Here is the link (Aliexpress): High Pressure Air Pump Manual Bottle Sprayer
(Aliexpress coupons: http://bit.ly/2I1VXQb (All Aliexpress items in my db: https://bit.ly/3lDj9IJ ))
I think it's a nice deal with good discount.
https://couponsfromchina.com/
Image: https://i.imgur.com/ZAmQNHp.jpeg

Well, about three days after the last time I sprayed Wondercide around our entire garden area, I stopped seeing ticks there. I don't want to jinx it, but it's been four days in a row with not seeing any. If I don't see any today, that sure feels causative, because I was probably seeing an average of two a day, before I sprayed.
We do think the Wondercide helps. It's just hard to prove it. These were fairly optimal conditions, for what it's worth -- the grass had just been mowed before I sprayed, and it hasn't rained in about a week, now.
We use 1 fl oz of concentrate per gallon of water (the instructions on the bottle seem to have changed, but this is what we've been sticking with) in a pump sprayer, and one gallon treats the area at hand. The 32 oz bottle of concentrate cost me about $80, and we treat about every two weeks except more often if it rains heavily. Realistically, I'm hoping the one $80 bottle will last us through the fall, but it depends on the rain.
It's an easy DIY and at least provides some satisfaction, but we think it does help, and it's at least allegedly pet-safe. There are plenty of other insects around, despite the spraying, so it's not killing everything, at least.

The black domes, they were pocket dimensions, which were completely detached from the material world. Bound to the stream of souls, flowing inside the ephemeral branches of the world tree, they presented a personal hell for each person cast into them. They are a limbo of regrets, the hell of one’s own making, places where the living meets the dead.
There’s only so many ways to elope them. One must either reconcile with the restless souls, or join them, succumbing to their rage and regret that they carried into their afterlife. After all, to even get there, one must possess unparalleled strength and resilience; and only those who had caused deaths and destruction on their path to greatness can even hope to get to this trial.
Freia, Flare, the First princess of Jioral. For some – a good friend, lover, and companion. For others – a nightmare embodied, a vessel of divine powers, a force to be reckoned with. She had many enemies: princes and princesses felled by her authority, treacherous servants and greedy nobles, the knights, who opposed her corruption, slavers and bandits, destroyed on her quest for redemption and restoration of herself… But there were more. Children she had burned, serving her kingdom, women who perished by the tides she conjured, men that had been torn apart by raging tornados of her making, elderly that were buried under the rubble she created…
And how did she oppose them?
“Flagella terram et vescere inimicis meis, o magnum tempestas ignis!” The sorceress chanted, spinning her staff above her head. Then, right before the raging mob reached her, she hid from them behind a vortex of fire. One move and this wave of heat would incinerate everything and everyone in this accursed realm. But…
“TRAITOR!”
“DON’T HIDE FROM US, FLA-A-A-ARE!”
“COME TO US, SISTER!”
“YOU WERE NEVER ONE OF US!”
“USURPER!”
“GIVE ME BACK MY MOM!””
“THE FALSE PRINCESS!”
“SUNNARI (die)!”
“THE DAUGHER OF A WHORE!”
“YOU SHOULD’VE ROT IN THE SLUMS!”
Curses and jealousy, bitterness and hatred. The chorus of tortured souls surrounding the fiery boundary couldn’t be silenced even by the roaring flame. There couldn’t be any redemption.
“I’m sorry for all of you, who unjustly died by my hand!..” And even though there were people deserving their apologies, those who had to perish in favor of Flare’s political ambitions, those she sacrificed to appease her tyrannical father…
“THEN JOIN US, FLARE!”
“PAPA! WHERE ARE YOU?! GIVE HIM BACK!”
“REPENT, BITCH! DISPELL YOUR WITCHCRAFT!!!”
“But I won’t give in to you!” The pink-haired woman exclaimed, absorbing mana into her staff. “Furthermore, there’re those of you I will never regret killing! And there are those, for whom I must live! I MUST GET OUT OF THIS PLACE!!!” Then, she slammed the lower tip of her weapon into the floor made of the absolute darkness. Instead of wailing, being consumed by fear, guilt, self-loathing, and, ultimately, perishing, Freia sundered this entire “world”. One magical strike from her, and cracks of white and gold covered the entire dome. The wall of fire faded, but when the vengeful spirits rushed forward to maul their prey, they crumbled into piles of black salt. “I’m so… so sorry!” The girl lamented, kneeling near the remains of children, whose future she stole. “But I… I must move forward. I must save…”
…
Sparks and crackling, whistle and dazzling – time and time again the surge of lightning breached through the veil of darkness.
“UO-O-O-O-O-O!!!” A guttural scream filled the oppressive silence under the dome. Eve Reese, so childish and bashful, so eager to prove herself, now wore a stone mask of indifference. “Nira-a-a (no-o-o)!!! Yuarmta (I won’t forgive you)!!!” Cornar yelled, held still by at least seven shadows, he had been tortured, killed, bruised, smitten by the raging element of lightning. No longer did the girl see him as a threat; no longer did she cower at the feet of her former husband. Maybe, Eve was condemned to getting back her memories as a means of punishment, something that would make her sympathize with this petty little tyrant…
“Yuarm yau (I don’t need your forgiveness).” The Me-ua kahul spoke, looking at her crackling right arm, trembling with power and guilt combined. Not for forsaking her would-be-spouse, not for becoming Panakea’s pawn…
These souls, these loyal shadows – turned out, she never called upon them… until the very end. Her subjects, her brethren… Eve feared that if she let them out, they would tear her tyrannical husband into little pieces.
“Haa… Haa…” And now, she had to choose. To turn around and let someone else fix her problem, or… “Haa… HAA!!! HAA!!! HAA!!! SUNI (I’ll kill you)!!!”
A Punch to the maw, to the chest, through the ribs, to the heart! He didn’t die! He couldn’t die here! This scumbag of a man, this monster just wouldn’t go away! No matter how much pain she caused him, no matter how many times she slit his throat, broke through his torso, shocked him with spells, cut him with magical light…
And what of Cornar?
“A-A-A-A-A!!! A-A-AGH!!! HA-HA-HA-A!!! NA SHENBATA, SETOAN (you can’t get rid of me, woman)!!!” The son of Hakuo never relented. He relished in his immortality, laughed through the hellish torments Eve inflicted upon him. The skinned lion spotted a weakness in Eve’s heart, and he pressed at it, as if breaking the girl would get him back to the world of the living…
No, he wanted to take Eve to the world of dead.
“Gha-a-a-a… Agh-h-h…” The queen-to-be grabbed her forehead, her rugged breath not only siphoned all the focus out of her, threatening to cast the girl into a pit of despair, it also deteriorated her control over the mana she wielded. Unlike the city of salt, there was enough ambient magic to harvest here, but doing so would require skills, precision, and, most importantly, personal discipline and control over one’s own mind.
“Praibi, orna Iblis (Drain yourself, my Iblis)!” The prince of Batnara shashu tribe provoked, feeling the grip of the shadows losing its strength. A little more, and he’d be free… A little more…
“Hm…” But Eve wouldn’t relent. She once again covered her arm in a coat of magical lightning. She would never surrender; the queen would never let anyone treat her like a slave ever again. Not after Keyaruga’s perseverance taught her a lesson of resilience. Not after his gentleness, however tainted by his wounds, showed her what true love should look like.
She took a swing, prepared to strike…
“…” But then, two winged shadows stopped her hand. Amda and Sana, they were barely recognizable in their spiritual forms… but Eve would never mistake her parents for anyone else. They couldn’t speak, yet they still communicated with their daughter through other means. Emotions, wishes, urges – they never wished such evil to befall their daughter, but what they hated even more – was to see their child descend into the same pit.
“I… I don’t… have to?..” They asked her to stop, to let them relieve her of that burden. “B-but!.. No! You will die!” The girl snarled, grabbing her parents in a hug. She knew what was to come – her mother, father – they wished to sacrifice themselves to drag Cornar back to the afterlife. But that… wouldn’t that mean she’d lose them all over again? Wouldn’t…
“…”
“Yes! You’re dead! So what?! What do I?..” The feeling of pain and powerlessness engulfed the verdant woman. Barely had she found the strength to stand before her fallen tribe, before those who she desired to see the most now left her.
“YOTJAR (finally)!!!” With Eve’s will getting weaker, so did the shadows of her ethereal court. Her tyrannical husband finally broke free, slamming and stomping her shadows, as they fruitlessly tried stopping him. Amda and Sana Reese hugged their child for the last time… and now they stood up to defend their precious daughter. That is… the least they could do.
…
Freia broke inside another dome. From the outside, they looked like bright constellations of stars, formed on the points of a massive, galactic-scaled pentagram. The personal chamber for each of the contenders. One was broken from the inside, collapsing inwards, into a black hole with an orange halo – this was Freia’s dome. There were four more. Two were dimmed, two still shone brightly. The Hero of Magic travelled through this empty space, lit by numerous distant stars. In her current form, things like speed, form, and time – none of them mattered, aside from her destination. And now, she had to choose one of the two luminous chambers.
…
What is true power? Does one determine this abstract concept by the weight one can lift with their muscles? Maybe it was the charisma necessary to lead the masses? Enough money to influence others? Authority earned or inherited?
“Well-well-well…” Whatever the answer truly was, Ellen had none of it right now. No strength to fight, no troops to hide behind, and certainly – those who opposed her now had little if any need of whatever amount of gold she now carried.
“WENCH!”
“TANOUTUR (murderer)!”
“NEZAH (why)?!”
“MERA RIVARO (my life)!..”
“YAU MA (how dare you)!”
“YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE, BITCH!!!”
Oh, they came for Norn. There were hundreds, if not thousands of them, some she could recall from her Murian and Teuteccain campaigns – the series of expansions past the great wall; others were the court warlords she and John unseated in her ascension; rebellious villagers too came to exact their revenge on the younger princess, after her demons decimated them; and there were the victims of Buranikka’s carnage. This was the mountain of corpses Norn Clatalissa Jioral used to climb onto the very peak of political power…
“Now then, what do you want from me? An apology? Maybe my penance?” Even now, surrounded by countless dead souls, whose entire being now revolved around their grudge, the girl wouldn’t let herself be crushed by their rage. Not mentally, at least.
“DIE!”
“MAN WOR YAKSI (give me your eyes)!”
“SUFFER, YOU MONSTER!”
“I JUST WANTED TO LIVE!!!”
And so, hundreds of voices began howling in unison. So passionate, so eager to share their hardships and aspirations, that Ellen actually started pitying them a little. So many words, so much pain in them.
“Haa… I guess, that something like this was bound to happen someday. Well…” Instead of listening to the rest of the traumatizing nonsense and wailing, the crimson-headed cutie just began… to simply undress. “I don’t have the power to struggle, I can’t break out of here, and all of you came here for me. So go on. Rape me, maul me, kill me, do whatever you want. I’ve already done everything I wanted.” Ellen, now naked and completely defenseless, stretched out on the ethereal black floor, looking into the endless black void above her. The raging souls now came closer and closer, dozens of faces now loomed above her, as their hands reached out to grab the fallen warlady and tear her apart. This… was the end.
Keyaruga, Setsuna, sister… I hope you won’t miss me too much.
And so, she closed her eyes. Time to finally die.
…
…
…
There was no pain, nobody dragged the girl around, not even a single blow fell upon her. Ellen was… safe?
“A-A-A-A!!!”
“UGH-H-H!!!”
“YOLA-A-A-A-A (it hu-u-u-urts)!!!”
Slice and dicing, the ripping of flesh and clattered bones, “death” of a sort, dealt to the undying, torment for the tormented who themselves wished to inflict suffering upon her – someone kept the restless souls away from the princess. Someone precise, fast, and masterful with his tools of mayhem.
“Haa, is that you, Organ?” Ellen asked sullenly. Denied her excruciating retribution once more, she could only cover her tightly shut eyes with her palms.
“How did you know, Your Highness?” Indeed, it was him. As brutal as he was gallant, the deceased demigod was the only one out of these dead souls, who spoke to her, and not wailed at her like some sort of a beast.
“I know only two men, who’d come for me here, and the other isn’t so discreet, you moron.” The young general replied, opening her eyelids. The first thing she saw was the Champion of Jioral, covered in black blood. His prized amber eyes were no more, only black gaping holes were there instead. “Why’re you here? Do you want a piece of me for yourself?” The girl asked, still unwilling to stand up. Honestly, she felt robbed at this moment. This would be such a fitting end for her, but no! “Don’t tell me you’ve just barged in here to… Pff! PROTECT… me.” The second princess spat these words through her painfully clenched teeth.
“First things first, Lady Norn, I suggest you cover your shame and cease this indecency.” The warrior spoke, piercing and slashing the mob with his sword, impaling them with his hidden blade, tossing them back with his kicks. He was far from his prime form, and so, wounds and sores, cuts and lesions were left on him, as he, alone, overpowered dozens of raging men and women, keeping them away from the girl he swore to protect. Indeed… “Forgive me, princess, but I made a vow to your mother, and death is hardly a valid reason to…”
“YAKS… (giv…) A-A-A-A!!!”
“…to renounce my…”
“DOKI-I-I (step away)!!!”
“…loyalty to her!”
Despite everything, no matter the odds, Hawkeye continued to push back the angry spirits. He couldn’t dodge, as every missed blow could land on the lady, he couldn’t step back, as she needed protection more than any time in her life, and, certainly, sustained by this oppressive dimension, he couldn’t die. He couldn’t kill anyone, as they just rose anew from their own black blood, but the man couldn’t retreat.
“He-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh…” The princess chuckled, curling her torso in order to sit up. It hurt her stomach, but the girl persevered nonetheless. “Why am I always surrounded by stupid stubborn men, who just can’t help but dingle their balls before me? Seriously, a dead man, upholding a promise to a dead woman, how much more ridiculous can this get?” The girl scoffed, pulling back her panties, bra, and whatever she left lying around, back on. After all, why even bother now? “Be honest, idiot! What do you want from me?”
“I came here…”
Slash, backflip, tackle, toss – Organ Trist twirled around his commander, pushing back everyone, who came too close to his prized princess.
“…to ask you, Lady Norn!..”
Shoulder slam, side-kick, a flurry of bloodshed embodied in the son of Artemis!
“…to save my…”
Stabbing enemies with that hidden blade, crushing their skulls with the handle of his blade, ripping their eyes out and tossing them away – however useless this double-sided brutality may seem, Hawkeye had purpose, skill, and, most of all, conviction, that allowed him to push the mob away.
“…daughter! Save Marianna!”
After all, what can be stronger, than a father, eager to protect his dear child?
“And you think keeping me alive will help you with that? You, moron, this bloated pigeon trapped me here! I have only one way out – fucking death!” The second princess, now properly clothed again, yelled however loud she could. Unable to comprehend the reasoning behind this idiocy, the girl just stood there, pulling her crimson hair. “Also, you’re severely mistaken! I’m not Norn! Norn’s dead! My name is…”
“…Elly! Elly-y-y!!!” Barely had the princess opened her mouth; before the dome had been breached from the outside. The Hero of Magic emerged above the ground. She levitated, using magical blue flames; she secured her sister by forming a wall around her, a barricade made from powerful ice spears. The sorceress even went so far as to send one into the undead Champion, it was one he easily avoided, though. “Step away from my sister, Organ!!!” The raging magician demanded, pulling her sibling towards her with a gust of mystical wind.
“Ghh! Oh, hey there, Friea!” The fallen warlady spoke, bracing herself against the dizziness her brief flight had caused. Still, this didn’t look good. The last time those two met, Hawkeye severely injured the pink-haired girl, and she just wouldn’t live through it again, unless two gods appeared to help her. This time, though, it was her turn to be a deity-savior.
“Get away! You’ve bested me once, but this time, I can crash this entire realm down onto your head!” The Hero of Magic promised, putting her staff between her sister and her enemy.
“Aw shit, this just gets better and better…” The little genius lamented, nervously shaking her head. Not only was her glorified suicide rudely interrupted, but now this situation threatened to kill her sister as well. Still…
“Elly, Elly… Ellen? Ellen the Adopted?” Despite Freia’s expectations, Organ Trist was more interested in the new name she called Norn, rather than anything else, really. He already had his fair share of battles, after all. “Ho-ho-o! I guess, in the end, you really did become the better version of yourself! And the ‘brother’ in question – is that sir Keyaru?” The blinded man asked with the same smugness he once boasted with in his grandiose life.
“What’s the point of answering you now? Aren’t we just traitors to you?” The heroine replied with every bit of animosity she had in her. “Hold on, Elly, I’ll get you out of here.” Freia stated, charging her staff with the magic that shaped this entire “world”.
“Heh, aren’t you afraid of what that damn poisoned pigeon might do to you for breaking her rules?” The crimson-haired cutie scoffed, witnessing the entire black dome covering with cracks.
“I don’t care about her rules! All I want is to see you safe!” The sorceress spoke with even more defiance toward Caladrius than Norn ever had in her. If needed, she would challenge this feathered nightmare to a duel, anything, just to save her family.
“I see…” Hawkeye uttered, kneeling before the two girls. All that time, rather than monitoring Freia’s moves, his supernatural senses were aimed outside, to make sure no restless souls cross the fence of magic ice. But now… “I see your eyes, Princess Flare, they’re just like hers. I’m sure; you’ll make Lady Reeharoze proud of you yet.” Now, before he once again departs to the other side, there was one last thing to tell them. First praise, then a claim… “Lady Ellen, I beg of you. The life of Marianna now lies in your hands.” …and finally a plea. With all that said, Organ Trist crumbled, his body turned into black salt. And with it, the entire realm began to collapse in itself…
“Hold tight, Elly…”
…
And now, there was only one dark dome left. Arguably, the worst of them all, this particular world was to be the prison for Keyaruga… or his cemetery. No doorways to run into, no windows to jump from. He was alone, trapped with hundreds of those who were slain by his hand. Those poor bastards – the restless souls, their minds were so obsessed with hatred, and their grudge – powered by the sheer immortality of their ethereal blackened bodies. This was hell in its purest form. The question is – a hell for who, exactly?
“YE-E-E-E-E-EAH!!! IT’S HEALING TIME!!!” Keyaruga snarled and began splattering blood all over the place. Everyone who was touched by that substance became horribly mutated – their heads bloated, their muscles strained so much, they crushed their very bones! “WHAT’S WRONG?! KILL ME!!! KILL ME NOW!!!” The man demanded, dancing around his would-be tormentors with his blade, blessing his foes with the exquisite gift of perpetual agony! Saber in his right hand, Georgius on his left, one complementing another.
Despite what the lad asked, nobody could bring him down. His immortal flesh defied any blade, his bones healed in an instant, his mad frenzy alleviated any pain.
He thought he could kill his enemies for the second and final time, give them proper death in the most excruciating manner. He was wrong…
“DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! AGAIN! AND AGAIN! AND ALL OVER AGA-A-A-A-AIN!!!” The hero yelled chopping off heads and severing limbs! He killed so many, he couldn’t even count the slayings! He murdered the same people over and over, each time their agony being more exquisite then the last!
Kill a man once, he won’t even notice, his rage will only rise! Kill him thrice – he’d waver! Five – and the seeds of fear are sown. Ten – and he’s broken completely!
Keyaruga just couldn’t help himself, he hated these scum so much, he just couldn’t contain all his passionate hatred. It was so strong, that the feeling of pure, raw, primordial wrath transcended every possible modification he had put into himself.
“A-A-A-A-A!!! UGH-H-H-H-H!!!” A soldier was weeping, hugging his boot. “S-S-S-S-SPA-A-A-ARE ME-E-E!!!”
“YO-O-OU!!! I remember you!” The healer spoke, raising the cretin by his neck. “My first kill! You watched me being raped, drugged… BEATEN!!!” The man yawped, slicing off his upper face with one nimble slice. “AND YOU NEVER!!! EVER!!! EVER FUCKING HELPED ME!!!” The lad, tainted by black and red blood, slammed the sentry into the ‘floor’…
“A-A-A-A-A!!! PLE-E-E-EASE!!!” …and gleefully sliced off his arms, ignited sparked his left armored hand into a gauntlet of blazing heat!..
“GU-GHH-GUU!!! UA-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!” And finally, cauterized the wounds, just so that the retard wouldn’t die too soon.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!!!” The crazed avenger yelled, grabbing Leonard, so conveniently nearby, weeping. “YOU SAID, I’VE DONE NOTHING FOR THIS FUCKING KINGDOM?! I’LL SHOW YOU, WHAT I CAN DO NO-O-OW!!!”
And so he did, the madman rested his two fingers on the sadist’s forehead. A second passed, and a purple spark had announced the richest form of suffering.
“Oh… U-u… Uo-o-o-o-o-o… Khh…” Indeed, although it wasn’t as vocal as previous ones, Keyaruga was more than pleased with the result. He knew of a human having specific nerves, specifically for reacting to pain. And he just overloaded them. Toxic spiders, dangerous medusas, venomous snakes and scorpions – all of them could do that with their poisons. Hell, even Keyaruga could brew neurotoxins. But damn, this thing had one ultimate merit compared to all of those – the instant effect, so potent, in fact, that the victim can’t even cry out from the excruciating pain!
“He-e! That’s a neat trick.” The lad mumbled, approaching a maid, lying on the “floor” like an embryo. Flare’s bodyguard shivered and sucked her thumb, completely lost to this twisted world. Just one little touch… “Pam! You’re already dead!” Keyaruga sneered tapping his armored fingers by her temple.
“Uh… Uh… Ugh… W… Wha-?.. A-A-A-A-A-A-AGH-H-H!!!” The woman grabbed her skull, but it was too late. All the blood, bile, and even marrow now came into her brain, bloating it, up until it burst in a fountain of black blood and shining entrails.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!! I FUCKING LOVE IT!!!” The deranged healer laughed so loud, and his presence was so overwhelming now, that nobody even dared to come close to him, let alone attack, unless they wished to become a victim of a new twisted experiment. Oh, their fear, this agonizing panic! They’re giving me a fucking boner! I wanna fuck! I want a woman! Oh, this! This will do nicely!
And so, Keyaruga dropped his saber, unfastened his belt, ripped the dress, slapped that ass which he had found, grabbed it, pushed it in! The woman with a blackened tail was slowly dying of blood loss, but that barely concerned the lad. He grabbed her pelvis and began to move, so fast, so frantic, and so mindless, that no one could see a human in him. No-o, this was a wild beast, slamming his bulging cock into the defenseless female, too tired to react, let alone resist somehow. She wasn’t even tight, just barely warm, but even that was enough. A few minutes of such suffering inflicted on her, and he came, this was a brilliant orgasm, deeply perverted, and twisted to the very core…
Oh, that’s the fucking best! I love it so much!
Keyaruga grabbed her hand, wiped his penis with it, pull back his pants, and…
I don’t remember her. I wonder, who that is.
He pushed the body, rolling it to the back.
“Ha-a-a… Hello again, Kailia…” The mad lad recognized her instantly. An agent, sent to find and assist Eve Reese in her quest, hired by someone named Carol. But that alone wouldn’t be enough to get Keyaruga to brutally rape her. “You’ve killed my Norn, but I spared you. Heh, after Kali left, I tasked you to ward off whoever they sent after my Eve, but… It seems like you’ve failed. Really, really sad.” The healer spoke, resting his left hand on her dying flesh, recovering it in an instant. And just like that… “Oh, fuck!” She nearly stabbed him with a knife. Gods only knew where she got it from… “Sit still.” But then, Keyaruga just pressed his finger on her forehead, and completely shut down her limbs functions. He pitied her… but could do nothing for this miserable leopard woman.
“Haa… Damn, it’s getting boring here.” The hero lamented, picking up his weapon of choice. At this point, he just put it back in its sheath. Only then did he spot a couple of new faces in the crowd of weeping bastards. “You there! You don’t look like you should be here. What’s… wait…”
“STAY AWAY FROM ME, MONSTER!!!” The woman cried, she was weeping into her man’s now tainted shirt.
“Heh! He-heh! No-no-no-o! Oh no-o-o!” Keyaruga frantically shook his head, unable to believe what he just saw. This was the worst. This… “Anna! Kurt! What… What’re you even doing here?! I… I avenged you! You shouldn’t have…” His parents were there, they stood among the thugs, slavers, robbers, bandits, zealots, murderers… But they… they weren’t one of them…
“You killed us, traitor. You raped my wife, after everything she’s done for you. You’re disgusting little shit!” The mighty harvester told him, pointing his war-scythe at the hero. The only thing that held him at bay, though, was his spouse, loudly crying with black tears pouring from her eyes.
“Heh… You… really think I’d…”
“No. But you’ve proven it.” Kurt spoke with the coldest possible rage in his voice. Keyaru’s cruelty couldn’t be doubted, after all. Not after everyone he maimed this day. “I don’t give a fuck, what the hell is wrong with you, but I’ll slice your guilty ass as many times as I need.” The older man spoke, pushing Anna aside. And then, he lunged.
Kurt struck as a true warrior – he was swift, accurate, precise – his war scythe – basically a reforged farming tool, grazed Keyaruga’s torso, cut his leg, he even stabbed his foster son through his chest. But… there was no blood.
“Calm down, you two.” The hero demanded, stoically taking hit after hit, like the heavy glaive-like blade was nothing. While Anna crumbled to her knees, lost in her weeping, Kurt wouldn’t stop attacking. “You can’t kill me, I’m immor-…” Barely did the lad say so; before his foster father grabbed the handle in a wide grip, and just swept his head off with one precise strike.
“NO-O-O-O-O-O-O!!!” Strangely enough, despite all of the delusions his parents had about him, Anna just couldn’t stand seeing her child being killed so brutally. “A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!! WHY-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y?!!!” As Keyaru’s head rolled on the ground, the thugs, at least those who weren’t affected by any of hero’s inventive afflictions, started to get rallied again.
“You had it coming, you ungrateful dipshit!” Kurt spat through tightly closed teeth. He couldn’t watch, couldn’t face what he had to do with his adopted prodigy. Even if he was a criminal. Even if…
“I really did…” But the bastards weren’t enjoying the show for too long. Right when the healer seemed to fall, a new body started to grow from his neck-stump, the clothes, the pouches, the weapons – everything turned into ash just to materialize again on the proudly standing conqueror of death itself.
“What devilry is this?” Kurt’s reaction was understandable. A mix of fear, anger, and disgust, was all over his tainted face. In turn…
“KEYARU-U-U-U!!!” Anna just dashed forward to hug her child. No matter, how disgustingly atrocious his resurrection was, without even looking at the beheaded body that now lied nearby, the woman just went ahead and embraced the lad. She… didn’t seem to be in her right mind, even for a dead soul.
“Anna, I… I…” The shivers began taking a hold of him. His hands, his knees – they trembled so much, this simple touch he though he lost forever, this… This was enough to make him cry. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so, so, so-o-o sorry!..”
“DIE, FUCKER!!!”
“THAT YOU HAVE TO SEE ME DOING THIS!!!” Keyaruga yelled, grabbing Leonard by his wrist. Just a little pressure – and he dropped his sword, the weapon faded into nothingness. Then, the man pushed Anna back, punched his foe in the gut, and proudly showed his captive to his family. “Haa… He-heh! He-e-e… This… This is Leonard, Flare’s… right hand…” The hero spoke, this time trying to maintain his sanity, as his parents now cautiously looked at him. “I… I came from the future! I had to rewind time’s flow itself… Because Flare was evil, and he…” Then, the man put his hand onto the barely struggling imbecile, thus transforming him into Keyaru, the motionless child, whose entire mobility, except for breathing, was shut down for the ease of what he was about to do. “I killed Flare! And he took my guilt. Then…” Afterwards, the healer went ahead and summoned raging flames upon his free hand. Kurt and Anna watched motionlessly, as he placed the magic-shrouded palm onto his ‘own’ face, burned it, scourged the blackened flesh with the sorcery he ‘learned’ from Flare… “My trick was revealed, and he headed out to our village, looking just like me. The rest… you know the rest.”
And finally, Keyaruga dropped the motionless doll, unable even to cry out from the excruciating pain the Hero of Healing inflicted upon it. He then faced his parents, still shocked by such a display of merciless brutality, they couldn’t even properly reply, this entire spectacle of bloodshed, mayhem, rape, torture, demonstration of immortality, and now – proofs of metamorphosis – all of that left them utterly silent.
“Kurt, Anna… I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you… But I can’t let you, or any one of these fuckers keep me here! I… I have a family! Freia, Setsuna, Ellen, Eve – I so wanted you to meet them… But you can’t now. You… might not believe me, and I understand that.” The red-eyed lad uttered, as his posture slouched more and more, along with his fading bravery. “This is what it’s like to be a man! I must be strong! I have to be ruthless now, so that nobody would challenge me in the future!” The man added, now turning his back to his foster parents. He stood straight, he stretched his shoulders, took a deep breath, and… “LISTEN HERE, YOU FUCKING MONSTERS!!! WHAT YOU’VE FELT NOW IS BUT A TINY BIT OF WHAT I’LL DO TO YOU, ONCE I’M FUCKING DEAD!!! NOW YOU WILL GO INTO THE DEEPEST PITS OF HELL, AND WHEN YOU’RE THERE, PRAY I DON’T FUCKING DIE ANYTIME SOON!!! BECAUSE WHEN I FINALLY KICK THIS SHITTY BUCKET, I’LL FIND EACH OF YOU, AND WE’LL BE PLAYING FOR THE WHOLE OF ETERNITY!!! BUT WHY WAIT, WHEN WE CAN HAVE SOME FUN NOW, HU-U-U-UH?!!!”
The speech was told, the impact made. His words were so zealous, so passionately intimidating, that the weeping fools now reached a whole new depth of despair.
“GET US OUT OF HERE!!!”
“SAVE ME-E-E-E!!!”
“HE’S THE DEVIL!!! DE-E-EVIL!!!”
“UA-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!”
“KUUNDA (I’m so scared)!!!”
“HE-E-E-E-E-ELP!!!”
And so, this entire crowd, this mob of immortal corpses, just ran away. Everyone, who could still stand on their feet, began fleeing in panic, trampling each other in the process. What they failed to notice, though, is that the dome is endless only for its main victim. Everyone else just came up against the invisible wall.
The Trial of Heart – its goal is twisted, to be certain. To pass it would mean releasing the dead souls from their grudge toward you. A saint would shift it to forgiveness, but the deranged avenger pumped so much fear in those criminals, that their hatred was replaced by the purest and most animalistic terror. Still, with the task done, the souls began to dissipate in a white light. They would finally be free…
“REMEMBER!!! YOU’VE NOT SEEN THE LAST OF ME!!! WE’LL MEET AGAIN, YOU FUCKING SHITBAGS!!!” Unfortunately for them, though, Keyaruga’s long shadow still loomed above them all. And such, even in relief, the crowd continued to cry, to sob, to wail, to…
“Keya… ru…” But not all left because of dread. When the avenger turned around, his foster mother, crumbling into white flakes, stood on her tiptoes to give him a last kiss on the cheek. “You’ve grown… so much…”
And so, she faded. Kurt quickly followed, although it wasn’t forgiveness or benevolence that filled his raging soul. No, it was an impotent acceptance. He saw Keyaruga as a mirror, in which he saw himself, before he deserted the royal guard and found himself in Alban.
“Someday… you’ll follow my path…” And this was what the man spoke at last, dropping his war-scythe to the ethereal ground. With no souls to redeem in the most twisted of ways, the dome of blackness quickly turned insufferably bright.
The Trial of Heart had been passed.

2023 Results (So Far): +18.78 Units
2022 Results: +73.185 Units
All Time: +92 Units

Full transparency, I run a MMA betting service called Provide Picks. We have been operating for roughly a year and a half completely tracked and verifiable with a return of over 96 units in that short time. You can find our full tracking sheet history here and you can also see a bunch of customer testimonials and betting slips throughout that time here.
Me myself, I have watched MMA religiously for more than 10 years and trained for over 4.5 years, I love this sport so I figured why not help bring some insight and analysis to others! Now this isn’t a sales pitch, I know how Reddit works and I really enjoy the opinions shared on this sub-reddit so I genuinely want to help contribute and if you enjoy the output, please feel free to join the team! We are proven to be profitable long-term so if you have some spare change to invest at any level, you love the sport and are interested in improving your knowledge - come over and check us out at providepicks.com. As we have a fair base of paying members, it wouldn’t be fair to them to share every single one of our bets however I want to provide as much value for this betting community as people, hopefully to help you guys see a different angle in terms of MMA betting and long-term profitability and more importantly - sending these bookies broke.
Anyways enough waffle - let’s get into this week’s shenanigans. This is a surprisingly fun fight night card, I love these events that are lower on name value but just full of decent talent and exciting matchups. This is definitely one of them and generally when you have slightly lesser talent stacked fight nights, you have a night full of violence and finishes - let’s see if that continues in this one. Onto the breakdowns!
Maxim Grishin (32-9-2) vs. Philipe Lins (16-5):
Grishin is a tall, orthodox fighter who is just a real good mixed martial artist. He is a big frame for the LHW division, is strong and still has fairly slow, plodding style of movement and footwork. Is good in the clinch, very good at holding position by winning underhooks and using his big head to frame against the neck of his opponent and keep them in position for taxing knees to the body and just wearing on them with his big frame. I like his ability to keep the fight in his range, using slight forward pressure and a decent feint game to his advantage. Can be a little heavy set on the lead leg so should look out for the speedy outside leg kick of Lins in this one - Grishin is also pretty handy at catching the body kick and punishing. Personally, never been massively high on Lins in his career, admittedly he has looked better since dropping to his proper weight class post juice cycle but it is against weak competition. He is OK everywhere but not great anywhere, I do like his hand-speed with his boxing combos especially when pressuring forward. I think he mixes in takedowns well in his game at times but he can also be held against the cage. I probably slightly edge Lins in terms of cardio but I also do think this is a massive watch the scales fight due to Grishin’s size and propensity for bad weight cuts. This is a tough fight to call given both guys are fairly unimpressive. I favour the speed of Lins with the hand-speed and kicks definitely but he doesn’t set them up intelligently. I think Grishin can hold Lins against the cage, wear on him with his size and win minutes. I capped this fight 50/50 and I think we see a close fight, will take Maxim Grishin by UD but with very low confidence.
BET: No bet.
Luan Lacerda (12-2) vs. Da'Mon Blackshear (12-5-1):
I like what I saw on debut from Lacerda - he has a very Muay Thai style of fighting, very flat-footed with a high guard, move forward pressuring with the lead leg ready to pop up and check kicks quickly. He has sharp, fast hands and particularly his hooks to the body are very technically sound. Against Stamann he was able to mix some grappling in when it suited but it is clear he is more of an Aldo style fighter that prefers to stuff takedowns and keep it on the feet. Coming up against Blackshear here who I have been very impressed with even though he is off 2 losses. Da’mon is a super well rounded guy, I like his creative offence on the feet and I also like his offensive grappling ability on the ground too. Defensively, he leave a little more to be desired and can be a little comfortable with fighting off his back which I don’t particularly like. We haven’t seen too much grappling from Lacerda so will be interested to see how he fares in this one but I think the technicality of Lacerda on the feet, the ability to mix his targets to the head, body and legs and just land the more damaging strikes will edge him this one. Taking Luan Lacerda by UD.
BET: No bet.
Jinh Yu Frey (11-8) vs. Elise Reed (6-3):
I would be doing a disservice to everyone who reads this if I honestly told you with any level of confidence that you should put your hard earned money anywhere near this fight. Don’t, simple as that.
Daniel Santos (10-2) vs. Johnny Munoz Jr. (12-2):
This is a super fun matchup between two very efficient grapplers which should make for a exciting scrap here. Let’s start with Daniel Santos, if you knew nothing of this guy and watched him fight and had half a clue on MMA, you would know immediately that he is a Chute Boxe fighter. He has relentless forward pressure, irresponsible boxing defence and is a very kill or be killed style fighter. I like his stalking style, but he has little head movement besides the pull counter really, likes to pressure you until that back foot is up against the cage and then explode in with spinning attacks or elbows from weird angles. He keeps his hands high but then head on centre line and thus far has shown some crazy durability but this can only get you so far. Looks to have solid grappling, not accepting bottom position and constantly looking to invert and throw up submissions. Against Arce he looked good however Arce was able to be elusive with his footwork, stick and move and use angles well to counter in and out of range. I think against anyone who can effectively stay on the outside and use smart, straight shots effectively, he will struggle. I just don’t think that guy is Munoz JR on the feet - he is clunky, doesn’t throw in combinations and looks to parry alot of shots defensively which I really don’t like against a guy who throws wild, unorthodox strikes in Santos. He is a solid wrestler with some good offensive TD numbers but he has to be careful not to shoot unintelligently and throw himself into a submission which will make him hesitant and have to strike. I think Munoz’s wins have been against low level guys who aren’t in the promotion anymore and I think this is a bad stylistic fight for him. I think Santos will land the more damaging shots and I fancy he gets him out of here in under 2 rounds. Taking Daniel Santos via TKO RD 1.
BET: Like the look of the Santos moneyline, fancy Santos Inside the Distance too but will wait to see what price this opens at. If we get anything in the realm of +125 to -120, I would look at a 1.5 unit play. Under 2.5 rounds is an option also depending on price, I think it will probably be around the -200 to -250 play so anything south of that will be a play too.
Andrei Arlovski (34-21) vs. Don'Tale Mayes (9-5):
Huge experience edge to the old-dawg here in Arlovski. Mayes has been everything but impressive thus far in his UFC career and I don’t know how you could be intrigued to play either side in this one. Mayes can hit hard and is reasonably athletic for the HW division but skill for skill outside the boxing, he doesn’t offer a lot. I couldn’t be confident on ever betting him to be quite honest. You know what you’re going to get with Arlovski and that is volume, if his chin can handle what is coming back at him. He is a special for split decisions so if you’re a degen and want action, look to that but for me, no interest here. Will take the side of Andrei Arlovksi via UD using his volume and experience but you couldn’t be more lower confidence.
John Castañeda (19-6) vs. Muin Gafurov (18-4) :
Gafurov taking this on short-notice with Castaneda set to take on Mendonca before that was cancelled and replaced with possibly the furthest opposite style of fighter. The Gafurov gameplan is simple, contest on the feet, use blitz attacks such as looping overhands when moving forward followed by a double leg against the cage and rely on his Sambo capabilities to hold top position and out-work his opponent. Castañeda is a guy that doesnt get a huge amount of spotlight but I like his game alot. He has nice footwork, good striking out of southpaw and orthodox, has good wrestling entries and is able to grapple competitively, just a solid all around mixed martial artist. In this one, I really favour the movement and footwork of Castañeda and I think the speed is going to give Gafurov issues. Castañeda is sitting at a 60% TD Defence rate which is concerning against a guy who will consistently shoot like Gafurov, but I think Castañeda will be hard to find, using the angles in and out of the pocket and throwing quick shots up the middle to dissuade and make Gafurov think. I like John Sexi Mexi Castañeda to win this one by UD.
BET: No lines opened yet but have capped Castañeda as a 60% winning chance.
Elizeu Zaleski (23-7) vs. Abubakar Nurmagomedov (17-3-1):
Zaleski is an interesting fighter to me. Good sprawl, solid TD Def against the cage, good balance and strength to win underhooks. Quite a flat-footed striker, not a massive amount of footwork but I like his rear leg power kick, he hits the body well and switches levels nicely. Relatively low volume and works single shots mainly without a massive amount of feinting. The frequency that he fights worries me but it has been the story of his career. Abubakr is the typical Dagestani fighter, limited stand up basically a quick overhand right and other single shots, tied in with a grinding, gruelling wrestling pace. He seems on the lower end of the Nurmagomedov scale in terms of skill, often leaving himself open to submission when in top control whether it’s knee-bars or even the common triangle. He is able to hold a good pace over 15 mins which is good given how top heavy and smothering he can be at times. He fights out of both stances, looks more comfortable out of OD but if he fights SP, I think he will lose this fight. Zaleski is too sharp on the feet especially with the body kicks and straight shots which will only be accentuated in the opposite stances. I also think the knees for Zaleski are going to be huge here, he throws them with bad intentions in the centre and against the cage which tied in with his teeps and front kicks are a dangerous sight for Abubakr. Abubakr is a good chance at smothering the fire power of Zaleski and just wearing on him but I think he is dangerous enough off his back to survive and challenge at times and I expect the damage will start to add up on the Zaleski side and I think we see a finish. Taking Elizeu Zaleski via TKO RD 2.
BET: Zaleksi ITD will be a play if over +200. Moneyline odds are probably bang on.
Guram Kutateladze (12-3) vs. Jamie Mullarkey (16-5):
Guram has a K1 kickboxing background and it shows, very high level on the feet with good head movement and sharp, unpredictable strikes set up with a smart feint game. He has really good distance management, uses great fundamentals and is super quick with his hand-speed and he finishes combos with kicks which I love, its that kickboxing mentality. He fights out of All Stars which shows in his TD Defence especially against the fence, he is clearly strong but has very good wrestling and counter wrestling technique. He has had a super high level of competition and performed very well in wins and losses, we just don’t see him active enough due to injuries and bad luck. Mullarkey is an absolute junkyard dog, pushing the pace and moving forward with intense pressure making you fight every second of that 15 minutes. He like to engage in the pocket, for better or worse, and in recent times we have seen his wrestling really shine through some of these tough scraps. He has a nice jab which I expect to be pumping prior to every combo and entry for Mullarkey. I just think at this point in his career this is quite a tough fight for Mullarkey. Guram is a super high-level striker with a good base for stuffing takedowns and keeping the fight in kickboxing range. I expect Mullarkey to want to close distance and engage, I just don’t think defensively he is strong enough to absorb and adapt to the speed and combinations of Guram and I think we see that chin tested for Mullarkey. I think this is a bit of a step down in competition for Guram although if Mullarkey can get some early takedowns it will be interesting to see the gastank of Guram tested. The activity is always a question mark but at this point I think Guram should win this handily, will be taking Guram Kutateladze via TKO RD 2.
BET: Wouldn’t touch Guram at -350 but he should win.
Karine Silva (15-4) vs. Ketlen Souza (13-3):
Silva should win here but at that price, even blind Freddie could see that this is a pass on the moneylines. Silva actually has a high finishing ability in terms of WMMA, so if we can get a good price on a fight doesnt go the distance line, that could be an option here.
BET: Wait for round lines to drop.
Tim Elliott (18-12-1) vs. Victor Altamirano (12-2):
Altamirano is a SP fighter, fairly unusual style of striking with sort of a Tony Ferguson style mixed in with some well timed takedown attempts. He has very little power in his strikes but OK volume. Defensively, he leaves a lot to be desired with a modified sort of philly shell style where his lead hand is low and near the hip, he does get hit and often but he has shown very good durability. His takedowns worry me at times because he is very content to dip his head to an advancing opponent and run a double or single leg, he is very open to knees and front kicks up the middle. Tim Elliott lives up to his nickname of “Awkward” extremely well. He has bizarre head movement, footwork and feints that all tie in to his sort of herky jerky style of fighting. He is able to tie his wrestling game in very well, I’d say technically he is far more technically sound than Victor. He does put himself into submission opportunities with some of his entries but im not too worried about that in this fight. This has the potential to be one of the worst fights we have seen TBH and only because of how weird and unorthodox these guys are, the awkwardness really has the potential to make this fight a strange one. I am pretty confident that Tim has the grappling/wrestling edge and also the more diverse and comfortable striker, the recent occurrence with Tim and Gina Mazany in the media does give me pause that he might be coming into this too emotional but I think it may fire him up to really perform. I think Tim is under his value here and can win in a multitude of ways, going to take Tim Elliott via UD.
BET: Tim Elliott Moneyline -175 (2 Units to win 1.14 Units)
Jim Miller (35-17) vs. Jared Gordon (19-6):
I will keep this one short and simple, Gordon is a really bad stylistic matchup for Miller and would win probably 7/10 times currently BUT he is returning way too soon after getting KO’d by that headbutt from Bobby Green. Gordon has good wrestling and generally good durability with a knack for pushing these grinding paces and outworking and outlasting his opponent. Pair that up with good submission defence and thats a horror fight for A10 Miller. But you can never count Jim out, he hits hard for a vet, he is unorthodox and he has the potential to catch you. For me, Gordon should roll here but I love to play Jim Miller round one given that is his money round - have cashed plenty on this through his career! Short breakdown and not a thorough one, I think Jared Gordon should win this fight but I think it is too soon. I will take Jared Gordon via UD**,** but take it with a pinch of salt.
BET: Jim Miller wins round 1 (price not available yet, .75 units)
Alex Caceres (20-13) vs. Daniel Pineda (28-14):
Haven’t had time to break this one down yet but will update if any bets come off it!
Kai Kara-France (24-10) vs. Amir Albazi (16-1):
KKF is a kickboxing fighter who we have seen develop nicely through his career in the UFC. He has worked tirelessly on his takedown defence and it shows in his huge improvement in ability to not only stuff shots but his ability to use the cage and his excellent balance to keep his feet underneath him. I think KKF’s hands are still fairly rudimentary and not necessarily in a bad way, he uses the jab decently well and relies on the 1,2 sometimes too much. For his weight, he has good power and one area I really like are his leg kicks, he has solid rear leg power kicks that he lands very efficiently off the back of his straight shots. Albazi is more of a grappler in nature with a majority of his victories by submission but I have liked what I have seen from him on the feet also. He has a sharp, snappy jab which he works off the back of and allows to dictate the fight. He has a pretty limited kicking game and in terms of kick defence, I expect KKF to really try and exploit the lack of checking and the heavy set stature of Albazi. In the grappling realm, I don’t think it’s close. Albazi has some elite scrambles on the mat and if you’re content to sit in his guard, he has some really damaging ground and pound in which he will equally target your head and body and punish you and wear on you. Albazi is far superior in terms of grappling but the question is will he be able to get it down to the mat? I think his timing going under the big right hand will be an option and I think he will be able to use his strength advantage when in close to muscle certain movements. This is a big step up in competition and his first venture into main event rounds which is a worry. This is going to be a fun fight and I am really looking forward to it but I think as long as everything looks good after weigh-ins, I will be on the Albazi side. He is improving with every fight and I think we see him get this fight to the ground and wear on KKF, eventually finding a submission, probably a RNC. Taking Amir Albazi via SUB RD 3.
BET: Will wait to see what round lines are set at. Will be looking at the Albazi Inside the Distance line also.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that wraps up the breakdowns for this week! We send our followers the full betting cards on Saturday morning here in Australia, post weigh-ins. Nothing worse than betting on a fighter pre weigh-in, just to see him look like complete shit on the scales. We will post some of our betting card here incase anyone is interested!
Good luck, always gamble responsibly and remember to hang around long-term because there will be ups and downs but trust the process and we will build some bankroll. Would love to know if you agree or disagree anywhere and let us know who you are riding with below. Enjoy the fights! - Dylan.

For a new home in northern suburbs, we are about 3 months away from moving in and I still need to erect a fence, concrete a driveway and install a sump pump for stormwater. Not in that order necessarily but any insight or recommendations are appreciated.
How much have people been quoted for 60m of fencing lately? 30m already has retaining wall ready, do we need a retaining wall for neighbouring sides considering it’s flat land?

John "Johnny" Lawrence

"You're gonna be my karate teacher?"
"No, I'm gonna be your sensei"

Johnny Lawrence was born in California in 1967 to Laura Lawrence and an absent father. After his mother married an abusive rich man, Johnny became the target of his abuse, leading to him being very withdrawn and quiet. Because of this, he was bullied in school. One day, he discovered the Cobra Kai karate dojo, which his stepfather eventually agreed to let him join. Former Army Captain and Cobra Kai sensei John Kreese took him under his wing, with Johnny becoming the dojo's best student and winning the All-Valley Karate Tournament two years in a row. His senior year, he was defeated by Daniel LaRusso during the tournament, after which Kreese strangled him and nearly killed him. From that point forward, Johnny's life went in a downward spiral. Over the next 30 years, he got married and divorced, neglecting his son Robby due to his own insecurities about being a father. When he was fired from his job as a handyman, he decided to reopen the Cobra Kai dojo to train new students, reigniting his rivalry with Daniel.
Source Key

Miyagi-Verse

The "Miyagi-Verse'' is a term coined by the Cobra Kai showrunners to describe the storyline of the four Karate Kid movies and Cobra Kai. Feats from the Miyagi-Verse and media adapting it (i.e. the novelizations) will be in this section.

Strength

Teen

• Beats Daniel, leaving him unconscious on his feet^K
• Breaks a wooden sign with a kick^K
  • Comic^C2
    • In the novelization, he dents the chain link fence instead^KN11

Adult

• Breaks several cement blocks with a punch during a demonstration^S2E3
• Smashes cinderblocks with strikes^S4E5
• Breaks a car window with a punch and pulls a man through while drunk^S3E1
• Throws a man onto the windshield of a car, heavily cracking it^S3E2
• Throws about some men, smashing furniture^!
• One shots Robby^S3E10
  • Robby was still conscious after taking several hits from Miguel, who bent a metal rod with a kick^S2E10 and could deflect balls from a pitching machine that made a dent in a wall^S1E5
• Breaks a surfboard in half with a kick^S5E1
• Breaks a board with a headbutt^S2E8
• Breaks a pot with a kick^S2E3
• Rips out a man's earring^S2E6

Durability/Endurance

Teen

• Gets into a fight with Daniel^C1
• Does 60 pull-ups in two minutes^C3
• Takes a hit from Bobby^C3
• Gets hit in the back of the head by Daniel, smashing his face into the mat^K

Adult

• Takes several hits from Daniel^S2E10
• Takes multiple hits from Kreese, including getting thrown into a mirror, shattering it^S2E1
• Gets tackled into a pillar and thrown on the ground^S1E1

Speed/Agility

Teen

• Dodges a karate student's kick^K
• Kicks a karate student out of the air^K
  • Comic^C4

Adult

• Dodges and blocks blows from Daniel^S3E2
• Dodges strikes from highly trained karate masters^!
• Dodges a man's punches^S2E6

Skill/Misc

Teen

• Won the Under 18 All-Valley Karate Championship two years in a row^K
  • Won the second tournament without letting a single point be scored on him^S1E2
    • The tournament is only open to students brown-belt level and above^K
• Easily counters a karate student's punch^K
• Thrashes Daniel before he learns karate^K
  • Novelization^KN3 - Comic^C1

Adult

• Kreese says that he's the best student Cobra Kai has ever had^S2E2
• Fights a group of highly skilled senseis flown in from Korea while drunk and (mostly) wins^S5E10
• Fights Kreese and holds the advantage, then manhandles Robby while holding back^S3E10
• Ties with Daniel in a match^S4E5
• Beats up two bikers^S1E8
• With Daniel, fights a group of thugs in a chop shop^S3E2
• With his old Cobra Kai buddies, beats up a group of men in a bar^S2E6
• Beats up scammers with Robby^S5E1
• While rusty, beats up a group of high schoolers^S1E1
• Diverts Dimitri's punches then flips him^S1E6
• Twists a man's arm^S2E5
• Provides physical therapy for Miguel, helping him regain the use of his legs^S3E7
• [Limit] Pretty much loses a fight with a Mexican MMA fighter, only winning when he grinds a pepper in his eyes^S5E2

Teaching Ability

• Under his tutelage, Miguel Diaz wins the Under 18 All-Valley Karate Championship^S1E10

Cobra Kai: The Karate Kid Saga Continues

Note that some feats are performed by other characters, but all playable characters can perform the same physical feats.

Strength

• Player characters can break crates, phone charging stations, and wooden railings with their strikes^CK
• Slams enemies into cars hard enough to damage them^CK
• Can launch enemies using a weapon like a bat^CK
• Can crack the ground using a weapon like a guitar^CK
• Breaks prize cabinets by slamming enemies into them^CK
• Slams an enemy into a giant stuffed octopus, leaving them half sticking out^CK
• Throws enemies into arcade basketball hoops^CK
• Slams an enemy on a foosball table then strikes them, damaging the table underneath^CK
• Breaks a large display case by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Slams an enemy into a sunglasses stand, breaking it^CK
• Damages a hot dog cart by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Throws enemies high into the air over a fence^CK
• Strikes a locker door and cause it to collide with an enemy's head hard enough to bend^CK
• Slams an enemy onto a wooden table hard enough to break it^CK
• Slams an enemy into a cafeteria bar, breaking the glass^CK
• Slams an enemy into a jukebox, knocking out records^CK
• Rocks a tree planter by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Knocks down shelves at a comic store by slamming an enemy into the wall^CK
• Slams an enemy into a group of gumball machines, breaking some^CK
• Damages a cotton candy machine by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Warps a gas pump by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Can knock around a enemy so heavy he cracks the ground when he lands after jumping^CK
• Breaks a tabletop in half and bends the metal pole by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Kicks around a motorcycle^CK
• Damages a sign by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Slams an enemy's face onto a table, bending it^CK
• Slams an enemy into the tournament bracket wall, knocking down the namecards^CK
• Throws an enemy through a screen^CK
• Throws enemies into banners, knocking them off the ceiling^CK
• Breaks a trophy case by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Throws an enemy through a wood fence^CK

Durability

• Takes a kick from Kreese, who makes a large crater in the ground^CK
• Can get hit by cars during a boss fight^CK
• Can get hit by cars that fall from the sky and explode during a boss fight^CK
• Can get hit with several molotov cocktails during a boss fight^CK
• Can get hit by an enemy that cracks the ground with his blows^CK
  • Parrying the attack greatly reduces damage and negates knockback^CK
• Can get hit by and parry attacks from an enemy that cracks the ground by landing after jumping into the air^CK

Speed/Skill

• Can parry strikes from enemies^CK
• Kicks an enemy into a photo booth as they leap^CK
• Kicks an enemy into a portapotty as they leap^CK
• Hits an enemy on the edge of a pool, sending them flying so they land on an intertube^CK
• Kicks an enemy into a stack of surfboards as they leap^CK
• Throws an enemy into a training dummy such that it wraps around anthem^CK

Misc

• Kicks an enemy into a car lift, knocking the car down^CK
• Stuffs an enemy in a giant rat head mini golf prop^CK

Skills

Personal

• Flaming Spinwheel: Creates a swirl of flames around his body and spins forward^CK
  • Upgrade: Lights enemies on fire
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Ignores gravity while spinning
      • Gains more points
      • Increases damage by 50%
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Spins upward instead of forward
      • Charges more ultimate meter
      • Increases damage by 50%
• Sweep the Leg: Lights his legs on fire, delivering two kicks^CK
  • Upgrade: Decreases the cooldown
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Increases damage by 20%
      • Gains more points
      • Increases damage by another 100%
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Decreases the cooldown further
      • Decreases the cooldown of other skills
      • Decreases its own cooldown even further
• Way of the Fist: Increases Johnny's damage by 50% for 5 seconds^CK
  • Upgrade: Decreases the cooldown
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Moves 30% faster during the duration of the buff
      • Increases the duration to 7 seconds
      • All attacks become critical hits for the duration of the buff
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Decreases damage taken for the duration of the buff by 30%
      • Increases the duration to 7 seconds
      • Decreases damage taken for the duration of the buff by 75%
• Punch-nado: Punches the ground, damaging it and summoning a tornado of fire in front of him^CK
  • Upgrade: The tornado hits multiple times, suspending enemies in the air
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Creates a second tornado behind him
      • The tornadoes light enemies ablaze
      • The tornadoes rotate around the area
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Sends the tornado forward
      • Increases speed and distance of tornado
      • Creates two additional tornadoes
• Cobra Kai Never Dies: After filling the ultimate meter, Johnny summons a giant fire cobra and punches forward, launching the cobra, which leaves a trail of flames and damages the ground^CK

Dojo

• Cobra Punch: Charges his fist with fire to deliver a powerful punch^CK
  • Upgrade: Sets enemies on fire
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Launches a fire tornado forward
      • The tornado lights enemies on fire
      • Increases burning damage
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Dashes forward while punching
      • Dashes further
      • Increases damage by 100%
• Kai Kick: Lights his leg on fire and does a flip kick to launch enemies in the air and light them ablaze^CK
  • Upgrade: Sets enemies ablaze
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Launches a fire tornado forward
      • Increases burning damage
      • Increases burning damage further
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Does a second flip kick
      • Adds an additional hit on each kick
      • Each kick hits 4 times
• Tiger Sweep: Performs a sweep kick that stuns enemies^CK
  • Upgrade: Performing another skill after a sweep guarantees a critical hit
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Slides forward while kicking
      • Slides further
      • Lights enemies on fire
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Increases the duration of the stun
      • Increases the duration of the stun further
      • Decreases the cooldown
• Cobra Dynamite: Punches the ground, cracking it and creating an explosion that launches enemies into the air^CK
  • Upgrade: Reduces the cooldown
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Sets enemies ablaze
      • Increases burning damage
      • Increases burning damage further
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Reduces cooldown further
      • Increases the area of the explosion
      • Reduces the cooldown even further

Daniel LaRusso

"So, karate's fighting. You train to fight"
"That what you think?"
"...No"
"Then why train?"
"So I won't have to fight"

Born in Newark, New Jersey in 1966, Daniel LaRusso lived there until his mother moved the two out to Reseda, California in 1984. Upon arriving in Reseda, Daniel made quick foes with the Cobra Kai karate dojo, especially top student Johnny Lawrence and sensei John Kreese. While taking a beating from the Cobra Kais after a school dance, Daniel was saved by Mr. Miyagi, the handyman at his apartment complex. Daniel was taught karate by Mr. Miyagi, entering a lifelong friendship with the man. After winning the All-Valley Karate Tournament two years in a row, Daniel went on to marry a woman named Amanda, have two kids, and open a car dealership. When Johnny reopened the Cobra Kai dojo, Daniel opened the Miyagi-Do karate dojo in order to train new students.
Source Key

Miyagi-Verse

The "Miyagi-Verse'' is a term coined by the Cobra Kai showrunners to describe the storyline of the four Karate Kid movies and Cobra Kai. Feats from the Miyagi-Verse and media adapting it (i.e. the novelizations) will be in this section.

General

• Becomes stronger and faster than he was before after doing more training under Mr. Miyagi^3N23

Strength

Teen

• Knocks over Mr. Miyagi in catcher's gear with a punch^KN23
• Throws Johnny^C4
• Chops through six plates of ice^K2
  • In the novelization he chops three thick cakes of ice in half^2N13
• Knocks out a man with a gut punch^K2
• Throws a man into a cabinet, breaking it^K3
• Breaks a 2x4 with a kick, then breaks boards with punches^K3
  • In the novelization, Daniel breaks a 2x4 with a kick, slices through a 2x4 with the back of his arm, and punches through a 2x4 like it was paper^3N19

Adult

• Uses the Crane Kick to knock Terry SIlver into a glass display hard enough to shatter it^!

Durability/Endurance

Teen

• Gets beat up by Johnny^K
  • Novelization^KN3 - Comic^C1
• Gets into a fight with Johnny^C1
• Not too badly hurt after taking a tumble down a hill^K
• Gets slammed by a wave into a piling^KN23
• Takes a kick from a karate student to the shoulder that lifts him out of the ring^KN26
• Fights Johnny on a damaged leg^K
• Takes a kick to the face from Johnny^KN28
• Takes multiple hits from Chozen, who breaks part of a stone statue with a kick, and continues to fight^K2
• Takes hits from Mike Barnes, including getting tossed into a pallet hard enough to break it^K3
  • Barnes breaks bricks with his strikes^K3
• Takes multiple hits from Barnes (who is attempting to inflict as much damage as possible on Daniel during the match) and continues to fight^K3
• Gets thrown through shoji screens and a display case by Barnes^3N12
• Takes more hits from Barnes^3N22

Adult

• Takes several hits from Johnny, including getting kicked into a TV^S2E10
• Takes a kick from and gets tackled through a window by Kreese^S3E10
• Walks across burning coals^S4E2

Speed/Agility

Teen

• Catches a fly with chopsticks^K
  • Novelization^KN16
• Dodges a karate student's attack and retaliates with a kick^K
  • Does it again with a punch^K
• Dodges strikes from Johnny with "lightning reflexes"^KN28
• Dodges another kick from Johnny^C4
• Knocks Chozen to the ground, then collects the money he dropped and runs from the building before Chozen can stand up^2N15
• Rolls out of the way of a flying kick from Chozen, then stands up and grabs Chozen in midair to slam him to the ground^2N23
• Dodges several strikes from Mike Barnes^K3
• Balances on the bow of a boat while practicing his blocking^K
• Practices balance by kicking waves at the beach^KN19
• Climbs down a pole in a typhoon with a child clinging to his back^K2

Adult

• Dodges and blocks blows from Johnny^S3E2
• Dodges, strikes, and catches balls from a pitching machine^S4E2
• Climbs a hanging chain^S4E2

Skill/Misc

Teen

• Performs the Crane Technique^K
  • Mr. Miyagi says that if performed correctly, there is no defense against it^K - Chozen does defend against it,^K2 but it is unclear if Daniel was performing it correctly in this instance
    • Novelization^KN 28 - Comic^C4
• Performs the Drum Technique to divert and counter each of Chozen's strikes^K2
  • In the novelization, the Drum Technique is said to increase striking power^2N11
• Wins the Under 18 All-Valley Karate Championship^K
  • Wins a second time^K3
    • The tournament is only open to students brown-belt level and above^K
• Defeats Chozen^K2
  • Novelization^2N23
    • Chozen is Sato's best student and took on four karate students at once^K2
• Learns how to block strikes under the guise of Mr. Miyagi having him do chores around the house^K
  • Novelization^KN18
• Ducks Johnny's kick then sweeps his leg to bring him to the ground^K
  • Comic^C4
• Flips Chozen while being choked by him^K2
• Counters Mike Barnes' strike^K3
  • Novelization^3N24
• Knows a little bit of Japanese^2N9

Adult

• Trains with Chozen to learn Miyagi-Do karate's secret pressure points,^S3E5 which he uses to defeat Kreese^S3E10
  • Uses the pressure points to paralyze Johnny's arm^S4E5
• Ties with Johnny in a match^S4E5
• Beats up a group of hockey players^S4E2
• Beats up some thugs that jump Robby^S2E4
• With Johnny, fights a group of thugs in a chop shop^S3E2
• Kicks a cup out of a man's hand^S1E4
• With his wife, meets his dealership's sales quota in one day^S2E3
• Loses a fight to Terry Silver^S5E5 but later beats him, though Terry had previously fought Chozen that night^S5E10

Teaching Ability

• Teaches Robby Keene how to block strikes under the guise of him doing chores^S1E7
• Teaches Samantha how to block with a bo staff using a fishing lesson^S3E7
• Under his tutelage, Robby gets second in the Under 18 All-Valley Karate Championship after only training for a few months^S1E10

Other Media

The Karate Kid (1989 Cartoon)

Strength

Striking

• Shatters an ice sculpture with a flying kick^KE10
• Kicks a dead tree in half^KE12
• Leaps into the air, kicking a tree branch to launch it at a jaguar^KE1
• Breaks a section of a fence with a jump kick^KE3
• Breaks a wooden post with a kick^KE8
• Kicks a molasses barrel in half^KE12
• Kicks his way out of a crate filled with fish^KE3
• Breaks a stool in half with a kick^KE6
• One shots a hunter with a vaulting kick^KE1
• Kicks a gourd into a boy hard enough to break it^KE1
• Hits the shrine out of a building using a hockey stick^KE10
• Kicks a skateboard in half^KE13
• While shrunken, kicks away a phone receiver^KE13
• While shrunken, launches a flower with a kick^KE13
• Kicks through rocks covering the mouth of a cave^KE9
  • The glowing shrine indicates that Daniel was likely receiving power from it, but unlike previous people who were empowered by the shrine,^KE2 Daniel lacks magic aura and glowing eyes. So maybe he wasn't being amped I don't know.

Other

• Pushes back a falling tree with his legs^KE2
• With Taki, pushes a boulder off of Mr. Miyagi's leg^KE7
• Clashes hockey sticks with magic-enhanced Sasha^KE10
  • Sasha could hit a hockey puck hard enough to carry the two people that tried to block it back^KE10
• Throws a man across a bar^KE6
• Throws a man in samurai armor while driving by on a motorcycle^KE8
• Launches a magic clone of a man with a kick and throws another into a strength test hard enough to ring the bell^KE3

Durability

• Gets checked into a wall by magic-enhanced Sasha^KE10
• Takes a kick from a karate student^KE2
• While being pulled by a speedboat, gets flung through the air and lands on a chair^KE4
• Ok taking a tumble down a rocky hill^KE9

Speed/Agility

Dodging/Movement

• Dodges a whip strike^KE6
• Dodges an attack from a magic-enhanced enemy^KE2
• Dodges sword swings from a magic-enhanced foe^KE5
• Dodges strikes from a karate student^KE2
• Dodges attacks from a man using a staff^KE7
• Jumps over a motorcycle^KE8
• Cuts onions quickly^KE6

Agility

• Springs into the air off of the shoulders of a foe^KE2
• Flips over rollercoaster tracks to grab papers before the car can run them over^KE3
• Jumps off a bridge to grab onto a rope on a boat^KE4
• Jumps out of a window onto a balcony, then to the ground^KE4
• Jumps off of a car through the window of a passing truck^KE4
• After being launched into the air, swings on a flag and grabs a man before he can fall, returning to the ground by sliding down a pole^KE5
• Parkours on top of market stalls then leaps onto a horse^KE6
• Leaps up to grab onto a stone lion then swings into the air off of its paw^KE5
• Leaps up to a piece of wood being lifted by a crane, drops down onto a wagon passing underneath, then jumps from the back of the wagon to the horse pulling it^KE5
• Jumps down levels of a castle set^KE5
• Backflips after tripping on a log, catching the girl who was balancing on his shoulders^KE7
• Jumps high into the air^KE5
• Quickly makes his way to the deck of the ship from where he was climbing up the mast^KE11
• While shrunken, swings from a shoelace and bounces off a racket^KE13

Skill

Combat

• Disarms a hunter running at him with a spear^KE1
• Disarms a crook running at him with a poker^KE4
• Fights a tribal chief^KE1
• Easily takes down two hunters^KE7

Other

• Juggles a gourd^KE1
• Wins a log run while training^KE1
• After a hockey player hits a rock at him, Daniel smacks it out of the air into a tree's branches to knock down snow on the hockey player^KE10
• Kicks a raft so a falling girl lands on it^KE11

Video Games

Teen

• One shots goons^AK
• Chops through six ice blocks^AK
  • Chops through five^MK
• Catches several flies with chopsticks^AK
• Dodges a swinging hammer several times^AK

Adult

Note that some feats from Cobra Kai: The Karate Kid Saga Continues are performed by other characters, but all playable characters can perform the same physical feats.

Strength

• Player characters can break crates, phone charging stations, and wooden railings with their strikes^CK
• Slams enemies into cars hard enough to damage them^CK
• Can launch enemies using a weapon like a bat^CK
• Can crack the ground using a weapon like a guitar^CK
• Breaks prize cabinets by slamming enemies into them^CK
• Slams an enemy into a giant stuffed octopus, leaving them half sticking out^CK
• Throws enemies into arcade basketball hoops^CK
• Slams an enemy on a foosball table then strikes them, damaging the table underneath^CK
• Breaks a large display case by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Slams an enemy into a sunglasses stand, breaking it^CK
• Damages a hot dog cart by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Throws enemies high into the air over a fence^CK
• Strikes a locker door and cause it to collide with an enemy's head hard enough to bend^CK
• Slams an enemy onto a wooden table hard enough to break it^CK
• Slams an enemy into a cafeteria bar, breaking the glass^CK
• Slams an enemy into a jukebox, knocking out records^CK
• Rocks a tree planter by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Knocks down shelves at a comic store by slamming an enemy into the wall^CK
• Slams an enemy into a group of gumball machines, breaking some^CK
• Damages a cotton candy machine by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Warps a gas pump by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Can knock around a enemy so heavy he cracks the ground when he lands after jumping^CK
• Breaks a tabletop in half and bends the metal pole by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Kicks around a motorcycle^CK
• Damages a sign by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Slams an enemy's face onto a table, bending it^CK
• Slams an enemy into the tournament bracket wall, knocking down the namecards^CK
• Throws an enemy through a screen^CK
• Throws enemies into banners, knocking them off the ceiling^CK
• Breaks a trophy case by slamming an enemy into it^CK
• Throws an enemy through a wood fence^CK

Durability

• Takes a kick from Kreese, who makes a large crater in the ground^CK
• Can get hit by cars during a boss fight^CK
• Can get hit by cars that fall from the sky and explode during a boss fight^CK
• Can get hit with several molotov cocktails during a boss fight^CK
• Can get hit by an enemy that cracks the ground with his blows^CK
  • Parrying the attack greatly reduces damage and negates knockback^CK
• Can get hit by and parry attacks from an enemy that cracks the ground by landing after jumping into the air^CK

Speed/Skill

• Can parry strikes from enemies^CK
• Kicks an enemy into a photo booth as they leap^CK
• Kicks an enemy into a portapotty as they leap^CK
• Hits an enemy on the edge of a pool, sending them flying so they land on an intertube^CK
• Kicks an enemy into a stack of surfboards as they leap^CK
• Throws an enemy into a training dummy such that it wraps around anthem^CK

Misc

• Kicks an enemy into a car lift, knocking the car down^CK
• Stuffs an enemy in a giant rat head mini golf prop^CK

Skills

Personal

• Ice Dunk: Leaps over an enemy, smashing an ice block on them that freezes them sold^CK
  • Upgrade: Increases damage by 20%
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Frozen enemies take damage over time
      • Increases freeze duration
      • Increases freeze damage and duration
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Increase the area by 20%
      • Reduces cooldown
      • Increases freeze damage and duration
• Icicle Fury: Releases a flurry of ice spikes forward^CK
  • Upgrade: Adds a final, stronger hit to the end
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Hits slow enemies
      • Slow duration increased
      • Nearly freezes enemies and deals damage over time
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Adds two more hits
      • Increases final hit damage
      • Increases final hit damage further
• Ice Wall: Raises a wall of ice in front of him from the ground that launches foes^CK
  • Upgrade: Creates a wall behind him as well
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Pushes the wall in front forward
      • The wall explodes after a moment - Better view
      • The explosion freezes enemies and does damage over time
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Creates a second wall in front of him
      • Creates a third wall in front of him
      • Creates a fourth wall in front of him
• Focus Heal: Heals himself after focusing for a moment^CK
  • Upgrade: Reduces the cooldown
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Heals nearby allies as well
      • Increases the amount healed and area of healing
      • Increases the amount healed and area of healing further
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Reduces cast time and adds a 30% speed buff
      • Reduces cooldown further
      • Instantly heals and buffs speed for 10 seconds
• Miyagi's Crane Kick: After filling the ultimate meter, Daniel performs the Crane Kick, launching a giant ice crane forward that leaves a trail of ice spikes^CK

Dojo

• Icicle Jump: Summons an icicle below him that launches enemies into the air^CK
  • Upgrade: Reduces cooldown
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Makes the icicle bigger
      • Increases damage
      • Makes the icicle much bigger
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Summons another icicle from the ceiling
      • Summons a third icicle on the floor
      • The first icicle freezes enemies
• Frozen Lotus: Makes a lotus of ice spikes sprout from the ground^CK
  • Upgrade: Drags enemies in while channeling
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Slows enemies
      • Causes damage over time
      • Doubles the slow duration and damage over time
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Reduces channeling time
      • Reduces cooldown
      • Reduces cooldown further
• Frozen Path: Conjures a path of frozen line forward^CK
  • Upgrade: Freezes enemies
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Adds an additional hit
      • Adds another additional hit
      • Adds another additional hit and doubles damage
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Creates a second parallel line
      • Creates another parallel line
      • Reduces cooldown
• Wax On, Wax Off: Moves forward while releasing a flurry of palm strikes^CK
  • Upgrade: Slows enemies
    • Skill Tree Branch 1
      • Releases a tornado of icy wind at the end
      • The tornado pierces enemies
      • The hits and tornado completely freeze enemies
    • Skill Tree Branch 2
      • Makes an explosion at the end that damages the ground
      • Increases damage
      • Increases the damage of the explosion

I'm using a semi-transparent stain (arborcoat) with black paint mixed into it (by the professionals -- not doing some weird science over here).
I am staining my neighbor's fence while they are out of town. They just got an in ground pool, said we could use it all weekend, I wanted to surprise them by staining their fence because it's been on their todo list but with all the construction happening in their backyard, they haven't gotten to it. They wanted it black like our deck. I had a couple gallons left over from our deck that I got a couple months ago because I want to stain our fence this summer to match it.
The store I buy arborcoat from is closed until Tuesday. Can I switch up brands and it look ok?
TLDR: Can I switch up semi-transparent stain brands mid-project?

You're such a good friend, but I knew it couldn't last 'til the world's end. When Hitler rises from the grave with The Angel of Death on his right hand, and The Beast on his left, they'll nuke this fucking country with all the rest. You bit my lip so hard it bled, I tasted it and came buckets in my fifty-dollar pre-ripped shorts. You whispered in my ear that I was disgusting. Dog Mother, you'll burn. And you bit my lip right off with your nicotine stained teeth, running off into the woods on those chopstick legs. But I chased you, blood pouring down my chin. Dog Mother will have her revenge. I caught you between Garden Grove and The New Auschwitz. Nowhere to hide, bitch. Your time has come. My severed lip hung out your mouth as I unsheathed my blade. It shone with the God's cruel justice. Nowhere to hide, bitch, come to mama. With a swift move, I tackled you to the ground, dripping blood on the pure white of your wings, Angel. You squirmed as I grabbed them and started hacking away. Sheep noises came from you as I cut through muscle and sawed through bone, the red covered you, sweat dripped from me. Finally, I was done. I threw your severed wings over the fence- which one, I didn't care. Grabbed your jaw and told you fucking let go. You did. I took my lip and said, I'm gonna go to the hospital now. Dunno if I'm Aryan enough for 'em, probably not, but if they'll take me I'm gettin' this sewn back on. Gotta look pretty when I meet God. Or The Devil. Whoever. Man, who'm I kidding? I'm goina Hell. I won't see you honey. You'll go where you belong.

Building a 600 ft fence along my backyard. I got these both quoted out and cedar is slightly more expensive than the pressure treated pine but not significant enough to rule it out (less than $1000). I've been reading that cedar is much better and lasts longer, also far less toxic, but I can't find any information specific to Michigan so I was hoping to get some insight? We plan to cement in the posts and stain black.

This took place about 21 years ago, when I was about 18 or 19. This is a wild ride so make sure you’re comfortable then get ready for quit the most mysterious tale you’ve ever heard. Hang in there for the long haul because this is a period of time that took place in the south side of Detroit in the early 2000s. I’ve been listening to creepy pastas for years and have never come across something like this. That’s not flexing either I’m just saying stick around this is a strange ride. Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction.
​
So, with that said let’s set the scene. I lived in a 24-unit apartment building with my mother who was a hard working single mom, who basically was hardly around as she was working two waitress jobs to keep a home and lived with my younger brother about 14 or 15 at the time. Furthermore, between late shifts and travel time 5 and 6 nights a week she wouldn’t even get home until 2 or 3am or so.
This is an erie story that came together from 3 points of view and the parts that are based in unquestionable reality were not divulged between us until years after moving out of this apartment. In addition, there are parts of this situation that could be interpreted as having roots in the supernatural, ie, spirits, ghosts, demons, afterlife ect. Although if you like your scares based that’s here as well. The overall tale is based yet some things that you’ll hear can be arguably blooming from another dimension. It’s open-ended and I would love to see what people think. My mom never wants to get into it as she is 70 now, and my younger brother and I will bring it up at family gatherings here and there but again that’s just our perspectives.
​
We lived on the top floor, and to give a quick layout because for this story it really does factor significantly in how things were perceived and ultimately played a big role in how things were handled. This building was one solid long rectangle. As I said before it was 24 units that were divided into two sections with 12 on each side that each had their own separate entrances and the only way to travel to the other section of 12 units once you’re inside being through a conjoining laundry room that had a doorway from each side. Every apartment was shaped in a way that you had a big window on the side facing the front of the building which was essentially the street that lead to the apartment, also it was the street that you could turn into the back parking lot which was a secluded parking lot that was fenced off and had a slightly wooded area behind the fence and then the back of a strip mall a grocery store but you couldn't really see it with all the brush in between.
That being said you could look to Main Street or there was a small window in the kitchen that you could look at to the back parking lot. Now as I stated before we lived on the top floor, within a week of living in this apartment something was slightly disturbing on the first floor in the middle of the night we would hear screaming if we went out into the apartment hallways. Which happened often being teenagers and having friends over or leaving and coming in.
This would take place usually between 2:00 AM and 4:00 AM. Technically at this point it was random and living where I come from again you tend to ignore the neighbors but after it went on for a while my brother and I both conveyed that we heard this lady screaming and we're very added out about it.
​
Although at this point our mother had not heard it yet as I said three and four nights a week she worked till well after 3:00 AM and somehow, she just was missing anytime get the screaming what's going on. Although within a week or so she did hear it and that's how we found out who it was it was the lady on the first floor she was an old woman in her 80s that lived by herself. Now with this latest information it did one of two things that either made it upsetting and sad that she may be experiencing mental issues at that age but at the same time it also made it slightly scary or eerie in a sense that she was screaming at that time of night.
Now let's step away from the elderly lady who screams for a few minutes, if you remember how our building was set up when I'm in my bedroom on the opposite side of the wall there's a neighbor but you can only get to him by going through the laundry room basement almost every night one of two things would happen an alarm would go off in the middle of the night from his apartment and never shut off for hours on end like four or five hours or every other weekend or every few weeks we would hear loud muffled screaming in there as well or at least I would hear strange noises. We live in the South side of Detroit it's the kind of place you don't get into neighbors’ business I didn't know if this was moaning for pleasure or what.
​
As time went on, I begin to notice that the neighbor that was on the opposite wall as I said before was rarely ever home and when he was home it was always hearing a woman moaning or muffled sounds. Loud bangs from the opposite side of the wall. If you remember how the building is designed that there's a window to look to the Main Street and a small window in the kitchen looking to the back parking lot this became the stuff of possible nightmares. I started noticing that when the guy was around, he was taking out giant heavy duty garbage bags or big duffel bags that looked like they were packed heavy and putting them in his pickup truck and driving away. This would always happen at night and went on for the course of a year. I Notice through this years’ time that this would happen about once a month are every other month, at least that's the number of times that happened to notice him bringing these bags out in the wee hours of the night.
​
I'm getting ahead of myself a little bit I want to jump back some, the lady downstairs continue to scream in the middle of the night I had noticed that the times that she was screaming sometimes always equal the times that he was carrying out these duffel bags not the same day but just the same time frame which was starting to get weird, finally I questioned the older lady and asked her if she was OK, I did not directly ask why she screams that night I didn't want to embarrass her or push her mental issue stronger I just asked her if she was in need of any help or was she having any trouble at night.
​
I'm not sure if I would have preferred a straight up answer of some sort because what I got was ominous and chilling in its own right, she stared at me blankly with almost Halo eyes again this lady was in at least her mid-80s and she brushed off the question and just asked if I would like some cookies she said that I liked cookies since I was younger and then she asked where Timothy, Charlie, and Susie have been she misses all her grandchildren. So, at this moment I wrapped it up to she must be experiencing Alzheimer's or some memory loss, once every few weeks she would have a family member stop by and check on her. So at least for that moment I figured that her family was making sure she was OK, and it must be my brain just connecting that's something strange was going on with her yelling and screaming when really, it's just Mental issues. Or at least for the time being my perception of that would soon change.
​
Now as I discussed the guy who was bringing the bags out and had women periodically screaming and was barely ever home his alarm clock would go off day after day when he wasn't there and it would start around 2-3 in the %99 and somehow would shut itself off around maybe 7:00 or 8:00 AM but it was one of them old style alarm clocks that everybody had back in the 90s the ones that just are beep that will drive you crazy, now from my mother's room you couldn't hear it and you could only slightly hear it from the front room and my younger brother was a very deep sleeper so he seemed to not have an issue with it when he slept in the room yet when it was my turn to sleep in the room it would drive me crazy. Eventually I got the nerve up that I was going to walk through the laundry room to his side of the building when I knew he wasn't home and check the door handle because I was going to unplug that alarm clock.
​
It was the middle of the night I got to say I really didn't know what to expect but I did go over there and I knocked at first even though I knew that he wasn't home but still my instinct was the knob I wasn't 100% but I was pretty sure and yet there was no answer for about 3 or 4 minutes. If you remember I was a late teenager at this time the time of your life that you feel invincible and I wanted to put an end to this plus I got to admit I was curious to see what was inside this apartment but I truly do not expect the door handle to be unlocked yet it was.
As the door slowly creaked across the hinges I felt as if I was a detective in an old school rat pack movie, I could no longer control the irregular heartbeat that I had soon discovered was going on inside my organs. I was the protagonist of my own private eye story at this point. That little gulp inside your throat that you get when your fight flight or freeze instincts start dripping down the nerves of your body , which somehow tingle the very bones that are keeping you standing in your own place begin to give way as if they are defective and have worked perfectly for you your entire life.
It is as if you have just entered an enemy war zone or some kind of alternate dimension. At the very least every nerve single inside your body is telling you that you should not be in the position that you are in right now but for some reason you ignore what your gut instinct is telling you. Which is not got for over all human evolution or at least human survival rate amongst other species because this is what is supposed to keep us alive at the upmost undesirable moments5 natural instinct kicking in as I entered the apartment.
​
It was every bit the cliche looking serial killer apartment, there was no furniture and rusted over stove all the lights are off just a couple scattered things it was super freaky and I knew right away something was wrong with this place but again the invincibility of being a teenager pushed through and also I pretty much knew the man was not home as I said before how I described the building I fully made my way to the bedroom it was like torn up mattress with stains on it and sprawled around the closet where different items that look to be women's clothes and jewelry and a giant jug of change like one of them water dispenser jugs and then of course the infamous alarm clock was ringing. Anybody who was born in the 80s and grew up in the 90s knows this alarm clock it's the one everybody had without hesitation I pulled the plug out and for good measure I must say at the time we were not a wealthy family and Mr. jug of change had to be a few $100 I took the jug with me when I left I was in and out of that apartment in less than two minutes.
​
My heart was racing so much as I left the apartment because that would be the only moments I couldn't see if he pulled up and then here I am lugging his water jug through the basements through the laundry room back up to my side of the building and in my house it was quite frightful. Especially now running through my head even more as the fact that he might actually be a killer. My brave confidence had weighed in on seeing the insides of that apartment and I got back to my house as fast as possible locking the door and going inside.
​
What we have here is a man who's hardly around and when he is there's add sounds coming from his apartment and he takes out body size bags to his truck and leaves. We also have an incredibly old woman in her 90s who screams in the middle of the night yelping her saying names occasionally. So we didn't put it all together then but after we had moved out my brother and I started swapping stories and we came to the conclusion that it's possible people were being murdered there and the old lady could see their souls as they were unsettled and still here on earth walking around which made her scream and yell. But as I said this story isn't necessarily supernatural as she could just be old and have dementia and we were just dealing with somebody who was a killer by us bringing bodies up back to their truck and burying them somewhere else. So you can come to your own conclusions on what was going on but it was such a disturbing time overall and when I look back on it I get such bad vibes and the chills even thinking about that place if I was to drive by it now I wonder if it would have a dark aura about it I may do so.
​
Yet here's the catch after swapping stories years after a few years ago a serial killer was caught and a few of his kills took place here in Detroit as they said he lived here part time when they showed his picture on TV he all looked almost exactly like our neighbor to the state we're not 100% sure if it was Sam as we both don't remember that neighbors name or if there was a name on the mailbox to tell us who it was what chances are it was him and that's real messed up I feel like if we would have pushed harder maybe we could have stopped them back then yeah we were young and just piercing all this information together.
.

I got out my 10ish year old pressure washer today. Before trying to use it I sprayed down the house with a wash, and the hose was able to hit the second story windows. After I had all the cleaner on I hooked up the pressure washer to the same hose, plugged it in, turned on the water, turned on the pressure washer , and then tried to use it. the pump kicked on for a second and then when I pulled the trigger a low pressure stream came out. The pump would run continuously but the pressure would not increase.
I tried everything I could think to troubleshoot. I disconnected and reconnected everything, took it off the extension cord and went straight to the outlet, switched up the order of things, but nothing would work. At this point I thought it had just kicked the bucket and bought a brand new 1600 PSI unit. It had the exact same result. A weak stream.
The only thing I have not tried yet is a new hose. I don't have any leaks at the unit or the spigot and the pressure seems fine when using a sprayer. It is a 100 ft hose if that matters. Could that be the issue?

Hello everyone!
Just wanted to share a story I wrote and has been picked up by the good people at Cold Open Stories.
Hope you enjoy!
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
++ Do not look to us for kindness. Do not look to us for hope. We are not the kind children of this new age. We are the rocks of its foundation. ++
Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the VII
A flash of light burned in the black of space.
Is this it? thought Cassian Torr, Captain of the 117th Company, VII Legion. Has Horus come?
His twin hearts beat faster at the thought, even as the more logical parts of his mind ran through a thousand other possibilities. Yet ultimately he knew what he had seen: a ship. A ship tearing its way into real space. Into the Sol System. Into the heart of the Imperium.
He scanned the endless void, eyes scouring the debris and detritus that littered the outer regions of Terra’s system. Searching for more flashes. For more ships. For any sign that this was the first pebble in an avalanche of violence that would crash against the walls of Sol.
Yet none came.
‘Speak to me, Captain Narsus,’ he said, turning to look back at the Oath of Unity’s mortal commander. His golden-yellow armour purred with even that slight movement, the sound lost in the cacophony that was the bridge. Astartes, mortal crew, Tech Priests and servitors bustled in constant motion, the ordered and smooth running of the Gladius Frigate hidden amongst the apparent anarchy. ‘What is it we face today?’
‘A single ship, my lord,’ replied Narsus, voice heavy with exhaustion. ‘Not military class. A merchant trader; its code identifies it as the Destiny’s Daughter. I am picking up no shields or weapons signals. Their engines are practically dead. They’re simply drifting.’
Torr knew the long hours and endless days being demanded of the man were unfair, that no unaugmented human could hope to keep up such work for long. Yet it was what Dorn and the Sigillite deemed necessary. It was what victory in the name of Unity and the Imperial Truth deemed necessary.
And Torr would not have the Oath of Unity found wanting. When this madness was over, when Horus was defeated, the Imperium would be rebuilt as it should have been. As the Emperor willed it. As a bastion of truth, science, reason and hope.
What has Horus sent against us? Torr asked himself as he looked back into space. Is this some new trickery? Some new lie?
He had patrolled the edges of the Sol System for years. Ever since the Eisenstein had brought the impossible news of Horus’s betrayal to Dorn and the Imperial Fists. In the intervening years, the entirety of the system had been transformed into a fortress – patrols like his, its first and furthest line of defence.
But it was a line yet to be tested.
Nothing had reached the Sol System. Not since the Eisenstein. It was as if silence had engulfed the galaxy. Yet Torr knew this could not be true. All eighteen Legions – loyal and treacherous – could not have just gone silent. Something out there, beyond the cold of the void, had changed.
He saw this also in the Oath of Unity’s Astropath. In her whispered mutterings. In her nervous glances towards the open void.
Summons had been sent to those Legions, Expeditionary Forces and Forge Worlds known to be loyal, a tsunami of astropathic messages to sweep through the galaxy. Yet nothing came back. No ships reached them. No messages. Are we alone? Have all our brother Legions turned their backs on the dream of the Imperium? On their oaths and vows? On Terra?
Something unfamiliar wormed its way through him at the thought. Is this fear? That emotion was all but unknown, ever since he had been plucked from the ice hives of Inwit and raised to the ranks of the Legiones Astartes. And yet, he pondered, perhaps its echo still exists somewhere within.
‘Are we receiving any communication from them?’ he asked, his voice flat and hard, masking his thoughts and fears. ‘Does anything live aboard?’
‘No communications, my lord,’ answered Narsus. ‘But we are picking up life signs. Not many, but undeniably human.’
Torr nodded. ‘Very good, Captain. Make full speed to intercept. Have weapons ready to fire, but hold until commanded.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ said Narsus. He paused for a heartbeat. ‘Should I alert Lord Falkar? The Sigillite’s orders may pertain to this.’
Torr rubbed his armoured gauntlet across his closely shaven scalp, feeling the iron of his centenary mark of service riven into his thick, transhuman brow. The mark of over a century of service to the ideals of Truth and Unity. It reminded him of the campaigns he had fought. Of the brothers he had lost. Of the horrors he had seen. He shook his head. ‘No. Lord Falkar’s involvement is to be a last resort.’
He opened his Legion vox link. ‘ Sergeant Haster, prepare a boarding party.’
+++
Shadows and silence filled the Destiny’s Daughter. Torr and Breacher Squad Haster moved through her corridors in purposeful unity, methodical and thorough. Their shields overlapped to create an impenetrable wall of ceramite and iron. The golden yellow of their thick MKIII armour was bathed crimson as emergency lumens flashed endlessly throughout the seemingly deserted ship.
Torr heard a click in his helm, followed instantly by another, as he had every five minutes since the boarding operation had begun nearly an hour ago. The signals told him that Breacher Squads Solon and Carr were moving through the ship on schedule, having met no resistance or signs of life. He suspected he’d receive the same ‘all clears’ again in five minutes.
He clicked back in reply, then let out a growl of frustration. His trigger finger itched, aching to feel the kick of his bolter, to hear its roar.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm, and silently chided himself for the moment of laxity. He remembered the words of his father and Primarch, Lord Dorn: Discipline. Duty. Unyielding Will. These are the measures by which every warrior is judged.
Am I bored? he asked himself. If he was being honest, he’d half hoped to find an ambush aboard the Destiny’s Daughter. To see his traitorous brothers advancing towards him, bolters roaring their madness. The colours of those Legions he had once fought beside – the regal purple of the Emperor’s Children, the sea-green of the Sons of Horus, the blood-splattered white and blue of the World Eaters – flashed through his mind and he ground his teeth. He wanted to kill.
Astartes, he reflected, were not built for such lengthy periods of inactivity. For long years of patrol and garrison. For what was now demanded of him and his brothers.
‘Is all well, Captain?’ asked Haster, the Veteran Sergeant’s gravel voice filling his helm’s private comm-link.
‘All is well, Brother-Sergeant,’ Torr replied. ‘I was distracted. Thank you for drawing my attention back to the duty at hand.’
He heard Haster’s grunt of laughter in his vox-link. ‘Some things never change, it seems. I’ve been watching your back since we were Initiates. What would you do without me?’
Torr felt the corners of his mouth tug into the beginnings of a smile as he checked their position against the ship’s schematics on his retinal display. They were not far from the centre of the ship and the cargo hold. Where, according to Captain Narsus, the only signs of life could be detected. ‘Not long now,’ he whispered to himself as the rhythmic clang of their armoured boots echoed throughout the labyrinthine corridors.
+++
Explosions ripped open the cargo hold’s blast doors, filling the hallways with smoke and fire and a storm of metal shards. Even through his helm’s environmental dampeners, Torr felt his ears ring.
Then the screams started.
‘Only fire on my command,’ he ordered as he raised his breacher shield and began to advance alongside Squad Haster. Smoke enveloped them for the briefest second, before they emerged into the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter.
Torr finally saw something from beyond the Sol System, from the chaos that had engulfed the galaxy.
Ragged humanity filled the cargo hold, stretching out into the dark corners of the vast room. Men, women and children huddled together, their clothes hanging loosely from bone-thin limbs as wide, terror-stricken eyes stared back at him from faces too thin with hunger. Pleas for mercy, prayers for help, and screams of panic filled the air. Most shied away from the approaching astartes, hunching over in small groups, as if they could disappear into the gloom.
One man, braver or stupider than the rest, stepped out from the crowd. He clutched an autogun in his shaking hands, the weapon rusted almost beyond repair.
Do it.
The words rushed unbidden into Torr’s mind as he felt the increasingly familiar itch in his trigger finger. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his eyes settled on the barrel of the gun.
Do it.
‘Begone, foul daemons!’ screamed the man, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeak. ‘The Emperor protects!’
His final words were taken up by others amongst the crowd. It rallied them, as it echoed in the open cavern of the hold. Torr grimaced. At what those words implied. At a belief in the divine, so at odds with the enlightened ideals of the Imperium. Yet also of loyalty.
His hand shot out, too fast for a mortal’s eye to follow, and snatched the gun from the refugee’s hands with a savage twist. He felt the man resist for the briefest moment, before giving way with a pained cry.
Torr looked down at the man – on his knees, a grimace across his face, cradling one shoulder. He felt a moment’s satisfaction at the release of violence, before he crushed it with a force of will. These are citizens of the Imperium. They deserve our protection.
He dropped the gun. It clattered to the ground, the metallic ring echoing from the walls. Almost deafening in the silence of the hold.
Something behind the man flinched at the sound. A muffled cry reached Torr’s ears.
A girl, he thought as his eyes settled on the crouched figure. Perhaps four or five years old, Terran Standard. Though, he had to admit to finding estimates of age hard with such young mortals. Her hair had been crudely shorn to the scalp, but small tufts stuck out from amid the stubble. She clung tightly to the man’s back, keeping herself in his shadow, even as she stared up at him. Her eyes, wide and dark, met Torr’s. Yet she didn’t look away.
Brave, Torr thought, for a mortal. For one so young.
‘Stand down, civilians,’ he said, voice amplified by the vox in his armour. ‘You are safe now. You are in the custody of the Seventh.’
He noticed the girl wince at the sound of his voice, pressing her hands to her ears and looking down at the floor. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he dimly remembered the first time he had seen an astartes. The sheer size. The aura of violence. It had been overwhelming.
Torr dropped to one knee, bringing himself as close to the girl’s level as possible. He removed his helm, remembering a treatise written by Guilliman on first interactions between astartes and mortals. Such simple measures, the lord of the Thirteenth argued, lessened the shock when interacting with members of the Legions. It humanised them in the eyes of the unaugmented.
Torr almost laughed at the idea. As if I have not given up my humanity to become what they need me to be. To become a shield for their kind. To become a weapon against the horrors of this universe.
He reached forward slowly, resting his gauntleted hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘What is your name, child?’ he asked, doing his best to keep his voice light and the hint of a smile on his lips. He knew such verbal and physical cues were important to the unenhanced.
‘Patti,’ whispered the girl, bringing her gaze up to meet his once more. ‘Is… Is Mama here? Papa said she would be, even though she couldn’t get the same ship as us.’ Sobs began to wrack the little girl’s body and she hurled herself back against her father’s body, burying her face in his thin shirt.
Torr felt the temperature drop, permafrost creeping across the floor. Radiating out from the girl. Crawling up his arm. Psyker. He pulled back and turned to meet the father’s eyes.
‘We’re from the Lastrati System,’ said the man, his voice edged with hope, yet tinged with fear. ‘When the traitors came… There was such chaos. We got separated.’
Torr shook his head.
‘Yohanna,’ continued the man, his words tumbling out too quickly. ‘Yohanna Taraf. That’s her name. I am Emil. Her husband. There must be news.’
‘No,’ said Torr, his voice now stone and brooking no argument. ‘Yours is the first ship to have reached Sol in nearly two years.’
Emil fell silent, his jaw working wordlessly. The buzz of chatter filled the air, spreading like wildfire throughout the refugees as Torr’s words reached the ears of others.
‘The first?’ Emil asked eventually as he clasped his daughter’s hands. ‘But there were so many.’
Torr stared back for a moment, seeing the tears begin to trickle from Emil’s eyes. ‘I am sorry.’
He stood and turned his back on the man, looking over the silent wall of ceramite that Breacher Squad Haster had formed behind him. His eyes met Haster’s, seeing his old friend had also removed his helmet. ‘These people are not to leave this hall.’ He paused. ‘But do not harm them. They are loyal citizens of the Imperium.’
He turned his focus back to Emil and Patti once more. They were on their knees, arms wrapped tight around each other. The halo of frost around them crept ever further across the floor with each second. Their bodies rose and fell with choked sobs, tears streaming down their faces. Torr’s transhuman senses heard Emil whisper reassurances to his daughter as he stroked her hair. He told her that her mother would be okay. That she would find a way. That the Emperor was watching them. To have faith.
Superstition. Torr looked away in anger. Primitive. Illogical. He felt sick at the irony of it. That the Legions had spent two centuries crusading across the stars, destroying such beliefs and bringing the Truth to the galaxy. But, here it was. At the very heart of the Imperium itself.
Yet it is these people that stand loyal. Unlike my brother Legions. Unlike those I fought with. Unlike those I shed blood with. The thought soured in Torr’s mind, his mask of stone slipping to anger.
He saw the faces of those he had once fought beside from the Traitor Legions in his mind. The faces of those he had called once Brothers. Sar Krael of the Sons of Horus, his olive skin in stark contrast to the once brilliant white of their old Legion. Varon of the Emperor’s Children, his porcelain features marred by the occasional faint duelling scar. Kargur of the World Eaters, his brutish features only accentuated by a myriad of criss-crossing scars and his permanently broken nose.
Torr clicked his vox-link open, drawing himself back to the present. ‘Captain Narsus, do you hear me?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ came the reply, static scratching in Torr’s ears.
‘Inform Lord Dorn and First Captain Sigismund that we have made contact with refugees from the war.’ He paused. ‘Then prepare several parties of your mortal crew to board the Destiny’s Daughter. They are to bring food and water. Medicine too.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ replied Narsus. ‘I will see to it at once.’
Torr watched Patti and Emil for a second more. Their cries were hushed and lost in the vastness of the hold, their prayers faint, yet distinct. Other refugees shuffled away from them. Away from the creeping frost and the aura of cold. Away from the girl. From the psyker.
His stomach churned at what he had to do next.
‘Captain Narsus,’ he said once more. ‘Inform the Lord Falkar and the Sigillite’s agents too.’
+++
Torr watched black figures move through the crowd. Each bore the stylised I of Malcador, the Sigillite and the Emperor’s right hand, upon their chests. A symbol that conferred upon them nigh-on unlimited power.
He watched them methodically approach each group, dataslates in hand, recording each story – and he saw the fear and confusion in each refugee’s eyes. These men were something new, something unknown. And despite being just ordinary men and women – no, Torr corrected himself, Malcador’s people would never be ordinary – they seemingly commanded greater fear than the astartes of the VII Legion.
Disquiet filled Torr at their presence. At the nature of their work.
He glanced behind to Squad Haster. Each stood immobile, a fortress of ceramite and gene-enhanced flesh in their own right. Each proudly bore the black fist of the Seventh, declaring their allegiance for all to see. The Sigillite’s people could not be more different than the Sons of Dorn. What do they portend for the Imperium?
Sensing movement in the periphery of his vision, Torr looked towards the cargo hold’s doors. His eyes settled on a lone figure in burnished gold armour, a great blade at her waist, a crimson top knot tumbling down her back.
A member of the Silent Sisterhood.
Revulsion flooded through him at the sight. His twin hearts beat faster. Adrenaline began to pump through his gene-enhanced body. His hands clenched into tight fists.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply. To calm himself.
Opening his eyes, he found his gaze drawn to a group of the Sigillite’s agents. They were dragging a pair of refugees towards the Sister. Emil and Patti. Torr felt anger rise hot inside his chest at the realisation.
Tears stained the father’s cheeks, a look of weary defeat written across Emil’s face. The face of a broken man. Patti screamed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her father’s hands, his shirt, his arms. Her legs kicked wildly, her movements more frantic as she grew closer to the Witchseeker.
Torr’s eyes met hers. They were bloodshot and puffy, a river of tears flooding from them. Help me! Please! Help me! The words – Patti’s words – screamed in his mind. He shuddered. A ripple of terror ran through him, her own fear and anguish shared for just an instant.
His eidetic memory ran through her story. He remembered the way her father had described the terror and confusion as drop pods had rained from the sky above Lastrani. He could almost picture the mad scramble amid the ruins and smoke of the space port. The feel of fingers slipping apart as Patti’s mother was dragged away by the current of the crowd. He could almost smell the stench of sweat and piss as they had huddled in the dark of the Destiny’s Daughter, as it shuddered beneath the onslaught of cannon fire.
More superstitious minds might call it a miracle, he thought, pondering the immensity of the refugee’s luck. And this is the greeting they find from the Imperium? From those supposed to protect them? To be torn from each other’s arms after all they have suffered?
Something inside Torr snapped. His fingers curled involuntarily around the grip of his sword and he felt the blade slide just a fraction from its sheath as he strode towards the diorama of misery. Refugees stumbled from his path as the heavy tread of Squad Haster following echoed in his ears. As he had known they would, even without orders. They were his Brothers.
Is this the Imperium we fight for? Is this the future of humanity? The future my brothers died for? One of secrets and shadows? One where innocent people disappear in the night?
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Torr thundered as he neared the agents.
The closest flinched before turning to face him, his eyes wide as he took an involuntary step back. Torr heard the man swear under his breath as the chemical smell of fear filled his gene-enhanced nostrils.
‘Lord captain,’ the man started, ‘my orders are-’
‘I did not ask for your orders, Chosen of Malcador,’ growled Torr. ‘They are plainly clear. I asked for your reasons.’
The click of light footsteps sounded nearby. He glanced towards the sound, seeing the Sister had turned towards them, her face a passionless mask. He felt cold, an unnatural sense of dread filling him, as her eyes settled on him. He looked away quickly, returning to the mortal before him.
‘These people,’ began the agent again, straightening his back and meeting Torr’s gaze. ‘These people are to be transferred to-’
‘Silence,’ snarled Torr. He punched a finger in the direction of Patti and Emil. ‘Their only crime is fleeing the atrocities of the Traitor Legions. This girl could be trained. Her talents could benefit the Imperium. Instead, you drag her away into the shadows. Does your master fear little girls so much?’
The agent’s eyes flared angrily for a second, before flickering to the space behind Torr. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile.
‘Is our presence so distasteful to you, Captain Torr?’
Torr remained silent as he turned to face this new speaker. Ice-blue eyes stared back at him from a hawkish face of ghostly skin. Silence settled between the two, stretching out for long, pregnant seconds.
‘I am always astounded by your kind’s aptitude for petty behaviour, Captain,’ continued the man, turning his own gaze upon the sight of Patti’s father. ‘It could be argued that such pettiness is the cause of all this madness.’
‘Indeed, Chosen Falkar,’ replied Torr after a moment.
He studied the Sigillite’s man. Falkar was painfully thin, with the typically near-emaciated and elongated form of those born and raised in the low gravity of space. Yet, despite the sheer difference in size and bulk that the astartes carried, the man weathered Torr’s gaze as if made of stone.
An impressive feat of mental strength, conceded Torr as he repressed the now familiar itch to draw his weapon. At the mortal’s display of defiance.
Torr ground his teeth as Patti’s pleas for help, her prayers to the Emperor, moved further away. He heard the scuff of her feet dragged across the floor. He heard a body slump to the floor, Emil’s sobs joining his daughter’s cacophony. The desire to draw his sword, to hear the bark of his bolter, swelled inside, near overwhelming.
You have failed them.
‘You speak of pettiness,’ snarled Torr, ‘yet you are not the one who has fought across the length and breadth of the galaxy. You are not the one who has seen his Brothers die. You are not the one who has sacrificed their very humanity. All this, I have done with the ideals of Unity and Truth in my hearts.’
Torr gestured across the hall, pointing at each of the Sigillite’s agents with a sharp jab of a finger.
‘You and your kind threaten those ideals. You sink this war into shadows and secrets. You are a poison that stains the Imperium.’ Torr spat. ‘What was the purpose of those sacrifices – my brothers’ sacrifices – if we throw our ideals away? We must hold ourselves to a higher standard.’
Falkar met the astartes’ tirade with a surprising calmness, his ice-blue eyes almost blazing in the gloom of the ship’s hold as they met Torr’s stare. ‘And what, lord captain,’ he replied, ‘would be the purpose of those sacrifices should we lose this war?’ Falkar let the question sit for a second. ‘We are a new weapon, Captain – or a new poison, as you say – because this is a new war.’
Silence hung for an eternity between the two of them. Eventually the mortal turned to look across the mass of humanity that filled the room. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back.
‘Our enemy is insidious, Lord Captain. They will not just come for us with bolter and chainsword. They will not just come to tear down our walls. They will come to tear down our very purpose. They will come to destroy everything we believe in. They will come from the shadows and dark. We are the shield against these threats. That is why the Sigillite created our order.’
‘Then you have already failed,’ Torr said after a moment. ‘You cannot defend the ideals of Truth and Unity with lies and deceit.’
Falkar shook his head and pulled out a dataslate, fingers flicking through its contents. When he’d finished, he looked up and met Torr’s eyes once more.
There is something different in him now, noticed the astartes. The hard edge is gone. There is sadness there. An exhaustion of the soul.
‘Then I am sorry, Lord Torr,’ started Falkar. ‘For what I must ask of you now.’
He held out the dataslate. Runes of the highest authority flashed across its surface. Torr read the orders, even as his stomach tightened. As his trigger finger itched once more. As the desire to rip his sword free filled him.
‘No.’ He growled the word through clenched teeth.
‘No?’
Falkar’s eyes momentarily flashed in surprise. Just for an instant, but Torr saw it. He did not expect resistance, he realised. Not from a Son of the Seventh. They think us cold. Made of stone. They do not understand the fire that burns within. The drive. The Purpose. The ideals.
‘No,’ Torr growled once more.
‘There is no refusal here, Captain Torr,’ replied Falkar, his voice now clipped with an icy steel. ‘These orders come from the Sigillite himself. And co-signed by your father. Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command?’
Torr froze. Co-signed by your father. The words haunted him. To see Lord Dorn and the Seventh dragged down into the mire of shadows. That was what they meant.
Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command? The words flittered through his head as he thought of what was being asked of him. Of how they had treated those fleeing for safety.
What kind of monsters have we become? he asked himself.
He thought of Patti and her father’s story. He thought of all he had heard from the refugees. He ran through every detail. He knew, as sure as if he was there himself, what happened in the Lastrati System. He knew what happened when the Sixteenth had come.
Anger swelled inside by what his erstwhile cousins had done. By what the once proud scions of Horus had become. Disgust filled him at the thought of those warriors he was once proud to have served alongside. By how far they had fallen.
What kind of monsters have they become?
He looked down at the dataslate again. He read the words again.
+ Immediate transfer of all non-psykers to the internment prisons of Titan for processing and interrogation. +
‘Why?’
Falkar breathed deeply and nodded, a look of relief washing across his face. ‘Because of what they have seen. Because of what they know. Because their tales of daemons and gods and monsters cannot be allowed to spread throughout Terra’s defenders. Because these stories, and those that would spread them, are a weapon for our enemy. As sure as any bolter.’
Falkar fell silent and looked back across the refugees. Torr turned with him a second later.
Is this the future you fought for? The question whispered in the back of Torr’s mind. Is this the Imperium you would be a part of? But what is the alternative?
He thought of the defenders of Terra. Of the fear he has seen in their eyes already. He thought of what he had heard today, of the tales of gods and daemons, and what it would do to their fear. He knew Falkar’s words to be true.
Images of Terra burning filled his mind. Of its walls cast down. Of his brothers broken. Of its citizens slaughtered. Of its ideals ground into dust.
Will you do what is necessary to prevent that future?
With that question echoing through his thoughts, Torr clicked open his Legion-coded vox channels.
‘Squad Haster, make ready.’
He heard the thud of ceramite boots on the floor as they moved to attention beside him. He heard the click of boltguns loading. He smelled the tang of fear in the air.
He glanced sideways towards Haster. His old friend’s face was a grim mask, unreadable save a fury blazing in his eyes. A fury at me? pondered Torr. Or at what we must do? What have we become?
But Torr knew such anger was irrelevant. He knew what must be done. What duty demanded. He looked back across the refugees arrayed before him.
‘Citizens of the Imperium,’ he said, his gene-enhanced voice carrying easily throughout the hanger. ‘You will accompany us back to the Oath of Unity. There you will be processed and sent for internment on Titan. These are the orders of Lord Dorn and Malcador the Sigillite. Do not resist.’
Anger filled the air almost immediately after his pronouncement. Questions and shouts spread like wildfire through the crowd as something snapped in their collective minds. The sight of the astartes warriors before them, once a promise of salvation and deliverance, now the face of repression and danger.
One woman stepped out from the crowd. Her face, painfully thin from malnutrition, was a contorted mask of rage. She held a broken piece of piping tight in two hands.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she screamed. ‘What crime have we committed? You should be protecting us! Helping us!’
‘Stand down, citizen,’ commanded Torr. The fury in the woman’s voice was a spark to his own base instincts. He fought to keep his voice calm. He fought to stop his hands from reaching for the bolt pistol at his belt.
‘You are monsters!’ screamed the woman. ‘You oppress us! For what crime? Have we not suffered enough?’
‘Stand down,’ said Torr once more. A warm heat began to spread through his muscles as they loosened. He felt his hearts thump faster. His trigger finger itched once more. He found he had drawn his bolt pistol.
Her cry was taken up by the rest of the crowd. They pressed forward, towards Torr and the other Imperial Fists. Torr made to step in front of Falkar, but noticed the Sigillite’s agent had disappeared.
A howl of pain split the air. One of the black armoured figures tumbled from the horde of refugees, kicked to the ground. Their throat had been slit. Their face was a mass of bruising radiating out from caved-in eye sockets. Blood wept from stab wounds across their body. Torr’s eyes settled on their empty holster.
A gunshot rang out. Torr felt its force against his pauldron. Heard it ricochet against the dull steel of the cargo hold’s roof.
He raised his pistol. Squad Haster appeared in his periphery, shields locked together, bolters ready. There was no need to open the vox channel this time. Not with his brothers so close.
‘Fire.’
+++
Dead bodies littered the cargo hold. It was an abattoir. Blood coated the floor and splattered the walls. Bodies – of men, women and children – lay at unnatural angles, their limbs torn like petals from a flower by the explosive power of bolt rounds. The stench of shit and piss and gunsmoke filled his nostrils.
Accusing eyes stared back at him. Over six hundred dead. He had made the count himself. His eyes met the dead gaze of Patti’s father.
Why? they asked. In Torr’s own voice. It is the question he asked Falkar. Now it is the question he asks himself.
Torr opened his eyes, bringing his mind back from the slaughter in the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter. Agony shot through his arm. He bit down, grinding his teeth and tasting the iron tang of his own blood as he shut out the effects of the Pain Glove.
Discipline and unyielding will, he reminded himself, but the question remained. It echoed through his mind.
Why?
But Torr knew the answer.
Because you are a weapon. A monster.
Because it is what you need to be. Because it is your purpose to be the rock upon which the Imperium can be built. To find victory, so that those that come after you can build a better world.
Torr knew this in his hearts. He had heard his father speak on it. He remembered giving his oath aboard the Phalanx. He remembered kneeling before his Lord Dorn, hand thrust into a brazier of fire, and swearing to be the weapon that the Imperium needed. To never give in. To find victory. No matter the cost.
No matter the cost.
He thought once more of the refugees. He thought of Patti and her father, Emil. Of what they suffered at the hands of his treacherous cousins. Of the danger they posed to the Imperium’s victory. Of what they had suffered at the hands of the Imperium.
He thought of Falkar’s words. ‘And what, lord captain, would be the purpose of your sacrifices should we lose this war?’
And he vowed anew that he would not lose. That he would find victory. He vowed to do whatever was necessary. He vowed to be that monster now, so that the Imperium and its dream could live on.
For that was his duty. And duty is all.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
If you you enjoyed that, please give it a rating over on the website, and check out the other stories in that anthology!
https://40k.coldopenstories.com/dutys-burden/
https://40k.coldopenstories.com/category/short-fiction/anthology-xii/

Hello everyone!
Just wanted to share a story I wrote and has been picked up by the good people at Cold Open Stories.
​
Hope you enjoy!
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
​
++ Do not look to us for kindness. Do not look to us for hope. We are not the kind children of this new age. We are the rocks of its foundation. ++
Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the VII
A flash of light burned in the black of space.
Is this it? thought Cassian Torr, Captain of the 117th Company, VII Legion. Has Horus come?
His twin hearts beat faster at the thought, even as the more logical parts of his mind ran through a thousand other possibilities. Yet ultimately he knew what he had seen: a ship. A ship tearing its way into real space. Into the Sol System. Into the heart of the Imperium.
He scanned the endless void, eyes scouring the debris and detritus that littered the outer regions of Terra’s system. Searching for more flashes. For more ships. For any sign that this was the first pebble in an avalanche of violence that would crash against the walls of Sol.
Yet none came.
‘Speak to me, Captain Narsus,’ he said, turning to look back at the Oath of Unity’s mortal commander. His golden-yellow armour purred with even that slight movement, the sound lost in the cacophony that was the bridge. Astartes, mortal crew, Tech Priests and servitors bustled in constant motion, the ordered and smooth running of the Gladius Frigate hidden amongst the apparent anarchy. ‘What is it we face today?’
‘A single ship, my lord,’ replied Narsus, voice heavy with exhaustion. ‘Not military class. A merchant trader; its code identifies it as the Destiny’s Daughter. I am picking up no shields or weapons signals. Their engines are practically dead. They’re simply drifting.’
Torr knew the long hours and endless days being demanded of the man were unfair, that no unaugmented human could hope to keep up such work for long. Yet it was what Dorn and the Sigillite deemed necessary. It was what victory in the name of Unity and the Imperial Truth deemed necessary.
And Torr would not have the Oath of Unity found wanting. When this madness was over, when Horus was defeated, the Imperium would be rebuilt as it should have been. As the Emperor willed it. As a bastion of truth, science, reason and hope.
What has Horus sent against us? Torr asked himself as he looked back into space. Is this some new trickery? Some new lie?
He had patrolled the edges of the Sol System for years. Ever since the Eisenstein had brought the impossible news of Horus’s betrayal to Dorn and the Imperial Fists. In the intervening years, the entirety of the system had been transformed into a fortress – patrols like his, its first and furthest line of defence.
But it was a line yet to be tested.
Nothing had reached the Sol System. Not since the Eisenstein. It was as if silence had engulfed the galaxy. Yet Torr knew this could not be true. All eighteen Legions – loyal and treacherous – could not have just gone silent. Something out there, beyond the cold of the void, had changed.
He saw this also in the Oath of Unity’s Astropath. In her whispered mutterings. In her nervous glances towards the open void.
Summons had been sent to those Legions, Expeditionary Forces and Forge Worlds known to be loyal, a tsunami of astropathic messages to sweep through the galaxy. Yet nothing came back. No ships reached them. No messages. Are we alone? Have all our brother Legions turned their backs on the dream of the Imperium? On their oaths and vows? On Terra?
Something unfamiliar wormed its way through him at the thought. Is this fear? That emotion was all but unknown, ever since he had been plucked from the ice hives of Inwit and raised to the ranks of the Legiones Astartes. And yet, he pondered, perhaps its echo still exists somewhere within.
‘Are we receiving any communication from them?’ he asked, his voice flat and hard, masking his thoughts and fears. ‘Does anything live aboard?’
‘No communications, my lord,’ answered Narsus. ‘But we are picking up life signs. Not many, but undeniably human.’
Torr nodded. ‘Very good, Captain. Make full speed to intercept. Have weapons ready to fire, but hold until commanded.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ said Narsus. He paused for a heartbeat. ‘Should I alert Lord Falkar? The Sigillite’s orders may pertain to this.’
Torr rubbed his armoured gauntlet across his closely shaven scalp, feeling the iron of his centenary mark of service riven into his thick, transhuman brow. The mark of over a century of service to the ideals of Truth and Unity. It reminded him of the campaigns he had fought. Of the brothers he had lost. Of the horrors he had seen. He shook his head. ‘No. Lord Falkar’s involvement is to be a last resort.’
He opened his Legion vox link. ‘ Sergeant Haster, prepare a boarding party.’
+++
Shadows and silence filled the Destiny’s Daughter. Torr and Breacher Squad Haster moved through her corridors in purposeful unity, methodical and thorough. Their shields overlapped to create an impenetrable wall of ceramite and iron. The golden yellow of their thick MKIII armour was bathed crimson as emergency lumens flashed endlessly throughout the seemingly deserted ship.
Torr heard a click in his helm, followed instantly by another, as he had every five minutes since the boarding operation had begun nearly an hour ago. The signals told him that Breacher Squads Solon and Carr were moving through the ship on schedule, having met no resistance or signs of life. He suspected he’d receive the same ‘all clears’ again in five minutes.
He clicked back in reply, then let out a growl of frustration. His trigger finger itched, aching to feel the kick of his bolter, to hear its roar.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm, and silently chided himself for the moment of laxity. He remembered the words of his father and Primarch, Lord Dorn: Discipline. Duty. Unyielding Will. These are the measures by which every warrior is judged.
Am I bored? he asked himself. If he was being honest, he’d half hoped to find an ambush aboard the Destiny’s Daughter. To see his traitorous brothers advancing towards him, bolters roaring their madness. The colours of those Legions he had once fought beside – the regal purple of the Emperor’s Children, the sea-green of the Sons of Horus, the blood-splattered white and blue of the World Eaters – flashed through his mind and he ground his teeth. He wanted to kill.
Astartes, he reflected, were not built for such lengthy periods of inactivity. For long years of patrol and garrison. For what was now demanded of him and his brothers.
‘Is all well, Captain?’ asked Haster, the Veteran Sergeant’s gravel voice filling his helm’s private comm-link.
‘All is well, Brother-Sergeant,’ Torr replied. ‘I was distracted. Thank you for drawing my attention back to the duty at hand.’
He heard Haster’s grunt of laughter in his vox-link. ‘Some things never change, it seems. I’ve been watching your back since we were Initiates. What would you do without me?’
Torr felt the corners of his mouth tug into the beginnings of a smile as he checked their position against the ship’s schematics on his retinal display. They were not far from the centre of the ship and the cargo hold. Where, according to Captain Narsus, the only signs of life could be detected. ‘Not long now,’ he whispered to himself as the rhythmic clang of their armoured boots echoed throughout the labyrinthine corridors.
+++
Explosions ripped open the cargo hold’s blast doors, filling the hallways with smoke and fire and a storm of metal shards. Even through his helm’s environmental dampeners, Torr felt his ears ring.
Then the screams started.
‘Only fire on my command,’ he ordered as he raised his breacher shield and began to advance alongside Squad Haster. Smoke enveloped them for the briefest second, before they emerged into the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter.
Torr finally saw something from beyond the Sol System, from the chaos that had engulfed the galaxy.
Ragged humanity filled the cargo hold, stretching out into the dark corners of the vast room. Men, women and children huddled together, their clothes hanging loosely from bone-thin limbs as wide, terror-stricken eyes stared back at him from faces too thin with hunger. Pleas for mercy, prayers for help, and screams of panic filled the air. Most shied away from the approaching astartes, hunching over in small groups, as if they could disappear into the gloom.
One man, braver or stupider than the rest, stepped out from the crowd. He clutched an autogun in his shaking hands, the weapon rusted almost beyond repair.
Do it.
The words rushed unbidden into Torr’s mind as he felt the increasingly familiar itch in his trigger finger. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his eyes settled on the barrel of the gun.
Do it.
‘Begone, foul daemons!’ screamed the man, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeak. ‘The Emperor protects!’
His final words were taken up by others amongst the crowd. It rallied them, as it echoed in the open cavern of the hold. Torr grimaced. At what those words implied. At a belief in the divine, so at odds with the enlightened ideals of the Imperium. Yet also of loyalty.
His hand shot out, too fast for a mortal’s eye to follow, and snatched the gun from the refugee’s hands with a savage twist. He felt the man resist for the briefest moment, before giving way with a pained cry.
Torr looked down at the man – on his knees, a grimace across his face, cradling one shoulder. He felt a moment’s satisfaction at the release of violence, before he crushed it with a force of will. These are citizens of the Imperium. They deserve our protection.
He dropped the gun. It clattered to the ground, the metallic ring echoing from the walls. Almost deafening in the silence of the hold.
Something behind the man flinched at the sound. A muffled cry reached Torr’s ears.
A girl, he thought as his eyes settled on the crouched figure. Perhaps four or five years old, Terran Standard. Though, he had to admit to finding estimates of age hard with such young mortals. Her hair had been crudely shorn to the scalp, but small tufts stuck out from amid the stubble. She clung tightly to the man’s back, keeping herself in his shadow, even as she stared up at him. Her eyes, wide and dark, met Torr’s. Yet she didn’t look away.
Brave, Torr thought, for a mortal. For one so young.
‘Stand down, civilians,’ he said, voice amplified by the vox in his armour. ‘You are safe now. You are in the custody of the Seventh.’
He noticed the girl wince at the sound of his voice, pressing her hands to her ears and looking down at the floor. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he dimly remembered the first time he had seen an astartes. The sheer size. The aura of violence. It had been overwhelming.
Torr dropped to one knee, bringing himself as close to the girl’s level as possible. He removed his helm, remembering a treatise written by Guilliman on first interactions between astartes and mortals. Such simple measures, the lord of the Thirteenth argued, lessened the shock when interacting with members of the Legions. It humanised them in the eyes of the unaugmented.
Torr almost laughed at the idea. As if I have not given up my humanity to become what they need me to be. To become a shield for their kind. To become a weapon against the horrors of this universe.
He reached forward slowly, resting his gauntleted hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘What is your name, child?’ he asked, doing his best to keep his voice light and the hint of a smile on his lips. He knew such verbal and physical cues were important to the unenhanced.
‘Patti,’ whispered the girl, bringing her gaze up to meet his once more. ‘Is… Is Mama here? Papa said she would be, even though she couldn’t get the same ship as us.’ Sobs began to wrack the little girl’s body and she hurled herself back against her father’s body, burying her face in his thin shirt.
Torr felt the temperature drop, permafrost creeping across the floor. Radiating out from the girl. Crawling up his arm. Psyker. He pulled back and turned to meet the father’s eyes.
‘We’re from the Lastrati System,’ said the man, his voice edged with hope, yet tinged with fear. ‘When the traitors came… There was such chaos. We got separated.’
Torr shook his head.
‘Yohanna,’ continued the man, his words tumbling out too quickly. ‘Yohanna Taraf. That’s her name. I am Emil. Her husband. There must be news.’
‘No,’ said Torr, his voice now stone and brooking no argument. ‘Yours is the first ship to have reached Sol in nearly two years.’
Emil fell silent, his jaw working wordlessly. The buzz of chatter filled the air, spreading like wildfire throughout the refugees as Torr’s words reached the ears of others.
‘The first?’ Emil asked eventually as he clasped his daughter’s hands. ‘But there were so many.’
Torr stared back for a moment, seeing the tears begin to trickle from Emil’s eyes. ‘I am sorry.’
He stood and turned his back on the man, looking over the silent wall of ceramite that Breacher Squad Haster had formed behind him. His eyes met Haster’s, seeing his old friend had also removed his helmet. ‘These people are not to leave this hall.’ He paused. ‘But do not harm them. They are loyal citizens of the Imperium.’
He turned his focus back to Emil and Patti once more. They were on their knees, arms wrapped tight around each other. The halo of frost around them crept ever further across the floor with each second. Their bodies rose and fell with choked sobs, tears streaming down their faces. Torr’s transhuman senses heard Emil whisper reassurances to his daughter as he stroked her hair. He told her that her mother would be okay. That she would find a way. That the Emperor was watching them. To have faith.
Superstition. Torr looked away in anger. Primitive. Illogical. He felt sick at the irony of it. That the Legions had spent two centuries crusading across the stars, destroying such beliefs and bringing the Truth to the galaxy. But, here it was. At the very heart of the Imperium itself.
Yet it is these people that stand loyal. Unlike my brother Legions. Unlike those I fought with. Unlike those I shed blood with. The thought soured in Torr’s mind, his mask of stone slipping to anger.
He saw the faces of those he had once fought beside from the Traitor Legions in his mind. The faces of those he had called once Brothers. Sar Krael of the Sons of Horus, his olive skin in stark contrast to the once brilliant white of their old Legion. Varon of the Emperor’s Children, his porcelain features marred by the occasional faint duelling scar. Kargur of the World Eaters, his brutish features only accentuated by a myriad of criss-crossing scars and his permanently broken nose.
Torr clicked his vox-link open, drawing himself back to the present. ‘Captain Narsus, do you hear me?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ came the reply, static scratching in Torr’s ears.
‘Inform Lord Dorn and First Captain Sigismund that we have made contact with refugees from the war.’ He paused. ‘Then prepare several parties of your mortal crew to board the Destiny’s Daughter. They are to bring food and water. Medicine too.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ replied Narsus. ‘I will see to it at once.’
Torr watched Patti and Emil for a second more. Their cries were hushed and lost in the vastness of the hold, their prayers faint, yet distinct. Other refugees shuffled away from them. Away from the creeping frost and the aura of cold. Away from the girl. From the psyker.
His stomach churned at what he had to do next.
‘Captain Narsus,’ he said once more. ‘Inform the Lord Falkar and the Sigillite’s agents too.’
+++
Torr watched black figures move through the crowd. Each bore the stylised I of Malcador, the Sigillite and the Emperor’s right hand, upon their chests. A symbol that conferred upon them nigh-on unlimited power.
He watched them methodically approach each group, dataslates in hand, recording each story – and he saw the fear and confusion in each refugee’s eyes. These men were something new, something unknown. And despite being just ordinary men and women – no, Torr corrected himself, Malcador’s people would never be ordinary – they seemingly commanded greater fear than the astartes of the VII Legion.
Disquiet filled Torr at their presence. At the nature of their work.
He glanced behind to Squad Haster. Each stood immobile, a fortress of ceramite and gene-enhanced flesh in their own right. Each proudly bore the black fist of the Seventh, declaring their allegiance for all to see. The Sigillite’s people could not be more different than the Sons of Dorn. What do they portend for the Imperium?
Sensing movement in the periphery of his vision, Torr looked towards the cargo hold’s doors. His eyes settled on a lone figure in burnished gold armour, a great blade at her waist, a crimson top knot tumbling down her back.
A member of the Silent Sisterhood.
Revulsion flooded through him at the sight. His twin hearts beat faster. Adrenaline began to pump through his gene-enhanced body. His hands clenched into tight fists.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply. To calm himself.
Opening his eyes, he found his gaze drawn to a group of the Sigillite’s agents. They were dragging a pair of refugees towards the Sister. Emil and Patti. Torr felt anger rise hot inside his chest at the realisation.
Tears stained the father’s cheeks, a look of weary defeat written across Emil’s face. The face of a broken man. Patti screamed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her father’s hands, his shirt, his arms. Her legs kicked wildly, her movements more frantic as she grew closer to the Witchseeker.
Torr’s eyes met hers. They were bloodshot and puffy, a river of tears flooding from them. Help me! Please! Help me! The words – Patti’s words – screamed in his mind. He shuddered. A ripple of terror ran through him, her own fear and anguish shared for just an instant.
His eidetic memory ran through her story. He remembered the way her father had described the terror and confusion as drop pods had rained from the sky above Lastrani. He could almost picture the mad scramble amid the ruins and smoke of the space port. The feel of fingers slipping apart as Patti’s mother was dragged away by the current of the crowd. He could almost smell the stench of sweat and piss as they had huddled in the dark of the Destiny’s Daughter, as it shuddered beneath the onslaught of cannon fire.
More superstitious minds might call it a miracle, he thought, pondering the immensity of the refugee’s luck. And this is the greeting they find from the Imperium? From those supposed to protect them? To be torn from each other’s arms after all they have suffered?
Something inside Torr snapped. His fingers curled involuntarily around the grip of his sword and he felt the blade slide just a fraction from its sheath as he strode towards the diorama of misery. Refugees stumbled from his path as the heavy tread of Squad Haster following echoed in his ears. As he had known they would, even without orders. They were his Brothers.
Is this the Imperium we fight for? Is this the future of humanity? The future my brothers died for? One of secrets and shadows? One where innocent people disappear in the night?
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Torr thundered as he neared the agents.
The closest flinched before turning to face him, his eyes wide as he took an involuntary step back. Torr heard the man swear under his breath as the chemical smell of fear filled his gene-enhanced nostrils.
‘Lord captain,’ the man started, ‘my orders are-’
‘I did not ask for your orders, Chosen of Malcador,’ growled Torr. ‘They are plainly clear. I asked for your reasons.’
The click of light footsteps sounded nearby. He glanced towards the sound, seeing the Sister had turned towards them, her face a passionless mask. He felt cold, an unnatural sense of dread filling him, as her eyes settled on him. He looked away quickly, returning to the mortal before him.
‘These people,’ began the agent again, straightening his back and meeting Torr’s gaze. ‘These people are to be transferred to-’
‘Silence,’ snarled Torr. He punched a finger in the direction of Patti and Emil. ‘Their only crime is fleeing the atrocities of the Traitor Legions. This girl could be trained. Her talents could benefit the Imperium. Instead, you drag her away into the shadows. Does your master fear little girls so much?’
The agent’s eyes flared angrily for a second, before flickering to the space behind Torr. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile.
‘Is our presence so distasteful to you, Captain Torr?’
Torr remained silent as he turned to face this new speaker. Ice-blue eyes stared back at him from a hawkish face of ghostly skin. Silence settled between the two, stretching out for long, pregnant seconds.
‘I am always astounded by your kind’s aptitude for petty behaviour, Captain,’ continued the man, turning his own gaze upon the sight of Patti’s father. ‘It could be argued that such pettiness is the cause of all this madness.’
‘Indeed, Chosen Falkar,’ replied Torr after a moment.
He studied the Sigillite’s man. Falkar was painfully thin, with the typically near-emaciated and elongated form of those born and raised in the low gravity of space. Yet, despite the sheer difference in size and bulk that the astartes carried, the man weathered Torr’s gaze as if made of stone.
An impressive feat of mental strength, conceded Torr as he repressed the now familiar itch to draw his weapon. At the mortal’s display of defiance.
Torr ground his teeth as Patti’s pleas for help, her prayers to the Emperor, moved further away. He heard the scuff of her feet dragged across the floor. He heard a body slump to the floor, Emil’s sobs joining his daughter’s cacophony. The desire to draw his sword, to hear the bark of his bolter, swelled inside, near overwhelming.
You have failed them.
‘You speak of pettiness,’ snarled Torr, ‘yet you are not the one who has fought across the length and breadth of the galaxy. You are not the one who has seen his Brothers die. You are not the one who has sacrificed their very humanity. All this, I have done with the ideals of Unity and Truth in my hearts.’
Torr gestured across the hall, pointing at each of the Sigillite’s agents with a sharp jab of a finger.
‘You and your kind threaten those ideals. You sink this war into shadows and secrets. You are a poison that stains the Imperium.’ Torr spat. ‘What was the purpose of those sacrifices – my brothers’ sacrifices – if we throw our ideals away? We must hold ourselves to a higher standard.’
Falkar met the astartes’ tirade with a surprising calmness, his ice-blue eyes almost blazing in the gloom of the ship’s hold as they met Torr’s stare. ‘And what, lord captain,’ he replied, ‘would be the purpose of those sacrifices should we lose this war?’ Falkar let the question sit for a second. ‘We are a new weapon, Captain – or a new poison, as you say – because this is a new war.’
Silence hung for an eternity between the two of them. Eventually the mortal turned to look across the mass of humanity that filled the room. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back.
‘Our enemy is insidious, Lord Captain. They will not just come for us with bolter and chainsword. They will not just come to tear down our walls. They will come to tear down our very purpose. They will come to destroy everything we believe in. They will come from the shadows and dark. We are the shield against these threats. That is why the Sigillite created our order.’
‘Then you have already failed,’ Torr said after a moment. ‘You cannot defend the ideals of Truth and Unity with lies and deceit.’
Falkar shook his head and pulled out a dataslate, fingers flicking through its contents. When he’d finished, he looked up and met Torr’s eyes once more.
There is something different in him now, noticed the astartes. The hard edge is gone. There is sadness there. An exhaustion of the soul.
‘Then I am sorry, Lord Torr,’ started Falkar. ‘For what I must ask of you now.’
He held out the dataslate. Runes of the highest authority flashed across its surface. Torr read the orders, even as his stomach tightened. As his trigger finger itched once more. As the desire to rip his sword free filled him.
‘No.’ He growled the word through clenched teeth.
‘No?’
Falkar’s eyes momentarily flashed in surprise. Just for an instant, but Torr saw it. He did not expect resistance, he realised. Not from a Son of the Seventh. They think us cold. Made of stone. They do not understand the fire that burns within. The drive. The Purpose. The ideals.
‘No,’ Torr growled once more.
‘There is no refusal here, Captain Torr,’ replied Falkar, his voice now clipped with an icy steel. ‘These orders come from the Sigillite himself. And co-signed by your father. Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command?’
Torr froze. Co-signed by your father. The words haunted him. To see Lord Dorn and the Seventh dragged down into the mire of shadows. That was what they meant.
Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command? The words flittered through his head as he thought of what was being asked of him. Of how they had treated those fleeing for safety.
What kind of monsters have we become? he asked himself.
He thought of Patti and her father’s story. He thought of all he had heard from the refugees. He ran through every detail. He knew, as sure as if he was there himself, what happened in the Lastrati System. He knew what happened when the Sixteenth had come.
Anger swelled inside by what his erstwhile cousins had done. By what the once proud scions of Horus had become. Disgust filled him at the thought of those warriors he was once proud to have served alongside. By how far they had fallen.
What kind of monsters have they become?
He looked down at the dataslate again. He read the words again.
+ Immediate transfer of all non-psykers to the internment prisons of Titan for processing and interrogation. +
‘Why?’
Falkar breathed deeply and nodded, a look of relief washing across his face. ‘Because of what they have seen. Because of what they know. Because their tales of daemons and gods and monsters cannot be allowed to spread throughout Terra’s defenders. Because these stories, and those that would spread them, are a weapon for our enemy. As sure as any bolter.’
Falkar fell silent and looked back across the refugees. Torr turned with him a second later.
Is this the future you fought for? The question whispered in the back of Torr’s mind. Is this the Imperium you would be a part of? But what is the alternative?
He thought of the defenders of Terra. Of the fear he has seen in their eyes already. He thought of what he had heard today, of the tales of gods and daemons, and what it would do to their fear. He knew Falkar’s words to be true.
Images of Terra burning filled his mind. Of its walls cast down. Of his brothers broken. Of its citizens slaughtered. Of its ideals ground into dust.
Will you do what is necessary to prevent that future?
With that question echoing through his thoughts, Torr clicked open his Legion-coded vox channels.
‘Squad Haster, make ready.’
He heard the thud of ceramite boots on the floor as they moved to attention beside him. He heard the click of boltguns loading. He smelled the tang of fear in the air.
He glanced sideways towards Haster. His old friend’s face was a grim mask, unreadable save a fury blazing in his eyes. A fury at me? pondered Torr. Or at what we must do? What have we become?
But Torr knew such anger was irrelevant. He knew what must be done. What duty demanded. He looked back across the refugees arrayed before him.
‘Citizens of the Imperium,’ he said, his gene-enhanced voice carrying easily throughout the hanger. ‘You will accompany us back to the Oath of Unity. There you will be processed and sent for internment on Titan. These are the orders of Lord Dorn and Malcador the Sigillite. Do not resist.’
Anger filled the air almost immediately after his pronouncement. Questions and shouts spread like wildfire through the crowd as something snapped in their collective minds. The sight of the astartes warriors before them, once a promise of salvation and deliverance, now the face of repression and danger.
One woman stepped out from the crowd. Her face, painfully thin from malnutrition, was a contorted mask of rage. She held a broken piece of piping tight in two hands.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she screamed. ‘What crime have we committed? You should be protecting us! Helping us!’
‘Stand down, citizen,’ commanded Torr. The fury in the woman’s voice was a spark to his own base instincts. He fought to keep his voice calm. He fought to stop his hands from reaching for the bolt pistol at his belt.
‘You are monsters!’ screamed the woman. ‘You oppress us! For what crime? Have we not suffered enough?’
‘Stand down,’ said Torr once more. A warm heat began to spread through his muscles as they loosened. He felt his hearts thump faster. His trigger finger itched once more. He found he had drawn his bolt pistol.
Her cry was taken up by the rest of the crowd. They pressed forward, towards Torr and the other Imperial Fists. Torr made to step in front of Falkar, but noticed the Sigillite’s agent had disappeared.
A howl of pain split the air. One of the black armoured figures tumbled from the horde of refugees, kicked to the ground. Their throat had been slit. Their face was a mass of bruising radiating out from caved-in eye sockets. Blood wept from stab wounds across their body. Torr’s eyes settled on their empty holster.
A gunshot rang out. Torr felt its force against his pauldron. Heard it ricochet against the dull steel of the cargo hold’s roof.
He raised his pistol. Squad Haster appeared in his periphery, shields locked together, bolters ready. There was no need to open the vox channel this time. Not with his brothers so close.
‘Fire.’
+++
Dead bodies littered the cargo hold. It was an abattoir. Blood coated the floor and splattered the walls. Bodies – of men, women and children – lay at unnatural angles, their limbs torn like petals from a flower by the explosive power of bolt rounds. The stench of shit and piss and gunsmoke filled his nostrils.
Accusing eyes stared back at him. Over six hundred dead. He had made the count himself. His eyes met the dead gaze of Patti’s father.
Why? they asked. In Torr’s own voice. It is the question he asked Falkar. Now it is the question he asks himself.
Torr opened his eyes, bringing his mind back from the slaughter in the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter. Agony shot through his arm. He bit down, grinding his teeth and tasting the iron tang of his own blood as he shut out the effects of the Pain Glove.
Discipline and unyielding will, he reminded himself, but the question remained. It echoed through his mind.
Why?
But Torr knew the answer.
Because you are a weapon. A monster.
Because it is what you need to be. Because it is your purpose to be the rock upon which the Imperium can be built. To find victory, so that those that come after you can build a better world.
Torr knew this in his hearts. He had heard his father speak on it. He remembered giving his oath aboard the Phalanx. He remembered kneeling before his Lord Dorn, hand thrust into a brazier of fire, and swearing to be the weapon that the Imperium needed. To never give in. To find victory. No matter the cost.
No matter the cost.
He thought once more of the refugees. He thought of Patti and her father, Emil. Of what they suffered at the hands of his treacherous cousins. Of the danger they posed to the Imperium’s victory. Of what they had suffered at the hands of the Imperium.
He thought of Falkar’s words. ‘And what, lord captain, would be the purpose of your sacrifices should we lose this war?’
And he vowed anew that he would lose. That he would find victory. He vowed to do whatever was necessary. He vowed to be that monster now, so that the Imperium and its dream could live on.
For that was his duty. And duty is all.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
If you you enjoyed that, please give it a rating over on the website, and check out the other stories in that anthology!
https://40k.coldopenstories.com/dutys-burden/
https://40k.coldopenstories.com/category/short-fiction/anthology-xii/

So in my local town it was announced on the news that over the period of 29th-31th this month they will spray pesticides to kill mosquitos in the streets and public space,problem is that my pond is near the fence and last year it got contaminated by the same event (I belive) and almost the fish died(I managed to change the water in time) So best idea I got is to cover the pond(it's small) with a heavy plastic tarp over the night(that's when they spray) and maby turn off the air pump over that time,what other thing could I do?Pesticides that are gonna be used:CYMINA PLUS and Vectobac WG (pesticide rating in EU:Group III moderately toxic products (LD 50=201-1000 Mg/Kg body) - "Xn"; Group IV mildly toxic products (DL 50>1000 Mg/Kg body) - "Xi".) SO what other measures shold I take?

1. About what % does a down stream injector pull? If I have straight 10% SH, how much is coming out?
   
2. What % for a laminated shingle roof wash?
   
3. If my down stream injector isn’t pulling enough for a roof wash, how do I get it to pull more?
   

I have been using a pump up sprayer for heavier mixes but it’s time consuming.

I picked up a job from a local questing guild and I'm standing at a gate to a local town looking over the sheet reading it for the countless time. I'm waiting for my partner to arrive and just like him he is hard to miss. We've been questing together for 8 years now and neither of us need introductions to one another at this point. Sure enough he is dragging his feet almost at mid-day.
My name is Jenna and I'm a rougishly gorgeous vixen. I stand at 5'7" with long brown hair and dark brown eyes. My chest is heald up by a DD sized leather corset that hugs my waist and causes men and women alike to get caught staring. This just makes my lips curl up with a powerful smile. My lower half is more of the same, leather chapps hugging my curves with a soft pair of trousers keeping my treasure from the eyes of the public. When I'm not wearing my cloak the knives at my hips are on full display. The ornate handles twinkle in the light from the gold inlays.
His name is Josh. Unlike me he wears armor and carries a big sword. Standing 5'11" he is taller than most but not freakishly tall. His jet black hair is crudely cut and uneven but stands out well against his blue eyes. His jaw is lined with stubble and a gash along his cheek is a mark he wears with pride. In combat his armor hides his physique but being his partner I've seen him out of it. He is very well built but not muscle brained. His armor is plate mail with a helmet that looks like it was made for jousting, not that I've ever seen him on a horse, an odd choice but to each their own I guess.
He gets to me and before he even asks I hand him the sheet. "Not going after goblins this time?" He playfully jabbs at me before he starts skimming the sheet of parchment
"Nope this time we're getting paid 3 times our normal rate to look into a wyvern sighting. Apparently some farmer caught a glimpse of ti flying away with his sheep towards a mountain to the north of here." I sum up the job before he even gets a chance to read it.
"Seems good, as usual your the one keeping this party together and employed." He says rolling the sheet up and handing it back to me "on our way then?" He finishes as I take it and just like that we are on our way.
Considering our late start and the distance we are going to get there by the afternoon. Wyverns hunt all day and feast on their prey from sundown to dusk. Hopefully by the time we find it the wyvern will have a full belly and be fast asleep, at least that's the plan for now. Simple enough and if it's traveling out this far it's gotta be getting desperate for food, it might even be weak enough to kill in one blow.
On the way we fall into the usual conversation, he listens to the details as I build my plan and comments here and there about things he thinks of. I think it's really nice how he actually listens to me and engages in the conversation as opposed to just drinking in the view of my tits. Im not saying he doesn't stare just saying he doesn't ONLY treat me like a piece of meat and it's so much better than the usual adventurer just trying to bring me along for my looks, but I guess if you've been working together 8 years something has got to be working right.
We arrive at the most likely cave entrance when I thought and venture in. He may be the heavy armor heavy hitter type but it doesn't slow him down, I wouldn't say he is as quiet as me but he definitely falls into his half of the party dynamic well. As we wander the cave the torch gives enough light not to trip on animal bones or stalagmites but not enough to see both the walls at once. We default to hugging the left wall the entire way so should shit hit the fan our exit strategy torch or not is to turn around and right wall leads out. Since we have such a strong bond this whole thing just happens without either of us needing to really talk or do fancy hand signs. After a dip in the cave that looks like it could be a slide we arrive at an open room where the light from Josh's torch absolutely lights up a room filled with gold gems and artifacts wall to wall and floor to ceiling.
"This isn't good.." Josh says audibly but as if the information was caught in his throat.
"I know." I whisper back before a voice both between us and behind us jumps in.
"Indeed it is, you are in my lair ... the lair of a Dragon."
It's voice is cold and with every word my body shakes. That damn farmer said wyvern not dragon. Dragons are a much different problem and my whole plan is falling apart, FUCK...
Josh is the first to act and he drops the torch to grab his sword off his back in an attempt to cut the living legend of a creature at the neck. As seasoned of a veteran as he is he still fails to compare to countless years living and fighting tiny humans with sharp sticks. It dodges his feeble execution with ease and responds by batting him like a cat to a rat in a tankard. The hit throws him into a pile of treasure and some trickle down his armor partially burying him. I know that had to hurt but he is just down not out. "Jen, get the fuck out of here!" He yells clearly in pain.
His words snap me out from my petrified stance. I hadn't moved since we saw the gold but now I need to run, about face and R.U.N. ... up a sloped floor, it's not gonna be easy but I'm a strong climber. I get about halfway up the slope before I hear "your Jen isn't gonna get away that easy, I'll finish you after I drag her back here and make you watch."
Fuck that voice sends chills down my spine. I freeze and before I can get moving again I feel something cloth wrap and knot around me so that it can drag me back down. I can't even reach my daggers it's got me so good as I see the light from the dropped torch slowly light up my captor. A carpet that moves on its own. Contourted into a scrambled mess the carpet drops my at the foot of the dragon.
"Now restrain him" the dragon growls to the carpet. It complies and catches Josh as he is about to attempt another blow with his greatsword knocking him off his footing and making him drop his weapon on the gold coated ground.
Shit ... Josh is caught and I'm now less than 5 feet from a claw the size of my torso. Not one to give up I grab a fist full of jewelry tossing them at the dragon's face. It's a hit and the dragons lets out a scream in pain. That's enough of a distraction to get up and attempt to cut that rug off of Josh and get the fuck out of here.
I get 2 steps and Josh is still halfway across the room. I've been batted like Josh but the complete other direction into a wall with less give than a pile of gold. I'd scream, hell I'd be happy with a groan but I can't move in any significant way. All the while the dragon is casually walking towards me.
"If you want to fight its gonna actually start hurting but ..." the unnerving growl of the creature shifts to a more gentle almost sensual tone "if you behave it will be a lot less painful, Jen?"
The shock from the impact is slowly disappearing as I begin to breath again bringing myself up to more of a sitting position I choke out "at least your balls finally dropped" before I throw one of my daggers at this beast with a man's voice.
Even with my eyes on it I honestly couldn't tell when it happened but in an instant this beast that could fill 3/4ths of this room is now the size of an adult man and he caught my attempt at an attack between his pointer and middle finger. As impressive of a feat as it was it is a little less impressive as the form he took.
This distortion of a human is somewhere in the size of 6' ish. Shirtless and truly the definition of toned. He has beautiful red hair short and spiked as if it were scales Standing on end. His eyes are green as the grass outside and his skin is as pale like northerner. Luckily his legs are covered by a pair of trousers hanging off a hip. That seems to be the only cloths this form took as his bare feet rest on the cold stone floor of the cave.
"You know the gold on this dagger makes it look, tacky?" He says in his new voice before taking in a deep inhale, holding for a second and breathing out slowly. No epic gust of fire but enough heat to melt the metal and burn the wood and leather of the dagger into soot. In his hand he manipulates the metal as it cools as if it were clay forming it into a beautiful steel collar with gold designs embedded into it.
Him closing the distance from where he was standing to literally standing over me was dizzying and with him this close I could smell him. Like a smell of campfires and shooting powder. The smells seemed to disarm me make me less tense, my muscles were relaxing and the pain seemed to fade away.
"Your choice Jenna. You can either put on the collar and service me in front of your partner, or we can fight to the death and I think we both know which of us is more likely to loose." The monster says dropping his "human" voice at that last word for the more beastial one and with that shift his smell turned to sulfer for just an instant letting whatever effect he had on me fade just long enough to let me know how roughed up I am without his magical aid.
"And how do I know your not in my head, I'm sure something as powerful as you knows a mind trick or two?" I bite back surprised at how much I'm able to do as long as he is emitting this smell.
"If you're worried about me controlling your mind, don't the fight in your eyes doesn't stay when I start poking and prodding around in there. Here let me show you" he says standing upright and turning towards Josh walking humanely slow. I'm not sure the range of his pain nulifying effect so I follow close but not on his heels. "You there. Tell me your name." He commands looking at the helmet atop a carpet rolled tight.
"My name is nothing you'll ever have the pleasure of saying, and if it weren't for this cursed carpet I'd have your head for speaking her name!" Josh bites back hell I'm sure he would have spit right into this dragon's face if the visor wasn't down.
"Now that is without mind control, this is him with me dragging my magic through his brain." He says glancing at me before muttering "enim emoceb dna flesruoy foog tel"
You can visibly see the fight leave Josh as the spell finishes, his head drops and his breathing calms to a steady slow breath "now then, what is your true name?"
"Josh, no last name, no house, no title master."
"See? That is no fun now this," he says snapping his fingers "is what I like from a lover." He says as the spell drops and within an instant Josh is back to struggling in his restraint.
"Thank you for the demonstration Josh." He says dropping Josh's name just to toy with him, clearly it worked because the carpet is now readjusting it's hold on him.
"Now what will it be?" He asks holding the collar made out of my knife out as if for me to take it. The choice is all too clear yet I hate every second of it. With a look of disgust in my eyes I grab the steel and gold collar giving it a closer look ... that cockpit bastard spelled out my name in the gold.
"You know this doesn't make me your slave" I say as I wrap the metal around my neck. It actually fits really good and in no way abrasive against my skin despite the unique way it was cast.
"That's quite alright, I don't require a slave, just some nice and wet holes to fuck" he says letting the sting of each word hit me as he leads me to some obviously out of place bedding, some red and gold blankets pillows and quilts haphazardly dumped in an easy to miss corner of the cave.
"Be it willing or not you know our names, what's yours?" I ask watching him spruce the place up moving a pillow a foot to the left, lifting a crumpled up blanket and haphazardly tossing it a different direction.
"Grinim outcast from the house of Red 13th son to Jax of the crosswind, just Grinim works or if your feeling courteous Master works too though not required." He says smirking at his pile of bedding now somehow more tidy.
"Grinim then." I say clearly not entertaining his delusions of me calling him master.
"Just a gentle reminder the collar was only half the deal. Come over here and kneel." He says gesturing to a pillow a few feet into the "bed" right in front of him.
"And let us not forget our unwilling voyeur." He continues snapping his fingers summoning a much more docile rug wrapped suit of armor.
With a spiteful sigh I follow his directions standing face to face with him, chin up a bit so our eyes meet and without warning that cocky bastard presses his lips to mine, with a finger hooked between the collar and my neck I can't back off far enough to dislodge my face from his. I attempt to push him away but his body feels anchored to the ground and unmoving even with my full effort. I open my mouth to speak around his lips and I'm greeted with a very draconic tongue invading my mouth. A sharp gasp from the sudden invasion is apparently misread as a request for more because before I can react further his hand is now around my neck and his tongue is down my throat and tasting every inch of the inside of my mouth. I try to gasp for air and come up with nothing. The panic mixed with the overpowering helplessness hits me and I can feel my vision fade as the fight leaving my oxygen starved body. When my arms limply hang down on my sides and I feel the drift into darkness he let's go as if he could tell just how far to take me. His tongue retracting just to my mouth as I inhale sharply. Desperate for air he provides me with his own breath. I can taste a flavor similar to smokey caramel. It pennitrates every muscle in my body that was begging for air and now they're on fire with a heat I can not describe. My legs are now goo, my snatch is now drenched and my brain is cloudy.
He breaks the kiss and fully let's go of my throat. I can feel my legs give out and I drop to my knees. My legs spread out I feel the cloth of my pants rubbing a wet spot in them and sending small shocks of electricity along my lower lips as they glide along the soft cotton. I'm nearly panting as I manage to choke out "wh...hat the fuckkk ... was that?!... grinim."
"Just a little something to help you get in the mood, the effects shouldn't be hitting you this harshly." He says with a grin kneeling down to my level "unless you really are a kinky little slut." He continues whispering in my ear. His words grinding against my willpower.
I angirly growl at the comment turning my head to hide the flush on my face. Clearly his words hit with some effect but when he decided to take the opportunity to attack my exposed neck sucking on it and nipping here and there it doesn't take much before I'm a moaning mess practically humping at the air. A quick glance at Josh and I can see his eyes through the grating on his helmet. They are drinking in the sight of me on my knees legs spread and clearly soaked. Getting worked up by his touch. He nipps me again making me throw my head back to let out a low groan from the oral assault on my most likely bruised neck.
"I think that's enough of that" grinim says as he stands up. Now eye level with his crotch I can see it pushing against the leg of his pants. Clearly I'm not the only one getting worked up and with the pants leaving little to the imagination my eyes are focused on every detail of this imprisoned cock begging to be let out with a clearly defined wet spot at the head. So much so I missed him working them loose but when they hit the ground and his cock now free rotates to almost head on where I can see what was causing the wet stain.
"Either suck it yourself or I'll make you suck it" he growled clearly not amused with my mental fondling of his cock. Attempting not to look too eager I grab it by the base and attempt to milk out some fresh precum and sure enough there is a drip that I catch with my tongue before I slowly work the shaft attempting to milk more pre onto my tongue which now rests under the head of his cock with my mouth open.
"I said ..." He stops his sentence mid way before grabbing the back of my head and slamming about half of his shaft into my mouth "if you don't suck I'll ..." He continues holding my head in place. "MAKE you!" He finished forcing the whole thing down my throat. Less than a second later I'm gaging and heaving with tears starting to roll down my face and saliva splattering between his pelvis and my face. Right as I'm about to start resisting he let's off and unsheaths his cock from my throat now glistening with my saliva and his precum a few ropes connecting his head to my mouth as I look down to catch my breath I realize just how fucking wet I am, the spot clearly growing.
"Do I need to direct you further Jenna. Or are you going to suck it yourself?" He says standing over me, even his cock above me.
"Ill..I'll... get it... just give me a sec. To catch my breath ..." I say taking in deep breaths. About 3 breaths in I can smell that toasted caramel again. That cheeky bastard is gonna make me gush from giving him head.
"Alright I'm ready" I say a clear attitude shift as I grab the base of his cock in one hand and rolling his balls in the other. My lips wrapped around the head he can't see it but he sure as shit can feel my tongue rolling around his sensitive head. I work his shaft as I maintain eye contact gauging how much he is fucking loving my new resolve.
He tries to hide how hot I'm making him with my tongue and mouth but my keen eyes tell me he is getting close. With a glance down I could also tell he was about to grab the back of my head and fill my throat with his seed. At this point I'm too fucking hot to care. With a coy smile I stop everything and hold my mouth open refusing to touch him as I can tell he's going over the edge. He didn't put up with this for long and as expected he grabs a fist full of my hair with all the strength he's got and rams his delicious cock right down to the base thrusting over and over as he bottoms out making my nose smash into his pelvis spilling his thick load down my throat making me gag hard as he gives no heed to my entire body heaving and my cunt is squirting through my pants onto the pillow beneath me.
Gods that was hot, my entire body is limp and the only things holding me up right now is Grinim's hard cock and his hands keeping it lodged in my throat. With a few last spurts of cum in the back of my throat his grip softens and I'm collapsed face down on a pillow soaked in a puddle of my own making.
...
For as much as I teased that girl she held up extremely well to my aromatic influence. For anyone less they would have been gushing and masturbating like a whore giving her patron a show. That being said she did drain me, not something people do all that often and now look at her spasming in a heap just from getting used by my cock. She even squirted. I guess with how much of that aroma I had to use on her she was probably due to get popped.
Pacing around her I can drink in every little detail of this human I've broken not with combat but a good raw fucking. The way she collapsed her ass looks absolutely divine and with a slight adjustment I could probably prop her up.
Hooking my hand around her hip I pull her into a position where her right shoulder and knees hold her beautiful ass in the air and I see a beautiful wet spot on full display for both me and that metal man to see. Starting at her cunt you can see it trailing down her inner thighs leading to the puddle between her knees on the pillow I had her kneel on. I take her other dagger and start ripping her trousers off to give her lower body some fresh air. With her lower lips open to the cool cavern air you can see them glistening with a steady flow of fresh nectar. Being honest with myself I had to taste. I didn't just give those slick lips a small kiss, I made out with them and using a little of my true form I let my tongue taste every sweet inch of that slopping wet hole. I hadn't even noticed how into it I was getting when her body started to tense and I was gifted with a fresh spray as she came a second time.
With a retraction of my tongue I wiped what had gotten on my chin. "Look at how much you've fallen Jenna. From trying to kill me to squirting on my face, such a naughty girl." I say accenting that last word with a whip of my hand across her perked up buttocks leaving a gorgeous red handprint on her soft flesh.
"Fuck you grinim." She says hands still gripping my sheets from that orgasm I just gave her.
"Fuck me? Is that really a threat or your attempt at begging?" I ask gripping her hips and grinding my erect cock along the valley of her ass giving her a fair amount of warning that one more sparky remark will get her every inch I have to offer.
"I said. Fuck You." There was clearly a token effort to push me away from her but her hands did little to deter me but instead gave me all the go ahead I needed.
"Well since you insist so much I'll do just that" I say grabbing her wrists behind her back and angling my cock so my head is lined up with her drenched hole. With a moment of pause I let her feel as I slowly push each inch past her slick entrance feeling no resistance save for the vice like pressure around me as I push into her. I hear a low moan come from her as I feel my pelvis push against her soft ass as I bottom out in her.
"Just so you know I'm not going to be gentle about this since you insist on fighting me even now" I growl between my teeth into Jenna's ear letting a twinge of the seduction aroma escape my mouth just to give her a top off of its effects.
"I didnt realize fucking my throat like a hole in a wall was you being gentle" she bit back before making a show of inhaling the scent.
I grin at her display before I start pulling my hips back feeling as her slopping cunt grips at my cock desperately as if I was taking away it's favorite toy. I hear a gasp from her as the head of my cock pulls out and with a small adjustment I begin pushing past the barrier of her tight little ass using her saliva and juices as lubricant. I can watch as the realization washes over her face and her mouth starts to hang open as if a primal moan is caught in her throat.
I start working at a steady pace feeling her tight hole working my cock and adjusting to my size. Clearly a new sensation to her I see she's squirming underneath me but I pay no attention to her weak protest, her body is mine right now and I intend to enjoy every inch of it. I pick up the pace going merciless as my pleasure takes priority over her comfort, besides with the amount of aroma I've pumped in this woman she'd probably get off to anything and everything.
I hear the metal man putting up a fuss again and look over my shoulder to see my sentient rug has removed his helmet and taken to literally gagging him. The adjustment has his waist to lower face covered. His eyes are so angry, I guess I've upset him by claiming his Jenna and I can see with the lack of carpet to hide his crotch he is clearly reacting positively to the show.
"Maybe I've played with you enough." I say pulling my cock out of her worked asshole and letting go of her arms to fall to her sides. Clearly she's been well fucked. I leave her turning to look at this cute face twisted in anger and a small grin creeps into my face.
"What's wrong Josh? Carpet got you gagged?" I ask toying with him a bit. I gesture up asking the carpet to raise him up so his crotch is at eye level. With a close look I can not only confirm his hand on but also that it is bent uncomfortably sideways.
"Would you like me to fix that?" I ask requesting the carpet to leave his face and lower him to eye level. The moment he opens his mouth to respond I give him a deep passionate aroma filled kiss letting my feminine side out.
...
(Unfinished)

It's still water based correct? What are my options to repaint? Wood is too far gone to sand and restain

My deadbeat indie artist roommate sacrificed herself to what’s essentially the god of the seas. I still can’t wrap my head around it. I don’t know what’s more jarring; the fact that she’s gone or the way she disappeared. The beach may be accessible again and there’s no threat of flooding or storm damage anymore, but one of the people I happen to have grown close to is gone and nothing can take my mind off that. Nettie Peterson is taking it even more severely for some reason. I couldn’t tell you why; I suppose they might have been a little closer than I thought, but I never saw them interact all that much. Far be it from me to question her reasons for grieving, of course. I believe I have learned to give her space when she needs it, but I'll be there when she lets me in.
The apartment feels insanely empty now. It’s only been one night, I know, but normally, I’d fall asleep to Kit strumming her guitar until late. I woke up late today and actually knocked on her door to finally get her out of bed, my mind only catching on when ten seconds passed without a response. I have been spending the day running around town trying feverishly to spend my time anywhere but at home. Nettie doesn’t appreciate my presence in the big house at the moment. She says she wants to be alone. I know by now that that’s something I shouldn’t press her on.
The diner opened its doors to customers again this morning, so I’ve been hanging out there, watching Frankie Preston work. He made a joke about me stalking him, but when I got up to leave, he told me to stay and brought me more coconut water. He’s a very confusing young man. My day took a bit of a turn when Elijah Carter came in. He looked around briefly, then spotted me waving to him and approached. “Hey, Shirley.” He paused, looking at his feet. “Fuck, I don’t really know what to say to you after… Well, after everything. I know about your roommate. Nettie told me over the phone.”
“Come have lunch with me." I gestured at the empty seat across from me.
Eli merely stared at it in confusion.
I cleared my throat. "'Scuse me. Please come and have lunch with me."
Elijah chuckled dryly, tipping his head back. "Sorry, I'm just… I didn't think you'd wanna talk to me."
"Why not?"
"You got stabbed? On a job that I basically talked you into doing? I mean, you had doubts and I convinced you to—"
"The money was the convincing factor," I explained. "I think you know this guilt is irrational."
"Just figured you might be mad."
I rose to my feet, clambering up to stand atop the bench. This raised me to roughly eye level with him, and I used it to ease my arms around him. He stood frozen for a moment, then leaned forward in his tiptoes and placed a hand on my upper back. I felt his chest fall as he uttered a sigh, and he was smiling when he disentangled himself. “So, friends then?”
“Of course. Mary Markov says you saved my life. Thanks for saving my life.”
“Bullshit,” he said softly, rolling his eyes.
“That’s what you did, though. It’s okay, take the credit.”
He let go of an amused breath and moved over to sit down. “So what now, you gonna buy me something to eat?”
I shrugged. “I might as well. I’m honestly very happy to see you right now.”
“I can imagine,” he muttered. “I’m very sorry all of this happened. I know it kinda never helps to say that, but… you know. For what it’s worth. How’s your belly?”
“All better,” I told him, and a brief smile flew over his face before his features darkened again.
“Do you have any idea what we could do about Nettie?” he inquired.
“Not one,” I admitted. “I’ve tried to reach out, but she doesn’t seem to be receptive. I want to help her, of course, but she’s so…”
“Crushed,” Eli completed my sentence.
“Exactly. See, the thing is that we had a talk a little while ago about boundaries and I think I might be overstepping again if I pushed her on this. It’s hazardous territory.” I stared down at the clear liquid in my cup. “I want to wait until I have a safe, low-risk plan worked out to cheer her up. Something with little possibility of failure. Right now, though… I got no clue.”
“That’s sensible. I’m the least affected party here, so I’ll let you know when I come up with something. We’ll get there. Anything to take your mind off things in the meantime?”
“I really couldn’t say. Everything’s still so strange without her. I know she’s gone, but at the same time, I keep forgetting it—it doesn’t feel like it. I guess I should try to keep myself busy, but I’m not in the mood for the job hunt right now; I’m just… not.”
“I get that. I’m sorta busy the rest of the week but once things have settled, I’d always be happy to get burgers or whatever.” He paused. “We need other hobbies, you and I. Seems like we only ever eat together.”
I chuckled, about to respond when Frankie materialized beside us. “I got something you could do. If you fancy a wager.”
Elijah jumped in his seat. “Dude, I didn’t even see you coming,” he breathed, palming his throat as he looked the waiter up and down.
Frankie Preston grinned, looking faintly satisfied as he placed a cup of soda in front of the other man. “Most people don’t.”
“You want to make a bet with us?” I repeated.
He shrugged. “If you’re up for it. You know, just for fun.”
Eli raised his brows and mouth-shrugged. “Let’s hear it.”
Frankie had obviously been more excited about the idea than he’d let on, because he let out his tiny trademark gasp and practically threw himself down to sit beside us. “Alright, so there’s this room in the back upstairs. You can see it from the outside, too; it’s the second window on the left. That’s Tom’s office.”
“Tom as in Tom’s Diner Tom?” Elijah queried.
“Tom as in my boss Tom, exactly. Here’s the thing, I’ve worked here for a year and I have never actually laid eyes on the guy. We’ve talked on the phone before, and sometimes he yells at us through the walls, but we’ve never spoken face-to-face. Rhonda got me this job, she handled basically all organizational matters for me. All I know about Tom, I know from her. And yet, she hasn’t been able to answer most of my questions either.”
“That’s odd,” I remarked.
“Yeah, no kidding. The door to the office is locked at all times, and he never lets anyone in. Not that I know of, at any rate. Now, here’s the really interesting part.” Fran paused, likely for dramatic effect. “I don’t think Tom ever leaves that little room. He always answers when you knock or call out to him, no matter the time of day. I have never ever seen or heard him go in or out of there. Granted, I haven’t done many other jobs in my lifetime, but I do not think that’s normal.”
“Definitely not,” I agreed, humming when I got an idea. “Say, what did you do before you started working here? Aside from… toppling shady corporate systems?”
For a moment, he stayed silent, his expression growing darkly amused.
“Wait, are you about to give me another white lie now?” I asked.
“Hm. No. No, I don’t think I will.” He twisted a string of his gum around his fingertip, gaining a disgusted glance from Elijah Carter. “How bad do you wanna know?”
“I’m curious about every aspect of your being.”
He snorted. “Well then. I used to be a stripper, Sunshine.”
Eli audibly choked on his drink. I didn’t really know what to say, my brain having suddenly emptied. Frankie smiled widely, slapping the tabletop with his palm before rising to his feet. “Enough of that. Anyways, fifty bucks for—or in the event of your failure from—each of you says you can’t figure out what the hell’s going on up in that office.” He checked his wristwatch. “And I want results before I get off work, so you’ve got five hours.”
Eli and I exchanged pondering glances. I gave him a slight nod and he grinned, reaching up to shake the waiter’s hand. “You’re on, Blondie.”
Frankie disappeared in the back and Elijah and I started contemplating how to go about this newfound assignment. After getting something to eat, we went around the back of the building. Behind it was the same small alley with the trash containers and the bench where Frankie sometimes takes his break. The door to the diner was shut, allowing us to move around unseen. I tipped my head back to glance up the wall, locating the window the waiter had mentioned. From down here, we couldn't see inside.
"You ready for some climbing?" Eli asked.
"I don't think that's possible. That's a pretty high, flat wall. I wouldn't know what to hold onto."
"Oh shush, give me a second." He grabbed onto the handles of one of the containers, trying to push it only to find that the little wheels it stood on wouldn't move. He began to kick at them, fumbling for a moment, before finally letting out a pleased grunt when the large object gave in and lurched forward. He shoved it up against the wall and locked it in place. With one swift motion, he swung himself on top of it, and I briefly marveled at his physicality. I grabbed the hand he extended to me and allowed myself to be hoisted up.
The container was wobbly and I found myself concerned it would give in beneath our weight, but to my surprise, it remained steady. Elijah flattened his back to the wall, then bent his knees, squatting slightly. He gave me an expectant look and patted his thigh. I nodded, first climbing up his leg, then placing my feet on his shoulders, holding onto his outstretched hand for balance. This boosted me to the same height as the window.
"Is this good?" Eli asked, not sounding particularly strained at all. "What do you see?"
I frowned. "Truth be told, nothing much."
The inside of the room was lying in total darkness. All I could see was a faint light coming from a computer screen in the corner and my own reflection staring back at me from the windowpane. Then, somewhere in the shadows, I thought I saw something move.
"Wait," I told Eli, excitement lacing my tone. "Maybe…" Something compelled me to place my palms against the frame. My heart jolted when it gave way. It was open. Before I knew it, my weight shifted off Eli's shoulders and my upper body was hanging in the dimly-lit room. My midriff hurt intensely, the pressure of the sill digging into exactly the line of scar tissue that was still left of the knife attack. Reacting thoughtlessly, I wriggled myself further into the dark space. I let out a pitiful wine when I hit the floor, the impact nearly knocking the air out of my body.
"Shirley," Elijah hissed outside. "What happened? Are you okay?"
I wasn't sure how to answer that. I groaned some affirmative sounds as I straightened up, brushing down my shirt and leggings. I felt it immediately. There was something sticky on the spots that had made contact with the floor. My knees and chest were positively coated in it. Feeling my stomach turn in disgust, I turned and raised my hands into the relative light of the computer screen. When I laid eyes on the substance that webbed my palms, I gagged. It had the same look and consistency of bloody snot, that slimy fluid the human nose and throat often emit during illness. It formed slick strings between my fingers, and I couldn't help but stare at it in shock, frozen for a moment or two.
That's when I realized that I was sinking. It felt as though I had stepped in mud that took a second before softening beneath my feet. I felt a soft pressure around my feet and ankles, like I had waded into morass and the heavy sludge was swirling around me. I hastily wiped my stained hand on a clean spot on my shirt and began fumbling for my phone. Soon, the beam of its flashlight cut through the darkness, and it was all that I could do to keep from screaming.
The floor beneath me was covered in a semi-solid material which I identified in utter terror to be flesh. Human flesh, if the pink-ish skin shielding it in places was any indicator. Other spots were red, raw and veiny, oozing a number of unnameable fluids. The whole office was pumping, pulsing; a living thing. The walls, the ceiling, every nook and cranny wore a thick meaty coat. Above it all hung the stale, coppery smell of blood. Frantically glancing about myself, I tripped and backed up against the edge of the desk. As if in response to my movements, the long, brown hairs on the larger patches of skin stood on end. I thought I could see gooseflesh forming on the wall across from me.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…
It's not often that my mind blanks out like that, but as I was standing in that living, moving room, surrounded by shifting masses of flesh and muscle, I flew into a panic. My mouth had gone bone-dry; my lungs were tight and refused to draw breath. Having lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, I was almost surprised to feel my tentacles unfurling from my back. Before I could take another step, the floor abruptly shifted beneath me. The spot I had been standing in warped into an outward dent, a mount that threw me off my feet and sent me sprawling on the ground. My entire front flattened against the warm floor, the nauseating stench and far too familiar texture causing vomit to rise in my throat. I somehow managed to maintain a death grip on my phone. I pushed myself back up with all limbs available, retreating into the direction of the window.
I tore it open with one tentacle and used the rest to safely lower myself to the ground outside. Finally breathing fresh air again, I greedily sucked it in, nearly beginning to hyperventilate in the process. Dots and colors danced before my inner eye and my skin felt hot to the point of ignition. I absently took note of Elijah's soothing yet decidedly confused voice beside my ear.
"Shirley? What the hell… Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"No," I pressed out. It was hard to speak against the lump in my throat. "I-I'm fine. I think I'm fine."
I allowed him to pull me to my feet and guide me over to the bench. I sank down on it as my legs gave in beneath me. My heart was still hammering against my ribcage. I was half expecting it to break out.
"Hang on, I'll go get that little blond freak…"
I tipped my head back, still breathing heavily, and closed my eyes. The bright sun was shining down on me, its light warming my shivering form. My tentacles slowly withdrew into the skin between my shoulderblades. At last, my face stopped burning when I felt a hand grasp my own.
"Someone's earned her fifty bucks." Frankie's angelic voice cut through my stupor and I weakly turned my head to face him, cracking an eye open.
"I hate you," I whispered. "I hate you so much it hurts."
He grinned. "You think it's smart to take that tone with the man who brings you food?"
Elijah plopped down on my other side. "Would you please enlighten me as to what happened up there?" He sounded done.
"It's a living room."
"You mean, like, there's a TV in there?" Eli asked lamely.
"No. It's a living room. That office is… there was a computer and a desk but the rest was just flesh." My voice briefly faltered as I tried to explain what I had seen. "I think… I think I was inside Tom."
My statement was met with silence. Finally, Elijah Carter heaved a sigh. "I'm not even gonna question this shit anymore. Pay up, Bubbles. I need a nap."
Money switched hands and Elijah excused himself, leaving Frankie and me to ourselves. He regarded me with both amusement and pity, eventually dragging me along inside into the diner's bathroom so I could get cleaned up. I furiously scrubbed and wiped at my face under the cold water spewing from the faucet. The server brought me a set of his own fresh clothes which he apparently always keeps at his workplace in case of a spill. I asked him whether he'd be willing to burn my old ones, to laughter.
"No, but I'll throw them in the trash for you later," he promised. His jeans were too long for me, and he knelt to roll up the bottom of the pant legs so I wouldn't trip over them.
"Thank you."
"It's nothing. I gotta say, I feel kinda guilty for getting you up to this in the first place," he confessed.
"I don't mind. This situation is kind of concerning, though, isn't it? Your boss."
"Suppose so, but as long as I get paid and he stays in those four walls, I don't think I'll mind. Anyways, I greatly appreciate you satiating my curiosity." He rose to his feet and started rolling up my sleeves. "You always do exactly what I ask."
"Our interests align."
"Nah. I bet you'd rise to any wager I'd ever suggest. I think you'd do it for my sake."
I don't know what possessed me at that moment. I didn't even think about kissing him; I just leaned in.
Frankie yelped like a startled puppy and dodged out of the way, eyes wide. I instantly shrank back. "I'm sorry," I stammered.
"Are you?" He regarded me with stern eyes. "I hope not."
"What?"
He grunted. "What you were gonna do there, I… uh. Oh, Christ, now you've gone and made me all stupid. You're pretty amazing. I feel like I ought to say that more often. Listen, you were going to kiss me and you may and I want that. A lot. But I'm a bit jumpy sometimes. I know I spoiled the moment. Let's pretend this never happened and when we next see each other, I'll be expecting it. And then I won't make chew toy sounds, okay?"
I nodded.
"Okay," he repeated softly, smiling as he gathered up my clothes and turned to leave.
That was that. I'm still very curious about Tom's Diner, but for the time being, I'm simply glad for the distraction, however brief it might have been. Now that I'm back home, though, everything's so clear again. Kit Sutton is gone. And I can't stop thinking about her.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
17: government work