I spent 4 long years with a therapist who, looking back, was actually extremely detrimental to me. Here are the red flags I experienced, so maybe some of you can identify a harmful therapist quicker than 4 years:

1. You feel CONFUSED after sessions —- I would often walk away from sessions feeling utterly confused. Confused about what she said, how I felt, why I didn’t receive support, why she was so harsh on me. And overall, I was just very confused about the treatment plan. We would constantly make a plan for the next session, or next several sessions, and then she would just ditch the plan for no reason.

You should never feel CONFUSED. To me, the confusion felt the same as being emotional manipulated by an abuser. Like totally confused, but unable to pinpoint why.

1. The therapist doesn’t show up for sessions —- Exactly what it says, you show up on zoom or in the office, and she is nowhere to be found, and doesn’t respond to texts or calls til later that day. Then tries to gaslight you and say you didn’t have a session scheduled. She never accepted accountability, even once.
   
2. You feel like you’re being SEXUALLY HARASSED —- She would always make these weird comments about how beautiful I was. And then started saying “you have a beautiful body”, literally every session. This was especially hard to deal with because I am working through childhood sexual assault. I eventually blew up at her and demanded that she stopped. She said she was “just trying to improve my body image, and help me connect with my body more”.
   
3. They prefer to spend the session monologuing to you rather than helping you —- She was really into eastern philosophy and folk tales. She would often spend the entire session just preaching these to me, and I wouldn’t even get to talk about what I intended to, because there wasn’t enough time left.
   
4. They INSULT you —— She called me a bad person once because I was going on a date that I didn’t want to go on. I was hoping for support on how to navigate that situation, but instead have spent the last several months just recovering from being called a bad person. This type of insult is particularly triggering for me, and she knew that, she did in on purpose. I totally shut down for a long time. All over a minor situation, that I needed support for, not an insult.
   

She also would laugh at me and make me feel self conscious about my thoughts, feelings, and behaviors.

1. They offer you drugs —- My therapist knew I had found benefit from psychedelics. She started trying to connect me with a peyote practitioner. I thought this was weird because it felt like it breached a boundary of therapists not connecting with you in social ways outside of sessions. And it seems weird to offer unregulated, unstudied drugs to your clients, even if I’ve used other substances before.
   
2. You suspect they DON’T WANT YOU TO GET BETTER —- I would tell her very clearly what I wanted to reprocess with EMDR. She would always find excuses about why it wasn’t possible. Like she was going to Japan, or something that doesn’t have anything to do with you. Or sometimes we would complete 1 EMDR session on a memory, and then she’d perpetually find reasons we couldn’t work on that memory again. Like “there are more important things to work on”. Or her hand buzzers for EMDR would constantly break, she’d say we couldn’t do EMDR until she bought new ones, but then never bought new ones all 4 years.
   

So I felt like memories were constantly being dug up by occasionally doing EMDR, but never actually fully reprocessing anything. I think she was intentionally making me worse by digging up these traumatic memories, then refusing to continue working on them.

1. You STILL haven’t worked on the problem you initially sought therapy for —- I initially sought therapy for trauma from abusive relationships. We just constantly got side-tracked, and even after 4 years, we never did EMDR on it.

9.She tries to bribe you to continue seeing her —- When I told her I would no longer be seeing her anymore, she began offering free sessions and extended sessions, to get me to stay with her. Really weird and unprofessional. I’m not like a customer at a retail store who you give coupons to entice them to shop there.
~~ ANYWAY ~~ If you have some strange feeling that your therapist is harming you, they probably are!!! As traumatized people, we’re really bad at detecting harmful people, because harmful people feel normal to us. I now have a therapist who actually helps me, respects me, shows up, is organized, and has already shown she’s motivated to help me get better. Hope this helps someone.

Hello everyone,
I hope you are doing well. I created this post in French but decided to translate it into English to get more feedback.
I have a good job, I have had a good education (8 years), and I have a good memory. However, I am unable to describe the color of my toothbrush, my kitchen paint, my laundry bag, or the clothes my partner wears after spending the day with her (unless they are out of the ordinary and I tell myself in my head "oh look, she's wearing such and such thing"). I have a hard time recognizing a character in a movie between two scenes, I can talk to someone for 30 minutes at the bus stop and not recognize them the next day (unless they physically stand out or I have said to myself out loud "oh he's a redhead with a banana-shaped black bag," but if he changes color the next day, it's a lost cause). I no longer remember my visual memories from childhood, adolescence, the faces of my teachers, the apartments I stayed in on vacation, the landscapes I saw...
On the other hand, I learn very well, I can remember for years the color of a cup if I told myself "I have a red coffee cup, it is red," but without putting words to what I see, I don't retain it.
Now about imagination, it’s rather hard to describe what I see or don't see because I only have my own experience… If I think of a dragon, I imagine it, I feel more like I conceptualize it, I know it’s a beast with certainly two wings, a head with scales, etc., I can sometimes imagine something for a 1/10th of a second, but I don’t really see it. I'm sure no one really sees a dragon anyway, I imagine we all imagine a dragon but without really seeing it… since I only have my own frame of reference it's complicated, it would be perfect if someone could see through my eyes, my imagination, to see if we see in the same way. If I think of one of my two cats, Nahla for example, I know she is black, with white paws, but I don't see her. I can't imagine her meowing, rolling on the floor, or seeing her do it again.
I'm a bit lost about aphantasia, I don't know if it's nonsense and, in that case, some people are more optimistic than others about what they can imagine, feel like they see, or if people really can see a cat rolling on the floor in their heads, a dragon flying.
What do you think? Thank you!
Best regards

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We pick up in the aftermath of WrestleMania 32, where John Cena lost the WWE World Heavyweight Title in a triple threat match with Roman Reigns to Dean Ambrose, before shockingly assaulting both men with a steel chair after the bell. Naturally, the night after WrestleMania sees a very angry Ambrose marching to the ring with the gold, not granted the usual pomp and circumstance of a brand new fan favourite champion. He says Reigns is out injured for the time being, and he wants a piece of Cena. He doesn’t care if the title is on the line, he doesn’t care what the hell happens, he wants revenge, because that smarmy bastard pulled a Seth Rollins on them.
On the titantron, Cena appears, saying that he’ll be happy to meet Ambrose for the WWE World Heavyweight Title at Payback. Ambrose shouts that if he’s so reliant on chairs, they should make it No DQ, and Cena shrugs, agreeing. He says that Dean simply isn’t on his level one on one - he and Reigns had to team up to take Cena out, and soon enough, Reigns is going to get wise to the kind of man Ambrose is. He can compare Cena to Seth all he likes, but Dean is the Judas, throwing Reigns out of the ring to notch the pin. He’s selfish, just like everybody else is, because it’s a dog eat dog world, even for the Hounds of Justice.
The next week, Cena is set to appear, and he does so with the rule that Ambrose and Reigns are barred from the arena while he’s there. He comes out to explain his actions in a suit and tie, and says that at WrestleMania, he wanted to play fair, just as he had before. He gave Roman another opportunity that he didn’t have to, he didn’t cheat, and he got ganged up on and failed, and everybody he fought for cheered as he lay there, miserable, because he realized he’d been a damn fool. He’d preached his morals and they failed him, and the world laughed. It was Ambrose’s opportune timing that won him the gold, and, as much as he doesn’t like Kevin Owens, he gets where he was coming from last year. Cena’s won titles by playing dirty, and if that’s what he has to do to rectify the error that is Dean Ambrose being the WWE Champion, so be it. If that’s what the fans will go along with, so be it, and if it’s not, fine. He’s teaching people how to truly succeed, how to truly be the best, and that’s to stop at nothing, to not take no for an answer - to never give up. At Payback, Cena won’t give up until the title is back in his hands, the face of WWE is restored, and the Franchise is back on top.
Payback 2016
No DQ Match for the WWE World Heavyweight Title: John Cena vs. Dean Ambrose (c)
Cena enters first with new gear to match the new energy - he’s got boxing shorts with “Franchise” in metallic gold lettering along the waistband, and a US flag-adorned boxing robe draped over his shoulders, left open for the title he intends to walk out with. Ambrose is out next to an ovation, and IMMEDIATELY, IT’S A SCRAP ON THE RAMP! Cena’s power is all the more dangerous without the Franchise looking to keep a lid on it for his opponent’s safety, and he overwhelms Dean with a TACKLE THROUGH THE BARRICADE, FOLLOWED BY AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT THROUGH THE ANNOUNCE TABLE! He sends Ambrose back in, mounting him with a ground and pound, busting Dean’s lip before rolling out of the ring and sending in the steel steps, launching them over the top rope and STRAIGHT INTO THE CHAMPION! He slides in a few chairs next, and sets up a new table on the outside. Finally, he picks up the title too, wrenching it out of the timekeeper’s hands before AMBROSE FLIES INTO HIM WITH A SUICIDE DIVE! Frantically, Dean lands as many blows as he can, flinging a chair at Cena before CLOCKING HIM WITH THE TITLE! Cena’s stunned, not quite sure where he is as Ambrose lays him out on the table, clambering to the top rope with an ELBOW DROP TO THE FLOOR! THESE TWO ARE OUT FOR BLOOD, BUT THEY’RE BOTH DOWN AND OUT NOW!
Ambrose is the first to start stirring, the Lunatic Fringe welcoming the challenge and grabbing a steel chair, looking to inflict the exact same pain on Cena that the challenger did to him at WrestleMania. He lifts it up, but CENA DELIVERS A LOW BLOW! IT’S NO DISQUALIFICATION! Already battered and bruised, Cena sends Dean in, hoping to end things with another Attitude Adjustment, but DEAN DROPS DOWN FOR A DIRTY DEEDS, ONLY FOR CENA TO RUN HIM INTO THE TURNBUCKLES, DRIVING HIS SHOULDER INTO THE BODY OVER AND OVER! Finally, Ambrose slumps over, and Cena rolls out of the ring, grabbing a pair of handcuffs. He attaches one end to Ambrose’s wrist, trying to lock the other one behind his back before Dean NAILS A DIRTY DEEDS! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO! Ambrose can’t believe it, but he’s unrelenting, now sliding out himself and tossing a bag into the ring. He empties it out… MY GOD, THOSE ARE THUMBTACKS! Dean chuckles, lining up for a Knee Trembler as Cena comes to in the corner, and CHARGING STRAIGHT INTO AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT, BUT CENA IMMEDIATELY CUFFS DEAN TO THE BOTTOM ROPE! Springing up, Cena locks eyes with the champion just out of reach, mockingly waving his hand in front of his face before grabbing the steel chair… AND EATING A FACEFUL OF TACKS, AMBROSE THROWING A HANDFUL STRAIGHT AT HIM! Cena’s blinded temporarily, and HERE COMES THE BIG DOG! Reigns unscrews the turnbuckle, Ambrose able to move freely within the ring, and he delivers a… ELEVATED DIRTY DEEDS STRAIGHT INTO THE THUMBTACKS! ONE! TWO! THREE! DEAN AMBROSE SURVIVES JOHN CENA WITH SOME A LITTLE HELP FROM A BROTHER IN ARMS, BUT WHAT A GRISLY WAR IT WAS!
Road to the 2016 Draft
Both frustrated with the loss and nursing his wounds, Cena vanishes from TV for a good stretch of time, filming a few projects before being grouped into Smackdown’s first round of picks, right after WWE Champion Dean Ambrose. He doesn’t appear, but it’s declared he’ll have his first match as a blue brand representative at Battleground, the final PPV before the split is officially enacted. Ambrose is set to defend his title against Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins in a huge Shield triple threat, meaning it won’t be against him, but it’s definitely a man he has a whole hell of a lot of history with - after six years apart, John Cena will once again share a brand with AJ Styles, and both men are very different performers than they were when they last met. Styles calls Cena out the moment it’s announced he’ll be at Battleground, saying he wants to meet the Franchise one on one, beat the blue brand’s biggest name, and assert himself as the Face That Runs The Place. Backed up by the Club, Styles is confident and unafraid to pull some cheap tricks, but he’s definitely got the crowd behind him as an opponent of Cena’s. Cena accepts on Twitter, but brushes AJ off, saying he’s spent the last six years main eventing WrestleManias for a reason, and he’ll illustrate it against Styles at Battleground.
Battleground 2016
John Cena vs. AJ Styles
Styles and Cena finally meet again, and the world is watching as they face off in the middle of the ring, immediately launching into a hockey fight. Cena sends Styles to the floor, driving him into the apron before POWERBOMBING HIM ACROSS THE BARRICADE! He focuses his offense on the back, more than content to just drive a knee into the spine and sit in the middle of the ring for a while, or even apply AN ABDOMINAL STRETCH! AJ’S GONNA TAP! THIS IS IT! STYLES SOMEHOW FIGHTS FREE, BUT NOW CENA’S GOT A BEAR HUG, BY GOD! Cena’s draining the life out of AJ, and finally turns it into a belly to belly, following it with a few shoulder blocks before CALLING FOR THE FIVE KNUCKLE SHUFFLE! The crowd boos as he leans over Styles, but AJ KICKS HIM IN THE CROWN OF THE HEAD, FOLLOWING IT WITH A PELE KICK! Cena’s on the ropes, and AJ lights him up with a phenomenal combination, followed by a snap suplex before hopping to the apron for a SPRINGBOARD 450 SPLASH! ONE! TWO! THR-NOOO! Styles keeps the pressure on, overwhelming Cena with his speed and strikes, but Cena’s power neutralizes AJ’s output when he counters a hurricanrana with a HUGE POWERBOMB, BUT HE HOLDS ON, DEADLIFTING AJ UP… A SECOND FOLDING POWERBOMB! ONE! TWO! THR-KICKOUT, AND CENA GUTWRENCHES HIM UP FOR A THIRD, AGAIN GETTING TWO!
Continuously working over Styles’ back, Cena delivers a few suplexes, followed by a particularly vicious wheelbarrow suplex that folds AJ up like an accordion. He calls for a lariat, but Styles ducks, spinning around behind Cena for a GERMAN SUPLEX OF HIS OWN! Before Cena can even get up, AJ springs off the middle rope… STYLIN’ DDT CONNECTS! AJ hits his signature pose, feeling the energy of the crowd as he looks for the STYLES CLASH, BUT CENA SIMPLY MUSCLES HIM UP FOR AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO! AJ struggles to get to his feet as Cena is poised to deliver another Attitude Adjustment, but AJ REVERSES INTO AN INVERTED DDT! Clutching his back, Styles makes his way to the apron, calling for a Phenomenal Forearm as a result of his uncertainty about lifting Cena up. He springs onto the top rope, and CENA PULLS THE REFEREE INTO THE WAY, AJ PAUSING ATOP THE ROPE… AND CENA TAKING OUT HIS FEET FROM UNDER HIM, FOLLOWING IT WITH AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! Styles is operating on instinct alone as he tries to keep going, Cena not even bothering to cover, but instead DELIVERING A HELLACIOUS LARIAT, BEHEADING STYLES! JESUS, WHAT A MANEUVER! ONE! TWO! THREE! JOHN CENA PICKS UP THE UNDERHANDED WIN!
John Cena def. AJ Styles (21:45)
Road to SummerSlam 2016
AJ comes out on Smackdown and cuts a promo about how he hates WWE ropes, just like he hates lucha ropes, and just like how he hates John Cena. He says he and John have a lot of history, and that last chapter was far from a satisfying one in their story - so he wants another go round at SummerSlam, and he wants to BEAT UP JOHN CENA! The Club back him up wholeheartedly, Gallows and Anderson promising to make sure that at SummerSlam, Cena can’t pull a fast one on the Phenomenal One. It’s Daniel Bryan who makes it official, a disgruntled Cena fairly disappointed to spend SummerSlam outside the title scene, but accepting that he’ll just have to beat AJ’s ass again. They have a face-to-face on the go-home show, both acknowledging their shared history, but Cena saying there’s a reason he got to make the big bucks earlier than Styles. He’s the star, the Franchise, and he’s proven it day in and day out for fourteen years, while AJ’s been having five star matches for a hot dog and a handshake - something that didn’t benefit him at all at Battleground. Styles fires back that Cena may have won his first Rumble, may have won the WWE Title at WrestleMania 27, but it was a long time before he beat the top guy - and AJ’s on pace to do so that much faster, because he’s going to put Cena in the dirt at SummerSlam. They do some additional posturing before Styles throws a punch, Cena going for a lariat before immediately ducking out as Gallows and Anderson appear.
SummerSlam 2016
John Cena vs. AJ Styles
Both men have something to prove heading into this one - while neither shies away from cheating at this point, they both want a clean, decisive victory to hold over the other’s head after so many years apart. It’s a lot of mat wrestling to start as they try to get the mental advantage early, Cena’s power and Styles’ speed and agility still being key on the ground as John tries to muscle AJ into submissions and AJ tries to snake around him and find the right opportunity to strike. Soon enough, John gets fed up and tries to powerbomb Styles through the ring, earning two. They keep the action strictly in the ring, trading holds, strikes and suplexes in equal measure before AJ starts taking to the skies, landing a Stylin’ DDT and starting to work over Cena’s legs. John keeps the offense focused on the back, but soon enough, Styles manages to CINCH IN THE CALF CRUSHER! Cena’s in trouble, and he desperately scrambles to the ropes, Styles more than happy to keep it in until four before releasing the hold and delivering a SPRINGBOARD 450 SPLASH! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO!
Styles keeps the pressure on with a flurry of strikes, following it with an Ushigoroshi before calling for the Styles Clash, but Cena simply counters with a back body drop before unleashing a brutal series of backbreakers, followed by an ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOOO! Fed up, Cena dumps AJ onto the top turnbuckle, potentially going for his patented avalanche German, but Styles fights tooth and nail to avoid being dropped to the mat. He nails a sequence of elbows, and CALLS FOR A STYLES CLASH OFF THE MIDDLE ROPE, BUT CENA REVERSES… AVALANCHE ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-STYLES KICKS OUT? HOW ON EARTH DID HE MANAGE TO GET THE SHOULDER UP? The Franchise is in a state of disbelief, but he elects to go for his massive lariat, waiting for Styles to get up before BEING SENT HEADLONG INTO THE RING POST BY AJ! Styles drags himself to the top rope as John lies starfished on the canvas… STYLES WITH A SPIRAL TAP, BUT CENA ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY, AJ SMACKING INTO THE MAT! CENA GETS HIM UP FOR ANOTHER ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT, BUT AJ COUNTERS INTO A VICTORY ROLL! ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT, BUT HE NAILS A PELE KICK, STUMBLING TO THE APRON… PHENOMENAL FOREARM, AND NOW A STYLES CLASH! ONE! TWO! THREE! AJ STYLES HAS BEATEN JOHN CENA, CLEAN AS A WHISTLE!
AJ Styles def. John Cena (28:17)
Backlash 2016
Cena’s nowhere to be seen after SummerSlam, Styles celebrating his win and riding the wave into a title match with Dean Ambrose for Backlash - a match that he ekes out a win for, picking up his first WWE Championship at about the same rate as Cena. However, the party is crashed by the Franchise himself, with Cena running down and laying waste to both Ambrose and Styles, his two most heated rivals from the year thus far. He eyes up the WWE Title again, laying eyes on it for the first time since Payback, and it’s pretty clear where this needs to go.
Road to No Mercy 2016
On the SmackDown after Backlash, Shane McMahon and Daniel Bryan reprimand Cena’s actions, but say that as he does have a win over Styles from Battleground, it makes sense for him to challenge for the WWE Championship, should AJ be willing to defend it against him. Styles comes out, brash as ever, but he’s interrupted by Dean Ambrose, who wants a rematch for the gold at No Mercy. AJ says he wants revenge against Cena, and Ambrose can get back in line, but McMahon makes the judgement call - at No Mercy, AJ will make his first defense of the gold in a triple threat match against Dean Ambrose and John Cena.
No Mercy 2016
WWE Title: John Cena vs. AJ Styles (c) vs. Dean Ambrose
It’s a blockbuster triple threat match to open the show, with Dean Ambrose the fan favourite looking to overcome the odds and reclaim the WWE championship against two outright villains in Styles and Cena. However, he doesn’t have to worry about AJ and John teaming up against him, because all three men in this bout loathe each other. Cena makes a beeline for Ambrose, and Ambrose makes a beeline for Cena, leading to AJ just rolling on out of the ring and letting the two enemies duke it out. Cena and Ambrose brawl around ringside, Cena going for an Attitude Adjustment on the outside, but AJ SPRINGING OFF THE BARRICADE FOR A PHENOMENAL FOREARM AS DEAN DROPS DOWN! Ambrose lays out Styles with a Thesz Press, sending the champion back in and going for Dirty Deeds, but AJ reverses into a Northern Lights Suplex, following it with a Pele Kick before going for a PHENOMENAL FOREARM, BUT AMBROSE HAS NO HESITATION IN KICKING OUT THE ROPE, CROTCHING AJ ON THE TOP BEFORE HITTING A DIRTY DEEDS! ONE! TWO! THRE-CENA SAVES IT, FLINGING AMBROSE TO THE FLOOR BEFORE HITTING STYLES WITH AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOW AMBROSE BREAKS IT UP, AND IT’S A HOCKEY FIGHT BETWEEN THE TWO CHALLENGERS! Ambrose gets the upper hand with his frantic striking and absurd resiliency, but Cena responds with a punch to the throat before DECAPITATING AMBROSE WITH A LARIAT, ONLY FOR STYLES TO SEND CENA TO THE OUTSIDE! Cena scrambles to his feet… AJ WITH A PHENOMENAL FOREARM TO THE FLOOR, LEAPING UP TO THE APRON FOR ANOTHER ONE TO AMBROSE! ONE! TWO! THREE! THE TRIPLE THREAT CURSE CONTINUES FOR JOHN CENA, BECAUSE AJ STYLES’ WWE TITLE REIGN LIVES TO SEE ANOTHER DAY!
AJ Styles def. John Cena and Dean Ambrose (23:06) to retain the WWE Title
Road to Survivor Series 2016
Naturally, John Cena’s a little sour coming out of No Mercy, but it’s Daniel Bryan who’s the first to reach out to him. He says Survivor Series is coming up, and it’s brand warfare, and Cena says he doesn’t care. However, Bryan keeps pressing - he says he and Cena have been through wars together, and he needs John Cena to represent SmackDown Live in the 5-on-5 elimination match. Cena might not be all about Hustle, Loyalty and Respect anymore, but he shouldn’t be giving up on this roster. If Cena wants to ever be the WWE Champion again, he’ll have to earn that opportunity, and he’ll have to be granted that shot by SmackDown’s management, so it might be a good idea to endear himself to them. John scoffs, standing up to tower over Bryan, when Bryan drops the big gun: he knows who’s on Team Raw.
This piques Cena’s interest, and Daniel says that they’ve got Chris Jericho, who Cena’s fought against before over World Titles. Cena doesn’t really care about the list man. They’ve got Kevin Owens, the Universal Champion, who Cena went to war with in 2015 and ended up falling short against. NOW Cena’s interested, but not interested enough to commit. They’ve got Seth Rollins, the Architect who stole Cena’s victory at WrestleMania 31. Cena’s intrigue is only growing. They’ve got Roman Reigns, who Cena duked it out with over the WWE Championship on the Road To WrestleMania this year, including at the show of shows itself. Cena looks like he’s about to cave at the opportunity to beat the tar out of these guys, but finally, Bryan says that their last man… is Samoa Joe, the ever-lasting thorn in Cena’s side. Cena’s in. He’ll brave teaming with Ambrose and Styles for one night if it means getting to beat those guys - as long as he gets a title match out of it. Bryan agrees, so long as Cena is a survivor at the end of the night, which the Franchise vows to be. He shoulder checks Bryan on the way out for leveraging him, but at the end of the night, Cena gets what he wants.
Survivor Series 2016
Elimination Match: Team SmackDown Live (John Cena, AJ Styles, Bray Wyatt, Dean Ambrose and Randy Orton) vs. Team Raw (Chris Jericho, Kevin Owens, Roman Reigns, Samoa Joe and Seth Rollins)
It’s an all-timer lineup for this one, perhaps the most star-studded lineup to ever grace Survivor Series, and it’s AJ and Joe starting us off, kicking off what could be a fun inter-brand feud down the line as they take a walk down memory lane. Soon enough, Owens tags in to work opposite the WWE Champion, with the company’s two top champs trading blows and Styles getting the upper hand, forcing Owens to tag Jericho. We get some Y2AJ payoff, Styles taking the fight to Jericho before eating a shocking Codebreaker for two, putting Styles on his heels. He tags in Bray, not wanting to interact with Cena or Ambrose, and Wyatt works opposite Reigns, leading to Cena tagging himself in and RUSHING ROMAN WITH A FLURRY OF OFFENSE! He backs Reigns up into the corner and unleashes on him, Roman managing to shove him away before it turns into a huge brawl, all ten men joining the fray as the referee tries to gain control. Seth tags in, but with the referee occupied, Cena has the opportunity to go low and get the upper hand before NAILING AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT FOR TWO! Joe goes after Cena, which is enough to get the Franchise to nope out of the ring. Let Orton handle that or something. Slowly but surely, everyone cycles in, and once the first elimination strikes in the form of a Dirty Deeds to Chris Jericho, the floodgates open.
Dean Ambrose eliminates Chris Jericho by pinfall (5-4)
Owens immediately jumps Ambrose, Orton fighting the Universal Champion off for long enough to leave Ambrose in the ring with Styles. Reigns and Rollins spot their opening, leaping in to stand up to AJ, and Cena can’t help himself as he blindsides Reigns. It turns into a free-for-all, with the Shield ganging up to take out the completely fragmented Styles and Cena, with Bryan on commentary screaming at Ambrose to not take out Smackdown’s guys. Dean shrugs to him, and now STYLES THROUGH THE ANNOUNCE TABLE WITH A TRIPLE POWERBOMB, BUT CENA SMASHES AMBROSE WITH A CHAIR! IS THAT A DQ? IT’S HIS OWN TEAMMATE! The referee doesn’t really know what to do, and Cena takes advantage by tackling Seth through the barricade and even managing to get an ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT ON REIGNS, BUT AN OPPORTUNE OWENS SENDS AMBROSE AND STYLES BACK IN FOR TWO STRAIGHT POP-UP POWERBOMBS! ONE! TWO! THREE! AMBROSE IS GONE!
Kevin Owens eliminates Dean Ambrose by pinfall (4-4)
NOW HE PINS STYLES… ONE! TWO! THREE!
Kevin Owens eliminates AJ Styles by pinfall (3-4)
OWENS IS ON TOP OF THE WORLD, BUT NOW RANDY ORTON WITH A PUNT ATTEMPT, ONLY TO BE THROWN OUT OF THE RING AS CENA SLIPS IN BEHIND OWENS TO DELIVER A HUGE LARIAT! ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THREE!
John Cena eliminates Kevin Owens by pinfall (3-3)
Cena shouts out to Daniel Bryan that he shouldn’t worry about losing Ambrose and AJ, because the real champ, the Franchise, is right here. He can solo the Shield, nevermind having Orton and Bray by his side, so he advises the SmackDown GM to shut his damn mouth and let him take care of business… AND ROMAN REIGNS LEVELS HIM WITH A SPEAR! ONE! TWO! THRE-BRAY WITH THE SAVE! Wyatt nails a Sister Abigail and tosses Reigns aside, heaving Cena’s lifeless body to the home corner and insisting he tag in, but a cocky Cena disregards it, staggering up to his feet as REIGNS MAKES THE HOT TAG TO JOE! CENA CHARGES IN WITH A LARIAT, BUT JOE SLIPS RIGHT UNDER FOR AN ST-JOE! ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT BY CENA, BUT THE SAMOAN SUBMISSION MACHINE SLIPS STRAIGHT INTO A COQUINA CLUTCH! THE FRANCHISE HAS NOWHERE TO GO… CENA TAPS OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS WWE CAREER!
Samoa Joe eliminates John Cena by submission (2-3)
In the end, The Wyatt Family manage to clutch against Reigns, Rollins and Joe once infighting befalls Team Raw (kicking off a Joe and Reigns feud), but John Cena sure as hell isn’t getting a shot at the WWE Title at TLC like he’d hoped, and Samoa Joe has one more win to dangle over him.
Team SmackDown Live def. Team Raw (57:46)
Backstage, as the fanfare begins for Goldberg vs. Lesnar, Cena is seen completely beside himself, shouting at Bryan and Shane about all sorts of people - Bryan himself, Rollins, Reigns, Ambrose, Joe, Owens and Styles. Finally, he storms out of the building, telling Bryan where he can stick his management-approved title match. While before, he’d had a target on his back and all sorts of enemies as the Face of the WWE, he’s now got enemies everywhere he looks as he tries to climb his way back up, no matter what it takes.

https://fallout.bethesda.net/en/article/47zlrWJkawnsMkxTtSEyEO/atomic-shop-weekly-update-june-4-june-12
Not your average turkey – get the Turkey Buzzard from the Atomic Shop for a limited time!

Item	Atom Price
Spoiled Apple Tree	700
Turkey Buzzard	500
Heavy Metal Heavy Weapon Stand	500
Rustic Helvetian Hideaway Bundle	1800
Rustic Helvetian C.A.M.P. Kit	700
Rustic Helvetian C.A.M.P. Porch Kit	500
Hand Carved Skin (Black Powder Rifle)	500
Helvetia Nightstand Stash Box	500
Helvetia Dresser	300

The Rustic Helvetian Hideaway Bundle includes:

• Rustic Helvetian C.A.M.P. Kit
• Rustic Helvetian Porch Kit
• Helvetia Window Door
• Helvetia Dresser
• Helvetia Nightstand
• Helvetia Bedside Lamp
• Red Tartan Curtains
• Hand Carved Blackpowder Rifle Paint

LAST WEEK’S FEATURED OFFERS - PART 1

Some of last week’s items are still available for a limited time.

Item	Atom Price
Antique Comforts Bundle	1300
New Home Mega-Bundle	2500 1750 (30% off!)
Clean Ranch Housing Bundle	1500 1200 (20% off!)
Log Cabin Kit	500 400 (20% off!)
Carousel Horse Stool Set	500
Ornate Horn Candle	250
Train Engineer Hat	350
Birdcage Backpack	500
Theremin	500 400 (20% off!)

LAST WEEK’S FEATURED OFFERS - PART 2

Some of last week’s items are still available for a limited time.

Item	Atom Price
Dark Star PA Bundle	1800 1440 (20% off!)
Haunted Bell Tower Bundle	1500 1050 (30% off!)
Pit Boss Bundle	1500 1050 (30% off!)
Dark Star Power Armor Paint	1400 1120 (20% off!)
Haunted Bell Tower Prefab & Door	900 720 (20% off!)
Communist Threat (The Fixer)	700 560 (20% off!)
Big Fred's Trailer	700 560 (20% off!)
BBQ Pit Boss Outfit	700 560 (20% off!)
Skull Door Knocker	500 400 (20% off!)

GREATEST HITS – PART 1

Some of our favorite items have returned to the shop for a limited time. Each item listed below is available until 12:00 p.m. ET on June 12.

Item	Atom Price
Best of Season 7 Bundle	2000 1400 (30% off!)
Garrahan Employee Bundle	1200 840 (30% off!)
Roadside Roasters C.A.M.P. Bundle	1200 840 (30% off!)
Skellscream PA Model	1400 1120 (20% off!)
Makeshift Mega Mansion	700 560 (20% off!)
Super Mutant Gladiator Outfit	700 560 (20% off!)
Wavy Willard's Bubble Machine	500 400 (20% off!)
Ore Basket Backpack	500 400 (20% off!)
Pots and Pans Rack	250 200 (20% off!)

GREATEST HITS – PART 2

More of our favorite items will return to the shop starting on June 6. Each item listed below is available until 12:00 p.m. ET on June 18.

Item	Atom Price
Comic Book Bundle	1500 1200 (20% off!)
Country Flair Bundle	1500 1050 (30% off!)
Future-Tec World Globe Bundle	1200 840 (30% off!)
Red Barn	700 560 (20% off!)
Country Girl Underarmor	600 480 (20% off!)
Vault Boy 2000 Desk Lamp	500 400 (20% off!)
The Unstoppables Stash	500 400 (20% off!)
Hubris Comics Wallpaper	500 400 (20% off!)
Vault Boy 2000 Plushie	200 160 (20% off!)

HEADED FOR THE VAULT

Some existing items are heading out of the Atomic Shop and into the Vault this week. Be sure to pick up anything that catches your eye, because these items will only be available until 12:00 p.m. ET on June 12.

Item	Atom Price
Newlyweds Bundle	1500
Antiquated Wedding Dress	700 560 (20% off!)
Antiquated Groom Outfit	700
The Old Oak Clock	500
Grand Parlor Furniture Set	500
Fancy Coffee Table	350
Shotgun Wedding Pip-Boy Paint	400
Shotgun Wedding Double-Barrel Shotgun Paint	500
Rosy Doorway	350

FREE ITEMS

Get the Mr. Fuzzy Cooking Station free for all Fallout 1st Members until June 12!
The Pink Short Suit is available free for all players until June 12!

Item	Available Until
Mr. Fuzzy Cooking Station	June 12
Pink Short Suit	June 12

Visit the Atomic Shop on these days to claim a different reward, like consumables, in-game currencies, and more. Each of the items below is available until 12:00 p.m. ET the following day.

Item	Available on
Carry Weight Booster	June 4
Lunchbox	June 5
Caps x250	June 6
Scrap Kit	June 7
Vault-Tec Supply Package (Level 2)	June 8
Lunchbox	June 9
Repair Kit	June 10
Caps x250	June 11

WEEKLY OFFERS

Check out the daily deals this week in the Atomic Shop! Each of the items below is available until 12:00 p.m. ET the following day.

Item	Atom Price	Available From	Available Until
Cultist Dungeon Bundle (Fallout 1st)	1200 600 (50% off!)	June 4	June 12
Haunted House Stairs	500 250 (50% off!)	June 4	June 5
Vault-Tec Spa	500 250 (50% off!)	June 5	June 6
The Nighthawk Skin (The Dragon)	400 200 (50% off!)	June 6	June 7
Super Mutant Outfit	700 350 (50% off!)	June 7	June 8
Union Outfit	700 350 (50% off!)	June 8	June 9
Burning Torch Paint (Super Sledge)	500 250 (50% off!)	June 9	June 10
Hellfire Regulator Prototype Power Armor Paint Set	1200 600 (50% off!)	June 10	June 11
Free States Junkyard PA Paint	1200 600 (50% off!)	June 11	June 12

FALLOUT 1ST SPECIAL OFFERS

Some of our favorite items have returned to the shop for Fallout 1st Members.

Item	Atom Price
Fallout 1st Quarter Bundle 10	1000
Fallout 1st 2023 Yearly Catch Up 2	4000
Ranger Armor Outfit	Fallout 1stFREE with
Scrapbox	Fallout 1stFREE with
Ammo Storage Box	Fallout 1stFREE with
Emote - Set	Fallout 1stFREE with
Player Icon - Set	Fallout 1stFREE with

Part One Here!
Part Two Here!
Part Three Here!
Part Four Here!
Part Five Here!
Part Six Here!
Part Seven Here!
Part Eight Here!
Part Nine Here!
Part Ten Here!
Part Eleven Here!
Part Twelve Here!
Part Thirteen Here!
Part Fourteen Here!
Part Fifteen Here!
We pick up coming out of Payback 2015, where John Cena won the United States Title by threatening to commit a war crime. Don’t worry, he’s still a babyface, it was against Rusev so it doesn’t count. Anyways, now with gold on his shoulder once more, Cena’s an eleven-time champion in WWE, and he wants to make this reign one to remember by giving back to the company that gave him so much.
Road to Elimination Chamber 2015
Cena opens the Raw after Payback adorned in Americana, title belt in hand. He says that he’s humbled to be holding a belt that represents the virtues he’s sought to uphold for so long, and he’s ready to defend it against all comers, week after week. His first opponent is Kofi Kingston of the New Day, who he defeats in a fast-paced, gripping bout.
John Cena def. Kofi Kingston (11:20) to retain the United States Title
The next, it’s Xavier Woods, who gets the champ on the ropes but eventually falls short, despite wearing his old USA Consequences Creed gear.
John Cena def. Xavier Woods (7:45) to retain the United States Title
Then, it’s Big E, who, despite being able to overpower Cena, still comes up with nothing after an Attitude Adjustment.
John Cena def. Big E (13:06) to retain the United States Title
For his fourth defense, Cena comes out ready to rumble, and he’s stunned when he hears the music of the NXT Champion, Kevin Owens. Owens comes out, holding his own championship, and says that he doesn’t want to face Cena tonight - he wants to do it at Elimination Chamber. Cena says he’s happy to put his gold up, even if it’ll mean making NXT look bad, to which Owens scoffs and BLASTS CENA WITH THE NXT TITLE, FOLLOWED BY A POP-UP POWERBOMB! He plants his foot on the US Title, saying that his means more anyway, so he doesn’t need the US Title up for grabs. He’ll see Cena at the Chamber.
Elimination Chamber 2015
Non-Title Match: John Cena vs. Kevin Owens
It’s a hectic bout from the start, Owens using every trick in the book to get ahead against Cena without flagrantly fouling him, eager to not get disqualified. John looks like he doesn’t have much of a response for what Kevin is dishing out, the NXT Champion’s combination of size and speed leaving Cena surprised. He is still a thirteen year veteran and a nine time WWE World Champion, though, so after a while, he turns the tides, laying into Owens with the Five Moves of Doom and AN EMPHATIC ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-OWENS KICKS OUT! Cena’s stunned by that, but he grits his teeth and keeps going, calling for another, only for Owens to drop down and nail a superkick, followed by a CORNER CANNONBALL, AND NOW A BULLFROG SPLASH! ONE! TWO! TH-CENA GETS THE SHOULDER UP! Owens’ onslaught is leaving Cena worse for wear, and soon enough, he calls for the Pop-Up Powerbomb, CENA REVERSING BY BUILDING SPEED TO TURN OWENS INSIDE OUT WITH A LARIAT! He props Kevin up on the top turnbuckle, calling for an Avalanche Attitude Adjustment, but OWENS COUNTERS WITH A CORKSCREW SUPERPLEX, AND NOW A POP-UP POWERBOMB! ONE! TWO! THREE! KEVIN OWENS JUST BEAT UNITED STATES CHAMPION JOHN CENA CLEAN AS A WHISTLE IN HIS MAIN ROSTER DEBUT!
Kevin Owens def. John Cena (19:56)
Owens holds the NXT Title aloft, laughing as he leans over and pantomimes the “You Can’t See Me” taunt over Cena’s lifeless body before the feed fades out to prepare for the next bout.
Road to Money in the Bank 2015
Refusing to take such disrespect (and such a humiliating defeat) lying down, John Cena is eager for a rematch against the NXT Champion. He calls Owens out on Raw, but gets no response, reluctantly saying he’ll wait before issuing another open challenge for the US Title. It’s answered by Zack Ryder, and, even after nailing a Borski Boo, he can’t keep Cena down, the United States Champ rebounding to defeat the Internet Champion.
John Cena def. Zack Ryder (9:50) to retain the United States Title
The next week, it’s Bo Dallas, who Bo-lieves as hard as he can and then taps out to an STF. Womp womp.
John Cena def. Bo Dallas (6:18) to retain the United States Title
The next week sees the US Open Challenge main event the show, and, in a huge bout to close out Raw, Neville answers the open challenge, very nearly beating Cena on several occasions before KEVIN OWENS ATTACKS THE MAN THAT GRAVITY FORGOT, FORCING A DISQUALIFICATION!
Neville def. John Cena (14:56) by disqualification, meaning John Cena retains the United States Title
He lays into Neville and Cena, nailing a Pop-Up Powerbomb on the US Champ. The next week, Cena says he wants Owens at Money in the Bank, but Owens’ fee has gone up - he says he’s already beaten Cena, and has no reason to face him again. He’s a Prizefighter, after all. Cena again offers up the US Title, and this time, Owens agrees.
Money in the Bank 2015
United States Title: John Cena (c) vs. Kevin Owens
Much like the first bout, Owens is able to throw a lot at Cena that the United States Champ can’t quite figure out, but Cena’s had more time to get to know the Prizefighter by this point. He targets Owens’ leg, figuring he won’t be able to generate any power or take flight without it, and it pays dividends early, Owens nearly forced to tap to the STF before just managing to grab the ropes. He turns the tides on Cena by pushing the champ off the top rope to counter a diving leg drop, sending John crashing to the floor before clambering up himself for a SENTON OFF THE TOP, ALL THE WAY TO RINGSIDE! He picks Cena up off the ground, roaring as he calls for a POWERBOMB ONTO THE APRON, BUT CENA WITH A BACK BODY DROP TO REVERSE IT! He sends Owens back in, but KO lands a superkick as John steps through the ropes, whipping him from coast to coast for a POP-UP POWERBOMB, BUT CENA REBOUNDS OFF THE ROPES WITH A SPRINGBOARD STUNNER INSTEAD OF TURNING AROUND! OWENS IS OUT OF IT… ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THREE!
John Cena def. Kevin Owens (19:15) to retain the United States Title
Road to Battleground 2015
Coming out of Money in the Bank, reinvigorated after avenging his loss, Cena is on the hunt for more big matches to have in his US Open Challenge. At Beast in the East, Cena defeats Chris Jericho to retain the gold at Ryogoku, Y2J’s return match drawing a blank.
John Cena def. Chris Jericho (17:24) to retain the United States Title
The Champ says he wants to see the open challenge continuing into Battleground, with Cena asking for the best that WWE has to offer as challengers before he gets there. The next week on Raw, we’re in Montreal, where Sami Zayn comes up to face off against the Cenation leader and doesn’t do his entrance thing, thereby not blowing out his shoulder. However, even at 100%, he can’t quite keep up, meaning that an increasingly battered Cena gets one step closer to carrying the gold into Battleground.
John Cena def. Sami Zayn (21:41) to retain the United States Title
Following that, the US Open Challenge is answered by Curtis Axel, who pulls out all the stops in tribute to his father as Cena drags him to a good match - and a good Curtis Axel match means Curtis Axel losing, which he does.
John Cena def. Curtis Axel (8:37) to retain the United States Title
Ready for his eleventh broadcasted defense of the gold, making it his most successful title run to date in WWE, Cena declares he’s got one more in him before Battleground, so anyone who thinks they can stop this train is more than welcome to try. Out comes Stardust. They can’t all be winners. However, Cena’s surprised by the amount of grit Stardust shows, the challenger even hitting a Queen’s Crossbow for a nearfall before Cena rebounds with an Attitude Adjustment for the win.
John Cena def. Stardust (12:12) to retain the United States Title
Without a formally announced challenger for Battleground, and with the go-home show having passed, Cena announces he’ll be having another open on the PPV.
Battleground 2015
With a locker room full of rivals, Cena seems pretty excited as he declares the US Open Challenge starts now. We cut to the back, and after months of Cena dispelling his challengers, basically everyone without a spot on the Battleground card is throwing hands for the chance to contend for the gold. Eventually, someone from Los Matadores is sent flying from off-camera into the sea of humanity, knocking down half the field as his assailant marches past, directing the sound team to hit his music - and that music is Cesaro’s, the Swiss Cyborg finally facing off with John Cena once more! Now officially a babyface since his feud with Brock Lesnar, Cesaro’s moved up the card, making this bout with the face of WWE not only an exciting encounter, but a match that really elevates the US Title itself.
United States Title: John Cena (c) vs. Cesaro
Two powerhouses are teeing off on one another in the name of America, and I think that’s pretty beautiful. However, it’s apparent that Cesaro’s grown exponentially since he last fought the Cenation leader, because his speed has increased to the point of posing a real threat for the champion. He overwhelms Cena with a barrage of offense, muscling him around the ring before hitting a big boot over the top rope, followed by a CORKSCREW PLANCHA TO THE FLOOR! Cena gets to his feet on instinct… AN UPPERCUT SENDS HIM FLYING INTO THE TIMEKEEPER’S AREA! Cesaro sends him back into the ring, uppercutting him into the ropes for a SWISS-1-9, AND NOW A DIVING DOUBLE STOMP, FOLLOWED BY A SLIDING BASEMENT UPPERCUT! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO! Cena gets the shoulder up, but Cesaro leans over him and DEADLIFTS HIM FROM THE CANVAS ALL THE WAY INTO AN OVERHEAD GORILLA PRESS FOR A EUROPEAN UPPERCUT! ONE! TWO! THR-ANOTHER NEARFALL!
Cesaro is on a hell of a roll, and the crowd is getting behind him in a big way as he calls for the Neutralizer, but Cena begins his rally, backing Cesaro into the corner and laying into the body with shoulder checks and punches, desperate to take out Cesaro’s core. Finally satisfied, he eases into his attack pattern, nailing his shoulder blocks and a Five Knuckle Shuffle before calling for an Attitude Adjustment, but Cesaro picks a leg before getting up and BRINGS CENA TO THE CANVAS FOR A CESARO SWING! HE’S SPINNING CENA AROUND WITH EASE! Finally, once the crowd hits twenty, Cesaro releases the champ and sends him soaring across the squared circle, dragging himself up in the corner before EATING AN UPPERCUT BY THE SWISS CYBORG! Cesaro again calls for a Neutralizer, but now CENA POPS HIM UP FOR A DESPERATE ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO! CESARO KICKS OUT! CESARO HASN’T ACCUMULATED ENOUGH DAMAGE FOR CENA’S FINISHER TO PUT HIM DOWN! Cena pounds the canvas, unsure of what it’ll take, and ROLLS THROUGH TO DELIVER ANOTHER ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT, BUT CESARO LANDS ON HIS FEET! WHAT AN ATHLETE! He turns around… UPPERCUT TO CENA, BUT CENA’S NOT TOPPLING OVER! He winds up for another, but now CENA WITH A HUGE HAYMAKER! THEY’RE TRADING PUNCHES, GOING BLOW FOR BLOW, KNOWING ONE BIG MOVE WILL BE ENOUGH, AND NOW CESARO LANDS ANOTHER UPPERCUT TO GET CENA TO A KNEE! He runs the ropes, building up as much speed as possible for a killing blow, and CENA DECAPITATES HIM WITH A LARIAT, TURNING THE CHALLENGER INSIDE OUT! WHAT AN IMPACT! ONE! TWO! THREE!
John Cena def. Cesaro (20:01) to retain the United States Title
Despite having had his lights turned out by the hellacious lariat, Cesaro’s the first one to start stirring, Cena shaking his hand and raising his arm as a show of respect to the Swiss Cyborg. The United States Open Challenge lives to see another day.
Road to SummerSlam 2015
We pick up on Raw, where Cena once again issues a challenge, this time answered by Tyson Kidd. Kidd gets some solid offense in, reminding the crowd of just how great he is before being put down with an Attitude Adjustment, notching Cena a thirteenth successful defense of the red, white, blue and gold.
John Cena def. Tyson Kidd (10:56) to retain the United States Title
However, the next week, we see an interview with Kevin Owens, where he’s officially announced to be moving up to the main roster. He says that now that he’s here, his goal is simple - to finish the job against the Cenation leader, and take the United States Title off his hands. Later that night, after picking up another win in the United States Open Challenge in a blockbuster WrestleMania main event rematch against King Barrett, Cena is confronted by Owens directly.
John Cena def. King Barrett (13:01) to retain the United States Title
They have a heated exchange, Owens saying that he knows being 1-1 against someone like him will eat Cena up at night, because that’s how his son would feel, and he’s a huge fan of John’s. However, Owens says that what his son really needs isn’t an idol like John Cena, but a better paycheck for his father, which is something the US Title will provide. After all, Cena’s stubborn upholding of his values and refusal to turn to the dark side is endearing to children, but to men like Kevin Owens, it’s disgusting. Hell, even the fans in the arenas have gone from wild fervor in support of Hustle, Loyalty and Respect to… cheering for guys like Dean Ambrose instead of him. It’s not highlighting his strength and will to face the odds, it’s highlighting his weakness and unwillingness to rise to the occasion whatever the cost. The only times he’s played a bit dirty, gotten a bit desperate, he’s seen his biggest successes. Pointing the cannon at Rusev to win the United States Title, immediately eliminating his opponents to win the Royal Rumble without worrying about honour or whatever, it’s net him good, and when he doesn’t wrestle like that, he’s FAILING the kids. He’s FAILING the next generation. He’s teaching them that elbow grease is enough, but it’s not. He’s lost nine titles in WWE thinking it was, and Owens will make sure it’s a tenth in order to save the children of America, and to save his son.
However, the next week throws a wrench in the works, as Cesaro and Kevin Owens have a match that gets thrown out after they can’t stop brawling with one another. Owens is already set to face off with Cena at SummerSlam, but now Cesaro wants another piece of him. KO brushes Cesaro off, saying he’s a Prizefighter, so Cesaro’s titleless ass can go pound sand. Frustrated, the Swiss Cyborg has an idea, and goes to meet with the Champ himself. He tells Cena that he needs another shot at Owens, and he feels badly doing it, but he wants to ask John a favour - add him to the SummerSlam match so he can get his hands on the Prizefighter. Cena knows putting his title on the line against an extra man is a bad idea, but, eager to prove Kevin Owens wrong and show that hard work can make an obstacle possible to clear, he agrees to make it a triple threat.
The next episode of Smackdown sees Cesaro and John Cena face off with the team of Kevin Owens and King Barrett, with Cesaro pinning Barrett off of a Neutralizer to pick up the win for him and Cena. Owens attacks Cesaro, Cena charging in to save the day, staving off Owens until Cesaro grabs a microphone, winding up to uppercut Cena as he turns around - but stopping just short of his chin, reminding Cena that while he wants to take out Owens, he also wants the United States Title, so it’ll be every man for himself at SummerSlam. Cena nods, and now GETS CESARO UP FOR AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT, ONLY FOR OWENS TO SNEAK UP BEHIND AND BASH CENA WITH THE CHAMPIONSHIP! The Prizefighter stands tall with the gold, even going so far as to run away with the title in tow, saying that the US Open Challenge has ended for good.
SummerSlam 2015
United States Title: John Cena (c) vs. Cesaro vs. Kevin Owens
Owens is out first, title in hand, and he has the confidence of a man who’s already won the gold as the match kicks off. Just kidding, he immediately rolls out of the ring. Luckily, Cesaro’s in hot pursuit, Cena cornering the Prizefighter for Cesaro to uppercut him over the announce desk. Back in the ring, Cena and Cesaro go one on one for a few minutes, Cesaro delivering a series of gutwrench suplexes before nailing a Very European Uppercut, but Owens breaks up the pin and Cena into the ropes for a POP-UP POWERBOMB, BUT CENA REVERSES INTO A HURRICANRANA THAT SENDS OWENS INTO THE ROPES… SWISS-1-9! Cena chuckles at the extended Mysterio tribute before heading up to the top for a LEG DROP TO THE BACK OF OWENS’ HEAD, BUT CESARO FLOORS CENA WITH AN UPPERCUT! HE GETS HIM UP… NEUTRALIZER! ONE! TWO! THRE-OWENS SAVES IT! KO throws Cesaro out of the ring, kicking Cena under the ropes before clambering up top, surveying his prey before flying through the air with a SENTON BOMB TO THE FLOOR, TAKING OUT BOTH OF HIS OPPONENTS! He rolls Cena back into the ring, whipping him into the ropes for a POP-UP POWERBOMB, BUT CENA GOES FOR THE SPRINGBOARD STUNNER, ONLY FOR OWENS TO CATCH HIM FOR A GERMAN SUPLEX, COUNTERING THE MOVE HE KNEW WAS COMING! OWENS’ QUICK WITS KEEP HIM ALIVE!
He sends John into the corner, rushing at him for a cannonball, but GETS TAKEN OUT BY CESARO WITH A CLOTHESLINE! Cesaro nails corner uppercuts on both men, the Uppercut Express building steam into a FLYING SHOULDER BLOCK BY CENA! Owens gets taken down as well, leading to Cena PICKING BOTH MEN UP FOR A DOUBLE SIDE SLAM! He measures his men… DOUBLE FIVE KNUCKLE SHUFFLE! Owens is up first, and Cena scoops him up for an ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-CESARO JUST MANAGES TO BREAK IT UP! Cena looks at Cesaro incredulously, and starts throwing hands with him as the Swiss Cyborg rises to his feet. Cesaro lands a strong uppercut and calls for the Cesaro Swing, but OWENS NAILS A SUPERKICK, FOLLOWED BY A POP-UP POWERBOMB ON CESARO! ONE! TWO! THRE-CENA DRAGS OWENS OFF TO DELIVER A GERMAN SUPLEX THAT SENDS KO OUT OF THE RING, AND NOW ROLLS OVER CESARO FOR ANOTHER ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! He’s exhausted, but he manages to drape an arm over… ONE! TWO! THR-OWENS YANKS THE REFEREE OUT OF THE RING, AND NOW LANDS A BULLFROG SPLASH TO BOTH MEN! HE SENDS JOHN TUMBLING TO THE FLOOR, COVERING CESARO! ONE! TWO! THREE! OWENS STEALS THE UNITED STATES TITLE FROM JOHN CENA!
Kevin Owens def. John Cena and Cesaro (17:45) to win the United States Title
For the fifth year in a row, John Cena has walked into SummerSlam with a title, and for the fifth year in a row, he now has to leave without one, his head hung low as Owens celebrates in the ring behind him.
Road to Hell in a Cell 2015
Cena is completely despondent without the United States Title, and he takes the time that he’s filming his new TV show to cut a series of promos on social media, detailing his feelings as he watches Owens on TV week after week, parading the gold around and saying he’s 2-1 against John Cena, “completely clean.” John says he’s been screwed in triple threat matches before, he’s eaten losses before, but he’ll prove to Owens eventually that it truly does just take unimaginable grit to rectify this sort of situation.
Following Night of Champions, Cena makes his return, and does so impactfully by confronting the Prizefighter directly. He says that he’s been thinking about what Owens said about his son and the children that look up to Cena, and Owens says he doesn’t care, walking up the ramp. Cena shouts after him, saying that Owens may think he’s teaching his son how to win by doing whatever it takes, but right now, he’s just teaching him to be a damn coward. Owens turns around, and WE’VE GOT A BRAWL ON OUR HANDS! They try to kill each other, security having to run down to split them up as Cena continues to spout his morals, and Owens screams that he’ll do whatever it takes to prove that Cena simply can’t keep up with him, that he’ll fail the little Cenation, that he’ll lose the support of the fans and have nothing because he’s a stupid, stubborn bastard. It’s announced that in a few weeks, they’ll meet in a Hell in a Cell match over the United States Title, where if Cena loses, he can’t challenge for the title again for as long as Owens holds it.
Hell in a Cell 2015
Hell in a Cell Match for the United States Title: John Cena vs. Kevin Owens (c)
Kevin Owens may be up overall, but this is the singles rubber match, and the sadistic structure is perfect for the manner of mayhem that ensues in this match, with both men digging their heels in for their ideals and the victory. Cena toughs it out as best he can, showing that after two months off, there’s still no ring rust, but Owens’ confidence has only grown in his two months as champion. It’s a vicious scrap around ringside within the cell’s confines, Owens introducing as many weapons as he can, but soon enough, Cena simply lifts him up and DRIVES HIM STRAIGHT THROUGH THE CELL WALL, AS HE DID WITH JOE A YEAR AND A HALF PRIOR! Kevin tries to flee, clambering up the cell wall, but Cena scales it alongside him, both men trading blows until CENA MAKES A HUGE SACRIFICE, WRENCHING OWENS OFF WITH A BULLDOG THAT SENDS BOTH MEN CRASHING THROUGH THE ANNOUNCE DESKS! Cena seems to have gotten the better of the exchange, managing to drag Owens back to the ring before going for an ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-OWENS SOMEHOW ROLLS A SHOULDER AN INCH OFF THE CANVAS! Cena sets up a table, propping Owens on the top rope for an Avalanche Attitude Adjustment, but OWENS WITH A CORKSCREW SUPERPLEX THROUGH THE TABLE! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO! POP-UP POWERBOMB! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOOOO! HOW IS CENA STILL IN IT? Owens seems to be on the verge of tears as Cena’s sheer determination carries him to his feet, but Kevin makes one more judgement call and HOOFS CENA BELOW THE BELT! Cena crumples, and Owens whips him into the ropes for ANOTHER POP-UP POWERBOMB! ONE! TWO! THREE! KEVIN OWENS SURVIVES JOHN CENA ONCE AGAIN, DEFINITIVELY TAKING HOME THE FEUD AND THE UNITED STATES TITLE WITH A FLAGRANT LOW BLOW!
Kevin Owens def. John Cena (24:40) to retain the United States Title
Road to Survivor Series 2015
Despite the brutality of the match he just went through, John Cena turns up to work when he’s needed, which he definitely is as the WWE World Heavyweight Championship is vacated, and put up for grabs in a sixteen-man tournament. Two rounds are scheduled for TV, with the semis and finals at Survivor Series, giving Cena very little turnaround to get into the right headspace for it - but Big Match John is ready for a tenth WWE World Title. The bracket looks like this, with the first round winners bolded:
John Cena vs. Dolph Ziggler
Sheamus vs. Big E
Roman Reigns vs. Samoa Joe
Alberto Del Rio vs. Kalisto
Kevin Owens vs. Dean Ambrose
Ryback vs. King Barrett
Cesaro vs. Big Show
Tyler Breeze vs. Neville
WWE World Heavyweight Title Tournament Opening Round: John Cena vs. Dolph Ziggler
Cena’s got a tough road to the gold no matter how you slice it, but he first faces off with an old enemy turned close ally in the form of Dolph Ziggler. Ziggler scraps as best he can in pursuit of his first ever WWE Championship, and even gets the crowd on his side, but Cena’s a force to be reckoned with, delivering an emphatic Attitude Adjustment for three.
John Cena def. Dolph Ziggler (15:10) to advance to the Quarter Finals
WWE World Heavyweight Title Tournament Quarter Final: John Cena vs. Sheamus
These two have had their fair share of scraps, but Sheamus is a new man as Mr. Money in the Bank, especially with the newly formed League of Nations behind him. However, Cena is able to stave them off for just long enough to cause a miscommunication within the new faction, taking advantage of their lack of chemistry to take out Sheamus’ managers before delivering a HUGE ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THREE! CENA’S GOING TO SURVIVOR SERIES!
John Cena def. Sheamus (12:03) to advance to the Semi Finals
Later in the night, Roman Reigns defeats Alberto Del Rio, with the show going off the air as Cena stares down the Big Dog. Survivor Series just got a big marquee match - the first ever singles encounter between the Face of WWE, and his clear-cut future replacement.
Survivor Series 2015
WWE World Heavyweight Title Tournament Semi Final: John Cena vs. Roman Reigns
It’s a first-time-ever singles encounter between the Cenation Leader and the head of the Roman Empire, and it’s kicking off Survivor Series in style. There's been no love lost between these two ever since the Royal Rumble, and as the match gets underway, it’s a very partisan crowd in support of Cena. John uses his experience to get the upper hand over his younger foe, and he isn’t afraid to mock Roman a bit to get in his head as the match goes on, letting his taunts linger an extra few seconds and delivering each move with a little more oomph. Finally, once he gets going on the five moves of doom, Roman turns the tides by catching a shoulder tackle with a SUPERMAN PUNCH! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Reigns takes control of the bout from here, wearing Cena down and using his power as much as he can, nailing a vicious SITOUT RAZOR’S EDGE FOR TWO! Cena makes his way to the ropes, but Roman’s on a roll now, delivering a DRIVE BY! He slides back in, calling for a Superman Punch, but CENA COUNTERS INTO AN STF! ROMAN’S IN TROUBLE, SCRATCHING AND CLAWING HIS WAY TOWARDS THE ROPES WITH ALL HIS MIGHT, BUT CENA DRAGS HIM BACK TO THE CENTRE OF THE RING, ONLY FOR ROMAN TO KICK HIM AWAY! Cena dives back towards him to try and keep the pressure on, but Reigns evades, bouncing off the ropes for a SPEAR, BUT EATING A SNEAKER TO THE FACE! Cena hoists him up for a side slam, and follows it with a Five Knuckle Shuffle before delivering an ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! ONE! TWO! THRE-ROMAN KICKS OUT!
Even if Reigns can make it out of this match, he’s still got a final to worry about, and Cena’s conscious of not taking too much damage himself. He takes his time, recovering as Roman struggles to get to his feet, shaking the cobwebs out after the Superman Punch and extended sequence from the Big Dog. He calls for a second Attitude Adjustment, but Reigns naturally slides off the shoulders, running the ropes to attempt a SPEAR, BUT CENA ROLLS RIGHT OUT OF THE RING! The crowd chuckles as a bewildered Roman shouts at John to be a man, Cena continuing to try and get in the Big Dog’s head as he starts talking to a fan in the front row, but ROMAN FOLLOWS HIM OUT WITH A PLANCHA OVER THE TOP ROPE! He sends Cena back in, the nine time WWE World Champion not even knowing what hit him as Reigns heads to the corner, letting loose an “OOOOAHH” before CHARGING IN FOR A SPEAR, ONLY TO GET LIFTED ONTO CENA’S SHOULDERS FOR AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT… BUT REIGNS DROPS DOWN, DELIVERING A SUPERMAN PUNCH! CENA’S ROCKED, AND ROMAN NAILS HIM WITH ANOTHER TO KNOCK HIM INTO THE ROPES! REIGNS RUNS THE ROPES, BUILDING UP STEAM… SPEAR! ONE! TWO! THREE! ROMAN REIGNS KNOCKS OFF THE FACE OF THE WWE, AND CENA’S SENT HOME EARLY, NOT EVEN GETTING A CHANCE TO CONTEND FOR HIS TENTH WWE WORLD TITLE!
Roman Reigns def. John Cena (16:58) to advance to the Finals
In the main event, Roman Reigns manages to defeat Dean Ambrose to win his first WWE World Heavyweight Title, just about ekeing out a win over the Lunatic Fringe. Ambrose seems heartbroken, but he still congratulates his brother before heading to the back, only for SHEAMUS TO DELIVER A BROGUE KICK TO THE NEW CHAMPION ONCE HE’S ALL ALONE! The Celtic Warrior has his Money in the Bank briefcase in hand, and he’s all too happy to hand it in to the ref, when JOHN CENA TAKES HIM OUT WITH A LARIAT! Sheamus is stunned, and now CENA FOLLOWS IT UP WITH AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT! He grabs a microphone, saying he won’t let this run end like that after Roman won two matches in one night and worked so hard to climb the ladder, and the League of Nations help Sheamus up on the floor as Cena raises the new WWE titleholder’s hand, Roman Reigns guaranteed to at least last a day as champ.
Road to TLC 2015
In case you guys hadn’t guessed, Sheamus is not a fan of John Cena’s at this point. Ordering the League of Nations to attack the Cenation leader, Cena’s aid comes in the form of the Big Dog, returning the favour for Cena. There’s a tag match made for the main event, pitting Sheamus and Barrett against Reigns and Cena, and Cena manages to pin Sheamus once again, before saying that he’s two up and deserves a crack at the Money in the Bank contract. All of a sudden, Roman’s face changes - he knew Cena wanted the belt, but John with briefcase in hand is a new sort of threat. However, Sheamus looks around at the League, and always raring for a fight, agrees to defend it against Cena… as long as it’s a TLC match, meaning his boys will get to run roughshod. Last time Cena tried to fight the numbers off in a TLC match, he lost, but he grits his teeth, promising he’ll get it done this time.
TLC 2015
Ladder Match for the Money in the Bank Contract: John Cena vs. Sheamus (MITB)
While Cena may have had an ally in the form of Roman Reigns before, he sure doesn’t now, because the last thing Roman wants is the Money in the Bank contract in capable hands. The League of Nations interfere so flagrantly that this match damn near becomes a comedy, but Cena does all he can to even the odds, handcuffing members of the League to different parts of ringside to isolate them before turning his attentions back to Sheamus. Sheamus clobbers Cena within an inch of his life, hitting an eye-watering THIRTY Beats of the Bodhran, but Cena fights back with an Attitude Adjustment through a ringside ladder bridge before clambering up and SECURING THE BRIEFCASE! JOHN CENA IS MR. MONEY IN THE BANK!
John Cena def. Sheamus (17:02) to win the Money in the Bank Contract
In the main event, Roman Reigns retains the WWE World Heavyweight Title, but he’s confronted by a figure nobody ever wants to see - Vince McMahon. Mr. McMahon says that Roman’s pithy catchphrase of “one versus all” is just screaming for him to prove himself properly. The Royal Rumble is coming up, and if Reigns wants to cement himself as WWE World Heavyweight Champion, he’ll have to face off with ALL of the WWE’s best. He declares that at the Royal Rumble, Roman Reigns will have to defend the WWE World Heavyweight Championship against twen-WAIT A SECOND! HERE COMES CENA! MR. MONEY IN THE BANK IS HERE! He runs down to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and breezing straight past Mr. McMahon, calling for a microphone. Knowing McMahon is about to stack the odds against Reigns for no reason, he says that Roman won’t be defending the title against 29 other men - he’ll be defending it against ONE. He’s pre-announcing his cash-in, and at the Royal Rumble, Roman Reigns will defend the WWE World Heavyweight Championship against John Cena.

Just writing out my thoughts rn. (not financial advice).
TL;DR something big is coming (But you already knew that didn't you)
FIRST: I believe this is the real keith gill. There's speculation that he sold his accounts to an outsider, or has hedge fund backing, etc - but I don't buy them. Keith is a brand, the defiant retail trader against the wall street institutions, and as a brand his reputation is the most important thing. He's smart and would never put this brand at risk.
SECOND: From his YOLO updates you can see that he bought his position AFTER the may 10th-may 14th run up (caused by his tweets). We know that because we can see clearly his options trades: https://x.com/unusual\_whales/status/1797440467078111645. Now ask yourself: why would he buy in at a certainly worse position than he could have (before may 10th)??? His cost basis would be much better had he bought in BEFORE he knew that his tweets would send the stock up.
THIRD: How did keith gill get all that money, if not from a high-rolling backer? He's smart, he doesn't NEED a backer, he knows he can make that money himself. And that's exactly what he did. In April 2021 he had ~30 mil and recently hes shown he has $180 mil. Thats 6x. I believe he made the bulk of this in the May 10th-14th run up. If you remember, the Friday before the monday rip, there was some discussion about higher than ussual volume both on the stack and on calls. There was something up but no one knew what. THE ONLY PERSON who could have known that RK would tweet and send the stock spiking WAS RK. I believe he was the one buying shares and calls (likely built up his shares position over the weeks beforehand). And then during that week's runup (from $17 to $50) he sold his position and made his tens of millions.
I believe the may10-13th spike was just RK quadrupling his money IN ANTICIPATION of an even larger move. The truth is, although there are many shorters out there, THERE ARE ALSO hedge funds that have profited off the massive run-ups in GME's price. They were there in 2021, they were there in may10th-13th, and they are there AGAIN now. RK knows they're there, ready to add fuel to the fire, IN ADDITION to us retail traders.
And what could be the catalyst for that? I don't know WHAT or WHEN, but I do know HOW: his Youtube channel. That's his one social media account he hasn't utilized thus far. I believe he has a video ready outlining his latest DD on the stock, probably including some kind of plan of his own for GME given how large of a shareholder he is (and now controls a major voting block). And given how the stock has spiked on his twittereddit account posting, it's about to go crazy when his youtube video drops.
I believe he's only doing this now because of the recent case dismissal against atlas trading (https://www.timothysykes.com/blog/breaking-news-atlas-trading/). Atlas trading was caught red-handed trying to manipulate the markets, but the courts dismissed the case because just buying a stock and telling others to as well isnt enough (in their view) to amount to a crime. Keith gill is smart and definitely saw this ruling, which meant he could run now run a replay of 2021 GME-mania.
My positions: 40x GME 6/21 calls, 850 shares.

I looked and looked into this and all I can find is a handful of sources, most of them are just anecdotal evidence (a woman in Narnia still has filler 20 years later, published by a popular media journal, which is already a red flag), or observations by a handful of doctors/researchers. Clearly, the idea that fillers simply never dissolve has not been studied sufficiently and there is simply not enough research on this. And even the sources that have been shedding light on how long filler lasts mostly make a more cautious claim that fillers take longer than we thought to metabolize, not that they NEVER dissolve.
So, I am wondering, how is it that literally everyone on this sub is treating this as a well-established fact without a doubt?

The other night, we had a graduation party that was supposed to be a wonderful celebration for three members of my family: my son (18M), Mickey, and my daughter (18F), Mallory, who both graduated high school, and myself (46F), who graduated with my masters degree. (Names are changed to something I find amusing.) I missed my graduation for my son to go to prom, which I don't care because it was worth it to do it for him, but I figured I'd have a party to make up for it and share it with my children because I'm so incredibly proud of them. My friends and family wanted to share in the celebration of my milestone, so it made sense to do it together both economically and time-wise. My children are equally proud of me as I am of them, so there's no jealousy or fighting for the spotlight. We're pretty introverted and are incredibly close, and we were all very excited to share this once-in-a-lifetime moment where we all achieved something great, so it was more like we were constantly shoving the spotlight onto someone else to avoid attention.
I'm a single mom of four (Mickey and Mallory, along with 16F, May, and 8F, Minnie), currently divorcing their father who was emotionally and physically abusive, among many other things. I believe he is a covert narc, but I'm not a clinical psychologist, just someone who took a lot of notes on his behavior. I have a great job as a biochemist, so I can support myself for the most part, but I do have a BF, we'll call him Beau. My divorce has been going on for over two years due to the ex being uncooperative, stalking, causing problems, etc. I have avoided his family because they act as flying monkeys and they don't understand the extent of the abuse, of which I have plenty of evidence as well as cPTSD, but I genuinely thought they didn't like me because that's what my ex told me. I shared photos and updates on social media, but didn't see them in person or have conversations with them, not because I'm a jerk, but I was working FT, raising four kids, going to school, and trying to heal.
Because of the abuse, my ex could not attend the party, but he did go to the graduation ceremony. Mickey does not speak to his father, but Mallory does. The court gave me temporary custody and he's supposed to go through a GAL in order to get any visitation arrangements, but has not done so. To be nice, I extended an invitation to my ex-BIL and his wife to come to the party. I didn't think they'd come, and only the ex-BIL came.
My mother insisted on having the party at her house because mine is a mess. I was wary because she has mental illness that usually ruins things, but I needed a venue, I'm broke, and she wanted to do it as a gift for us, which is rather nice.
For a month, we looked forward to this party and my mother and I did a lot of planning and preparation. I thought everything was going well. The day of the party, I went with my step-dad (known here on as Dude) to the store to get the last things we needed, had one last thing to make and get everyone ready to head over and set up. He and I were in good spirits and excited for the evening.
Round 1: And then my mother called at 12:30 in absolute hysterics. She was screaming that Dude wasn't helping and she needed his help. I told her to calm down, we were coming and I have many people willing to help, so she didn't need to stress. It didn't need to be perfect and we will make things right, so don't worry.
She continued screaming anyway. Dude just wanted to make a sandwich and she wouldn't let him, so I told her she was being selfish and tried to clarify why, but she got so angry that she hung up on me. I sighed and got my kids ready to go, prepped them for the battle ahead and we knew we had damage control to do before people showed up.
When we got there, Dude was passed out in the backyard. I thought he was dead at first. I ran over, checked his vitals, and had luckily gotten there before he deteriorated, but he had passed out from heat stroke and not eating. Nobody can afford emergency medical care (thanks US healthcare), but I know what I'm doing, so I got him to baseline. My mom came out and acted all concerned, but as soon as we were inside, she started ranting and raving again like a crazy person.
Then she screamed at me. Demanded I apologize for calling her selfish. I explained why I said it and that Dude just wanted a sandwich, and clearly he needed it because he passed out, and she needed to check her behavior. She screamed louder that he was seeking attention and demanded an apology TWO FEET from my face. She triggered me and I was shaking, so I said, "You know what? You're right. You're not selfish. You're a C*NT! Go ahead and throw another tantrum. I don't care." And I walked out the door into the backyard.
This was the start of a bad, bad time. I feel very responsible for that. I should've de-escalated it, but I was furious that she was screaming in my face and she could've caused Dude to have an actual stroke from the nonstop screaming and berating. In my mind, F her and her BS, I was willing to die on that hill.
Then people showed up. My wonderful friends who are hyperaware of things like this were incredibly kind. My mom was a good hostess and Dude was, too, except that she consistently kept telling my friends I was a b****. Now, at this point, I had calmed down, slammed a beer or two and I was trying to extend an olive branch. I tried making conversation, talking about random things, saying everything will be okay, etc. and would've apologized, but in response to my efforts, she would coldly mutter under her breath that Dude and I both thought she was a selfish C and a bunch of other adjectives and expletives that I never said. So I tried to avoid/ignore her, but if I was with any group of people, she would come in and dog whistle so I would get my feelings hurt, but no one knew why I was suddenly sad. Or she would mutter under her breath the same insults to herself, embellishing them to make me uncomfortable. And she kept doing it. I couldn't go anywhere without her doing this. I was trying super hard to avoid her and keep her negativity away from my kids at the same time. It wore me down and I had to keep leaving to go cry. My ex used to do this stuff, too, and it hurt.
But it gets worse. Right before my friends left, Beau's parents arrived. My mom was hammered at this point - at least I think she was, or she was completely unhinged. My friends left and probably at the right time because it went south after that. My mother lectured Beau's parents on autism and how Beau is autistic because she knows all about it, and she continued to diagnose all the other things about him, and then me. I overheard her tell them I was rude, selfish, stubborn, never apologize, she's never wrong, and on and on. She was humiliating me. I heard Beau's mom say, "but aren't you proud of her?" And she said, "Yeah, but she's a b****."
At this point, I was cleaning up. I had cried several times. I tried defending myself and Beau several times, but she wasn't stopping. He's slightly autistic, but who cares??? I prefer his neurospiciness. I certainly DO apologize when I'm wrong, but I DON'T if I'm not wrong, and I didn't CARE if I was wrong anymore. I'm not apologizing to a monster who intentionally hurt me at my own party, and definitely not ruining it for my kids. I was done.
I went in the kitchen and explained to Beau and Dude what was going on. And that's when May decided to chime in and start screaming at me that I had hurt her and I needed to stop talking about her - when I was informing him on what she was saying right at that moment. Well, you see, at one point when things were going smoothly, it was going smoothly because she was in the bedroom smack talking and trauma dumping to a 16yo girl without giving the full story. In that time, she had May completely convinced that she was the victim and May believed it - even though, I must add, that all the other kids saw the whole fiasco and didn't buy it because they have seen her meltdowns before, but she effectively turned my daughter against me.
I burst into tears and told everyone we had to go. I had sobered up and cleaned up all the food. I was completely gobsmacked by how she acted. She had intentionally hurt me, did everything she could to ruin my party for just me, and sought out to punish me through my daughter and any other means she could muster. She didn't hurt Mickey or Mallory, but she did go after me the entire night. I sobbed in Dude's arms when I was leaving and told him I left $300 in the cutlery drawer so I wouldn't owe her anything because I can't handle the abuse and I don't want to see her again.
Round 2: This involves my ex-BIL. Let's call him Paco. I had invited him to come talk with us since he spent time with the kids at the party - which I very much appreciate. We hadn't had time to talk to him and we used to be fairly close a long time ago, and I told him it was best if we resumed conversation at my house to exit the meltdown occurring. So we broke open the wine that was for the party and started talking about our interests. Then the topic soured. He basically berated me for not inviting his whole family or going out of my way to see them. I explained what I did before: I was busy af and I didn't think they liked me and since it was my party, too, I didn't want to do that. He wouldn't buy it and argued with me for a while until I finally said, "okay, well, now I know, so thanks for that. I'll do better." FYI, no I won't. I'm not doing it. Why? Because he then went on a long rant about why my relationship didn't work with his brother was because I didn't understand that a man has to be the leader. All I thought was, "What in the Andrew Tate???" I bust out laughing and said, no, I'm a leader and I am an equal to any man. I was abused and damaged by his brother, I have evidence, and I don't need to defend myself. I don't need a man; I want one, but if a man can't live up to being wanted, then they need to improve themselves, not make the woman more submissive so he can continue with his bs. He lectured me more and I kept laughing at it and Beau was backing me up, saying he was my equal, but I definitely made Paco angry.
Paco left, but I know he thinks he got to say what he wanted. Well, let me tell you, he is arrogant and awful and I don't want him back at my house or around my kids, ESPECIALLY my daughters. That way of thinking is gross and now I remember why I don't invite them. They truly DON'T like me and I don't like THEM because that backwards, "tRaDiTiOnAl" machismo nonsense needs to die. Wrong country, wrong century, wrong person...take your pick. I'll hang with their cousins and sisters that are good women who don't listen to idiot boys like that, but that mfer will never set foot in my house again. I may be an AH to him, but a justified one.
That was the end of round two. By this time, I wasn't thinking as clearly as I've written and I was beyond triggered with bad memories and bad feelings, and I just wanted to go to bed and cry.
Round 3: Beau hadn't slept in days. As I've said, he's on the spectrum. He also has other issues with BPD and can get sent into mania if he hasn't slept. This was one of those days, only he was also drunk and angry at everyone that made me cry, but didn't know how to go about it. He decided to confront May about making me cry. It got ugly. I was drunk at this point, too, and in a stupor from being emotionally distraught, but I remember Mallory confronting Beau to defend May, and Beau said something stupid and somewhat threatening, which was when I stepped in to shut it down. I will always choose my kids over anyone else. No hands were thrown, but it was ugly and I told him we were done if he was going to attack my daughter because I will never put her in danger. I thought that was the end of it and went to sleep.
Nope. He woke me up around 3 am, still ranting about May and my mom and my ex. I told him to stfu and let me sleep. He woke me again, repeating the same crap. I again, told him to leave me alone. He called his mom in the middle of this to make it sound like he was a victim and not wrong. He wouldn't stop trying to lie on top of me or grab me to make me listen, and I was getting mad. I slapped his hands away and told him to stop and leave me alone, that he attacked May and it was unacceptable, so he needed to sleep it off and go somewhere for a while. He wouldn't stop. I then got up and went to sleep in Minnie's room with her. He came in there and woke me again, and also woke her. He was grabbing me and lying on top of me. At that point, I was livid. I felt like I was being attacked, so I kept pushing and kicking him off me, screaming at him to leave me alone. I got him on the floor, grabbed Minnie, and ran into Mickey's room. I laid down on his floor to sleep and Minnie climbed into bed with her brother. He busted into that room and that's when my son had to step in, which, honestly, I hate that he had to, but I needed him to. Beau was egging my son on to hit him, but Mickey is not like his father and doesn't want to be that way, so he talked his way out of it. Eventually, they came to an agreement, I found his keys, he got in his car and we went to bed.
Round 4: The next day, I found out Paco had told my ex everything and I had to deal with that psycho for a solid hour, which always sends me into a sad place. He is just not nice to me at all, and I realized that's the other reason I don't invite any of them over because they tell my psycho ex everything. Other than that, I cried all day and slept off and on. I needed time to process all of the traumatic events.
My mother had blocked me at the party after telling me I was blocked, so I blocked her in return because I didn't want to deal with her childish nonsense. She will typically start sending me long rants and my mental health couldn't take it. She sent me a message on social media and I had to block her there. But it didn't stop. Monday morning, she sent me an email. She was still carrying it on and Venmo'd the money I left in the drawer. This morning, which is Tuesday, she called me from someone else's phone and I hung up. From what Dude told me, she has been on the rampage for days. I don't want to talk to her pretty much ever again. I would never hurt my own child like that, so I don't understand why she does. Despite what May said to me, I never sought out to hurt her, and I've tried to talk to her. She is still angry with me, but mostly because of Beau still being in our lives, which he was home for one night to sleep when I was still numb, crying, and sleeping, but he and I didn't talk at all until Monday. I understand where May is coming from, and I won't allow anyone to ever hurt her ever again.
When we did talk, Beau tried for a while to make it sound like he was the victim. He said he was "hugging" me and protecting me from May. It took a while, but he finally understood that what he did was intrusive and abusive, and I had reacted like a cornered animal. Apparently, I broke his teeth and bruised him pretty bad. Don't start none, won't be none, I guess. I had to fight for my life and my kids' lives for years and he thought he could overpower me, but it doesn't work like that when I was begging for him to leave me alone. I don't know what's going to happen there, but he's staying with a friend for a few days. He is apologetic now, but I seriously don't know what to do about him. He didn't hit anyone or hurt anyone, but he crossed the line, he threatened my daughter, and he scared me so bad that I went into a blackout PTSD episode to defend myself. I feel bad for hurting him, but I was terrified, and it is my job to protect my kids.
I wrote this because I needed to find a way to put it down and process it. The bottom line is my party was supposed to be memorable, which now it definitely is, but not in the way I had wanted. I am so incredibly sad. I'm sad for the way my mother treated me and for ruining our party. I'm sad for my kids who deserved one memorable event without drama. I'm sad that my relationship is likely over. I'm sad that I had to live a life of abuse from so many different angles and it's all coming to light at once. I want to run away, but I can't. I want to hide, but I can't.
I spent some time with my kids yesterday to try to start the healing process. May is the only one that is refusing to talk to me, but the rest of us are bonding together, watching movies, and eating gobs of cake that will likely give us diabetes. I don't know what's going to happen or what I'm going to do. I just want out of this mess.
TDLR: Graduation party was ruined by mother, ex-BIL, and boyfriend in one night with epic consequences.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ancient cobblestones of the Appian Way. I pedaled my bicycle with determination, sweat beading on my brow as my legs pumped furiously. The rhythmic clicking of the gears and the hum of the tires on the road provided a comforting soundtrack to the macabre thoughts that consumed me. I couldn’t help but ponder the horrors endured by those crucified in ancient Rome, their agonized screams echoing through time.
“Such suffering…” I whispered to myself, feeling an odd kinship with these long-dead souls. My heart raced as images of their torment filled my mind, each more gruesome than the last.
As I rounded a curve, my eyes were drawn to a curious sight: a wooden pole protruding from the earth, accompanied by a sturdy beam lying nearby. The scene looked eerily familiar, as if it had been plucked from my darkest musings and placed before me like some twisted stage set.
“Is this…?” I muttered, dismounting my bicycle and approaching the strange sight. The ground was uneven beneath my feet, and I stumbled slightly as I drew closer, my curiosity piqued.
“Hello?” I called out, unsure if someone might be nearby. The wind rustled through the trees, providing no answer. I glanced back at my bike, then turned my gaze once more to the wooden structure. It seemed almost alive, as though it held within it the memories of countless souls who had suffered upon it.
“Could this really be… a cross?” I wondered aloud, my voice shaking with a mixture of fear and fascination. The thought sent a shudder down my spine, and I hesitated for a moment before reaching out a trembling hand to touch the rough wood.
“Who would leave something like this here?” I asked myself, unable to tear my eyes away from the haunting symbol of pain and suffering. The wind picked up, stirring the leaves around me and sending an inexplicable chill through my body.
“Perhaps… it’s a sign,” I murmured, my thoughts racing with the possibilities. What could this sudden encounter with such a potent symbol mean? Was I meant to discover this relic, or was it merely a cruel trick played by fate?
As I stood there, transfixed by the sight before me, I couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to the crucifixion victims of long ago. Their anguish seemed to resonate within me, their cries echoing in the depths of my heart. And though I knew the path forward would be fraught with pain and sorrow, I felt compelled to explore this dark chapter of history further, drawn inexorably toward the shadows that lay beyond the light.
I felt the rough texture of the beam beneath my fingertips, and the air around me seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. Unable to resist the strange allure that pulsed from this grisly relic, I made a decision that would forever haunt me.
“Maybe… maybe if I could just… feel it for myself,” I whispered, trembling as I peeled off my clothes until I stood there in my white briefs. The wind bit at my exposed skin, but I hardly noticed; the anticipation of what was to come consumed me entirely.
Slowly, deliberately, I laid myself down upon the wooden beam, stretching my arms outward as if they were being pinned to the cross by unseen nails. The rough wood dug into my back, but I welcomed the discomfort, eager to experience even a fraction of the pain suffered by those who had come before me.
Closing my eyes, I surrendered myself to the darkness within, allowing my thoughts to drift back through the centuries to a time of unimaginable suffering — a time when men and women were nailed to crosses and left to die in agony, all in the name of justice.
“Forgive me,” I murmured, not knowing to whom I spoke, but feeling the weight of my actions nonetheless.
“Forgive you for what?” A deep, mocking voice shattered the silence, and I bolted upright, my heart pounding in my chest. But before I could make sense of what was happening, the world around me shifted, and I found myself in a place beyond my wildest nightmares.
Gone were the verdant hills and ancient ruins of the Appian Way. Instead, I am stripped of my clothes, wearing only a white loincloth, stretched out on the wooden beam that suddenly felt all too real. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, and the sounds of weeping and cries of anguish filled my ears.
“Wh-where am I?” I stammered, my voice barely audible above the cacophony of suffering that surrounded me.
As I struggled to comprehend what was happening, the grim reality of my predicament began to sink in. I had been transported to the Roman era, and I was about to be crucified. The tears that welled up in my eyes were not only for the agony I would soon face but also for the foolish curiosity that had led me to this terrible fate.
A cold sweat drenched my skin as I gazed upon the grim visage of the Roman soldier approaching me, his eyes devoid of mercy. My breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhale laced with fear and despair. A cacophony of thoughts raced through my mind, none offering any solace.
“By the gods, this can’t be happening,” I muttered to myself, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare.
“Silence!” barked the soldier, brandishing a whip that cracked through the air just inches from my face.
“Please, I don’t belong here!” I pleaded, but my words fell on deaf ears. They had made up their minds; I was to be crucified like the others who shared my cruel fate.
“Enough!” The centurion’s voice carried a tone of finality, silencing my protestations.
My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the soldiers approach the prisoner next to me. He trembled in terror, struggling to maintain what little dignity he had left.
“Please, have mercy!” the man cried out, his voice breaking under the weight of his anguish.
“Mercy is for the weak,” sneered the soldier, driving a heavy iron nail through the man’s wrist and into the beam’s unforgiving wood. His screams tore through the air, echoing in my ears and searing themselves into my memory.
As I stared into the eyes of the man being hoisted onto the post beside me, his feet nailed to the wood, I couldn’t help but feel a crushing sense of fear.
The moans of the crucified tore through the air like a symphony of suffering, their anguish palpable as I glanced to my other side. Row upon row of crosses lined the Appian Way, each bearing its own pitiful cargo: men writhing in pain, stripped of their clothes and dignity.
“Help me, please!” one man begged, his voice barely audible above the cacophony of despair. His body, slick with sweat and blood, shuddered with each labored breath. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the horrifying scene, but the images were seared into my mind.
“Keep moving!” a Roman soldier barked, shoving the prisoners in front of me down the road. Their shoulders slumped beneath the weight of the beams they bore, their naked bodies covered in cuts and bruises. They stumbled forward, eyes downcast, resigned to their fate.
“Can’t… go on,” a prisoner at the head of the line gasped, collapsing under the burden of his cross. The Roman soldiers laughed cruelly, kicking him until he struggled back to his feet.
“Get up, you filth! Or we’ll nail you right here!” one of them roared, spittle flying from his lips.
The sun glared down mercilessly, casting long, grotesque shadows of the crucified men across the dusty road. The scent of blood mingled with sweat, filling my nostrils as I contemplated my own impending fate. My heart hammered in my chest, a mixture of fear and morbid fascination coursing through me.
“Hey, you!” a gruff voice shouted, yanking me back to the present moment. A burly Roman soldier pointed his finger directly at me, his eyes narrowed with malice. “Your turn,” one of the soldiers growled at me. “Any last words?”
“Please, listen! I’m not supposed to be here!” I choked out between ragged breaths, but my desperate plea only elicited cruel laughter.
“Neither are any of them,” he replied, gesturing at the other prisoners awaiting their fate.
I opened my mouth to protest, but before the words could escape, the back of the soldier’s hand collided with my face, sending my head sprawling to the side. The taste of blood filled my mouth as I struggled to regain my bearings.
“Thought you could just watch, did you?” another soldier sneered, towering over me. “Think again.”
“Please,” I stammered, my voice barely audible. “This is all a mistake…”
“Save it for someone who cares,” the first soldier spat. He leaned in closer, his breath heavy with the stench of wine. “You’re going up there whether you like it or not.”
“Look at him tremble,” the second soldier mocked, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. “Maybe he’ll wet himself before we even get started.” Laughter erupted from the other soldiers, their cruel taunts cutting through me like a blade.
“Pathetic,” one of them jeered. “Just like the rest of these scum.”
“Leave me alone!” I cried out, my fragile resolve crumbling away under the weight of their relentless torment. But my pleas only seemed to amuse them further, feeding their sadistic delight.
“Your suffering has only just begun,” the first soldier whispered into my ear, his voice dripping with menace. “By the time we’re done with you, you’ll be begging for death.”
The cold steel of the spike pressed against my right wrist, sending shivers through my body. My heart hammered in my chest as I looked into the eyes of the Roman soldier who held it.
“Please,” I whispered, but he ignored me and raised a hammer above his head. Our eyes locked for a brief moment, and then the hammer fell.
The agonizing shriek that tore from my throat was gut-wrenching as the merciless spike impaled my trembling wrist, pinning it brutally to the unforgiving wooden beam. The searing pain was beyond comprehension, sending shockwaves through my entire body. I could feel hot tears streaming down my face, and sobs racked my trembling form as I struggled against the relentless grip of agony.
“Shut up!” the soldier barked, grabbing my left arm and holding it in place. My breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and my vision blurred from the agony.
“Stop,” I choked out, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, stop.”
“Save your breath, scum,” another soldier sneered. “You’ll need it.”
The hammer descended again, and I couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from my throat as the second spike penetrated my left wrist. The world around me seemed to dissolve into a haze of red-hot pain, and I struggled desperately to remain conscious.
“Alright, lift him up!” one of the soldiers commanded, and I felt hands gripping my body. With a sudden jolt, the weight of the crossbeam was lifted off the ground, connecting it to the perpendicular post. Suspended between heaven and earth, I dangled by my wrists, the pain from the spikes threatening to overwhelm me completely.
A barbarous chill descended upon my body as the soldiers fastened my feet, one atop the other, to the unforgivingly rough wood. The first strike of the hammer sent an electric current of searing agony through me, a shockwave that seemed to echo up into my skull. And as each subsequent blow rained down, the pain intensified to a scorching inferno, engulfing every inch of my being in unrelenting torment.
“Look at him now,” someone jeered, their laughter dancing cruelly around me. “Not so tough anymore, is he?”
“Let…me…down,” I managed to gasp, each word a struggle. But my tormentors showed no sign of mercy, their faces twisted into expressions of cold, callous amusement.
“Get used to it,” one of them sneered. “You’ll be here for a while.”
As I hung there, powerless and in agony, the cruel laughter of the Roman soldiers echoing in my ears, my mind raced with thoughts of despair and helplessness. What had I done to deserve such a fate? Was there truly no hope of escape from this nightmare?
The sun blazed mercilessly above me, its rays searing my exposed skin as I hung from the cross. My feet throbbed with unbearable pain, their soles pierced by long, cruel spikes that pinned me to the wood. Each labored breath felt like an impossible battle against the weight of shame and suffering crushing my chest. The coarse splinters of the wooden cross bit into my flesh, each minute movement sending fresh waves of agony through my body.
“Look at you now,” a Roman soldier sneered, his face twisted with sadistic delight. “Begging for mercy won’t save you.”
I tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the task of drawing air into my lungs. My chest was so constricted that every inhalation felt like a Herculean effort. Desperation clawed at my throat, suffocating me further as I gasped weakly for breath.
“Can’t even… speak,” I managed to choke out, my voice barely audible amid the groans and cries of my fellow prisoners.
“Ha!” the soldier barked, amused by my pathetic display. “Don’t waste your breath, scum. You’ll need it.”
As the minutes dragged on, the pain in my wrists and feet intensified, threatening to consume me entirely. Yet somehow, I clung to consciousness, unwilling to surrender to the darkness that beckoned at the edges of my vision.
“Please…” the man beside me whimpered, his own suffering evident in his strained voice. “Have mercy…”
“Mercy?!” another soldier roared, his laughter harsh and mocking. “You expect mercy from us? You’re nothing but filth beneath our boots!”
“Stay strong,” I urged myself silently, desperately trying to block out the soldiers’ taunts. “You’ve made it this far. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
But as the hours wore on, my resolve began to waver. The unrelenting pain, combined with my increasingly desperate struggle for breath, threatened to break me completely. I was no longer certain I could endure this torment any longer.
“Gods,” I prayed silently, “if you’re listening… give me the strength to survive this hell.”
As I hung there, suspended between heaven and earth, I knew that I had reached a crossroads. Would I allow my tormentors to triumph, or would I find some way to persevere through the unimaginable agony? Only time would tell.
The sun bore down on us, relentless and unforgiving. I squinted against its glare, my vision blurred by the sweat that stung my eyes. The grim tableau of crucified prisoners extended in both directions, our collective suffering amplified by the stark nakedness that left us exposed to the elements and the jeering eyes of our captors.
“Please,” a man to my left choked out, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of groans and sobs that filled the air. “I beg you… let me down.”
The Roman soldier’s sneer twists into a malicious grin as he towers over the writhing man at his feet. His eyes are ice cold, devoid of any empathy or mercy, as they rake over the pitiful figure before him. “Ha! Want down now, do you?” He taunts, relishing in the man’s agony. “You should have thought twice before following that traitor Spartacus and daring to challenge the might of Rome!”
My heart clenched with pity for the poor soul beside me, but I had no words of comfort to offer. Each breath was a battle, my lungs straining against the constriction of my chest. My thoughts were consumed by the agonizing pain that shot through every nerve, fire licking at my flesh where the splinters of the cross dug into my skin.
“Look at them squirm!” another soldier barked, his laughter low and malicious. “Like worms on a hook!”
“Pathetic,” his comrade agreed, spitting at our feet. “Nothing but filth.”
“Gods above,” I prayed silently, my voice little more than a whisper in my own head. “Give me the strength to endure this… or grant me the mercy of death.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
A sudden gust of cold wind jolted me back to reality.
My eyes slowly opened and my vision cleared, revealing that I was lying with my hands extended on top of a wooden beam.
“Was it all just… a dream?” I whispered, my voice shaking. My body trembled with the aftershocks of the ordeal, sweat dripping down my brow.
“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself, pulling my clothes towards me. As I dressed, the vividness of what I’d just experienced continued to haunt me, each agonizing moment playing out in my mind’s eye. The taste of blood and humiliation lingered in my mouth, my wrists still throbbing as if they bore ghostly wounds.
“Ridiculous,” I scoffed, trying to brush away the lingering thoughts as I fastened my belt and stepped into my shoes. “It was only a dream.”
“Excuse me, are you alright?” A passerby called out, his concerned gaze fixating on my disheveled state. I must have looked like a madman, sprawled on the ground and drenched in sweat.
“Uh, yeah,” I stammered, forcing a smile. “Just needed a moment to rest, that’s all.”
The man appeared bewildered as he saw me lying on the ground, my arms spread wide, wearing nothing but white briefs. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and ashamed.
“Okay then,” he replied hesitantly, clearly not convinced. “Take care.”
“Thanks,” I managed, giving him a weak nod before mounting my bicycle. With a deep breath, I pushed off, pedaling hard to distance myself from the eerie site that had triggered my nightmare. Or had it been something more?
As I cycled, my thoughts churned relentlessly, struggling to make sense of my ordeal. Had I somehow tapped into the collective memory of those who had suffered such a brutal fate? Or was my imagination simply running wild, fueled by my morbid fascination with the past?
“Does it even matter?” I asked myself, my voice barely audible against the wind. “You lived through it, whether in your mind or some strange twist of reality.”
“Either way,” I continued, my determination rising like a phoenix from the ashes of despair, “I won’t let this experience define me. I will use it to fuel my understanding and empathy for those who have suffered, and to remind myself that life is precious and fleeting.”
“Never again,” I vowed, my eyes locked on the horizon as I pedaled faster and faster, “will I take life for granted.”
“Never again,” I whispered, my voice carried away by the wind, “will I forget the lessons learned from the crucifixion.”

I - II - III
“Please. You have to remove Jumpy from the end of the episode.”
My animation supervisor looked at me with furrowed brows. “ We can't. We've already passed that sequence over.”
“Well then un-pass it. Just tell the client there was a technical error or something. We need to remove Jumpy from the background.”
He frowned at me and drank his coffee. A few people peered into the window of the meeting room, wondering why I was having another one-on-one with my boss.
“Elizabeth, it was you who wanted to add Jumpy in the first—”
“—I know! It was a terrible mistake. We should have never added him in. Please.”
He massaged his temple. “Why does it matter exactly? It's just a webcomic right?”
My hands were fidgeting, wringing each other constantly. I tried to keep my voice level.
“... If we don't remove Jumpy, we are risking the well-being of countless generations of kids who watch this TV show. Lives are at stake.”
He put down the coffee cup and looked me in the eye. “Elizabeth, I know you had that elevator accident. And if you’re feeling … untethered … that’s okay.”
“I'm feeling totally fine. This has nothing to do with the elevator. Please just believe me when I say we need to remove that cartoon frog.”
He took a deep inhale and shook his head. “My hands are tied here Elizabeth. But if you want to talk to production, see if they are willing to communicate with the client for us to resubmit the animation sequence. Go right ahead.”
***
I spoke with production. I spoke with the head producer at our studio and explained how important it was to remove the frog from the background of episode six.
Everyone gave me strange looks and didn’t see the big deal, but I kept pushing.
Eventually, even the head producer said there was nothing that could be done.
The only person who had the power to make changes to episode six, was the client side boss. A wealthy studio exec who worked from home, some two hours away from my city.
His name was Paul Winslow.
I tried calling him, emailing him, messaging him via linkedin, slack and every other platform imaginable. But he was some big shot, and didn't have time to respond to anything.
I had given him three whole days. Three whole days where all I did was worry about my cousin’s nephews, and all the kids I could see going to the school across from my apartment.
This wasn't up to him anymore, It was up to me.
***
HR said I was required to take a ‘ leave of absence’ for 2 weeks as they ‘ reassessed’ something. This was fine with me, because It gave me the time I needed to execute my plan.
On a dark, overcast night I drove all the way to Paul Winslow's house.
***
It was late, but I could still make out the black, wrought iron gates at the entrance. The intercom box on the right.
I had waited too long, the episode was going to release imminently, so I didn't have time to bother with the intercom. Instead, I flashed my high beams and pointed at the gate.
In view of my headlights, the iron gate started to shake and bend.
The middle latch snapped off.
Within seconds, the gate had been peeled apart as if it were made of putty.
I drove through.
Along the path, two large dogs came barking at my car, they looked eager to leap at my throat.
But before they could reach my bumper, there came a large, earth-shaking stomp. The dogs froze. Noses sniffed the air.
Their tails curled between their legs as they ran away.
I pulled up to the enormous front doors made of some kind of red cedar. The handles looked like they were made of polished bronze, or maybe even gold.
The expensive handles crumpled. The doors were torn from their hinges.
I walked in holding a laminated copy of my Jumpy sketch. I spoke loudly and assertively.
“Mr. Winslow. We need to talk.”
From upstairs, I could hear a panicked voice: “Who are you!? Get out of my house! I have a gun!”
Wasting no time, I pointed at the stairs. The bannister bent and splintered.
I waited at the foot of the stairs until I heard a gunshot, followed by shrieks.
“What the hell? What is happening?!”
Some banging and screaming ensued. When it turned into crying, I walked up the stairs.
Mr. Winslow was lying in a bathrobe on his hallway floor. I could make out the wet indentation of a heavy footprint on his chest. He looked up at me with watery, frightened eyes.
“Paul, believe me when I say I’m sorry I had to do this. But I had no other choice.” I said.
He whimpered as he spoke. “Is it money you want? I have gold in the attic. take as much as you want.”
“Lives are at stake. I need you to remove this character from the kids show you're making.” I held up the Jumpy sketch to his face.
“ …What?”
“You have the ultimate sign off. I need you to prevent episode six from airing.”
“You’re talking about … that singalong show?”
“YES! You have to prevent this character from ever being seen by anyone!”
“But it's already … It's already been sent to the streamers.”
“What!? What do you mean it's already been sent?”
“They’ve already released it in … Asia and Europe.”
I dropped the picture, and lowered my face to his. ‘Are you serious? Kids have already seen it!?”
Mr. Winslow's face was beginning to turn blue. “Listen. Do you have any idea how tight the turnaround is on children’s programming? I don't make the rules.”
“No no no!” I pulled at my hair.How could I be too late?
I stared at the air above the studio exec and pointed wildly. “Jumpy, is that true? Is there something you're not telling me? Have some kids seen you?”
The air slowly rippled into green, white and orange patterns, until all the colors solidified into the shape of a massive tree frog.
I looked at one of the frog’s massive red eyes. “Do you have other believers? Can you sense them already?”
Jumpy frowned, holding one hand on its stomach. “Only thing that Jumpy can sense. Is how hungry belly is.”
The frog eyed Mr. Winslow.
“No Jumpy!” I shouted. “We agreed, only as an absolute necessity.”
“Holy fuck!” Mr Winslow tried his best to wriggle out of Jumpy’s foot. “What is this thing? Is this real!?”
Jumpy lifted its foot. The man rolled out and crawled away.
“Jumpy!” I waved my arms. “What are you doing?!”
Mr. Winslow ran for the pistol lying on the floor at the end of the hall. Just as his fingers leaned down, A massive tongue whipped out and grabbed him by the head.
There was a crack and a twist.
Mr. Winslow's body lay face down on the floor. His shocked face was turned upwards, staring wide-mouthed at the ceiling.
“Now can I eat him?” Jumpy asked.
***
The following day I left town. Paul Winslow's sudden disappearance would eventually be traced back to me. Everyone at my work knew what I was after.
I had been obvious about it.
I had been stupid.
Terror prevented me from seeking Jumpy, but now survival has forced me to pair with the frog. It followed me wherever I drove.
Ironically, I was no longer afraid of the monster which used to keep me up at night, because I had turned into somewhat of a monster myself. A murderer on the run.
The silver lining was that when I finally got around to watching episode six of my company's kids show. You couldn't see Jumpy.
It was a sing-along show for young kids, and the baked-in lyrics on screen obscured the background characters for the whole sequence Jumpy was in. You couldn't even make out it was a frog.
And so here I am, driving from city to city. Never lingering too long.
I'm giving myself a few months to figure out what to do. I’ve mostly been staying in cheap hotels and hostels.
Every now and then I go swimming at the nearest public pool late at night. Jumpy always finds a way through the roof. We swim together.
Through Jumpy I’ve been learning more about my late twin sisters. They used the Jumpy a lot to get what they wanted.
But I don't need anything excessive. I don't want money, I don't want fame, I just want to live somewhere peacefully. Maybe teach synchronized swimming. If I can use Jumpy to arrange that—it's enough for me.
As much as I hate it, I feel like I deserve to be the sole believer. To have this invisible creature haunt me, and follow me wherever I go.
I was a Whitaker sister after all.
Jumpy is my imaginary friend.

32 years ago it was Thursday, June 4th, and a cute little blonde lady popped her head inside the door of a survey office that I frequently went to to get surveys for our mortgage applications, to say hi and bye. It was Sherrill Levitt who I had seen there before on several occasions. Sherrill had a "Beauty Shop" as she was a hair dresser, next door to the survey office.
Sherrill seemed fine that time, simply saying bye for the day, but on other occasions, in the late afternoon, she seemed to be under the influence of something, a bit intoxicated or high, I'm no expert, but she wasn't in pain.
Just a few doors East from her shop in the Silverleaf Shopping Center on Republic Road was a bar, the Silverleaf. This was and still is more of a biker bar that allowed smoking inside. Sherrill was a heavy smoker and she could go in and enjoy a drink after she locked up her shop.
The Silverleaf Bar hasn't changed much since '92, it was and still is a biker bar and a few Harley's always seem to be parked outside every evening. I've seen bikers wearing "colors" motorcycle club jackets and vests, among them, in those days was the Galloping Goose MC. The GGMC was and is an affiliate of the Hell's Angels.
Reading about this crime one thing stands out as being odd to me, the extent at which family and friends have gone to in order to protect the reputation of all three, especially Sherrill and Stacey. I have read where someone had said that Sherrill didn't go to the Silverleaf. I have seen her there.
Webslueth's (a sort of detective site) that carried on countless pages about the three, have strict rules about posting and won't allow speculation about drugs being related to this case by one of the women. Other sites have similar attitudes, I mention this because it has been difficult to even bring up a drug related issue that connects Sherrill.
Makes me wonder if family ever threatened a a site with a defamation suit over anything that might taint the reputation of their loved one, I don't know, but bring it on, I know what I saw and know others who know more than I do about Sherrill.
Sherrill also frequented Cartoon's, a bar on S. Glenstone, about a couple miles from her home, a popular bar back in the day and known on the street to be a place to fill your drug order.
It is not my intention to paint Sherrill as a drug user, but that she had familiarity in that drug world. I would accept the theory of having been involved with Gerald Carnahan and I believe her involvement with him led to her demise.
I can also say that Carnahan was not the kidnapper on the 7th, he was not with the three women, at least he wasn't at about 3:30 a.m. ! I know that because that was the last time I saw Sherrill.
Back then, I lived near the Fox Grape subdivision and I couldn't sleep that night, I was also out of cigarettes! About 3:15 a.m. I drove to a neighborhood Git N Go, a C-Store at the corner of Lone Pine and Battlefield. I pulled in and parked in front of the ice machine. I went in a got my cigarettes and as I walked out and a light green van pulled in and parked in the second to last parking space to the East end, in front of the store.
I stepped outside and stopped to open my pack and have a long awaited smoke. I looked to my right standing at the door and watched a guy, about 32 or so, get out of the driver's seat and walk toward me.
The man was taller than me, about 6' 2/3" tall, he weighed about 195 or 220 pounds having a slim but muscular build. He had very dark brown/blackish hair, it was long and straight, like Jesus, parted in the center and hung just below his shoulders. What I noticed most of all was his stare with his dark, blackish eyes that looked right through me. As he stepped passed me, jerking the door open, I moved aside and nodded at him, he had no response.
I stood outside to smoke, I didn't smoke in the car because of my wife having issues about smoking. I was looking at the van, it was in rough shape, dirty, mint green and brownish, it was early in the morning and under florescent lights, an old Dodge utility van, no windows on the rear panels. Then the side doors were opened.
A man with shoulder length dark blonde or light brown straight hair, pulled back from his face opened the side passenger door. I saw him but then saw a younger girl with darker brown long hair sitting next to the far wall in the rear, she looked like she only had on panties and a white t-shirt. Then I noticed her picking at her left foot that she crossed her leg to pick at the bottom of her foot, it appeared to have been bleeding, I could just see what looked like a bit of blood with her being about 20-24 feet away from me.
Then, another girl, blonde hair moved from the rear forward on what looked like a makeshift van bed. She appeared to only be wearing panties and a t-shirt and barefoot as well. Then the man in the back moved between her and my line of sight, as he faced inside the van and motioned to the girls to sit back.
I was old enough to understand the life style of hippies having a love-in van ride, early in the morning I thought this was simply a sex, drug and rock n roll thing going on in front of me. Neither girls seemed overly concerned, neither tried to get out or try to catch my attention. I didn't recognize anyone in the van.
Then I saw Sherrill, she stuck her head out between the side of the door opening and to the side of the man sitting near her. She seem to take a deep breath and then saw me in front of the store. She mouthed something slowly and looked very tired or intoxicated, upset or perhaps sick. As soon as the man in the back saw her, he put his arm out in front of her and must have told her to get back as she immediately moved back out of sight. Sherrill was dressed, a flowery top, jeans and tennis shoes.
All this took about a minute and a half, maybe a few seconds longer. The man that went in the store bought Marlboro red, like mine and on the way out looked at me briefly as if he was mad at me. We made eye contact but I looked away avoiding what I thought could be a confrontation, perhaps just for seeing his girls undressed. I then tossed my cigarette and got in my car.
The man sitting in the back was in his mid or late twenties, light hair as I described and a medium build, probably around 5'10" to 6'0", he did resemble Cox as to his body type but he never got out of the van. The other man in the front passenger seat never looked my direction but could see his profile briefly, he didn't resemble any named suspects from this case.
This was later reported to the Springfield Police, after I learned what had happened. After learning about what had happened I surmised that it was Suzie and Stacey, pictures later confirmed that. Stacey must have cut her foot and was tending to her injury. Suzie moved slowly, as if she wasn't concerned with who she was with. Sherrill, now I understand, was terrified, I believe what she mouthed looking out from the van was "help me!". Had she yelled for help this may not have happened.
I brought all this up at different times with the City Police and the Sherriff's Dept. Each time they had me authenticate my statement by describing the color of the van. Seems that if the right color wasn't mentioned they discounted the entire statement.
Well, at 3;30 a.m. out from under florescent lights, exactly what shade of green, brownish, silver, rust patina was that 69/70 Dodge utility van? The van they displayed was way too nice.
When you see the devil and his angels with two almost naked girls and a woman known to you, who pays close attention to the color of the old van? I believe it was a way for the Cops to discount any witness that gave a contrary story line to what they accepted. But it was a mint green and an old paint job.
Years ago, I asked to see some mug shots, I most certainly can identify that guy who walked past me. I was told it wasn't necessary!
The sickening part of all of this is that I'm positive, beyond any reasonable doubt whatsoever, that I saw the same man that walked past me that night, he was at Marty's on South Campbell about 4:00 p.m. on the front patio. This was about 8 years ago, in the Summer, or about 24 years after this crime.
Don't believe me? Look at pictures of people you knew 25 years ago and what the look like today. Notice how the shape of facial bone structure doesn't change, the eyes don't change much, how the eyes are set in, it's not that hard to recognize someone 25 years later.
Why would that man's appearance be burned into my memory? I'm ex-Army, I've been in tight spots with bad guys before, that guy was a devilish, scary man, his piercing eyes, the way he carried himself walking briskly, jerking the store door open and walking past me as if he was daring me to say something. Then consider how you'd concentrate on your memory of that night after learning who it was you saw, that you could have been the last person the three women saw, alive, besides their killers.
As to all of the leads and theories, they really don't matter, this was about Sherrill and the girls were in the wrong place at the wrong time, pretty simple. That glass fixture that broke, it's common for those to fall off with a door slamming. Purses lined up? Maybe the bad guys were looking for a drug stash, checked all the purses and set them there after searching. Today it's all speculation for conversation, it's a hobby for some people.
Today, I'm 73, this has haunted me for the past 32 years. In my mind, this was all about Sherrill and drug issues with some violent drug traffickers, most likely organized crime. And, as far as I'm concerned, when there is organized crime there is likely bad Cops involved, that might include investigators or someone at the top. Someone ensured this case would never be solved, conventionally.
I don't believe a jury would ever send someone to prison for kidnapping 32 years ago based on an eye witness saying the victims were last seen by one of three unidentified men. I know who it is, other law enforcement officers may know who it is, but it can't be proven in court.
If you know of someone in the area who fits the description of the man I described in the store, who is now in their 60's please post. Just knowing would help.
This was allowed to become the perfect crime, what do you think?

There are weapons that have no right to exist, in their power. So powerful they are, themselves, a cataclysm in their mere existence. Even their kindest, the arxur were always renown for their hunters. And for this hunter of the sky, there is no more appetizing prey than cataclysm itself. Will this humble fisher earth the title- of Cataclysm Hunter?
[Memory Transcription]: Teshav “Fisher One”, Fighter Pilot [Estimated Human Time]: [June 1, 1899]
Watching the sun set slowly, I take in a deep breath… Seeing the stars come to life one by one… After a while I reach up a claw, as if I could grasp them…
“Up early aren’t you?” I look aside to see who’s speaking. Varath’s deep dark green scales remind me that he’s not from around these parts… And how little that matters those days.
“Always… I like looking at the stars”
“Hey, you might just get your chance to see them closer soon” Varath sits beside me, looking up as well “Hear we’re getting an outworlder in our mission today”
The slow setting of the sun continues to reveal more stars by the second, I take a minute to answer “I hope I don’t see them up close too soon… I’d rather be here fighting than running away” then standing up I continue “Are they going to be in the briefing?”
Varath stands up as well, he raises his left arm for a moment and I return a nod, prompting him to pat me on the back “Nope, just us. They’ll join us in the field”
The sun had fully set by the time we’d returned to the base and a refreshing breeze had picked up. Sadly there was no enjoying the breeze, as we made our way directly to the briefing room.
I simultaneously love and hate briefings. The inherent anxiety of being the unsocial type in an enclosed room with a group of people cannot be done away with no matter how much practice you have, but a well-coordinated plan and a well-prepared mission are also things of beauty in their own right. I am, admittedly, one of the few that likes the planning stages.
Varath gets inside with me, the other three members of Fisher Squadron are already here as well as Captain Taroth. “Good, you’ve arrived. We can start, then” the captain, leader of this airbase, was a rather casual officer as long as you were respectful “Fisher Squadron will be on the next patrol rotation, as you already know.”
He picks up a pointer, indicating the map on the wall of the nearby area and a large swathe of ocean “Reviewing: You will take off from here, make your way to Point Kesh, then follow to Var, Kidim, Shure and Roton before heading in the inverse to return.” He points at each different point in space over the ocean in turn.
“Your F-17Ps will be armed with four Aketar air-to-air missiles, two Tonath depth charges and a thousand chaingun rounds. Yes I know it’s not much given the 17P’s capacity carry triple that, but we’re running low on ammunition at the moment. Should you run into anything, focus on priority targets.” He turns the pointer to a different image hanging from the wall, it’s a drawing of what looks like a large cargo plane, but it has too many thrusters and what looks like two sets of wings “Especially the White Kierra, should you run into it.”
Just thinking about the elusive craft makes a shudder run down my spine, the best we had to identify it was orbital images the outworlders had shared with us. We had given that craft the code-name White Kierra, the beast that will lead you into the underworld should you chase it, when we learned its function: A nuclear bomber.
“Fisher Squadron will be receiving AWACS support from an outworlder ship, callsign Starlight, that will be meeting you on Point Kesh. Your 17Ps are fitted with a datalink to make use of their advanced sensors for target acquisition” the captain turns off the pointer and crosses his arms “Any questions?”
The ensuing silence was answer enough “Alright, then. Dismissed, be ready for takeoff in thirty five minutes”
Those minutes did not pass slowly. I had gotten to my craft earlier than the rest of the Fishers and had finished my preflight checks when the rest of them started loading up. Taxiing to the runway was almost mindless with the practice I had, and soon the thrust of takeoff had me pressed against the pilot seat.
The familiar smell of the recycled air of the cockpit helps calm the nerves “Alright, stay in formation and keep your eyes on your radars. We’ll arrive in Kesh in approximately ten minutes, switch to channel twelve on arrival”
The echoes of acknowledgement over the radio hit me and we perform the first leg of the mission in comfortable silence. For me at least. The so-important navigational point over the ocean has nothing of note, it shouldn’t have as it is comprised merely of coordinates with no places of reference- The ocean doesn’t allow such things “This is Starlight, Fisher Squadron do you copy?”
The voice that comes up on the radio when I switch channels is… Bizarre. It is weirdly high-pitched, with a whistling quality to it- The voice lacks the background rumble used for verb tenses, making it sound like each word is spoken in a different one. “This is Fisher One, we have you Starlight”
“Wow, you sound like a squeaky toy” I take in a sharp breath intake at Varath’s stupid words
“Fisher Two, what is wrong with you?!”
What comes from the radio after my outburst is a series of melodic whistles “So my instructor told me. Am I understandable? I can’t quite replicate your drone with my throat”
“Five by five, Starlight. I apologize for Two”
“No matter. I’ll be your eyes today, sending connection codes. Confirm?”
Looking up through the window of the cockpit I try to identify anywhere in the sky where Starlight might be, a fruitless endeavor as I see only white and blue expanse “Confirm. Targeting systems connected”
Moving to Point Var was about as boring as it could be. Flying at limited speed to give time for our sensors, formation so well practiced I barely had to put conscious thought into keeping it. I felt a bit bad for Varath, he was the only social type on Fisher Squadron and the silence must be eating at him…
“Say, Starlight” might as well give him something “That… That weapon they used in Kanstare… Do you have something like it, up there?”
For a few seconds there’s no answer “Really, that’s what you open up with?”
“Sorry. I got curious.”
The strange voice returns an answer “Yes… And no. We don’t really have weapons but… Well, there’s the clearance bombs we use in some places”
“Clearance bombs?” Five calls out in surprise. She’s the youngest of Fisher Squadron and still has a bit of the youthful squeak to her voice.
I have heard that the outworlders had issues with the unsocial types, but Starlight seems to be just like us with how he (He? She? I can’t tell) prefers to ponder every answer “There’s some… Dangerous worlds out there. Can’t afford to land without preparing the ground first. So we use clearance bombs to make a landing zone… Well, we used to, mind. We don’t anymore”
“I can’t… Even imagine what kind of danger it would take to use that kind of thing…” finally Varath finds himself in the conversation “Do you really have things like those old sci-fi stories up there? Planets with giant monsters roaming around? Things full of teeth and claws that hunt men for food? Or like- Life made of stone that does not care what it threads over or- Entire living forests that will kill anything that walks?!”
There’s a fair bit of silence, enough for us to fly past Point Var, before Starlight answers “Things full of teeth and claws that hunt men for food, huhn?” there’s a wild difference in Starlight’s tone that I can’t place “Yeah, yeah it’s those things that we thought we had”
“Thought?” Varath questions
“Forget it, not for me to talk about” Starlight adds with enough finality even their weird tones make it clear.
The silence remains as we reach Point Kidim, and turn towards Shure… I have a strange feeling in my stomach, which I assign to guilt for whatever seemed to have upset Starlight. “Attention Fisher Squadron, I’m picking up five crafts ahead” or maybe it isn’t guilt at all.
I look down at my own radar readings “Negative on ours, Starlight” I reach forward and press a button, changing the radar screen to the shared data view. Five indicators come up in a cross formation… “Appears to be an escort of some sort”
“Roger, initiate approach while I process their readings, it’ll take just a second” I don’t need to call the rest of the squadron for us to start angling towards the new contact “SPEH, that’s a White Kierra! Four Fang-6s escorting a White Kierra!”
I can feel a cold in my veins, I need to force myself to breath- “Acknowledged” I focus my eyes forward, the HUD on my helmet marks the five signals “Fishers, engage the targets. Starlight, how long until threat range?” Finally, I kick up the thrusters to combat burn.
“One hour until threat range” Starlight’s voice is almost mechanical
“Roger. Fishers, neutralize escorts first”
It doesn’t take long until we can see the incoming group. At the center of the formation was that single terrifying ship, the White Kierra. A long, cylindric plane that seems almost medieval compared to its fighter escort, six thrusters in each wing, a pair of wings further in front and another further behind as if it tried to carry a load too large for its size. And around it were four Fang-6s, sleek fighters with many straight lines, four missile pods under each wing and two chainguns at the nose.
With Starlight’s target locking we open up with a salvo of missiles, one each from us. Being caught laying down like that should have made this all a walk in the forest, but the escorts scatter as the White Kierra pulls up and accelerates far more than expected for a craft its size. As the missiles chase each of their targets I pick one of the fighters to go after.
The fighter seems to be gaining on the missile, somehow- Their thrusters are more advanced than ours, at the very least. It takes about two seconds until the missile that had been chasing it simply veers off course and plummets into the ocean, caught by some form of countermeasure I can’t identify. Trying to aim for another shot I can’t get a lock for my missiles, and when I try to align my chaingun over it I see the target marker is… Off. “They have some sort of EW, Starlight can you do something?”
Before I can get an answer a target lock warning blares at me, I can’t see anything approaching me on the radar- Until a missile detaches from the craft I’m chasing. Instead of flying forward it just drops for a moment… We’re already past it but it’s easy enough to guess what it's trying to do. I pull up quickly, forfeiting the chase and start a U-turn…
The missile is gaining on me! So I continue to pull until I arc back down, the gravity helping my acceleration, for a bit of a too bold maneuver. I have to get this right- I can barely keep up with the missile’s speed until I get close to the water. At this point I pull back up again and fire off my flares, confusing the missile just long enough for it to plummet into the water.
“Switch your missiles to command guidance!” comes Starlight’s voice from the radio “They can’t fool my systems!”
After angling myself back up I look at the radar screen, I see the other four Fishers engaged with their targets- Two is being chased by a fighter who seems entirely focused on them. Flipping the switch on the missile’s systems to command guidance I angle back up and begin going after the fighter chasing Varath, it doesn’t take long to get on their tail.
Thankfully I’m trained enough in manual aim that their EW messing with the HUD’s targeting isn’t a problem for my chaingun, but the slippery syasara is fast, dodging left and right keeping Two pinned with a stream of bullets while dodging mine. A second later my systems tell me I managed a target lock on it, so I wait… Wait… I watch as Two baits them up, I angle upwards as I fire the chaingun. Obviously that pilot knows better than to try to keep moving up, that’s when I fire my missile. The bastard is too confident on their EW, they even try deploying countermeasures, but with the missile’s targeting using Starlight’s outworlder systems its accuracy is perfect and they can’t dodge it in the end. One fighter down.
“Fisher Squadron, attention, the White Kierra is leaving engagement range, focus on it!” Our eye in the sky calls out.
“Three, Four, Five! Keep the escorts busy! Two, with me!”
It doesn’t take long to get closer to the White Kierra, with two crafts to take on one bomber it should be easy, as long as the other three can keep the others busy. Might even make the mission faster if they decided to retreat after failure. I move to align behind the White Kierra while Two moves to the side trying to get a different angle.
Getting close enough I open up with the chaingun, trying to save up missiles. The first few hits score on the tail but the large ship is surprisingly nimble, managing to dodge a good deal of the burst. Undeterred, I continue, changing my aim to land shots on their wings. I manage to trace a line of fire across one, not enough to stop it but it causes it to slow down. “One, Two, the escorts are attempting to chase you, be advised” Starlight calls.
“Aketar out!” Verath’s voice calls- That should be the killing blow. But something else happens. A large bay, the size of the craft itself, opens up under the White Kierra and something drops out- My heart stops for a second as I marvel at the sheer size of that missile… We’re almost an hour away from the coast- This thing is massive, absolutely gigantic, no doubt capable of reaching the coast from here.
The blast of Verath’s missile tearing down the White Kierra doesn’t bring any ease as the great missile simply screams past at tremendous speeds “Fuck!” is all I have left to say as I try to chase it down, but I’m losing it too fast! “Activating afterburners!”
Feeding extra fuel into the engines gives me a burst of speed “Shit! Three, get them off my tail!” I hear Varath’s voice, a quick gaze on the radar screen tells me one of the escorts caught up with him, and now the entire rest of the Fisher Squadron is tangled with two very slippery Fang-6s.
I can’t focus on it right now. I keep the massive missile in my sight as I slowly start to gain on it, waiting until the target lock confirmation- I fire my third missile against it. Seconds tick by as the smaller, more agile weapon comes closer… But my assessment on their agility is wrong, out of nowhere the giant weapon of mass destruction just dives, as if it had a pilot of its own, then twists and spirals back up with agility only an unmanned vehicle could have, causing my own missile to harmlessly plummet in the water “Shit”
This isn’t a normal weapon, not by any means. With the afterburners on I am quickly running out of time, but I’m catching up. I open fire with the chaingun but the missile evades again, dodging right and left in spiraling patterns.
“That’s evasion pattern C…” Starlight’s voice is almost a whisper.
I continue to try to land a hit, trying to score a strike against the thrusters, but the damned thing is too slippery and the ammo count on my chaingun has already drifted past the halfway mark. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Fisher One, stop firing!” what “Follow my instructions! On ‘go’ fire a missile from its left side, then fire your chaingun above and to the right of it. And most importantly, when I pass by don’t flinch”
“What?! What’re you going to do?”
“Something stupid, get ready!” I take in a sharp breath, I doubt I could get ready, what is Starlight even trying to do? Some crazy outworlder magic?
“Five!” I spare a glance at the radar screen, I can see a new indicator far behind me. “Four!” That’s Starlight for certain, but they’re way too far and coming from way too high above “Three!” I look up again… I can see the shore from this distance. “Two!” I make sure I have a target lock “One!” I take in a deep breath “Zero!”
I pull the stick to the side, swerving to the side “AM injector!” I can hear Starlight’s voice
With a click I send the missile sailing forward “Torch online! Dampener capped!” Whatever procedure Starlight is going through is something I can’t even fathom.
That deadly weapon of mass destruction begins another evasive spiral, I pull up and to the right firing my chaingun, but it’s like the missile knows where I’m about to shoot “Railgun discharging!” Starlight’s voice echoes
And then I hear it, you don’t generally hear the sound of an aircraft when flying one, but I couldn’t not hear the monster that flies past me. Absolutely massive in comparison to my own ship, I can barely make out its shape when it flies past way faster than anything else I had ever seen, a trail of radiant flame behind it and a brilliant jade lance of energy in front of it.
It was like an ancient knight charging in with a lance. What madness is this of those outworlders, a melee aircraft?! But whatever madness it was, it was effective! The lance of energy dissipates into mist moments after it cuts through the missile, the shattered pieces falling into the ocean. But Starlight’s ship does not stop, the arcs upwards and heads directly up for a few seconds at tremendous speed, I almost can’t see it anymore…
And then the ship begins to freefall “Starlight? Starlight!” I shout in the radio
It takes multiple seconds of dread before I get an answer. It takes long enough that I can see the falling form of the ship, pieces falling out of it only make the dread stronger “Brahk… I’m here-” and then the ship levels and just… Slows down. While I need to orbit around the position to keep it in my sight it just slowly begins to hover…
“VTOL fighter? You people are full of surprises” I chuckle
“More than you think!” comes back that alien voice “Fisher Squadron, I’m picking up the remaining two ships fleeing”
“Aye, sir!” that was Five’s squeaky voice “But we’re running dry, we’re out of missiles”
“And I’m dangerous on fuel” I sigh “Contacting base, we need a swap”
Switching channels I call up base “Homebase this is Fisher One”
“Fisher One, homebase. Proceed” the operator calls on the other side
“We have engaged with the enemy and stopped a White Kierra, the squadron is low on ammo and fuel, requesting permission to return”
There’s a couple of seconds of wait “Acknowledged, Fisher One. Permission to return, another squadron will take over”
The trip back to base was… Strangely slow. It was like the seconds were taking minutes to pass. There was a little bit of chatter, but we’ve all avoided talking about what had just happened. For a reason, of course, because none of us wanted to consider what might have happened if Starlight hadn’t pulled off that stunt. That nuclear missile would have escaped us, and we didn’t want to consider the consequences. Myself, I focused on my fuel gauge, steadily draining…
Thankfully, there were no more contacts and my fuel never reached red by the time we had returned. I was the first to land, quick to taxi back into the hangar and jump out. I startled two mechanics as I ran out to look out at the squadron returning behind me.
Two’s ship had taken a few dings, but not too many and he landed without a problem. Three’s craft was pristine, as always, few men can dodge like he can. Five landed right after, hard, but I couldn’t blame her for it as the scorch marks and warping on her craft indicated she just barely dodged a missile. When Four landed… He couldn’t brake and eventually his craft skidded into the sandpit at the far end of the strip. From the marks at the bottom of his craft he was lucky the landing gear extended!
But then there was another craft approaching. One I could not identify. It was much wider than any aircraft I had ever seen, and seemed to be designed like a craft that had been split in two by the spine. In the spine of the craft was a massive rectangular structure, from the appearance the only way I could describe it was a cannon, a massive cannon with an ammo size that is unreal.
The entire craft seemed to be built around it. Each side had dual Y-shaped wings, the thrusters on the back were massive by any measure… But I couldn’t spot any weapon other than the spinal gun. As it flew over the strip it maneuvered in the air until it was actually above the parking spot, and started to lower- Six pivoting thrusters under it serving to keep it controlled as it lowered.
In my excitement I can’t help but run over there to- To- Okay, to gawk at the outworlder crazy ship! It did really seem like it was straight out of a sci-fi novel! The crazy lines, the impossible shape… That crazy super engine it used! I felt like a hatchling again just staring at it. The support crew had gathered around it, and yet nobody dared approach.
When I heard a hiss I realized that the ship had not one, but two cockpits, one on each side of the split. Only one of them opened up, however, and I could see a diminutive form in it. A tiny arm raises and waves, and they wait… Until, that is, someone from the support crew wisens up and finds a ladder, which still doesn’t fully reach all the way up to the cockpit. Still, Starlight steps out of the place and looks down at the ladder.
I couldn’t make out anything of them aside from their general bipedal form in the flight suit, and the way their tail kept moving to and fro like an angry beast’s. I saw them try to lower themselves to the first step of the stairs but- I run. I saw it happen before it happened, thankfully, but Starlight does manage to catch their feet on the first step of the ladder, but the impact is too much and it slips. Luckily I manage to catch Starlight before he hits the ground “Oww….”
I look down at the little being in my arms. They’re less than half my size. Even through the suit they feel soft to the touch… I just stay there for a few seconds, staring at their reflective helmet… Something is wrong, Starlight isn’t moving! Acting perhaps rashly I try to find something around their neck and- There, I knew it had to be there! I don’t know what exactly I unclasp but it helps and I can remove their helmet.
The face that looks up at me is… Is like that of a little doll. Soft grey fur, a gentle and featureless rounded face, ears folded back in clear worry, eyes wide open… “Uhn… H-hi Starlight…”
It takes a few more seconds, I can hear the heavy panting of the alien AWACS operator. Slowly, he starts to move and I let him go as he detaches himself from me “S-sorry… Uhn… Fi-fisher One?”
He stands up, slowly, and I follow “Yeah… Teshav” I tap my tail lightly in greeting.
The motion he returns is a bit stuttered, some form of wave with his far more mobile tail “Kadek… Uhn, sorry for freezing a bit there.”
“It was a pretty scary fall. Your ship is big” I say, looking up at it
“Hah… Yeah… Yeah… The BX-1R Cleanser is uhn… Pretty big. Wa-was supposed to be a bomber if you believe it?” He seems to want to look everywhere other than directly at me, so he’s focusing his eyes on his craft… I think. At least his ears are pointing that way.
“A bomber? How does a bomber get turned into an AWACS craft with a crazy energy spear?”
Then his tail twitches in what seems like clear surprise even to me, and he turns slightly towards me “What? Energy spear? Wait-” he returns his focus to his craft, then to me and starts whistling! A long melodic whistle that… I can’t quite place what it is “The plasma railgun! That’s what it is!”
Plasma… Railgun… “That’s- That’s straight out of a sci-fi comic! I didn’t know those things existed! Why haven’t you used those before!”
He whistles a little bit more “They have no range in atmosphere… See, we were planning on getting those Cleansers built to help you guys, even made this prototype but uhn… The engineers had only remembered that plasma weapons are ineffective in atmosphere after the first testbed was built, so… It was repurposed as a sensor craft instead, given the size. Still packs the railgun and transatmospheric capacity, though”
I hadn’t even noticed that we had begun walking back- Well, no, the ground crew had begun herding us back. I could see off the side one of them on the radio with someone and the staff crowding around the new ship. I looked back down at Kadek “It can straight up go to space? Oh, is it using that super engine you used?”
Kadek makes some motion with his tail “Yeah. Fusion torch engine with an antimatter starter, honestly one of the fastest engines we’ve got! Will turn you to paste without inertial dampeners!” the way his tail wags is so gentle! “Sadly, since it’s dangerous to have that starter, I only had two charges, one for entering atmosphere and one for leaving so…”
“Oh, you burned one of them for that… Well!” I stop for a second, raising my voice just a little bit “The base has a bar for the flight officers, and I hear you outworlders are good with that! How about we hang out until then?”
“That sounds great to me!” his voice was becoming more and more familiar as we talked, it didn’t even bother me his difficulty with verb tenses anymore “Maybe I can tell you a few stories about out there. I’ve got a few interesting ones, used to fly on a shipping company before”
“Shipping across the stars?”
“Yep! Maybe when all of this is over I can even show you some places out here”
“Hah…” I chuckle “I’ve always dreamed of seeing them up close. It’d be wonderful to see other worlds. I hope I get the chance one day”
Maybe when this war is over and we’re at peace. And we can join them for real. But not yet. Not while I still have people to keep safe down here.
This has been my ficnapping of u/T00Dense's wonderful Consequences of Nationalism, a goddamn wonderful story with many twists and turns.
Also a mention to u/Timmy_the_Techpriest's Wide Blue Skies, I knew I wanted to write a story involving one of the new nuclear weapons, and I wanted it to showcase the strange tech disparity between wrissan and outworlder forces, as well as showcase some portentious details of who might be the Dominion's mysterious benefactor. So I would up stealing the vibe of Wide Blue Skies for this, which allowed me to have it all.

I - II
“Please. You have to remove Jumpy from the end of the episode.”
My animation supervisor looked at me with furrowed brows. “ We can't. We've already passed that sequence over.”
“Well then un-pass it. Just tell the client there was a technical error or something. We need to remove Jumpy from the background.”
He frowned at me and drank his coffee. A few people peered into the window of the meeting room, wondering why I was having another one-on-one with my boss.
“Elizabeth, it was you who wanted to add Jumpy in the first—”
“—I know! It was a terrible mistake. We should have never added him in. Please.”
He massaged his temple. “Why does it matter exactly? It's just a webcomic right?”
My hands were fidgeting, wringing each other constantly. I tried to keep my voice level.
“... If we don't remove jumpy, we are risking the well-being of countless generations of kids who watch this TV show. Lives are at stake.”
He put down the coffee cup and looked me in the eye. “Elizabeth, I know you had that elevator accident. And if you’re feeling … untethered … that’s okay.”
“I'm feeling totally fine. This has nothing to do with the elevator. Please just believe me when I say we need to remove that cartoon frog.”
He took a deep inhale and shook his head. “My hands are tied here Elizabeth. But if you want to talk to production, see if they are willing to communicate with the client for us to resubmit the animation sequence. Go right ahead.”
***
I spoke with production. I spoke with the head producer at our studio and explained how important it was to remove the frog from the background of episode six.
Everyone gave me strange looks and didn’t see the big deal, but I kept pushing.
Eventually, even the head producer said there was nothing that could be done.
The only person who had the power to make changes to episode six, was the client side boss. A wealthy studio exec who worked from home, some two hours away from my city.
His name was Paul Winslow.
I tried calling him, emailing him, messaging him via linkedin, slack and every other platform imaginable. But he was some big shot, and didn't have time to respond to anything.
I had given him three whole days. Three whole days where all I did was worry about my cousin’s nephews, and all the kids I could see going to the school across from my apartment.
This wasn't up to him anymore, It was up to me.
***
HR said I was required to take a ‘ leave of absence’ for 2 weeks as they ‘ reassessed’ something. This was fine with me, because It gave me the time I needed to execute my plan.
On a dark, overcast night I drove all the way to Paul Winslow's house.
***
It was dark, but I could still make out the black, wrought iron gates at the entrance. The intercom box on the right.
I had waited too long, the episode was going to release imminently, so I didn't have time to bother with the intercom. Instead, I flashed my high beams and pointed at the gate.
In view of my headlights, the iron gate started to shake and bend.
The middle latch snapped off.
Within seconds, the gate had been peeled apart as if it were made of putty.
I drove through.
Along the path, two large dogs came barking at my car, they looked eager to leap at my throat.
But before they could reach my bumper, there came a large, earth-shaking stomp. The dogs froze. Noses sniffed the air.
Their tails curled between their legs as they ran away.
I pulled up to the enormous front doors made of some kind of red cedar. The handles looked like they were made of polished bronze, or maybe even gold.
The expensive handles crumpled. The doors were torn from their hinges.
I walked in holding a laminated copy of my Jumpy sketch. I spoke loudly and assertively.
“Mr. Winslow. We need to talk.”
From upstairs, I could hear a panicked voice: “Who are you!? Get out of my house! I have a gun!”
Wasting no time, I pointed at the stairs. The bannister bent and splintered.
I waited at the foot of the stairs until I heard a gunshot, followed by shrieks.
“What the hell? What is happening?!”
Some banging and screaming ensued. When it turned into crying, I walked up the stairs.
Mr. Winslow was lying in a bathrobe on his hallway floor. I could make out the wet indentation of a heavy footprint on his chest. He looked up at me with watery, frightened eyes.
“Paul, believe me when I say I’m sorry I had to do this. But I had no other choice.” I said.
He whimpered as he spoke. “Is it money you want? I have gold in the attic. take as much as you want.”
“Lives are at stake. I need you to remove this character from the kids show you're making.” I held up the Jumpy sketch to his face.
“ …What?”
“You have the ultimate sign off. I need you to prevent episode six from airing.”
“You’re talking about … that singalong show?”
“YES! You have to prevent this character from ever being seen by anyone!”
“But it's already … It's already been sent to the streamers.”
“What!? What do you mean it's already been sent?”
“They’ve already released it in … Asia and Europe.”
I dropped the picture, and lowered my face to his. ‘Are you serious? Kids have already seen it!?”
Mr. Winslow's face was beginning to turn blue. “Listen. Do you have any idea how tight the turnaround is on children’s programming? I don't make the rules.”
“No no no!” I pulled at my hair.How could I be too late?
I stared at the air above the studio exec and pointed wildly. “Jumpy, is that true? Is there something you're not telling me? Have some kids seen you?”
The air slowly rippled into green, white and orange patterns, until all the colors solidified into the shape of a massive tree frog.
I looked at one of the frog’s massive red eyes. “Do you have other believers? Can you sense them already?”
Jumpy frowned, holding one hand on its stomach. “Only thing that Jumpy can sense. Is how hungry belly is.”
The frog eyed Mr. Winslow.
“No Jumpy!” I shouted. “We agreed, only as an absolute necessity.”
“Holy fuck!” Mr Winslow tried his best to wriggle out of Jumpy’s foot. “What is this thing? Is this real!?”
Jumpy lifted its foot. The man rolled out and crawled away.
“Jumpy!” I waved my arms. “What are you doing?!”
Mr. Winslow ran for the pistol lying on the floor at the end of the hall. Just as his fingers leaned down, A massive tongue whipped out and grabbed him by the head.
There was a crack and a twist.
Mr. Winslow's body lay face down on the floor. His shocked face was turned upwards, staring wide-mouthed at the ceiling.
“Now can I eat him?” Jumpy asked.
***
The following day I left town. Paul Winslow's sudden disappearance would eventually be traced back to me. Everyone at my work knew what I was after.
I had been obvious about it.
I had been stupid.
Terror prevented me from seeking Jumpy, but now survival has forced me to pair with the frog. It followed me wherever I drove.
Ironically, I was no longer afraid of the monster which used to keep me up at night, because I had turned into somewhat of a monster myself. A murderer on the run.
The silver lining was that when I finally got around to watching episode six of my company's kids show. You couldn't see Jumpy.
It was a sing-along show for young kids, and the baked-in lyrics on screen obscured the background characters for the whole sequence Jumpy was in. You couldn't even make out it was a frog.
And so here I am, driving from city to city. Never lingering too long.
I'm giving myself a few months to figure out what to do. I’ve mostly been staying in cheap hotels and hostels.
Every now and then I go swimming at the nearest public pool late at night. Jumpy always finds a way through the roof. We swim together.
Through Jumpy I’ve been learning more about my late twin sisters. They used the Jumpy a lot to get what they wanted.
But I don't need anything excessive. I don't want money, I don't want fame, I just want to live somewhere peacefully. Maybe teach synchronized swimming. If I can use jumpy to arrange that—it's enough for me.
As much as I hate it, I feel like I deserve to be the sole believer. To have this invisible creature haunt me, and follow me wherever I go.
I was a Whitaker sister after all.
Jumpy is my imaginary friend.

"I hate boomers because they are rich, hate their kids and are destroying the planet"
As if there are not millions of boomers as left as Bernie. How about the millions of poor boomers. I'm not sure if it's true but I read that the largest group of homeless people by age cohort are boomers.
"I hate Californias because they are regressive liberals destroying the country"
There are more conservatives in California than any other state. You mean that liberal California that had to be ordered by a judge to improve prison standards because of the over crowding and their blunt three strikes policy? Can we add some nuance to your hate?
So many people view the world with these insanely broad prejudices. I can go on and on how people do this with race, nationality, sex, sexual orientation...
I say this as a black, gay atheist, socialist who has grown up in diverse liberal cities in red states. So I don't think I'm inherently better than anyone. I just grew up constantly surrounded by people who are not what the stereotypes of people who are like them would suggest. Ghetto Asian people, goth black girls, conservative gay power bottoms...
It just really annoys me when people talk about other groups of people as if they are all the same. I feel like this is the kind of thing that people will say is not a pet peeve because everyone feels this way,, yet they themselves will do the same thing to a group they don't like.

Discord: https://discord.gg/FmFzg9yU Patreon: patreon.com/FalconBookWork
2/15/2048 (military calendar)
CIA-operated Spaceship, Lunar-Mars Trajectory

*****

While Captain Mathew Ryder leaned into his chair while he read a military history book, he opened one of the food-based smoothies and drank it. As he swallowed, the captain's senses went on the fritz as they were overwhelmed by the fruity taste, feeling disgusted. "You know, I am never going to drink these again. I am so sick of them."
Warrant Officer One Rommel King laughed. "I never thought I would miss MREs. If these were the last food on Earth, I'd shoot myself."
Ryder chuckled as he understood the sentiment. "Speaking of Earth, what do you plan on doing once we return?"
Sergeant First Class Gregory Barrett leaned forward. "Probably go to the pool bar and hustle some privates for money. Then a five-star meal."
"Don't you think that is too easy to fish?” King asked.
"Maybe," Barrett replied. "I don't need the money; I just enjoy seeing that look in their eyes that an old timer like me whipped their asses."
"I will drink to that," King stated. "What about you, sir, after this pleasure cruise?"
"I know what he is doing," Wallace interrupted. "Going to the club to get some senoritas."
Barrett leaned around his chair to face his subordinate. "Knock it off, Wallace, or you will spend the rest of the trip outside."
"I wouldn't mind working on my tan," Wallace replied as he flexed his arms.
“You can try, my friend, but you will never be as good-looking as me,” Barrios replied as he looked at his tablet.
"Man, those two can be a handful," Barrett said.
"But when he is right, he is right," King said. "Matt, you do need to move on."
The Captain of Comanche, out of everyone on the team, shook his head with a grin. Staff Sergeants Eger Wallace and Bruno Barrios acted like brothers, closer to Twins than brothers. It was customary to see them competing for dominance, but they always had each other back in a sticky situation. To Wallace's point, though, he knew that the bulky Sergeant was correct. He had to work on his life. While he loved his career, there had to be more.
As the captain looked for the right words to convey what was on his mind, his eyes were drawn to the ceiling lights flickering. They suddenly turned off, and for a moment, the room was pitched black before a red glow from the emergency lights switched on.
"Comanche." Ryder didn't have to say more as his team started to mobilize, getting into their combat space suits.
Mathew Ryder unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed himself toward his space suit. Once dressed, he then floated to the ship intercom. He could feel the starship shake as he floated, making him wonder if they hit something. "Ryder to Bridge."
Hearing nothing, this started to concern the young captain. It seemed what Commander Nelson was worried about was coming to fruition.
"Rommel," Ryder said. "I cannot get through to the Bridge. Once Comanche regrouped, I want you to prepare a team and investigate."
"I wouldn't bother," Barrios said.
Hearing Bruno Barrios calling for him, the captain saw the Sergeant staring out into the void by the window.
Quickly floating himself to Barrios, Ryder grabbed a handle and looked outside. To his horror, he saw one of the bridge crew float past them. "We are under attack."
"Who are we missing?" Ryder asked.
“Kurt and Higgins are in the barracks,” Barrett replied. “Gonzales is guarding the package.”
Realizing how spread thin they were, Ryder knew they had to act fast or end up like the bridge crew. His first priority was to secure their section of the ship so they were not caught with their pants down. Even now, they could hear some weapons fire. Most likely, the attackers engaged any remaining crew scattered throughout the ship.
"George," Ryder said. "Head to Forest position and secure the left. Rommel, deploy a defensive line in the passageway. We cannot wait here, or we will be flanked and pinned. Teams of two on each side should do it."
"And the hull," King said. "If they can crawl around the hull, they can flank us."
"Good call," Ryder said.
"I will take the gym team and secure the left side," Barrett said.
It only took a few moments for everyone here to prepare as their training kicked in. Being some of the most elite soldiers in the United States military, they all knew what needed to be done.
Hearing a gunshot outside their hatch, everyone aimed their weapons in preparation to be swarmed. Rommel King then signals the Twins to line up and face the direction where the airlock would open.
Wallace aimed his P52 at the hatch, ready to kill anything that came through. Barrios floated over to grab his buddy and drag him to the wall and then held him in place. This stabilized the Comanche, so his aim was as steady as possible in zero-g. Ready to snip through the opening crack of the hatch.
As expected, the hatch cracked open wide enough for the personnel on the other side to throw an object inside their room. Most likely a stun grenade to which Wallace was prepared for. Once the hatch was wide enough, he placed a well-aimed shot through the hostile skull. A small explosion sounds from the stun grenade going off within the passageway.
Barrett floated and quickly opened the hatch while Barrios tossed a stun grenade, blinding the other hostile temporarily. He then grabbed the body and pulled it into the room while Wallace killed another target. Then, the Sergeant First Class called out for his team to storm the center passageway, firing their P52s in semiautomatic mode.
Ryder floated toward the dead body, meeting his second-in-command. The captain first noticed that there were no official symbols or markings on the corpse suit—only two different color armbands, red and tan.
"This is definitely covert ops," King said.
Lifting the facemask, Ryder noticed that this man looked Middle Eastern. "RIA or the Turks. They're the only two that could launch such an operation."
"The balls on them," King commented. "They have to know we are transporting something important."
"Agreed. Most likely the RIA, then. I do not know if the Turks would risk losing our support over what’s left of Iraq. They would more likely blackmail us over a raid if they knew anything over a direct assault.”
“They don’t call it Cover Ops for a reason, sir,” King said. “Still, I think you are correct about our opponents.”
The two went their separate ways as King went to secure the passageway while Ryder joined Eger Wallace to secure the storage section. The two floated toward the hatch that led to the next section.
Hearing the muffled sound of weapons throughout the ship, Mathew Ryder saw three hostiles approaching the forward hatch. Realizing that they had not been spotted yet, he took a quick shot, wounding the closest target. The other two took cover with the realization that a firefight was about to begin.
A firefight began as they sought cover from the bolted-down containers. Ryder saw a few corpses of former CIA crewmen floating, except for one who was taking cover behind one of the crates.
"Cover me." Ryder pushed against the bulkhead and toward the crewman, pulling out his sidearm. “Soldier, take this and cover.”
“I am not a soldier,” the crewman said as he took the pistol. “I am a mechanic.”
“Tell them that,” Ryder replied as he turned and provided suppressive fire. “Rally up or be left behind. Now, watch our six."
The crewmen took the sidearm, feeling bold now that he was not alone.
The Comanche Captain heard Wallace calling his name. He then saw that two additional hostiles entered the storage room. His first thought was shit before he aimed his P52 and fired.
Realizing that he was secured in place, he switched his weapon from semi-automatic to fully automatic and fired in bursts.
The sudden fire change confused the enemy as one was caught in the burst fire. The 5.7×28mm easily shredded through his target combat spacesuit after enough impacts. While there was armor on their combat spacesuits, it was not meant to withstand a direct engagement.
The crewmen floated to the other Comanche, and once Ryder saw his chance, he followed right behind. His comrades provided cover for fire, and an intense exchange of bronze impacted the containers. He floated back and felt something impact his shoulder. A section of his HUD started flashing yellow, confirming that something impacted him.
He stopped by one of the containers and checked his shoulder. He did see that he was hit but that the bullet didn’t go through. Seeing his luck, he hoped God was not planning to push his luck again.
Once back with his team, Ryder ordered Wallace to open the exterior emergency hatch. Remembering what his XO said that the enemy would soon use their superior manpower and flank them from outside, he needed to act fast.
As Ryder and the other crewmen provided cover, pinning down one of the hostile attackers, Wallace floated to the hatch and opened it, exiting the ship's hull.
Ryder connected to Wallace's camera feed; he saw that the moment the hatch was opened, his teammate encountered the enemy that was toward the rear of the ship to flank them. The Staff Sergeant quickly engaged the new targets, catching them by surprise.
"Turn to the front section," Ryder said.
Once the flank was secured, Wallace turned toward the spaceship's front section.
This was where Ryder saw the true extent of what was going on. Half a dozen enemy soldiers entered the bridge, with more floating toward them. What terrified the captain was seeing a black smooth ship anchored to them. While smaller than their vessel, the enemy ship was clearly designed for covert operations.
Skimming through the feed of the rest of the team, the enemy seemed to be hitting hard, outnumbering his Comanche team three or four to one. Far more than that spacecraft was able to sustain. He could only conclude that this operation was explicitly designed for them. Most likely, they were trying to acquire whatever they were transporting.
The only thing that seemed to be going their way was that Comanche was there. The enemy didn't expect a Special Forces group within a CIA spacecraft. While that proved a temporary advantage, he knew it wouldn't last long. And with the enemy spacecraft hitched to theirs, escaping wasn't impossible. A continued shootout would only defeat them just because they had more bodies.
"Sir," King said over TEAMCOM. "We are not going to be able to hold. We need to fall back and regroup."
"Regroup? where-." As Ryder spoke, he remembered the Aether-class capsule in the hangar. "I need Kurt here to take my position. George, do you have any other friends by you?"
"Affirmative."
"Roger. I am heading to you."
Ryder saw Sergeant First Class Kurt Forest quickly float into their room. "Kurt, secure that hatch. Everyone else, pull back and secure our starting point."
The captain then pushed himself back into the lounge section and headed toward the inner passageway.
He saw the intense firefight between his men and the enemy. Two of his teammates used a hatch as a shield to provide suppressive fire. It seemed they refused to give them an inch based on all the bullet impacts and scary walls, which was good. Losing this passageway would give the enemy full access to the ship.
Waving toward them, Ryder signaled that he needed cover to cross. King ordered everyone to open fire, allowing him to pass through. "Rommel, just hold on a bit longer."
"As long as you need. I don’t think they were expecting us."
Floating through the ship hatches, Mathew Ryder moved through the many different compartments of the spaceship until he reached Sergeant First Class Kurt Forest, who was holding the kitchen.
"George,” Ryder said. "Is one of the friendlies the Aether pilot?"
"No idea," Barrett asked. "But I assigned two of them to guard the storage compartment."
Ryder then pushed himself back to the previous section and floated up. Once there, he opened the hatch to the storage room and saw two CIA personnel taking cover by bolted-down compartments. One armed with an M18 pistol and the other with a P52 personal defense weapon. On the other side were hostiles advancing, to which he fired a few rounds to stall the enemy while seeking cover.
Seeing a short pause in the fighting, Ryder moved toward the two men. "Are one of you the Aether pilot?".
"I am," the man with the sidearm replied. "Why?"
"The ship is lost, so I need you to fly us off this wreck."
"That is a stupid idea. We won't get far in that tin can."
"Why the hell not?" Ryder asked in a frustrated voice.
"It is basically out of fuel. Entering and exiting a planetary atmosphere, even a low-density one like Mars, requires a lot of fuel, and we are not a propellant depot. The life support was not designed as a lifeboat, even if it had fuel. "
Hearing that statement only infuriated Ryder, as his only option for survival was to be tossed out of the hatch. Even if they did use the Aether as a lifeboat, the enemy would have to move their ship to pick them up, and they would be helpless.
Ryder realized the enemy ship was ruining other potential ideas to salvage their situation. Retaking their vessel was a lost cause, and their ship would run them down if they tried to leave. Fighting to the last man would only result in defeat and the enemy acquiring their objective. Even the insane idea of trying to capture the enemy ship to escape forces them into the open, being easy picking.
That was when the captain remembered his conversation with Commander Nelson. The commander wanted him to know what was happening in the surrounding area. While he still did not know if there was a more profound lesson or that the formal commander was seeking conversation, he remembered there were other starships nearby. Relatively speaking.
If he recalled, a French Ship was the closest. He was concerned that if they contacted a civilian ship to intervene in a covert operation and rescue them, it would blow into an international crisis, excluding how highly irregular it would be.
Relations between the United States and the French are mixed. While allies, France had always pushed for strategic autonomy within NATO and the Artemus Accords. While the old Global Order collapsed into regional factions, this had strained relations with completing interests. His wife once considered the relationship a ‘frenemies’ one, and with heavy influence with Western Europe, they weighed to get away with it.
However, he saw no other choice.
“Higgins, can you patch through the Aether systems and access communications?” Ryder asked.
“I could if I had a few hours and wasn't being shot at," Higgins said with much confusion. "The issue is that everything is dead on the ship.”
"And they are probably jamming us," King added.
“What do you want?” the pilot asked.
“There is a French vessel about a day away from us,” Ryder replied. “If we can get in contact, we are safe.”
“Then he can access the capsule communication system,” the pilot said. “I do not know what hit us. It's probably some scaled-up anti-drone EM weapon. However, the hanger is more protected than the rest of the ship.”
“Why is that?” As Ryder asked the question, he realized how dumb the question was at this time. He was talking to spooks on a spook ship while engaged in a life-or-death battle. And right now, he doesn't care why, just that it could work. “Forget that. Higgins, did you hear that?”
“On my way,” Higgins said.
“There is still that ship problem outside,” Wallace said. "And they seemed pissed."
Ryder took a deep breath as every problem continued to point toward the enemy vessel.
“Ryder,” King said. “Why don’t we blow up our ship? That should remove it while preventing the enemy from acquiring this one.”
He considered scuttling the ship earlier for that reason. This ship probably had many highly classified technologies that the CIA wouldn’t want the enemy to get their hands on. However, since they were still on the CIA spaceship, he didn’t seriously consider the idea until there was no literal choice. Now that they have a way off the spaceship, the sudden explosion could take out the enemy spacecraft while it was still anchored to them, solving most of their problems.
“Agreed,” Ryder said. “Bruno, can you plant explosives?”
“I can,” Barrios said. “The engine room would be the best place for that.”
“Roger,” Ryder replied. “Kurt and Barrett, start pulling back. Rommel, maintain control over the passageway and cover the Engine room and the hanger.”
He then turned to the pilot. “Head to the hangar and see if you can start it up.”
As the pilot left, Ryder fired and engaged the enemy to cover the pilot's retreat. He saw one of the enemy soldiers’ speed floating past one of the storage units as he fired. Seeing his opportunity, the young captain killed the target.
Turning to check on the pilot, Ryder saw blood floating in the zero gravity, which was coming from the pilot’s side. “Shit. Gonzales, get over here now. I have priority wounded.”
Ryder pushed himself from the storage wall and floated past the hatch, grabbing the pilot and pushing the man out of the way into cover.
Grabbing a handle, Ryder turned and signaled for the other crewman to pull back. That man started floating toward the hatch as he fired his P52. However, before getting to the hatch, he was gunned down. Feeling anger from watching another comrade be killed, he was forced to close the hatch and turned to the pilot. He saw Sergeant Marcos Gonzales, the team medic, treating the pilot. “Gonzales, get him to the hanger. Keep him alive at all cost.”
“I got it, boss,” Gonzales said as he pulled the pilot to the internal hatch.
After Ryder gave Comanche the order to start falling back, he saw Barrett’s team pull out of the kitchen. One of them tossed a stun grenade into the room before closing the hatch. They then placed thermal tape around the door, lightly welding the hatch shut.
"That is not going to last for long," Ryder said.
"Just long enough," Barrett replied.
“Alright,” Ryder said. "Keep things locked down here; I am heading to the engine room."
"Negative sir. Let the NCOs handle those tasks. Your focus should be on the space capsule. None of these matters if we cannot get out of here."
Acknowledging that his head NCO was correct, Ryder headed toward the hangar. The most crucial detail was ensuring they could communicate with the French vessels and escape.
Entering the inner passageway, the Comanche captain again saw the firefight. The signs of intense battle as blood and bullet casings floated around. Even an enemy corpse hovered between the two factions; Rommel King held his location firm.
As the captain passed his men, he told them they were performing excellent work and that they only needed to hold for a few more minutes before getting off this dead vessel. Then he floated further down the passageway, pushing away a crewman's corpse so he could get by.
Ryder reached the hatch that said 'hanger,' he opened it and floated inside. Once inside, he pushed himself toward the hatch and swam toward the Aether. Once he grabbed the railing, he climbed to its open hatch. "Higgins, talk to me."
"Communication systems work after some hotfixes," Higgins said. "However, we're jammed, so there's no way to send a message until that ship is gone."
The gravity of how motivated these hostiles were to claim whatever they were transporting. It made him wonder what on earth they were transporting. Forcing all non-essential thoughts from his mind, he focused on the task at hand. "That won't be a problem in a few minutes. That is assuming we can fly out of here?"
"I can only get a few thrusts out of this thing," the pilot said.
"That will have to do," Ryder replied. He then reaccessed TEAMCOM. “Engineering?”
“Nearly ready to blow this hundreds of million-dollar piece of metal,” Barrett said. “We are good now.”
“Alright. Comanche, pull back to the hanger. ASAP. Open the hanger, Gonzales, with me.”
Noticing that the hanger bay started to open above him, it reminded him of the old NASA Shuttles where the hatch was on top. It made sense why the CIA converted this spaceship with a similar hanger, the only way they could hide a space capsule.
Connecting a metal robe to his suit and then to the Aether exterior railing, Ryder pushed himself forward to reach the ship's hull. Looking backward, he noticed that Gonzales was not far behind. “Wallace should still be out there, so we must provide cover until they are ready to launch.”
The two Comanches reached the hull and were immediately engaged by the enemy. Ryder saw a hostile standing on the enemy spacecraft side hanger with two more guarding the bridge section.
Forced to use the opened hanger door as cover, Ryder peaked around and returned fire, aiming for the man on the enemy spacecraft. After a few well-placed shots, it seemed like he killed or wounded the target, so he readjusts his firing position to engage the rest.
“Hey guys, I need cover,” Wallace said.
“Gonzales, cover me.” Ryder quickly jumped from his side of the hull, jumping over the open hangar bay to the other side. Once he landed, he secured himself and took cover, using the other opened hanger door.
Finding where Eger Wallace was, the fellow Comanche took cover on the ship's far side—using a new hole within the hull as a makeshift foxhole. Ryder could only assume that the enemy was trying to flank them earlier from the exterior, and he prevented them.
“Wallace, let's go.” Ryder peaked around the hanger door and provided cover fire. Looking back, he saw Wallace trying to run toward them, relying on a zipline connecting him to the hull. The issue was that the man was an easy target in the open.
Not wanting to lose a man, Ryder stood up to make himself more of a target and opened fire. He was able to take one of the hostiles, but in return, the other two started to fire at him. "Hurry up!"
Seeing that his teammate was almost there, Ryder requested cover fire. He then reached out and grabbed Wallace's hand and swung him around the hanger after being unhooked from the zipline.
Wallace swung around and rammed into the captain, slamming him into the hangar door. “I didn't know you enjoyed getting this close, sir. Are you going to buy me dinner or take me straight home?'
A part of Ryder wanted to laugh at how calm Wallace acted, never allowing the situation to get to him. He pushed his fellow Comanche warrior away. “Right now."
The two Comanches turned and started to engage the emerging hostiles that were appearing from the many breaches within the hull. Wallace commented that the enemy seemed to be figuring out how to use the spacecraft to flee and were trying to stop them. That was fine with Ryder, as that meant they did not know that they had just turned the ship into a bomb.
Checking his feed, he saw Warrant Officer 1 Rommel King finishing loading up the last of the survivors into the Aether. From what he could tell, almost none of the ship's crew made it. The pilot and one other crewman were the only survivors from Commander Nelson's crew.
From what Ryder understood, the Aether only had eight seated, so that it would be a tight fit. He knew that Rommel King would try and fit as many as he could inside, but everyone else would need to hang outside until help arrived.
“Launch when ready,” Ryder ordered.
The latches that held the Aether space capsule to the spaceship. Now free, the large cone-shaped capsule started floating out of the hangar bay, with only the air thrusters giving it a quick boost.
“Gonzales, get on now!” Ryder ordered.
“I don’t have a line,” Wallace said.
Ryder grabbed his teammate, and the two men ran on the spaceship's hull to the edge of the open hangar bay and leaped toward the Aether. The three Comanches floated onto the capsule and grabbed the railing. “We're on. Fire the engines!”
The three Comanches secured themselves to the exterior railing and held as tight as they could to the capsule, feeling the shake violently, freaking them out.
With the sudden rumble of the Aether, Ryder and the rest looked down and saw the engine coming to life. The red and orange colored blast propelled the space capsule away from their formal spaceship, abandoning it to the enemy. The blast didn't last long as the thrusters shut off, and now, they were drifting. However, he hoped they drifted fast enough to escape the blast radius.
Looking back, I saw the enemy rushing back to their ship. He wondered if they found the bomb or felt they needed to chase after them. Either way, it no longer mattered.
“ETA,” Gonzales said. “Three, two, one.”
The CIA spaceship engine section exploded, with the rest of the ship following suit. The enemy ship attempted to escape; however, it was too late. A chunk of the spaceship hull flew straight into the underside of the enemy vessel, followed by the large blast that consumed it, causing the enemy ship to explode.
Shrapnel from both ships flew past them, and for a moment, Ryder was forced to cover his visor from the sudden brightness of the combined explosion.
Wallace threw out his fist and yelled, “I will see you in hell for round two, bastards!”
Ryder could not stop himself from laughing from the burst of energy from Wallace. He looked toward the man and said, “You are insane, Wallace.”
“Sir. Would you have it any other way?”
“I don’t think you want my honest answer.”
After the two laughed, releasing stress from the situation, Ryder looked back and took a deep breath as he saw that the battle was over. The thought from before suddenly returned about the package they were transporting. A lot of lives were lost in protecting it, and the RIA was willing to go to war over it. He had no idea what it was and how valuable it could be. He just hoped it was worth it.

*****

Captain Mathew Ryder hung outside the Aether, tied to the exterior railing. Being stuck outside because there was no way inside the capsule without decompressing the spacecraft, he and his fellow two Comanches hung outside. He was trying to breathe slowly, not to consume oxygen too quickly. His body felt numb.
Looking inside the capsule, he saw that everyone looked exhausted, freezing, and thirsty. Sergeant Gonzales was deeply concerned with the pilot's wound because of the cold temperature, causing hyperthermia. Other members of Comanche were so dehydrated they were no longer combat-effective.
It had been over eleven hours since abandoning their spaceship. Eleven hours with nothing to do but sit and wait for the French vessel to arrive, assuming they got their SOS or a quiet, cold death in the emptiness of space.
“I am so thirsty,” Gonzales quickly said.
“Do not speak.” As Ryder spoke, his mouth felt chapped and dry. The throat throbbed with pain. “Every word is wasted air and energy.”
While checking over his men within the Aether, Ryder saw Sergeant Charlie Higgins working on the dashboard, desperately trying to find power. So far, he had been unsuccessful as it remained dead.
“Sir,” Wallace barely said. “We have a contact.”
Ryder turned to face his teammate and then looked out into the darkness of space. He saw emptiness beside this one distant object that was too far away to identify correctly. The first thoughts were that it was an asteroid as they were in the Apollo Group or, hopefully, a spaceship.
A moment later, the object started flashing. While he was too dehydrated and too tired to translate the flashes, he quickly realized that it was artificial. That mean it had to be man-made, a spaceship.
Ryder pointed toward his medic and the incoming spaceship, signaling him to fire the flare. The captain then banged against the Aether window and spoke through the radio that help was about to arrive.
The captain could feel the moral spike within his team without needing to look as if hope had finally arrived. He said over the radio, “No angel of death this day.”
Ryder could see the French flag on the side as the spaceship arrived. Now, he only wondered what the reaction from Space Command would be once he learned of this. As the ship approached, he looked around his team, wondering if this would be his last mission, but if so, he got them out alive with their objective.
The French freight vessel slowed down. Once both vessels’ speeds matched, the side airlock opened. Two Frenchmen crewmen stood there, and the two crewmen jumped toward them with a zipline. Ryder and Gonzales grabbed him and pulled him close.
Ryder tried to communicate with the Frenchmen; however, they didn’t have Coms. Still, the man already got to work in connection with both ships and soon enough, the Aether was being pulled to the spaceship.
As the Aether got closer, the Frenchmen pointed toward the airlock and then jumped toward it. They realized they would be trapped outside once the capsule docked, so they had to jump.
“Alright, you two jump first,” Ryder ordered.
The first Comanche that jumped was Gonzales, with Wallace followed quickly behind. As Ryder prepared himself to jump, he saw the Canadarm unfolding and moving to attach itself to their capsule to help guide them into the airlock.
Ryder jumped and floated toward the airlock. The two Frenchmen grabbed his arm and pulled him in. The door closed, and the five of them entered the French ship. The three Comanche soldiers fell to them now and threw their helmets off, gasping for air. Even though the air was recycled, the captain thought it was the best breath in his life as he felt a new wave of energy jolt throughout his body.
A thumb was heard behind them as the Aether docked with the French ship. The two crewmen opened the hatch, and some of his team fell out, consuming the recycled air.
As Comanche exited the Ather, Captain Mathew Ryder felt senses partly returned. He noticed the Frenchman's eyes were wide and shaking. It took him a moment to understand why. The man was probably expecting lost merchant souls that were drifting through space. Not highly armed soldiers.
Ryder knew he had to refuse the situation as quickly as possible before a more significant international crisis began. While his body just wanted to collapse, he forced himself to stand up, holding his hand out, trying to calm the man. Once he got the man's attention, he started pointing toward the American flag on his shoulder.
Once Ryder believed the Frenchman understood the situation, he turned to his team. “Gonzales, Wallace, get the pilot to the medical bay. Everyone else, stay here. The last thing they need is to think we are invading them.”
“What will they use, gummy bullets?” Barrios jokingly asked in an out-of-breath tone.
“They would just surrender without a fight,” Wallace added as he took deep breaths.
As the two-fist bumped, Warrant Office 1 Rommel King slowly said, “Both of you…. Shut up….”
Ryder then ensured the Frenchman understood they had a wounded man and needed medical attention. Seeing the sight of the near-dead pilot, the man did not need much convincing.
The Frenchman reached over to an intercom, and Ryder could only assume that he had reported the situation to his ship commander. A voice came through the intercom, and then the man waved to Ryder to follow. He then ordered Higgins to follow, and the two followed the Frenchmen.
Summoning the strength to push against the wall, Ryder began floating through the starship. As the three passed through the ship, he noticed a similar design. The only significant difference was that this ship was cargo-focused over passenger. There were a few other ship personnel, all keeping their distance out of fear. It was not every day to see armed men floating on a spaceship that looked trashed. It must have been a terrifying sight.
The Frenchman led the two Comanche to the bridge, where Ryder saw the ship commander sitting in his seat.
The commander's seat turned, and the commander looked directly at them. “Americans. Infesting space with their militarism, believing that they own everything. What do you call your Second Manifest Destiny? An excuse to push above and beyond before anyone else gets a chance to stake a claim? Believing that you are above the rest of us because you have the might? And yet, here you are. Now, what are soldiers doing on the way out here?”
Throughout Ryder's career, many people complained about American militarism and Second Manifest Destiny. The United States was born through warfare, fighting for their beliefs. That included expanding to become the most powerful nation on Earth. Some politicians avoid using the Manifest Destiny term as it is heavily loaded, using military might to conquer lands that have blessed the nation to this day. Some believe the US might follow a similar path to establish its dominance in space.
While he does believe that his country does abuse its power at times, most still seek their protection. They always preferred some rule-based system that benefited others. America has the power to go it alone but chose to include others.
Ryder ignored the insult and said, “Thank you for the rescue. We were attacked and forced to abandon ship.”
The commander took a long look at the two Comanches before replying. “I am a veteran from the AAE. I know Special Forces when I see it. If you were attacked, then it had to be something big.”
“Noted,” Ryder replied. “I request that you turn this ship around and return to Earth. Higgins here can give you the protocol.”
“I am sorry, Captain, but I have to refuse,” the commander said. “I do not take orders for you, and I have my country's interest to consider. We are carrying vital supplies for our Mars base, and missing this would set back our plans for years. Unless you want to tell me what you were doing out here?”
Feeling nothing but exhaustion, Ryder realized that the commander knew that. “This is the last time I am going to request, sir. Higgins, give him a protocol to contact Space Command.”
“You do not threaten me on my ship,” the commander said. “I do not care that you are armed. You will not dare risk headlines that say American Special Forces raided and hijacked a French vessel. Your country would lose all connections to Europe. And you would be in prison for life, and I would be treated as a hero.”
“Sir…. My mission is more important than that. Contact Space Command, or I will make you.”
Ryder stared directly at the French commander's eyes. In contrast, he felt sweat and exhaustion pressing down on his body. It's almost as if someone doubled the gravity level in this zero-G environment.
The commander sat there, waiting for the young captain to flinch. However, the Comanche captain refused to remove his posture, and the commander fully saw his determination. The commander suddenly waved his hand. “Alright. A call will not hurt anyone.”
Charlie Higgins floated over and provided the necessary protocol.
“Now leave my bridge,” the commander demanded.
Not wanting to press further, Ryder and Higgins floated outside and waited.
“Do you think he will listen?” Higgins asked.
“I don’t know,” Ryder replied. “I don’t see why not, but there isn’t a reason for the French to do so. If the roles were reversed, we wouldn’t just because of the goodness of our hearts. Unless it was considered a vital natural security.”
The two Comanche waited about fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours. One of the crewmembers brought over water and a fruit smoothie.
Ryder remembers not long ago, he swore never to have another one of these smoothies again, but now, it was the most sumptuous meal he had ever had.
The bridge hatch opened, and the commander appeared.
“What did Space Command say?” Ryder asked.
“I never contacted them,” the commander replied. “As I said, I don't take orders from Americans."
"That being said, my command spoke with my President. Then my superiors spoke with yours.” The commander paused as he took a deep breath. “The ship is yours. I have been ordered to get you wherever you need to go.”
The Comanche captain thought he would feel relieved that the worst should end. However, the idea of what they were transporting quickly convinced the French shocked him. The fact they were willing to hand over Command of the ship quickly forced him to wonder what, indeed, was going on.
Knowing they were still days away from Luna, he didn't want this crew to feel that they were beneath them. Mainly because everyone in CFT-1 was in no condition to fight; they needed the French crew's best behavior. “With all due respect, sir, it is still your ship, and I will not relieve you of command. Please take us to Freedom Space Station.”
“It will be done,” the commander said before returning to the Bridge. "I already ordered the crew to prepare beds and meals."
The two were escorted off the bridge, Higgins asked. "That was strange. How do you think that conversation went?"
“No idea. But it seems that our government offered something worth all this mess. That only makes me wonder what else is going on.”
“Who knows.”
“Let's get back to the team and rest,” Ryder said.

Hope everyone’s accutane journey is going well. Currently I’m 1 month off accutane now, but unfortunately I’m still getting hit hard with the sun. I took 80mg a day for 8 months, didn’t have many problems because I took it towards the end of summer and purged bad around August-September but then fall and winter I was chilling, had to moisturise like crazy tho. In these last couple of weeks the temperatures have really been rising and the UV’s have been high as well. I’ve been using Sun Bum SPF 50 for face as well the spray for my arms, but 2 weeks ago I got hit hard with sun poisoning despite my efforts to avoid getting sun burnt. Today I’m getting very red all over my face again, almost like a rash. Clearly I gotta up the SPF but I also need something that is pretty watesweat resistant. I work in construction so I’m outside pretty much 9-12 hours a day. I keep the sunscreen in my lunchbox, but I don’t always have the time to run and apply more, especially considering my hands are filthy too. I’m looking for some recommendations for a sun screen for my face, preferably one that won’t burn my eyes when I sweat. I only need it for my face/neck. I also have pretty sensitive skin. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated!!!

I tried not to shake, especially since I was peddling and didn’t want to get off balance. It was nice and sunny out, but even with that, with what I was riding towards, it was really, really hard to stay calm. I stayed in the bike lane best I could. I’d learned the hard way a long time ago that the red brick sidewalks weren’t all that great for bike riding. I passed restaurants, dojos, and apartment buildings, all with cloth overhangs over their entrances. But I wasn’t heading for any of them today.
Finally, I found what I was looking for. I put my foot on the ground to stop, my sneaker skidding across the concrete as I tilted my bike. In front of me sat a downright collosal, rectangular, white marble building with multiple cylindrical towers coming out of the top, with a pair of glass doors for the entrance to the front room. Unlike almost every building in this city, those doors didn’t have a cloth overhang. It was the one landmark everyone in the whole country knew:
The Sorceress Society's main headquarters.
Taking a deep breath, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Memories came flooding back in as I stared at it.
Mom…
It’d been ten years at this point, but me and my brothers still never forgot that day…

-------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Shhh-! Keep it down, guys!”
Me, Max, Cameron, and Sam were huddled under the blanket. I was holding a flashlight and our favorite book, The Legend of the Five Goddesses. “He started it!” Cameron whisper-shouted .
“Nuh uh!” Sam poked him, or at least, where he thought he was. “You were the one hogging the blanket!”
I couldn’t see a thing under the blanket, but I felt something fleshy push against my back. Though, I immediately recognized it as Max. “Guys…” he whined. “Dad’s gonna find us!”
I turned on the flashlight. Finally, I could see my brother’s faces and the white star pattern among the dark blue blanket. Sam was the biggest of all of us, ironically enough, despite being three. Max sadly was usually made fun of at school for his pretty mousy face. That and being smaller than most kids his age. As for Cameron, I always found it cute how he would wear glasses even though he didn’t need them.
“Shhh…” I repeated. “Let me read…”
“Skip to the middle!” Max put his hand on the book. I wanna see the part where Maegan split that living mountain again!”
“But I wanna see the part where Nimwe empties the sea at the end-”
“I’ll read it all!” I half whispered, half shouted. “We have all night-”
But of course, right then, we heard a knock on the door. On instinct, I immediately hit the switch on the flashlight and lay flat. My brothers wasted no time in following my example.
“Sam? Max? Cameron? Layla?” Our dad’s voice sounded. “Are you awake?”
“Yes-”
“-SSSSSSHHHHHHH!”
All of us put our hands over Max’s mouth, but then winced as we realized we’d been found out again. Boy, were we gonna get it this time-
Dad sighed. “Guys… come on out. I know it’s late, but I-I need to tell you all something.
The four of us froze. That wasn’t the “Guys, you haven’t been reading all night again, have you?” voice.
It was a lot more serious sounding.
Slowly, I took the blanket off of us. “...Dad? What is it?”
Dad’s face was red and a bit swollen, and he was holding what looked like a red letter in his hands. He sniffed before speaking. “Mom… mom’s not going to be coming home tonight.”
“What-what do you mean?”
He swallowed. “Something came up at work and… She’s… she’s gone.”
None of us fully understood what’d happened at the time, but after dad tried his best to explain that she was dead, none of us took it well. And our family was never the same after that.
My name is Layla Carter, and that was the day I decided I would follow in my mom’s footsteps. I wasn’t old enough back then, but now that I’m seventeen, I’m gonna be a Sorceress.

I've bought over 30 RV & MH parks in the last 5 years. Lately? 2 per month.
Want our playbook? Here ya go:
How to buy a small, off-market mobile home or RV park that can 2x your money in 1-2 years, in 5 steps:

Pick a city in a red state.

The two biggest factors: Crime & unemployment rates

1. Crime: CrimeGrade . org
2. Unemployment: SimpleMaps . com

Cities with 3k - 30k people are best. This is the sweet spot for enough population & not to much competition.
You want parks with almost no web presence & little to no reviews.
A DG nearby is great. Walmart is better. But remember, “if no DG, it ain’t for me.”
If there's a Whole Foods you ain't getting a good deal, I promise.
Growth rate is good too, but #3 to the two above. Don't worry about the path of progress as much as other asset classes might.

Find the leads

Get on Google Maps and search "mobile home park" in your target area(s). Avoid NY & CA (not landlord friendly).
Make a Google sheet of the leads & use Loom to record your screen.
Spend 30 mins doing this.
OR, use something like Outscraper to do it for you. Be warned though, that if you don’t do this yourself the scraped results may not be as accurate.
If you’re targeting a smaller geographical area I would do it by hand. If a whole state, use software.
You’re looking for phone numbers. Use SearchBug . com to see if cell or landline for pennies. Or Phone Validator
Go to Upwork and hire a virtual assistant to keep doing this for you, assuming you are targeting a larger area. They will cost around $4/hour.
Use that same Loom link in your posting so applicants can see what the job will entail.
When working, Loom it! You’ll never know when you’ll need it. When in doubt, Loom it out!
More leads = better deals.

Call the leads

Call up the owners and be real. Don't talk about any accolades. He doesn't care and it will only hurt you.
You're a hard working country boy. You have a wife and kids (I hope you actually do).
Are you a democrat? Don't tell the owner. (Sorry, democrats).
Here's your general pitch:
"I'm not a broker, I'm just looking for some good real estate and don't want to waste your time with a lowball offer. I can pay cash and close fast"
Tell him about your wife and kids and what you do on the weekend.
Most importantly, LISTEN. He's going to talk your ear off. This is a good sign.

Ask the right questions

Ask him:
How many pad sites?
How many of those have a unit on them?
How many of the units are RVs? (It's common for there to be a mix of MH/RV)
Any single family homes on the property? Rent?
Are the units park owned or tenant owned? (this is key)
If a mix, what's the mix?
Park-owned homes you have to maintain. AVOID AT ALL COSTS. Tenant-owned homes are key (lot rent). This means you only rent out the land and underground infrastructure.
Depending on the state, sometimes you can sell back or give away the park-owned units to the tenants to absolve yourself of maintenance. Check the laws!
You'll command half the rent but enjoy 90% less hassles.
$250 - $350 is common lot rent in the midwest and SE.
What's the occupancy and rental amount of each type of unit?
Any outbuildings on the property?
Septic or city sewer? If septic, conventional or aerobic? Sewer is best. Septic isn’t a deal breaker but you REALLY want to have it inspected.
If there’s a lagoon or wastewater treatment plant I want you to throw that phone as far as you can, block their number and never speak of it again.
Within city limits or no? City limits are best but rare.
Outstanding municipal or zoning issues?
How much is insurance?
How much is landscaping?
Asphalt, cement or dirt roads?
Condition of the roads?
Any drainage issues?
Is there a manager? What do you pay them? (Best if no manager)
Any pending litigation?
What are total collections?
How do people pay rent?
How many are delinquent?
What condition are the units in?
Do you have a lien on the property?
How long have you owned it?
30 or 50 amp?
City maintained streets?
City water or well? City is best.
Keep in mind, that’s a lot of questions to ask. You have to feel it out, if he’s being standoffish, don’t keep pushing, just call back. This isn’t a used car lot, this is a relationship you’re trying to build.
Don’t try and close on this first call.
The key question:
"If we were to make a deal, what's a ballpark offer you'd expect?"
NEVER anchor him with the phrase "bottom dollar."
Using the word "ballpark" keeps numbers loose.
Whatever number he says, you want to pause and hem and haw over it. Embrace the silence and awkwardness.
Back to car sales, they call this the “silent walkaround” when valuing a trade-in. Don’t say a thing about the asset, but point out the flaws with your body language.
Touch the dents and scratches as you pause.
Do the phone version of this.
Tell him you'll get back to him tomorrow.
Thank him profusely for his time and congratulate him on the park he's built.

Underwrite

Before you do anything, check with the city to ensure the park is in good standing. Get that in writing. Don't trust the seller. Buyers are liars? So are sellers!
Now's time to crunch numbers:
What's a cap rate? The net operating income of the park divided by the price you'd like to pay.
If you want your money back in 5 years and you're willing to pay up to $1m, you need $200k net profit per year.
This is a 20% cap rate (20 cap). It's aggressive but possible on a smaller, rural park. (Yes, it really is, even in 2023)
You probably won’t find a park that big in a small town for a good price, though.
Start w/ a smaller park & higher cap rate. More room for error. $300k - $1m purchase price.
First do some market research:
Remember all your leads? Call competing parks as a potential tenant and ask what their lot rent is.
Put this in a spreadsheet to get average lot rent & park-owned home rent.
Keep in mind many of these parks will be undercharging as well.
It's common to find parks charging $100 that could charge $250.
When calculating cap rate BE CONSERVATIVE. Don't count on 100% of people staying if you increase rents, even though most will.
Use $190 to be safe.
Shoot for a park that will net $100k/year after rent increases that you pay no more than $600k for.
It’s hard but not impossible.
Or maybe you find a $30k/year park to get your feet wet. At least you're in the game.
The more leads you scrape, the better chance of finding this park.
Shoot for as much seller financing as you can get.
Finance the rest with friends/family or savings.
Once you find this park, get it under contract.
Use a standard, simple real estate form that you can find on your state's real estate commission website.
Texas' is called TREC.
Yes, get it under contract before seeing it.
Put down earnest and option money, and then go see it.
Don't dress like a city slicker. Be personable and be willing to stay a while and BS.
Drive a Tesla? Rent a truck. Drive a Prius? Just quit.
Inspect the condition of the units, even if you aren't buying them
Crappy units = more tenants willing to abandon them.
And they aren't cheap to remove or move.
Verify everything he said on the call
If all looks good, start on the inspections:
Septic or sewer lines
SFH home inspection.
Check with the city for outstanding issues or litigation
Check for liens
Wastewater treatment plant? If so, abandon ship!
Electrical infrastructure
Use professionals for all of these.
Ask for:
Rent rolls. They will likely be handwritten, that’s ok.
Bank statements.
Ask to speak to a few tenants to get their experience.
Inspect their lease.
Ask for vendor invoices or history of payments.
Ask to speak to vendors.
At some point before you close, list the property on Craigslist, FB Marketplace and Zillow. See how demand is for vacancies.
If all still looks good, close on the property.

Post-closing strategy

Meet all the tenants in the evening, they're at work during the day.
Shake their hands. Tell them you want their experience to be amazing & you want them to stay
Give them your number
Ask what can be fixed
If fixes are cheap, do them ASAP
Tell that tenant once fixes are made. Address them by name.
Clean up the park. Hire a tree guy to clear out low hanging branches.
Do some simple landscaping.
Find the tattletale in the park and get all the dirt. Who are the druggies and abusive husbands?
Get them out ASAP if you can. They are much more expensive than the temporary vacancy hit.
Fix potholes and drainage issues.
ADD VALUE. Show you care.
Wait a couple months before making any changes.
Bring lot rents closer to market. Be upfront about this. They will understand if they've been getting a deal.
Give people 2-3 more months' notice to give them time.
Keep renting out vacancies at new price.
This isn't self storage. You won't raise rents yearly. Don't be a jerk.
Let them know what to expect.
Once rents are raised and park is stabilized, you are 9-12 months in.
Search Loopnet for the most active MHP brokers
Hire the best one & pay what he or she commands.
Sell on the market for 7-10% cap
You've just 2-3x'ed your money. Rinse & repeat. I have done this over many times. Not all of my deals were bangers, but most were. THERE ARE STILL DEALS OUT THERE.
There's a lot of fine print, and things can and will go wrong, so don't be dumb. Do your own research. Not everything can be explained in 1,700 words.
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