a tiny speaker whispering into my ear from these, and I have sensors on my belt. My friend on the other side tells me that your core is close, but something is different about it. Are you alright?” He says and all movement in the chamber freezes. The inner light from the gel dims and he can barely make out her silhouette before things start to brighten again as she regains control of herself.
“No. I am not. Which is why you are here.”
“Madam, I am no doctor. In fact, as a soldier I dare say that I’m legally about as far away from a doctor as one can be. Professionally at least.”
“True, but you’re part of an organization with many doctors. Many doctors who can operate in the Null and do not require Axiom to work.” She says.
“Madam, what’s wrong?”
“I... I do not if I can trust you yet. You and yours. I need your measure before I tell you. Your full measure and not just second and third hand accounts.” She says.
“Hence our little party.” Jurgen says.
“Indeed! A pleasant little party where I get to know you, where we become friends and where my every problem may very well be solved without anyone getting hurt! Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
“It does, but a party with just two is more a date I believe.” Jurgen says as he relaxes into his seat and examines the nearest bottle. “Hmm, this is a Cannidor style wine. Good stuff, if a little on the weak side.”
“Well, with human guests I figured I would need something a little sterner than average.”
“Indeed. So since you want my measure, how do you want to find it? Is there a topic in particular you’re interested in?”
“Why is it that you humans have taken a cultural artifact of The Apuk and reversed it as you have? It’s so odd. Give you a tail and some horns and I would mistake you for a very nervous man and not the downright fearless individual sitting before me.”
“Sitting before you?” Jurgen asks as he looks around and finds dark blue gel in every direction. “If anything I’m sitting within you. You surround me on all sides.”
“The question still stands.”
“It does indeed, I was stilling a bit to find the proper words.”
“Oh? Not having them handed to you?” She asks and after a moment Jurgen takes off his glasses and lays them on the table facing her. “Oh?”
“No, my own words. What I am is a member of Titan Squad as humanity exited Cruel Space all kinds of options became available to us for the first time. And one of the oldest stories, in every human culture is the idea of a giant or an ogre. An enormous human like creature of incredible strength, often with low intelligence, but not always. So the very idea of having someone so large on your side, not to mention the fact that other races are in fact this big, means it’s practical. Because we can have the giant soldiers without all the issues that... well you know... the issues!”
“Very eloquent.” She says with a smile and he shrugs.
“Sorry, it wasn’t something I debated about philosophically. I was asked if I wanted to be the biggest and most powerful I could be and I said yes. Well no, that’s not fully true, I asked if it was going to be some kind of drug that could affect me and I was told it was an Axiom Technique. So I asked if I could back out at any time and if it was reversable. Then I got the full explanation that I could turn back with ease and... I accepted.”
“Rather harder to turn back with numerous chunks of metal and machinery embedded into your spine.” All Lady says with a strange emphasis on her words and Jurgen considers that before leaning forward.
“Ma’am... is something... inside you? The real you and not the extension of your will that is the gel?” He asks and All Lady just stares at him for a bit then the back wall begins to shift. It slowly turns transparent and Jurgen stands up in shock as an enormous pitted sphere floats upwards into view. Then it turns. The back half has a massive crater inside it with numerous black veins all reaching out from a central point.
“Calm calm... must stay calm...” All Lady is whispering to herself all around him. “It feeds on pain and sorrow and misery, control your mind, control your fate.”
Jurgen picks up his glasses and puts them back on. “Dauntless are your reading this?”
“That core is easily twenty times the size of the largest on record!” His Handler states.
“Clearly, zoom in on the heart of that damage. What is it?”
“... What it is is setting off all my alerts and I’m getting a call. Hang on.” His Handler states.
“Are you alright?” Jurgen asks All Lady.
“No. I have not been alright for years.” All Lady says in a haunted tone. “It grows worse if I feel afraid, or angry, or sad or anything that isn’t positive. Joy can push it back, consideration and concern can as well. But any attempt to remove it just makes it worse.”
“I see and you think that you will need Null to stop it from getting worse?”
“Yes, there’s also the fact you’re very new to the galaxy. Whoever, whatever or why this was done to me...” She shakes her head even as she conceals her core again. “Humans had nothing to do with it. You’re not... you didn’t leave some kind of nightmare thing for innocents to be damned with.”
“How long have you been hurt?”
“Years, years now and it... it forces a budding, but doesn’t let me... it won’t let me...” All Lady pauses, all the gel shivers, goes still and she’s once again back to normal. “Needless to say, I want it out. And you Undaunted are the only people that cannot possibly be responsible and the only people guaranteed to have a way to force it out despite all the Axiom weirdness of it. I don’t care if it makes it worse, I want it out. But I need to know, is your reputation truly well earned?”
“I’d like to think it is.” Jurgen says.
“But I need... more. I need to know. I need to truly know your character before I take your word for it. Because my life depends on this.” All Lady says.
“Alright then, let us continue.”
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
Harriett stretches as she’s in a more comfortable outfit after being extracted. Not only had Tiaria been involved in whatever the latest madness was, but her recreational criminal activities were legion enough that they were going to be sitting on her for a while.
“Oh good riddance to bad rubbish. That simpering voice just got more annoying the more I had to hear it.” She says as she passes off her initial report. “Right, now I was promised a debriefing on what the hell is going on.”
“Yeah, and you’re getting it with your favourite coffee blend too.” The high and innocent voice of Herbert says as he passes in front of her with a tray full of hot drinks and donuts over his head. For some reason there’s a butter holster and a small sealed flask. She follows him into a nearby room and bafflers quickly turn on to keep things quiet.
“Well, things are serious if you’re only telling me in person.” She says and he nods.
“Yes ma’am. Check the butter.” Herbert says and she picks up the cover and notes that it’s a trytite and lead lined container to completely cut off whatever is in there. Inside is an odd piece of metal roughly the size of a pea. It’s vaguely reddish but... it’s not the colour of blood, but she can only think about blood and just looking at it makes her feel uncomfortable.
She covers it up again and looks towards Herbert before asking the question. “How bad?”
“Bad enough that the higher ups in the know are in complete agreement about not only keeping things secret as they can be but to also kick every beehive simultaneously.”
“What is it?”
“It’s called Blood Metal.”
“Very imaginative.”
“Yeah. It’s created by a brutal Axiom technique that causes a person’s own Axiom presence to turn on them and torture them to death. That little piece you saw? It takes about twenty people to produce that. All dying horribly.”
“Jesus...”
“We found enough for over fifteen billion people.” He says and she stares at him.
“Yeah, that’d do it.” She says.
“Or at least we thought so.”
“Don’t do the roller coaster thing, just give it all to me.”
“Alright, the bare bones is that we stumbled into an operation that was mass producing blood metal without murder, just owning the stuff without intending to destroy it somehow is illegal. This stuff is so rare no one really knows what it can do and we had evidence to think that there may be other hidden areas with more of it. We were right. But they were weird, acting like antenna.”
“Why would they need antenna?”
“The Mass Production Method requires a seed of blood metal to start, a sort of dirty amniotic fluid that no proper cloner would use outside an emergency and fear.”
“Fear?” She asks.
“Put the blood metal in the flash, it has the fluid in it. Then run some Axiom through it and we both will feel fear on top of the thing getting a little bigger.” He says and she stares at him for a moment before unscrewing the top of the flask and sniffing. It smells... it smells like a dirty hospital. The fluid inside is a piss yellow and has little bits in it. She then uncovers the small pea of blood metal and drops it in. She looks towards Herbert and he nods.
She runs Axiom through and jumps as her everything tightens up and she suddenly has her needler pistol out.
Herbert hasn’t drawn a weapon but he’s holding onto the table and his face is white. She slowly puts the assassination based weapon slowly away as her heart rate slowly returns to a normal pace.
“Well... you certainly said it. Holy god that was awful.” She says before glancing into the flask and finding the fluid gone. “It’s dry?”
“It is.” Herbert says before letting out a sigh and slipping into a seat. “That sensation never gets easier.”
“So we had antennas of blood metal harvesting the fear of... what? Where?”
“Bottom ten on dozens of spires.” Herbert says and she nods.
“That’s do it. If you want to find a paranoid you go down there and that’s fear by the boat load.” She says and then huffs. “At least, the ones that don’t start entire cults and communities around them.”
“Purple Perceivers still a problem?”
“In the sense that the crazy Mrega girl is gathering as many followers as she is crazy conspiracies.” Harriett says.
“Geeze, sorry to hear that. Is there anything else you need to know about things?”
“Hmm... dangerous barely substance was being mass produced using materials all over Centris. It was done in a new method that does not require torture and death, but that was not known at the beginning was it?”
“It was not.”
“Right... Yeah, something like this is a cause for a panic. What have you found so far?”
“So far we found the main mass production area, we think, and the low level employees and drones that maintain it. Tied it’s funding back to a con victim who’s about to get her assets back and who has led us to two other higher members, one an Alfar and one a Tret.”
“And Tiaria is possibly that Alfar. How did you narrow it down?”
“Numerous occasions where our con victim, one Miss Gina Bleat, was in their direct presence. It took a lot of computers a while to narrow down who wasn’t accounted for somewhere on Centris during that time.”
“What are the charges going to be?”
“At this moment there’s definitely a murder charge in there. Even if they started from a single basic seed, it required torturing someone to death to get it. Furthermore there are charges for unlicensed experiments on extremely dangerous substances without a license or proper safety procedures. Of which Blood Metal counts.” Herbert says. “However it’s going on the higher ups. Bleat is a victim, the guards are just rental cops and the janitors and engineers had no idea what they were working with. Blood Metal is rare enough that it’s reasonable to expect that people have no idea what it is when they see it.” Herbert explains and she nods.
“Hmm... so what does it do? If this stuff is so hard to create, then... what’s going on? Why bother making it?”
“It’s almost like combining trytite and khutha. It can hold many kinds of effects, but also tears apart hostile effects. Instead of ignoring them like trytite it’s... hostile to Axiom in a sense, drawing it in and seemingly eating it. Almost like a living thing.”
“Hmm... that’s... disquieting.” Harriett notes.
“It is. We have no idea what this stuff does to people. It devours and remakes Axiom effects constantly and since a good chunk of non-human biology is based in the Axiom itself then there’s not telling what it would do to another species with a piece inside them. To say nothing of the fact that someone figured out a way to mass produce this stuff, we may know the how but the big question of why is still very much in need of an answer.”
“And that’s on top of the more ‘humane’ and ‘safe’ method requires you to feed it fear and amniotic fluid. I mean... seriously, that’s weird.”
“It is.” Herbert says.
“Yes it is kiddo.” She teases.
“Please stop.”
“Then stop playing the part of my little brother or son in infiltration missions.” She answers.
“Would you prefer my desperate spinster aunt?” Herbert mocks.
“It’d be a change of pace.” She says and he snorts in amusement.
~First~ Last Next

This preparation is extremely easy and leads to a better product than any street cocaine. I made my tek from the other day simpler to follow and more specific. I’ve now done this four times and it hasn’t gone wrong once. (This will only be ready in half an hour if you’re comfortable boofing or have the means to make a nasal spray.)
Materials: A small beaker (50-100mL). A hot plate or electric stove and thermometer. Something to crush with. Something to stir with. Filter paper. Universal pH paper. A dropper that measures in at least 0.25mL increments.
Chemicals: Cocaine freebase. Pure ethyl acetate. 1M Sulfuric Acid. Distilled water.
Crush 1g crack into powder. Stir it into warm water. Discard the water, being careful to leave the crack behind. Lab filter paper is ideal.
Water amount is arbitrary. Maybe 10-40mL tops. This step removes baking soda that was left behind when the crack was made. This is likely the only major impurity. You start from crack because the purity is typically much better with that form of cocaine, despite the price being the same or better than powder. It also contains more cocaine by weight than powder. (This convenient loophole is the reason I set out to come up with a fool-proof tek)
Dissolve the crack in 3mL of (pure) ethyl acetate inside your beaker. Exact amount doesn’t matter as long as the crack fully dissolves. The less the better.
Add 1mL or so of dilute sulfuric acid until the pH is 5.5-6. Add in 0.1-0.2mL increments, stir for 30 seconds and then check pH before next acid addition.
Once you have the desired pH, put the mixture on a hot plate set to 80 degrees celcius. (Just above boiling point of ethyl acetate) (if your solution doesn’t look milky when you hold it up to light, more acid is needed)
Allow the mixture to reduce down to a clearish syrup that’s only around 0.5mL in volume. This will ensure all the ethyl acetate is gone. As long as you’re at a small scale as described, doing this indoors doesn’t pose a health risk.
Add 4.5mL of distilled water. You now have a bit over a gram of cocaine sulfate, at a perfect boofing concentration. The entire process up until here takes less than half an hour.
Boof 0.5mL at a time for roughly 100mg doses of cocaine sulfate. Enjoy this superior salt form through a superior route of administration. Double check the pH before boofing. Less than a pH of 3 should not be consumed.
If you desire a snortable powder, skip the 4.5mL of water addition and instead leave it on the hot plate at 50C for as long as it takes to become dry. It may be a very long time. If vacuum drying is possible for you, do that. It’s important not to overheat it. Through some magical fuckery, I’ve had coke magically disappear. Also the melting point seems to be somewhere in the 90’s.
(Note: Do not transfer the wet syrup between vessels or attempt to poke or stir it. It is extremely concentrated and any mechanical loss will be a lot of coke)
Be sure it’s fully dry before snorting, the sulfuric acid is the last thing to evaporate and it becomes concentrated towards the end of the drying process. The pH of the water after the ethyl acetate has evaporated will be around 3-4. That’ll only get lower as it reduces further.
(Trick: Drop in a very tiny pebble of crack when it’s low- You’ll see it fizzing and dissolving.. This will use up excess acid and lead to a faster evaporation. If the pebble entirely dissolves, add another. Stop when it stops dissolving)
I find cocaine sulfate to have less physical side effects than cocaine HCl and a generally more functional and smooth feel. It’s technically less potent by weight, but this process will lead to a purity higher than any raw cocaine powder, so it will feel more potent than any coke you’ve tried.
Even with a tolerance where I felt like I couldn’t really get high, the first time I did a line of sulfate I felt great and immediately wanted to get shit done. (This might come down to purity more than salt, not sure)
And if you have a bad batch of powder cocaine, turning it into crack and then back into powder is the best way to wash it. Acetone washing doesn’t do all that much on its own, I find. Use ammonia to make crack to avoid introducing new impurities. (Still be sure to acetone wash it prior to freebasing it though.)
Enjoy!

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ZNS 2228

Fatigue clung to Ditvish like a suffocating shroud, his crimson eyes heavy with exhaustion. The crew’s voices murmured in the background like distant echoes. He had been awake for forty-five hours straight. Even with a steady schedule of stimulant drinks and injections, he could feel the fight being sapped out of his body every passing minute. His fingers, once nimble on the controls, now moved with a leaden slowness, the tactile sensations dulled by the ceaseless grind of exhaustion. But he couldn’t succumb; the weight of responsibility chained him to the command chair.
A beep on his console snapped him out of his hazy trance. He blinked, the world momentarily sharpening around him.
“Ten Whiskers, we are getting… a local transmission,” Skvanu reported, seeming hesitant.
“Which squadron?”
“None of them, Ten Whiskers,” he replied, taking a deep breath. “There’s a Lesser Predator communication drone two thousand kilometers to our bow. It… appears to be hailing us.”
Fully awake now, Ditvish stood up from his chair. “Two thousand kilometers to our bow? Have the whole fleet scan the volume!”
The sensors of the entire fleet focused on the area around the detected drone. The sensors strained, their electronic eyes unblinking, in search of their elusive adversaries. Sensing their continued failure, Ditvish sighed and looked at Skvanu.
“What is the communication drone saying?” he asked. “Play it on the main screen.”
Skvanu fiddled with his controls for a brief moment, and the screen filled with the presence of one of the Lesser Predators.
The bridge crew silenced at the displayed recording. It was not the first time they had seen a specimen of the enemy, but they were more accustomed to seeing these images in training films, interrogations, and prison camps. It— She… began to spoke in well-translated Znosian.
“I am High Fleet Commander Grionc of the Malgeir Sixth Fleet. Ten Whiskers Ditvish, you have fought with determination and cunning, but your ships have been defeated. You have lost Datsot and Gruccud. Your twenty-six squadrons have been trapped and we can slaughter you like meal animals at any moment of our choosing. There is no escape. Surrender with honor, and you and your crew will be treated with the kindness you do not deserve. You have a few moments to decide. If not, well, this wasn’t my idea in the first place, and I only promised to try.”
The message cut off.
Ditvish hissed with anger, staring at Skvanu. “Send this straight back to the animals: our lives were all forfeited to the Prophecy the day we left the hatchling pool. Your threats of death have no effect on me or my crew. We will make sure enough of you Lesser Predators join us in the afterlife for it to be worth it. The Prophecy will be fulfilled through us.”
“Yes, Ten Whiskers.”
The response came back almost instantly. This time, Ditvish could tell the predator on the screen was no mere recording. This was a live transmission relayed through the communication drone.
“Curious, for an excommunicated Znosian to invoke the Prophecy. Or did you not hear, Ten Whiskers? You are no longer considered part of Prophecy. State Security has condemned your entire crew and thrown you out of the Prophecy. Even your high command has abandoned you. If you miraculously escape, all that awaits you back in Znos is torture and death. And if you die here, there is no afterlife. Not for you, if you believe in the Prophecy anyway. What awaits you in mortality is no different from the void that awaits the rest of us.”
“Predator lies!” Ditvish hissed at the screen.
She replied, smug creeping into her voice, “I knew you’d say that. Which is why I came with the receipts. Roll the tape and see for yourself.”
The screen was replaced by a video that began to show a remote hearing on Znos. The cursed State Security Agent, Svatken, began her accusations — weaving a preposterous tale of scandal and betrayal — presenting from her screen obviously fabricated evidence of his fleet stealing supply ships from the Navy, killing his own subordinates who were loyal to the Prophecy, and preparing a full-species schism to the gasps of the shocked judges.
By the second minute, Ditvish knew in his heart that the recording was real. No fabrication of the enemy could understand this much of Znosian culture, express this much nuance, and elaborate with this much historical context.
Svatken then walked the judges through the dozen or so rolls of drone footage, the testimony of his poor five whiskers officer (obtained through torture, undoubtedly), the intercepted recording of a message from one of the ship masters of Atluftrosh’s raiding fluffle who he thought dead, ending with the final and most damning discovery: the fleet of supply drones hidden just one sector away from Datsot.
None of which he’d seen before. Obviously, they must all have been fabricated by Svatken. He knew he should have done something about her earlier…
The commission judges ate it up, displaying shock and outrage at every revelation.
Now that Ditvish thought about it, the hearing results were most likely pre-determined.
“And even if this is not apostasy of the first order, a crime not seen in Navy leadership in centuries,” Svatken concluded to the hearing audience, “The alternate explanation is incompetence from a ten whiskers that is so outrageous it may as well be apostasy. Not only that, the Ten Whiskers has refused to take responsibility for these failures, as is his duty not only as an officer of the Navy, but as a civilized member of the Znosian species. In light of these shocking evidence, State Security demands that he be stripped of his rank, arrested, questioned extensively to root out co-conspirators, and then permanently removed from the Prophecy.”
The judges discussed it among themselves, and the video sped up that part. The pronouncement came seconds later on the video, as grave as they were certain: that Ten Whiskers Ditvish was to be—
“Shut it off, now!” Ditvish ordered, knowing that regardless of the transparency of the lies spoken in the video, his officers would force themselves to obey them as if they were real.
“Yes, Ten Whiskers,” Skvanu obeyed without hesitation, knowing what was coming next too.
To the credit of their discipline, none of the bridge crew members said a word nor acknowledged what they clearly heard. More likely, Ditvish thought, the dullards didn’t make the connections.
“Believe me now?” Grionc asked, and he could hear her satisfaction even through the translation. “That mess is what awaits you all back on Znos.”
“Lesser Predators trickery,” he snarled. “Like all predators, your species specializes in manipulation and exploitation of innocent species like ours. Congratulations. You have just proven what we already knew: that you would stoop so low as to fabricate… such a… dishonest fiction. Now, join us in battle, and you will see what glories await my crew and spacers in Znos when they find that we have destroyed the supposedly legendary Lesser Predator Sixth Fleet. Your people will despair. Your worlds will fall. They will be cleansed of all traces of your barbarism. And then and only then, the Prophecy will be fulfilled through—”
“Sure, sure,” Grionc snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’ve tried my best this way. Now we’re going to try the more fun way. Every hour, we will call you again to see if you have changed your mind. I will try my best to pretend not to enjoy this in front of the… civilized folks also watching this, Grass Eater, but it will be oh, so very, very hard. See your ten ugly whiskers in an hour.”
Then the transmission cut out.
“All ships to battle stations now with primary duty crews,” Ditvish ordered. “I don’t care if you have to fry your circuits to boost your radars. I want the enemy found!”
They waited another thirty minutes before the attack. Just when the Znosians were beginning to think the Lesser Predators had been bluffing, it happened without warning.
The missiles glided noiselessly out of the Terran ships in the dark of space. Three Falconet long-range missiles from each of the eight state-of-the-art combat vessels, the best that Sol could imagine in its forges of war: next-generation Python-class missile destroyers.
Their purpose was not reconnaissance; it was not subterfuge. They were not built with large volumes dedicated to cargo, communications, nor devices of trickery. Their purpose was combat, space combat, and like their builders, they were masters of their craft.
But the Python’s engines’ impressive performance specifications were not required. Not today.
Today, they were not asked for complex maneuvers or innovative tactics; they were merely the deliverers. The messengers of death.
The released Falconet anti-ship missiles coasted silently towards the enemy fleet, waiting, programmed to go loud when they got detected. But they were not. The Znosians could not even detect the much larger ships that launched them, and these missiles’ frontal arcs were coated with the same radar and thermal absorbent paint their motherships were. Their quiet onboard sensors did not even register on the enemy’s threat reaction instruments.
Not until they were a mere five hundred kilometers away: a few of them were finally spotted by the enemy’s thermal sensors staring straight at their semi-occluded drive plumes.
But that was too late. Way too late.
Most of their targets did not even have time to activate their point defense systems. A couple did manage to start tracking them with their relatively primitive fire control radars, causing the missiles to instinctively release their state-of-the-art penetration aids: decoys, electronic dazzlers, and all. The Znosian point defense systems were barely patched to understand that this was something that missiles could even do from their previous encounters with the obsolete Pigeon missiles, and the super-Terran intelligence chips on the Falconet sighed metaphorically in disappointment that the point defense computers on the target ships could not even possibly understand just how outclassed they were.
They took their time to adjust their flight paths in terminal maneuvers. The hopelessly confused defenses of the enemy obviously did not pose enough of a threat for that to be problematic. Most of them went for the location of the enemy reactor core.
A couple of the more creative missiles decided that a hit to the enemy’s ammunition magazines could prove to be a more interesting experiment for the Terrans who launched them.
And a particularly inspired Falconet decided that the enemy bridge, full of enemies after all, could be a more valuable target. It was, of course, wrong; its plasma jet vaporized the enemy ship’s bridge and its entire frontal section but did not instantly destroy the ship. Ah, better luck next time, it thought before it made its disappointed damage report and incinerated its own intelligence chip as the self-destruct sequence kicked in.
For the remaining, the plasma jets from the modern anti-ship missiles lanced into the critical areas of the enemy ships, and two full squadrons (minus half of a lucky ship missing “only” its bridge and its frontal hemisphere) of Znosian Navy ships disappeared into expanding clouds of debris and radiation.
“It’s Squadrons 6 and 20, Ten Whiskers,” Skvanu reported in astonishment. “They’re gone.”
Ditvish said nothing, merely sinking into his command chair in despair.
“It’s a new kind of enemy munition,” Skvanu continued. “We did not even see most of it coming with our sensors aimed at them. A few ships in Squadron 5 claimed to have spotted a sensor ghost on their thermal sensors before impact, but no one successfully engaged any. Squadron 5 Leader is taking full responsibility for this failure.”
There were no sounds on the shocked bridge except that of the engine hum for a minute.
Skvanu broke the silence. “Ten Whiskers, what should we do?”
“Call the Lesser Predators again.”
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Chapter 58: Great Predators