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May 2023
2023.06.04 21:32 mizmoose May 2023
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2023.06.04 21:18 Never231 ESSAY: impressions after 2 playthroughs on exterminatus from an arcade shooter veteran
to preface, let me make it clear that i'm blown away by the creativity and talent on display. everyone aware of the scene kinda knows we're in a "boomer shooter" renaissance right now, and imo boltgun stands tall right alongside titans like doom eternal, dusk, ultrakill, etc. this game has awoken something in me that i haven't felt since the release of doom eternal and i can't get it outta my mind. for the last few days ive felt compelled to write a massive fucking wall of text to show my love for this game, so here we are. i want to give my thoughts on the gameplay loop, including strengths and criticisms, in a somewhat random order. this will be about my personal preferences so i'm sure others will disagree with some of what i say. i beat the game on exerminatus on my second day of gameplay on june 1st (i kinda blitzed thru due to time constraints), and i've been casually playing through a couple stages a day when i have time since.
MOVEMENT
i am obsessed, and i mean OBSESSED with the movement system in context with the combat loop. you're ridiculously fast in the BEST WAY, you can jump higher and faster than other arcade shooters, and you have extremely fine control over your movement. it's overpowered, SERIOUSLY overpowered, but i haven't seen a game give us this level of mobility and control that manages to engage me in the same way boltgun has. you become disgustingly powerful when you learn how to consistently dodge every enemy attack pattern and climb like a cat. it's extremely satisfying. i've seen some people say to turn on autorun, but i think this is a serious mistake. you can very consistently dodge enemy fire even at close range by changing your speed midair after jumping and adjusting your movements with precision and speed. you can also make some outlandishly stylish plays that are impossible in any other game in the genre in recent memory. it's so much fun to me, and i find it so satisfying to drop into a random stage after a long day and parkour around while mowing through arenas. i don't feel this way about other games in the genre.
SECRETS
there was a big missed opportunity with the secrets. i'm aware that this is a point that has been hammered into the ground by other players, so i'll keep this brief. i feel that the dev's outstanding level of competency and attention to detail when designing the movement system further exposes how glaringly boring the secrets are. it was especially striking how many "off-limits" places i could somehow parkour my way into that were totally empty. it really makes me wonder what the level designers were doing. maybe they added the secrets at the last minute? that's a fair excuse imo. to me, secrets are more of a minor point, but it's probably the most obvious flaw in my eyes.
LEVEL DESIGN
moving on, let's talk level design. i've seen plenty of users complain about the lack of a map system that's common in other arcade shooters, but i had little trouble navigating most levels without a map. there were a few "wait, where was that locked door again?" moments, but for the most part the level design was quite intuitive. to me, most of the stages in all three chapters were diverse, vibrant, unique, and really fun to explore and navigate around. some stages kinda blend together, but i've not played a game that avoids this yet.
i'm not someone who follows 40k lore, but i can tell the devs did the 40k universe justice by some of the setpieces and architecture on display. the use of matching colored lightning to illuminate keys/doors was very helpful to me, and there's not too much backtracking if you follow the signposting. however, i understand that other players may have had a more difficult time identifying signposting and navigating some of the stages, especially the more mazey ones. i don't think much would be lost by giving users a map. (side note, i actually quite enjoyed the portals puzzle in sanctum manufactorum, though that's possibly because i had fun parkouring to unintended routes lol)
DIFFICULTY CURVE
next, let's get into the difficulty curve. as others have pointed out, this game starts easy, pretends to be easy for a minute, and then comes out of fucking nowhere to pound you into the fucking ground. i LOVED it. even as a veteran of the genre, i died probably 5 to 10 times on the first plague frog arena. this was definitely the most difficult part of the game for me, as you don't have many tools at that point and you haven't had much time to understand how the enemy ai and attack patterns work. on the second playthrough, i cruised through it without a second thought. this is primarily because the game does a really great job of teaching you to spot key pickups and use secrets/powerups wisely. it practically BEGS you to abuse them in certain arenas, and i found every major "boss" (lord of change, etc.) to be a breeze because of vortex grenades and intelligent resource management.
i found the difficulty of the hardest arenas basically on par with nightmare in doom eternal. doom eternal is my personal bar for difficulty, as i've completely UN runs of the main campaign and first DLC. honestly, the difficulty of this game when it gets going feels equivalent to hardest difficulties in other arcade shooters that have emerged in the current renaissance. i've seen people say that this game is "too easy" on exterminatus, but i think they nailed the difficulty for the most part. there's some clear inconsistencies, but the large arenas can be challenging and are fun without fail. i definitely would like to see this game get an "ultra nightmare" mode ( one save, if you die progress resets to c1m1) and something akin to doom eternal's master levels. tbh at this point i will fucking devour anything else the devs can drip feed me.
ARSENAL
let's talk guns. i think the arsenal variety is almost perfect and the balance is quite good. the meltagun is possibly overtuned, but also the bosses in this game are pretty bullet spongey on exterminatus, so i'm very grateful for it. i use all guns pretty evenly, to be honest. depending on how i want to play a stage i'll pick a different gun for the machine spirit, though i find myself almost exclusively picking the volkite caviler by chapter 3 because of the amount of mid and hightier enemies. i think each gun is viable for the machine spirit on the majority of stages, and my choice here simply reflects my playstyle, not necessarily the gun power. here's a brief overview of my use cases:
edit 1: i read that many people felt that there wasn't enough feedback for hitting/killing an enemy. i personally don't have this issue, as the sounds and blood effects are audible and visible from even across the map. i guess i'm also kinda used to memorizing the shots to kill for every gun on every enemy, so all i need to hear is the CRUNCH sound
ENEMIES, BOSSES
enemy diversity is average to sometimes a bit lacking. many small tier enemies are the same, just with varying healthpools. i'm kinda okay with this, as the core combat loop is still pretty tight. enemy placement is great and i was surprised by ambushes plenty of times (ig this goes in level design, oops), requiring me to think on my toes and distracting me from how boring some of the enemies are. the enemy diversity isn't much different than other similar arcade shooters so i'm not disappointed or anything, i just think the combat system they have in place gives them a lot of room to expand. i really enjoy that the projectile patterns/tracking patterns from certain enemies is both predictable but also a little random, meaning you can get very far on movement skill alone but bad placement or poor number sense will always screw you over.
bosses are fine if not boring or with obtuse mechanics. bosses and hightier enemies are much spongier than necessary, requiring powerups/vortex grenades/meltagun if you don't want to be there all day. in theory, this is good game design because it pushes players use the resources (powerups) that you give them. in practice, boss fights can be a somewhat frantic slog if you missed a secret or don't explore the arena in the "proper" order. in my opinion, the game would benefit greatly by decreasing boss healthpools and certain hightier healthpools but increasing difficult in other ways like enemy count or projectile count.
FINAL THOUGHTS
this is getting too long. i think the main theme i want to highlight is "potential". that's not to say that the game is bad. i think the game is fantastic in its current state and definitely worth a buy if you're a fan of the genre. however, different parts of the game are on different levels of good. the movement feels ridiculously good with lots of depth, the level design is quite good but the secrets are severely lacking, the enemy variety is decent and it's fun enough to engage with them, the bosses are okay i guess but are definitely too spongey. certain aspects of boltgun definitely shine through to make it a memorable and addictive game to me. HOWEVER, if they keep working with what they have, i think this will be my new favorite arcade shooter. also, i reserve my right to update this post when i read it again in a few hours and realize i left out lots of stuff i wanted to talk about lmao
TLDR
game good. movement PHENOMENAL, guns good, levels good, enemies good, bosses okay. combat loop extremely satisfying. while still challenging, i think the skill ceiling for the systems in place is far higher than what the current max difficulty offers. pls devs keep updating/working on what you have. even if not, it'll still be one of my favorite games.
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MOVEMENT
i am obsessed, and i mean OBSESSED with the movement system in context with the combat loop. you're ridiculously fast in the BEST WAY, you can jump higher and faster than other arcade shooters, and you have extremely fine control over your movement. it's overpowered, SERIOUSLY overpowered, but i haven't seen a game give us this level of mobility and control that manages to engage me in the same way boltgun has. you become disgustingly powerful when you learn how to consistently dodge every enemy attack pattern and climb like a cat. it's extremely satisfying. i've seen some people say to turn on autorun, but i think this is a serious mistake. you can very consistently dodge enemy fire even at close range by changing your speed midair after jumping and adjusting your movements with precision and speed. you can also make some outlandishly stylish plays that are impossible in any other game in the genre in recent memory. it's so much fun to me, and i find it so satisfying to drop into a random stage after a long day and parkour around while mowing through arenas. i don't feel this way about other games in the genre.
SECRETS
there was a big missed opportunity with the secrets. i'm aware that this is a point that has been hammered into the ground by other players, so i'll keep this brief. i feel that the dev's outstanding level of competency and attention to detail when designing the movement system further exposes how glaringly boring the secrets are. it was especially striking how many "off-limits" places i could somehow parkour my way into that were totally empty. it really makes me wonder what the level designers were doing. maybe they added the secrets at the last minute? that's a fair excuse imo. to me, secrets are more of a minor point, but it's probably the most obvious flaw in my eyes.
LEVEL DESIGN
moving on, let's talk level design. i've seen plenty of users complain about the lack of a map system that's common in other arcade shooters, but i had little trouble navigating most levels without a map. there were a few "wait, where was that locked door again?" moments, but for the most part the level design was quite intuitive. to me, most of the stages in all three chapters were diverse, vibrant, unique, and really fun to explore and navigate around. some stages kinda blend together, but i've not played a game that avoids this yet.
i'm not someone who follows 40k lore, but i can tell the devs did the 40k universe justice by some of the setpieces and architecture on display. the use of matching colored lightning to illuminate keys/doors was very helpful to me, and there's not too much backtracking if you follow the signposting. however, i understand that other players may have had a more difficult time identifying signposting and navigating some of the stages, especially the more mazey ones. i don't think much would be lost by giving users a map. (side note, i actually quite enjoyed the portals puzzle in sanctum manufactorum, though that's possibly because i had fun parkouring to unintended routes lol)
DIFFICULTY CURVE
next, let's get into the difficulty curve. as others have pointed out, this game starts easy, pretends to be easy for a minute, and then comes out of fucking nowhere to pound you into the fucking ground. i LOVED it. even as a veteran of the genre, i died probably 5 to 10 times on the first plague frog arena. this was definitely the most difficult part of the game for me, as you don't have many tools at that point and you haven't had much time to understand how the enemy ai and attack patterns work. on the second playthrough, i cruised through it without a second thought. this is primarily because the game does a really great job of teaching you to spot key pickups and use secrets/powerups wisely. it practically BEGS you to abuse them in certain arenas, and i found every major "boss" (lord of change, etc.) to be a breeze because of vortex grenades and intelligent resource management.
i found the difficulty of the hardest arenas basically on par with nightmare in doom eternal. doom eternal is my personal bar for difficulty, as i've completely UN runs of the main campaign and first DLC. honestly, the difficulty of this game when it gets going feels equivalent to hardest difficulties in other arcade shooters that have emerged in the current renaissance. i've seen people say that this game is "too easy" on exterminatus, but i think they nailed the difficulty for the most part. there's some clear inconsistencies, but the large arenas can be challenging and are fun without fail. i definitely would like to see this game get an "ultra nightmare" mode ( one save, if you die progress resets to c1m1) and something akin to doom eternal's master levels. tbh at this point i will fucking devour anything else the devs can drip feed me.
ARSENAL
let's talk guns. i think the arsenal variety is almost perfect and the balance is quite good. the meltagun is possibly overtuned, but also the bosses in this game are pretty bullet spongey on exterminatus, so i'm very grateful for it. i use all guns pretty evenly, to be honest. depending on how i want to play a stage i'll pick a different gun for the machine spirit, though i find myself almost exclusively picking the volkite caviler by chapter 3 because of the amount of mid and hightier enemies. i think each gun is viable for the machine spirit on the majority of stages, and my choice here simply reflects my playstyle, not necessarily the gun power. here's a brief overview of my use cases:
- boltgun for non-armored gunwielders at mid/long range, sometimes mid+hightiers when conserving other ammo (spend)
- shotgun for weaker adds and cornering (spend)
- heavy bolter for most midtier enemies like flamers/chaos marines/etc., also very good for exalted flamers (moderate conserve)
- plasma gun for fast deleting midtiers, chunking hightiers, and wiping out tightly clustered packs of all tiers (mostly spend)
- vengeance launcher for corner peaking and clearing big clusters of low and midtier enemies (spend)
- volkite caliver for deleting mid/hightier enemies, ESPECIALLY the armored ones (conserve)
- meltagun is a boss-delete weapon i only to be used in very specific situations (CONSERVE)
- grav cannon is rarely used because the meltagun serves its purpose better lol. i generally waste the ammo asap on any high-midtier enemies (spend unless near big arena, then save for boss after meltagun)
- vortex grenades are unquestionably the best item in the game. they trivialize every single boss encounter. i always make sure to keep one on me before the end of every stage (CONSERVE CONSERVE CONSERVE)
- krak/frag grenades serve mostly the same use cases for me, which is deletion of terminators and other hightier enemies (spend/conserve varies)
- chainsword is rarely used and mostly for vertical movement not immediately reachable by jumping
- charge is rarely used except for longjumping and evasion/mowing down lowtiers while thinking/strategizing and repositioning
edit 1: i read that many people felt that there wasn't enough feedback for hitting/killing an enemy. i personally don't have this issue, as the sounds and blood effects are audible and visible from even across the map. i guess i'm also kinda used to memorizing the shots to kill for every gun on every enemy, so all i need to hear is the CRUNCH sound
ENEMIES, BOSSES
enemy diversity is average to sometimes a bit lacking. many small tier enemies are the same, just with varying healthpools. i'm kinda okay with this, as the core combat loop is still pretty tight. enemy placement is great and i was surprised by ambushes plenty of times (ig this goes in level design, oops), requiring me to think on my toes and distracting me from how boring some of the enemies are. the enemy diversity isn't much different than other similar arcade shooters so i'm not disappointed or anything, i just think the combat system they have in place gives them a lot of room to expand. i really enjoy that the projectile patterns/tracking patterns from certain enemies is both predictable but also a little random, meaning you can get very far on movement skill alone but bad placement or poor number sense will always screw you over.
bosses are fine if not boring or with obtuse mechanics. bosses and hightier enemies are much spongier than necessary, requiring powerups/vortex grenades/meltagun if you don't want to be there all day. in theory, this is good game design because it pushes players use the resources (powerups) that you give them. in practice, boss fights can be a somewhat frantic slog if you missed a secret or don't explore the arena in the "proper" order. in my opinion, the game would benefit greatly by decreasing boss healthpools and certain hightier healthpools but increasing difficult in other ways like enemy count or projectile count.
FINAL THOUGHTS
this is getting too long. i think the main theme i want to highlight is "potential". that's not to say that the game is bad. i think the game is fantastic in its current state and definitely worth a buy if you're a fan of the genre. however, different parts of the game are on different levels of good. the movement feels ridiculously good with lots of depth, the level design is quite good but the secrets are severely lacking, the enemy variety is decent and it's fun enough to engage with them, the bosses are okay i guess but are definitely too spongey. certain aspects of boltgun definitely shine through to make it a memorable and addictive game to me. HOWEVER, if they keep working with what they have, i think this will be my new favorite arcade shooter. also, i reserve my right to update this post when i read it again in a few hours and realize i left out lots of stuff i wanted to talk about lmao
TLDR
game good. movement PHENOMENAL, guns good, levels good, enemies good, bosses okay. combat loop extremely satisfying. while still challenging, i think the skill ceiling for the systems in place is far higher than what the current max difficulty offers. pls devs keep updating/working on what you have. even if not, it'll still be one of my favorite games.
2023.06.04 20:48 Oradainer Celestial Empire - Chapter 2
First, Next
Chun shuffled in her chair, she was only a mortal boar-kin, why did she have the misfortune of taking the hidden master up to his room. Now this Mei of the Iron Paw sect had cornered her in the Inn when she arrived for the morning shift.
Mei shoveled rice into her mouth from an oversized bowl as she spoke, “Tell me exactly what happened last night when you led the hidden master to his room. I want to know everything you know about him.”
Again Chun shuffled, “I actually met him before that, he was alone at the table near the exit. It was odd because everyone tries to move to the kang to keep warm, but this man simply sat at his table as though the cold meant nothing to him.”
Mei stopped eating, “He was here while we were eating? What was he doing?” She demanded.Chun recoiled a bit, “He just seemed to be watching everyone, including your table. When I brought him his food and drink I warned him to stop staring or he would draw someone’s wrath upon him.”
Mei nodded, if she couldn’t sense him, she obviously couldn’t expect a mere mortal to know what they were dealing with. “What did he do after that?”
Chun took a deep breath, “He seemed to just sit there and eat his meal until the warning bell sounded. When you and your sisters left he asked me how much he owed, dropped coins on the table and left the inn. I didn’t see him again until after the battle.”
Mei sat back and thought, “He paid for his meal you say?”
Chun nodded, “He didn’t even complain or haggle, he simply dropped the coins as if they were nothing and walked out. Huang has told me not to accept payment if he asks when he comes down this morning.”
Mei nodded, “A wise choice, now that he is no longer hidden he may decide to toy with you, it is best for you to play along.”
Chun looked around the inn as customers started to come in for breakfast, it was still early, the sun had barely breached the horizon.
Mei sighed, “Bring me another bowl of porridge, I will await the hidden master, his name was Cain, correct.”
Chun stood quickly before bowing, “He stated his name was Victor Cane, Mistress Mei.”
Mei sat back in her chair and shoo’ed the boar-kin mortal away. Her sisters had taken shifts to ensure from a distance the hidden master had not left. More information on this male was needed, and she expected to gather it for her sect.
She would already be renown for the twenty two instinctual cultivators slain here yesterday, particularly as she had only lost 7 sisters. Three to one was not a feat to be trifled with when it came to instinctuals. The problem was, at least ten of those were from this hidden master that she knew next to nothing about.
She would await him here, and eat her fill to replace her spent energies.
_________________________
DAILY MAINTENANCE COMPLETE
ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL
SUBSPACE LINK : NO CONNECTION
RADIO LINK : NO CONNECTION
POWER CORE : 100%
CAPACITOR CORE : 100%
TIME 0700
ACTIVATE WAKE UP ALARM
Victor slowly regained consciousness after sleeping like the dead. New gene-mod updates, transmat accident, small firefight with ware-wolves and one cute tiger lady had really kicked his ass. “Computer, turn off that damn alarm.”
He opened his helmet as he sat up from the horrible bed. He had never seen a mirror as poorly made as the one in front of him, maybe it was tarnished bronze? He recalled his scout drones and sent them to storage before reaching in and pulling out his overnight bag.
After washing his face in the not-too-clean sink and brushing his teeth he made his way to the chamber pot by the bed. After relieving himself he decided breakfast was in order. He put his overnight bag into dimensional storage and made his way downstairs to the inn proper.
As he slowly walked down the stairs, hoping the wood could hold his three hundred kilo weight a second time he noticed Mei sitting at the same table as the night before. As usual, the patrons around them gave her a wide berth. Well, judging by the way Mei’s eyes never left him he assumed she wanted to talk to him.
“Hello Mei, how are you doing this morning? He asked innocently enough.
She looked at him stone faced, “I spent most of the night burying my sect sisters, then caught a few hours sleep while we waited for you to wake up.” She stated as she crossed her arms.
Well, this was more new information, evidently there was some camaraderie within the sects. He wasn’t sure of that until now. Evidently cultivators do care for each other, if they care little or nothing for the average peasant.
Victor decided it was best to seem the aloof master rather than the bumbling fool he obviously was and change course, “Chun, could you bring me whatever you have for breakfast, oh, and some more of that wine!”
Mei’s eyes flared at Victor, if looks could kill he’d be scorched right now, “Who are you? I just reminded you that 7 of my sect sisters were buried last night and you call to a mortal for food?”
Victor turned back to her, his officer face was back on again, “Is this your first war Mei?”
Mei sat back and batted her cup back and forth in her hands as she looked down at the table, “Yes, while I’m older than some of my sisters, war hasn’t visited the Celestial Empire in decades, if not centuries.”
Victor reached out a hand and placed it over one of Mei’s. She froze at his touch, a male cultivator touched her, a lowly cultivator of the second tier. “This is not mine, I have lost count of the small fire-fights and battles I’ve been a part of of my last twenty years. Or the soldiers I have lost.”
Mei blinked, fire-fights, like what he did last night was considered small, she had never seen creatures burn like that, wait, did he say the last twenty years. She cleared her throat, “Um, please excuse this lower cultivators curiosity, but you have been in battles for the last twenty years? You look no older than I at twenty eight seasons, how is that possible?”
Victor removed his hand as Chun brought him a huge portion of porridge, rice, pork sausage, eggs and wine. He looked up to her as she bowed down, “Thank you Chun, you are dismissed. Yeah, I don’t age like other people. Actually, I don’t age at all.”
Chun turned on her heels and nearly sprinted back to the kitchen. She had gotten a small taste of Mei’s killing intent when she glared at the hidden master, while she nearly dropped to her knees, the master didn’t even seem to notice.
Victor popped one of the sausages into his mouth as he watched Mei nearly drop her jaw in astonishment. Victor pointed to his plate, “Would you like one? They are quite good.”
Mei shook her head, “You’re an immortal and you thanked that peasant? Do you care nothing for face?”
Victor looked back as he chewed, “Chun? Yeah, she works hard, least I can do is thank her for her efforts. Someone should do something about the turnips though, they are horrible.”
Mei crossed her arms, “I cannot tell if you are toying with me or not. You have an Imperial accent, one that requires training from birth, you fight as if you are a divinity, and you show appreciation to mortals?”
Victor shrugged, “I’m not a complicated man, I’m just passing through the Empire looking for a way home. Speaking of which, you mentioned the Eternal Empress, would you say she is the most powerful person in the land?”
Mei uncrossed her arms before leaning in, “You mean to tell me you don’t know about the Eternal Empress yet you are hundreds of li into her Empire?”
Victor mixed his eggs and sausage into his rice bowl and then looked despairingly down at the chop sticks. He reached into his dimensional storage and produced a spoon, which to Mei seemed to appear from nowhere and scooped out a portion before taking a bite and pointing at Mei with his spoon. “Well, it’s not grits, but it will do in a pinch. No, I don’t know about the Empress, that’s why I’m asking you, if anyone knows how to get me home it might be your Eternal Empress, so how do I get an audience with her?”
Mei sat back in her chair once more, holding the hand Victor had recently touched under the table, “That might be easier than you think, but you may not like the outcome. I sent ahead to my sect leader one town over and she will be using a calling stone to reach the Imperial Palace, I’m sure they will have questions about the foreigner who is also a hidden master.”
Victor stopped eating and sat back in his own chair, “Ah, you say I may not like the outcome, why is that?”
Mei shrugged, if he didn’t know how things worked she didn’t see the harm in telling him. “The Eternal Empress has been said to be a bit temperamental, particularly to foreigners entering her lands. Yes, she is said to be the wisest in the land, and many millennia old. Her magic defends this land and its people.”
Victor took another slow bite with his spoon, “So she may know how to get me home, or she may try to have me killed. No way to know until I meet her eh?”
Mei nodded before stopping, “Wait, you said she may try to have you killed, not that she would have you killed or kill you.”
Victor grinned at her, “Well, I’m not about to make it easy on her if she tries. Listen, I’ve got some things to get done, so in the mean time, here.” He then presented her with a silver bauble with a red gem in the center that dropped from nothingness into his hand. “Take this with you, and give it to the Empress, it will allow her to communicate with me no matter where I go.”
Mei stared at the piece of exquisite jewelry, it would be worth many fortunes over in the Celestial city, and he just handed it to her? “Wait, I can’t just let you leave, you are a foreigner in our lands, it is my duty to keep a watchful eye on you.”
Victor walked over to the bar where Huang looked nervous and dropped a large pile of copper coins before walking to the door.
Mei stood, kicking the chair behind her and stomped towards the exit only to see the hidden master take flight again on wings of fire. This time he did not stop at the bell tower, but continued to fly towards the mountains. “Damn that man to the divinities she shouted as even she lost sight of him in the clouds.”
______________________
“Activate camouflage mode.” Victor spoke into his helmet as his armor took on the the colors surrounding him. It wouldn’t fool anyone close up, but from the distance he was from the village now he doubted even the cultivators could make him out from the sky.
With any luck, Mei would get that communicator back to the Empress, who might know how to get him home. In the mean time though, he reached into his dimensional storage and brought out a satellite probe. He had used the full capacitor load on his jump jets and was still eighteen thousand meters up, more than enough for the probe to reach geosynchronous orbit.
After launching it he looked for a good patch of ground to land. He found one at the base of a mountain range, it even came with a mountain stream. Firing his retro-rockets he landed soft enough and sat on a particularly smooth boulder.
His heads up display showed him his probe had reached geosynchronous orbit and was gathering data. “Well, this is going to take some time.” He thought to himself as he ordered his AI to split his armor. To anyone else watching this would have probably been horrifying as the scout armor appeared to break apart and separate into two halves joined together by a hinge.
Victor took a sniff of himself and groaned, “Good thing the suit is sealed, being in that thing for almost two days and I am ripe!” He thought as he found a nice place in the woods to relieve himself in a way he couldn’t with his armor on.
After that he removed the boxers he wore in his scout armor and placed them on the boulder and stepped across the pebbled beach into the stream. He instantly regretted it, gene-mods or not, a mountain stream in the fall is still cold! After washing as best he could he walked back to his armor, reached into his dimensional storage, produced a towel and fresh boxers and dried off while sunning himself on his rock.
His AI sounded in his inner ear. IMMEDIATE AREA SURVEY COMPLETE.
He kicked off his boulder and climbed back into his now somewhat aired out armor and checked out the results. A mountain in this range was nearly perfect for his needs, abundant metal and mineral deposits, and a valley with a small but very useful petroleum reserve, as well as some natural gas deposits, although those were less than 6% on the scan.
Victor checked that his jump jets capacitor were sufficiently charged and set his jump vector for a somewhat flat ridge three quarters of the way up the mountain, just below the snow caps. Four minutes later, he landed, staring at a nearly sheer cliff face that raised up the mountain another 20 meters above him.
He reached into dimensional storage and retrieved a mining laser. These were a bit expensive, but necessary to start any good mining operation. Mining drones were not good at starting a mining shaft. Oh, it could be done, but it was usually done slowly and crudely. Best to set the aperture to four meters square and crank up the power.
The laser had a magazine of some miracle crystal that put out about ten seconds of power before it was exhausted and was then discarded. He squeezed the trigger and watched as the sheer rock face before him seemed to literally disintegrate as the shaft began to deepen to a depth of about four meters in.
The laser chimed and ejected the magazine as the barrel smoked from the immense heat it had just endured. Victor carefully sat down the mining laser and opened his dimensional storage once more to bring out four mining drones, two forge spiders, and four scout drones.
He set the mining drones to work digging into the mine shaft with gusto the seven dwarfs could never match. Then turned his attention to the scout drones, he sent them off in a patrol pattern to watch over the mountain for any sign of trespassers. Then he remembered the satellite and set it to watch over his piece of paradise as well.
He also thought about retracing his helmet but the temperature outside was just above freezing and decided it best to have a seat and wait a bit for the mining drones to get some work done. On a whim he checked his database, yup, there were 86 different versions of Snow White, might as well pick the Disney one from antiquity, he’d never seen it anyways.
One hour and twenty three minutes later the film was over, and his mining drones and forge spiders had deepened the shaft another five meters. A small pile of ingots had been dropped off by the spiders, the air around them giving off a small mirage effect from the heat they radiated.
Computer, have the nano-forge produce proper steel doors, tracts, motors, and security to cover the dimensions of this shaft. The AI took measurements, produced the adjusted prints, sent them to Victor for approval, then started crafting the necessary materials. Then Victor’s stomach growled.
Sighing, he went over to the pile of fresh ingots, some iron, some copper, others tin and silver.
Retracing his helm he found that although the temperature hovered around 2 degrees celsius, near the ingots it was quite a bit warmer, if you didn’t mind the metallic smell, which it didn’t. Reaching into dimensional storage he found his ration stash, while he had hoped this would be what he would use to fashion himself a life after he left the Imperial Guard, there was a chance he would never get home.
“Resources are there to be used.” He quoted to himself as he took a bite from a bar he hoped wasn’t made from corpo-starch, but as it had no ingredient list he had no way of knowing. Finishing his ration bar, the densely caloric and extremely nutrient bar would play havoc with his bowels later. He noted getting living quarters up soon would be a really good idea.
He slid his helm back into place, “Computer, have the mining drones level off and begin to dig a cavern to fit the small hab module in dimensional storage, have them oversize it by a meter on all sides, I want some clearance when I bring this out of storage.”
The AI complied and he watched his mini-map on his hud as the drones turned ninety degrees and started opening up a new cavern. A few minutes later, the computer chimed to let him know the doors were complete and ready for installation.
A good thing he had his scout armor, these doors were five centimeters thick and three meters high and wide. They weighed almost four tons a piece, which was right at the limit of what his power armor was capable of. Pulling out the necessary tools he installed the tracts above and below, then setup the motor controls before pulling the doors out of storage and setting them into the tracks.
After testing and adjustment he was satisfied that not only were they very secure, they even seemed to blend in well with the sheer cliff wall. “Not a bad job if I do say so myself.” Victor said as he began setting up production orders for ventilation, water drainage, and lighting with his AI to start construction while he waited for the chamber to be completed.
A full six hours later and several movies of varying degrees of watchfulness, his computer chimed letting him know the new cavern was complete and the mining drones were continuing their downward path towards the more dense metal reserves deeper in the mountain.
He stood, stretched his back, and ordered the massive steel doors to open, walking the gently sloping shaft down the ten meters to the new cavern. The walls were smooth and the entrance seemed just about right for the habitats air lock door to fit flush with the mining shaft.
A few minutes later and a loud bang as the habitat module appeared from dimensional space and then found that gravity existed again, slamming it the few centimeters to the floor of the cavern. “Oops!” Victor said to himself hoping he didn’t break anything.
Nothing appeared to be damaged, after all, these habs were basically mini-bunkers designed for anything from death worlds to deep space mining. Fifteen meters on each side and four meters high, it gave him an excellent respite from the world around him. Indoor plumbing, central heating and air, entertainment center, kitchen, bath, and a bed.
He entered the habitat and sealed the airlock to the mine shaft. The internal temperature of the hab read twenty one degrees celsius, so he shed his armor, placed it in the airlock rack and connected it to the habitat’s power and computer system before opening the inner airlock.
“Home sweet home, at least until I find a way back." Then he thought about it, would the Guard blame him for the transmat accident? Sure he lied about having anything on him in dimensional storage but he knew guys who smuggled things around all the time and something like this never happened to them. "Hope I don’t look at a court martial if I ever to get back home for going AWOL or some such bullshit.” He muttered as he headed for the shower. That mountain stream was freezing!
______________________
“What to you mean he flew away?” Shihan looked at Mei from across her desk.
Mei shifted uncomfortably in the rickety chair that sat across from the elder cultivator in front of her. The room was also cold, and Shihan had set the desk low so that she could sit on the kang and keep warm while others had to endure. “He said he had important matters to attend to and flew away on wings of fire.”
Shihan shook her head, “Lazy eggs, all of you. We lost seven Iron Paw warriors in your battle three days ago, and probably would have lost you all if not for this hidden master. I have reached out to the the sect mistress who will be informing the royal court at this weeks meeting with the Empress. Do you have anything else to report?”
Mei nodded and set the jeweled bauble on the desk in front of the elder sect leader, “The hidden master, Victor Cane presented me with this. He stated to give it to the Empress and they would be able to communicate no matter the distance.”
The older lady stared at the priceless looking item before slowly looking back up to Mei, “I feel no chi coming from this item, how could it possibly do what he says. Even our best calling stones can barely reach three hundred li, how could this tiny broach communicate anywhere?”
Mei had thought long on this, “I do not know mistress, however, I do know that not once did I feel any chi from this hidden master either. I believe it is his cultivation technique, as he must use near perfect yang energy to power his creations. Can you detect pure yang, head mistress?”
Shihan shook her head, “I cannot my student, for that is only in the realm of the highest levels of male cultivation, and to my knowledge, no male alive can use pure yang energy, hence why they are inherently weaker as they cultivate some yang and some yin, their meridians are out of balance.”
Mei nodded, this was the same conclusion she had reached as well, “I watched him create multiple items from thin air, some for weapons, one was a simple soup spoon, we know most men use their cultivation for crafting, perhaps this hidden master is so adept at it he uses pure yang energy that we simply cannot sense.”
Shihan’s eyes widened with the implications, “That means he would appear as just a normal mortal until he decided to act, just as he did in your report.” She then looked down at the silver jeweled broach that sat on the desk. “The craftsmanship of this object is superb, its gem is absolutely flawless, I have never seen silversmithing so pure. Were this not to be sent to the Empress its sale would keep the Iron Paw clans coffers full for seasons on end.”
She sighed, “No, we cannot abandon our duty, I will send this item to the Empress herself, and as this Victor Cane had entrusted you with it, I feel that you should be the one to deliver it to her yourself.”
Mei gasped before bowing, “I will not fail you head mistress.”
Shihan sat back on her cushions enjoying the warmth of the kang under her, “See to it that you do not, for the Empress does not take kindly to fools who waste her time.”
submitted by Oradainer to HFY [link] [comments]
Chun shuffled in her chair, she was only a mortal boar-kin, why did she have the misfortune of taking the hidden master up to his room. Now this Mei of the Iron Paw sect had cornered her in the Inn when she arrived for the morning shift.
Mei shoveled rice into her mouth from an oversized bowl as she spoke, “Tell me exactly what happened last night when you led the hidden master to his room. I want to know everything you know about him.”
Again Chun shuffled, “I actually met him before that, he was alone at the table near the exit. It was odd because everyone tries to move to the kang to keep warm, but this man simply sat at his table as though the cold meant nothing to him.”
Mei stopped eating, “He was here while we were eating? What was he doing?” She demanded.Chun recoiled a bit, “He just seemed to be watching everyone, including your table. When I brought him his food and drink I warned him to stop staring or he would draw someone’s wrath upon him.”
Mei nodded, if she couldn’t sense him, she obviously couldn’t expect a mere mortal to know what they were dealing with. “What did he do after that?”
Chun took a deep breath, “He seemed to just sit there and eat his meal until the warning bell sounded. When you and your sisters left he asked me how much he owed, dropped coins on the table and left the inn. I didn’t see him again until after the battle.”
Mei sat back and thought, “He paid for his meal you say?”
Chun nodded, “He didn’t even complain or haggle, he simply dropped the coins as if they were nothing and walked out. Huang has told me not to accept payment if he asks when he comes down this morning.”
Mei nodded, “A wise choice, now that he is no longer hidden he may decide to toy with you, it is best for you to play along.”
Chun looked around the inn as customers started to come in for breakfast, it was still early, the sun had barely breached the horizon.
Mei sighed, “Bring me another bowl of porridge, I will await the hidden master, his name was Cain, correct.”
Chun stood quickly before bowing, “He stated his name was Victor Cane, Mistress Mei.”
Mei sat back in her chair and shoo’ed the boar-kin mortal away. Her sisters had taken shifts to ensure from a distance the hidden master had not left. More information on this male was needed, and she expected to gather it for her sect.
She would already be renown for the twenty two instinctual cultivators slain here yesterday, particularly as she had only lost 7 sisters. Three to one was not a feat to be trifled with when it came to instinctuals. The problem was, at least ten of those were from this hidden master that she knew next to nothing about.
She would await him here, and eat her fill to replace her spent energies.
_________________________
DAILY MAINTENANCE COMPLETE
ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL
SUBSPACE LINK : NO CONNECTION
RADIO LINK : NO CONNECTION
POWER CORE : 100%
CAPACITOR CORE : 100%
TIME 0700
ACTIVATE WAKE UP ALARM
Victor slowly regained consciousness after sleeping like the dead. New gene-mod updates, transmat accident, small firefight with ware-wolves and one cute tiger lady had really kicked his ass. “Computer, turn off that damn alarm.”
He opened his helmet as he sat up from the horrible bed. He had never seen a mirror as poorly made as the one in front of him, maybe it was tarnished bronze? He recalled his scout drones and sent them to storage before reaching in and pulling out his overnight bag.
After washing his face in the not-too-clean sink and brushing his teeth he made his way to the chamber pot by the bed. After relieving himself he decided breakfast was in order. He put his overnight bag into dimensional storage and made his way downstairs to the inn proper.
As he slowly walked down the stairs, hoping the wood could hold his three hundred kilo weight a second time he noticed Mei sitting at the same table as the night before. As usual, the patrons around them gave her a wide berth. Well, judging by the way Mei’s eyes never left him he assumed she wanted to talk to him.
“Hello Mei, how are you doing this morning? He asked innocently enough.
She looked at him stone faced, “I spent most of the night burying my sect sisters, then caught a few hours sleep while we waited for you to wake up.” She stated as she crossed her arms.
Well, this was more new information, evidently there was some camaraderie within the sects. He wasn’t sure of that until now. Evidently cultivators do care for each other, if they care little or nothing for the average peasant.
Victor decided it was best to seem the aloof master rather than the bumbling fool he obviously was and change course, “Chun, could you bring me whatever you have for breakfast, oh, and some more of that wine!”
Mei’s eyes flared at Victor, if looks could kill he’d be scorched right now, “Who are you? I just reminded you that 7 of my sect sisters were buried last night and you call to a mortal for food?”
Victor turned back to her, his officer face was back on again, “Is this your first war Mei?”
Mei sat back and batted her cup back and forth in her hands as she looked down at the table, “Yes, while I’m older than some of my sisters, war hasn’t visited the Celestial Empire in decades, if not centuries.”
Victor reached out a hand and placed it over one of Mei’s. She froze at his touch, a male cultivator touched her, a lowly cultivator of the second tier. “This is not mine, I have lost count of the small fire-fights and battles I’ve been a part of of my last twenty years. Or the soldiers I have lost.”
Mei blinked, fire-fights, like what he did last night was considered small, she had never seen creatures burn like that, wait, did he say the last twenty years. She cleared her throat, “Um, please excuse this lower cultivators curiosity, but you have been in battles for the last twenty years? You look no older than I at twenty eight seasons, how is that possible?”
Victor removed his hand as Chun brought him a huge portion of porridge, rice, pork sausage, eggs and wine. He looked up to her as she bowed down, “Thank you Chun, you are dismissed. Yeah, I don’t age like other people. Actually, I don’t age at all.”
Chun turned on her heels and nearly sprinted back to the kitchen. She had gotten a small taste of Mei’s killing intent when she glared at the hidden master, while she nearly dropped to her knees, the master didn’t even seem to notice.
Victor popped one of the sausages into his mouth as he watched Mei nearly drop her jaw in astonishment. Victor pointed to his plate, “Would you like one? They are quite good.”
Mei shook her head, “You’re an immortal and you thanked that peasant? Do you care nothing for face?”
Victor looked back as he chewed, “Chun? Yeah, she works hard, least I can do is thank her for her efforts. Someone should do something about the turnips though, they are horrible.”
Mei crossed her arms, “I cannot tell if you are toying with me or not. You have an Imperial accent, one that requires training from birth, you fight as if you are a divinity, and you show appreciation to mortals?”
Victor shrugged, “I’m not a complicated man, I’m just passing through the Empire looking for a way home. Speaking of which, you mentioned the Eternal Empress, would you say she is the most powerful person in the land?”
Mei uncrossed her arms before leaning in, “You mean to tell me you don’t know about the Eternal Empress yet you are hundreds of li into her Empire?”
Victor mixed his eggs and sausage into his rice bowl and then looked despairingly down at the chop sticks. He reached into his dimensional storage and produced a spoon, which to Mei seemed to appear from nowhere and scooped out a portion before taking a bite and pointing at Mei with his spoon. “Well, it’s not grits, but it will do in a pinch. No, I don’t know about the Empress, that’s why I’m asking you, if anyone knows how to get me home it might be your Eternal Empress, so how do I get an audience with her?”
Mei sat back in her chair once more, holding the hand Victor had recently touched under the table, “That might be easier than you think, but you may not like the outcome. I sent ahead to my sect leader one town over and she will be using a calling stone to reach the Imperial Palace, I’m sure they will have questions about the foreigner who is also a hidden master.”
Victor stopped eating and sat back in his own chair, “Ah, you say I may not like the outcome, why is that?”
Mei shrugged, if he didn’t know how things worked she didn’t see the harm in telling him. “The Eternal Empress has been said to be a bit temperamental, particularly to foreigners entering her lands. Yes, she is said to be the wisest in the land, and many millennia old. Her magic defends this land and its people.”
Victor took another slow bite with his spoon, “So she may know how to get me home, or she may try to have me killed. No way to know until I meet her eh?”
Mei nodded before stopping, “Wait, you said she may try to have you killed, not that she would have you killed or kill you.”
Victor grinned at her, “Well, I’m not about to make it easy on her if she tries. Listen, I’ve got some things to get done, so in the mean time, here.” He then presented her with a silver bauble with a red gem in the center that dropped from nothingness into his hand. “Take this with you, and give it to the Empress, it will allow her to communicate with me no matter where I go.”
Mei stared at the piece of exquisite jewelry, it would be worth many fortunes over in the Celestial city, and he just handed it to her? “Wait, I can’t just let you leave, you are a foreigner in our lands, it is my duty to keep a watchful eye on you.”
Victor walked over to the bar where Huang looked nervous and dropped a large pile of copper coins before walking to the door.
Mei stood, kicking the chair behind her and stomped towards the exit only to see the hidden master take flight again on wings of fire. This time he did not stop at the bell tower, but continued to fly towards the mountains. “Damn that man to the divinities she shouted as even she lost sight of him in the clouds.”
______________________
“Activate camouflage mode.” Victor spoke into his helmet as his armor took on the the colors surrounding him. It wouldn’t fool anyone close up, but from the distance he was from the village now he doubted even the cultivators could make him out from the sky.
With any luck, Mei would get that communicator back to the Empress, who might know how to get him home. In the mean time though, he reached into his dimensional storage and brought out a satellite probe. He had used the full capacitor load on his jump jets and was still eighteen thousand meters up, more than enough for the probe to reach geosynchronous orbit.
After launching it he looked for a good patch of ground to land. He found one at the base of a mountain range, it even came with a mountain stream. Firing his retro-rockets he landed soft enough and sat on a particularly smooth boulder.
His heads up display showed him his probe had reached geosynchronous orbit and was gathering data. “Well, this is going to take some time.” He thought to himself as he ordered his AI to split his armor. To anyone else watching this would have probably been horrifying as the scout armor appeared to break apart and separate into two halves joined together by a hinge.
Victor took a sniff of himself and groaned, “Good thing the suit is sealed, being in that thing for almost two days and I am ripe!” He thought as he found a nice place in the woods to relieve himself in a way he couldn’t with his armor on.
After that he removed the boxers he wore in his scout armor and placed them on the boulder and stepped across the pebbled beach into the stream. He instantly regretted it, gene-mods or not, a mountain stream in the fall is still cold! After washing as best he could he walked back to his armor, reached into his dimensional storage, produced a towel and fresh boxers and dried off while sunning himself on his rock.
His AI sounded in his inner ear. IMMEDIATE AREA SURVEY COMPLETE.
He kicked off his boulder and climbed back into his now somewhat aired out armor and checked out the results. A mountain in this range was nearly perfect for his needs, abundant metal and mineral deposits, and a valley with a small but very useful petroleum reserve, as well as some natural gas deposits, although those were less than 6% on the scan.
Victor checked that his jump jets capacitor were sufficiently charged and set his jump vector for a somewhat flat ridge three quarters of the way up the mountain, just below the snow caps. Four minutes later, he landed, staring at a nearly sheer cliff face that raised up the mountain another 20 meters above him.
He reached into dimensional storage and retrieved a mining laser. These were a bit expensive, but necessary to start any good mining operation. Mining drones were not good at starting a mining shaft. Oh, it could be done, but it was usually done slowly and crudely. Best to set the aperture to four meters square and crank up the power.
The laser had a magazine of some miracle crystal that put out about ten seconds of power before it was exhausted and was then discarded. He squeezed the trigger and watched as the sheer rock face before him seemed to literally disintegrate as the shaft began to deepen to a depth of about four meters in.
The laser chimed and ejected the magazine as the barrel smoked from the immense heat it had just endured. Victor carefully sat down the mining laser and opened his dimensional storage once more to bring out four mining drones, two forge spiders, and four scout drones.
He set the mining drones to work digging into the mine shaft with gusto the seven dwarfs could never match. Then turned his attention to the scout drones, he sent them off in a patrol pattern to watch over the mountain for any sign of trespassers. Then he remembered the satellite and set it to watch over his piece of paradise as well.
He also thought about retracing his helmet but the temperature outside was just above freezing and decided it best to have a seat and wait a bit for the mining drones to get some work done. On a whim he checked his database, yup, there were 86 different versions of Snow White, might as well pick the Disney one from antiquity, he’d never seen it anyways.
One hour and twenty three minutes later the film was over, and his mining drones and forge spiders had deepened the shaft another five meters. A small pile of ingots had been dropped off by the spiders, the air around them giving off a small mirage effect from the heat they radiated.
Computer, have the nano-forge produce proper steel doors, tracts, motors, and security to cover the dimensions of this shaft. The AI took measurements, produced the adjusted prints, sent them to Victor for approval, then started crafting the necessary materials. Then Victor’s stomach growled.
Sighing, he went over to the pile of fresh ingots, some iron, some copper, others tin and silver.
Retracing his helm he found that although the temperature hovered around 2 degrees celsius, near the ingots it was quite a bit warmer, if you didn’t mind the metallic smell, which it didn’t. Reaching into dimensional storage he found his ration stash, while he had hoped this would be what he would use to fashion himself a life after he left the Imperial Guard, there was a chance he would never get home.
“Resources are there to be used.” He quoted to himself as he took a bite from a bar he hoped wasn’t made from corpo-starch, but as it had no ingredient list he had no way of knowing. Finishing his ration bar, the densely caloric and extremely nutrient bar would play havoc with his bowels later. He noted getting living quarters up soon would be a really good idea.
He slid his helm back into place, “Computer, have the mining drones level off and begin to dig a cavern to fit the small hab module in dimensional storage, have them oversize it by a meter on all sides, I want some clearance when I bring this out of storage.”
The AI complied and he watched his mini-map on his hud as the drones turned ninety degrees and started opening up a new cavern. A few minutes later, the computer chimed to let him know the doors were complete and ready for installation.
A good thing he had his scout armor, these doors were five centimeters thick and three meters high and wide. They weighed almost four tons a piece, which was right at the limit of what his power armor was capable of. Pulling out the necessary tools he installed the tracts above and below, then setup the motor controls before pulling the doors out of storage and setting them into the tracks.
After testing and adjustment he was satisfied that not only were they very secure, they even seemed to blend in well with the sheer cliff wall. “Not a bad job if I do say so myself.” Victor said as he began setting up production orders for ventilation, water drainage, and lighting with his AI to start construction while he waited for the chamber to be completed.
A full six hours later and several movies of varying degrees of watchfulness, his computer chimed letting him know the new cavern was complete and the mining drones were continuing their downward path towards the more dense metal reserves deeper in the mountain.
He stood, stretched his back, and ordered the massive steel doors to open, walking the gently sloping shaft down the ten meters to the new cavern. The walls were smooth and the entrance seemed just about right for the habitats air lock door to fit flush with the mining shaft.
A few minutes later and a loud bang as the habitat module appeared from dimensional space and then found that gravity existed again, slamming it the few centimeters to the floor of the cavern. “Oops!” Victor said to himself hoping he didn’t break anything.
Nothing appeared to be damaged, after all, these habs were basically mini-bunkers designed for anything from death worlds to deep space mining. Fifteen meters on each side and four meters high, it gave him an excellent respite from the world around him. Indoor plumbing, central heating and air, entertainment center, kitchen, bath, and a bed.
He entered the habitat and sealed the airlock to the mine shaft. The internal temperature of the hab read twenty one degrees celsius, so he shed his armor, placed it in the airlock rack and connected it to the habitat’s power and computer system before opening the inner airlock.
“Home sweet home, at least until I find a way back." Then he thought about it, would the Guard blame him for the transmat accident? Sure he lied about having anything on him in dimensional storage but he knew guys who smuggled things around all the time and something like this never happened to them. "Hope I don’t look at a court martial if I ever to get back home for going AWOL or some such bullshit.” He muttered as he headed for the shower. That mountain stream was freezing!
______________________
“What to you mean he flew away?” Shihan looked at Mei from across her desk.
Mei shifted uncomfortably in the rickety chair that sat across from the elder cultivator in front of her. The room was also cold, and Shihan had set the desk low so that she could sit on the kang and keep warm while others had to endure. “He said he had important matters to attend to and flew away on wings of fire.”
Shihan shook her head, “Lazy eggs, all of you. We lost seven Iron Paw warriors in your battle three days ago, and probably would have lost you all if not for this hidden master. I have reached out to the the sect mistress who will be informing the royal court at this weeks meeting with the Empress. Do you have anything else to report?”
Mei nodded and set the jeweled bauble on the desk in front of the elder sect leader, “The hidden master, Victor Cane presented me with this. He stated to give it to the Empress and they would be able to communicate no matter the distance.”
The older lady stared at the priceless looking item before slowly looking back up to Mei, “I feel no chi coming from this item, how could it possibly do what he says. Even our best calling stones can barely reach three hundred li, how could this tiny broach communicate anywhere?”
Mei had thought long on this, “I do not know mistress, however, I do know that not once did I feel any chi from this hidden master either. I believe it is his cultivation technique, as he must use near perfect yang energy to power his creations. Can you detect pure yang, head mistress?”
Shihan shook her head, “I cannot my student, for that is only in the realm of the highest levels of male cultivation, and to my knowledge, no male alive can use pure yang energy, hence why they are inherently weaker as they cultivate some yang and some yin, their meridians are out of balance.”
Mei nodded, this was the same conclusion she had reached as well, “I watched him create multiple items from thin air, some for weapons, one was a simple soup spoon, we know most men use their cultivation for crafting, perhaps this hidden master is so adept at it he uses pure yang energy that we simply cannot sense.”
Shihan’s eyes widened with the implications, “That means he would appear as just a normal mortal until he decided to act, just as he did in your report.” She then looked down at the silver jeweled broach that sat on the desk. “The craftsmanship of this object is superb, its gem is absolutely flawless, I have never seen silversmithing so pure. Were this not to be sent to the Empress its sale would keep the Iron Paw clans coffers full for seasons on end.”
She sighed, “No, we cannot abandon our duty, I will send this item to the Empress herself, and as this Victor Cane had entrusted you with it, I feel that you should be the one to deliver it to her yourself.”
Mei gasped before bowing, “I will not fail you head mistress.”
Shihan sat back on her cushions enjoying the warmth of the kang under her, “See to it that you do not, for the Empress does not take kindly to fools who waste her time.”
2023.06.04 20:25 RM_Official_Thread [Post Match Thread] Real Madrid vs Ath Bilbao (LaLiga - Round 38)
LaLiga - Round 38
Real Madrid 1-1 Ath Bilbao
Real Madrid: 72' 1 - 1Benzema K. (Penalty)Ath Bilbao: 49' 0 - 1Sancet O.
Match Info
Kickoff: 04-06-2023 18:30 CESTCompetition: LaLiga - Round 38
Referee: Diaz de Mera I. (Esp)
Venue:Estadio Santiago Bernabéu (Madrid)
Attendance:60 781
Lineups
Substituted players
Real Madrid: Asensio M., Tchouameni A., Modric L., LucasAth Bilbao: Berenguer A., Zarraga O., Vencedor U., Garcia R., Muniain I.
Starting Lineups
Real Madrid: Courtois T. (G), Carvajal D., Militao E., Rudiger A., Fernandez N., Camavinga E., Kroos T., Ceballos D., Rodrygo, Benzema K. (C), Vinicius JuniorAth Bilbao: Simon U. (G), de Marcos O. (C), Vivian D., Paredes A., Berchiche Y., Herrera A., Vesga M., Williams I., Sancet O., Williams N., Guruzeta G.
Substitutes
Real Madrid: Alaba D., Diaz M., Hazard E., Lunin A. (G), Mendy F., Odriozola A., Vallejo J., Valverde F.Ath Bilbao: Agirrezabala J. (G), Ares Djalo M. A., Balenziaga M., Bita Jr. W., Capa A., Gomez U., Lekue I.
Missing Players
*Real Madrid:Ath Bilbao: Alvarez Y. (Injury), Garcia D. (Knee Injury), Martinez I. (Muscle Injury), Morcillo J. (Broken collarbone)
Coaches
Real Madrid: Ancelotti C.Ath Bilbao: Valverde E.
Match Events
| Minute | Event |
|---|---|
| 90+6' | The match has just finished. |
| 90+2' | Substitution. Marco Asensio will be replaced by Lucas Vazquez (Real Madrid). |
| 89' | Chance! Rodrygo (Real Madrid) comes within inches of scoring after picking up a pass from Rodrygo, but his shot from inside the box flashes just over the bar. The ball is off of the pitch and it's a goal kick for Ath Bilbao. |
| 87' | Vinicius Junior (Real Madrid) goes down in the box after a challenge from the defender. Possibly unsighted, the referee just waves play on. |
| 85' | Daniel Carvajal (Real Madrid) is booked after bringing down an opponent. Isidro Diaz de Mera had an easy-decision to make. |
| 79' | The assistant referee raises his flag and the referee blows his whistle. Vinicius Junior (Real Madrid) puts the ball into the net, but he is flagged for offside. |
| 78' | Iker Muniain (Ath Bilbao) places a shot from the edge of the box towards the right side of the goal, but Thibaut Courtois makes a terrific save to deny him. Nice play all round! |
| 77' | The referee stops play so that a substitution can be made and Raul Garcia (Ath Bilbao) comes onto the pitch for Gorka Guruzeta. |
| 77' | Ernesto Valverde Tejedor prepares a substitution. Oihan Sancet is replaced by Iker Muniain (Ath Bilbao). |
| 74' | Substitution. Karim Benzema makes way for Luka Modric (Real Madrid). |
| 72' | Goal! Karim Benzema (Real Madrid) puts the penalty low into the middle of the goal and past Unai Simon. |
| 71' | Yuri Berchiche (Ath Bilbao) can't expect anything else than a yellow card for his hard tackle. And a yellow it is. Isidro Diaz de Mera didn't think twice about pulling it out of his pocket. |
| 71' | Yuri Berchiche (Ath Bilbao) makes a strong challenge and Isidro Diaz de Mera blows for a foul. It's a penalty! What an opportunity to score for Real Madrid. |
| 67' | Mikel Vesga is not able to continue due to his injury and will be replaced by Unai Vencedor (Ath Bilbao). |
| 64' | Substitution. Oier Zarraga (Ath Bilbao) on for Inaki Williams. |
| 64' | Substitution. Nico Williams walks off the pitch and Alex Berenguer (Ath Bilbao) comes on as a substitute. |
| 62' | Rodrygo (Real Madrid) breaks into the box and goes over after a challenge from an opposition player, but the ref signals NO penalty! |
| 58' | Here is a change. Daniel Ceballos is going off and Carlo Ancelotti gives the last tactical orders to Marco Asensio (Real Madrid). |
| 58' | Substitution. Aurelien Tchouameni (Real Madrid) receives a signal from the referee and is now allowed to enter the pitch as Eduardo Camavinga walks off. |
| 57' | Isidro Diaz de Mera has issued a yellow card to Oihan Sancet (Ath Bilbao). |
| 57' | He should have scored! Inaki Williams (Ath Bilbao) latches onto a pull back in the box right in front of goal, but his shot low towards the middle of the goal is pretty weak and Thibaut Courtois makes an easy save. |
| 55' | Isidro Diaz de Mera shows a yellow card to Daniel Ceballos (Real Madrid), who isn't surprised as the tackle was really hard and late. |
| 49' | Goal! Oihan Sancet (Ath Bilbao) was in the right place at the right time to get to the rebound inside the box and gleefully rifles the ball into the top of the net. It's 0:1. |
| 49' | Oihan Sancet (Ath Bilbao) receives a precise low pass inside the box, controls the ball and drills it to the middle of the goal, but Thibaut Courtois makes a comfortable save to stop his effort. |
| 46' | The second half gets underway. |
| 45+1' | Isidro Diaz de Mera has ended the first half by blowing the whistle. |
| 45' | Daniel Carvajal (Real Madrid) is first to a cross from Toni Kroos and thunders in a great header at goal from near the penalty spot that flies just over the bar. |
| 31' | A snap shot by Yuri Berchiche (Ath Bilbao) from mid-range towards the middle of the goal catches Thibaut Courtois flat footed, but he somehow recovers and makes a brilliant save. The referee points to the corner flag. It's a corner to Ath Bilbao. |
| 25' | Vinicius Junior (Real Madrid) drives a shot towards the bottom left corner from inside the box, but Unai Simon leaps like a salmon and knocks the ball away. |
| 10' | Mikel Vesga (Ath Bilbao) has a great chance to score from the penalty. He shoots to the left post, but Thibaut Courtois leaps out to thwart his attempt. |
| 10' | The players claim that Toni Kroos (Real Madrid) handled the ball inside the box and it seems they are right. It's a penalty! Great chance to score for Ath Bilbao! |
| 1' | The first half of this match is about to start. |
Match Stats
| Real Madrid | Stats | Ath Bilbao |
|---|---|---|
| 1.64 | Expected Goals (xG)Expected Goals (xG) - the number of goals a certain team or player is expected to score based on the quality and number of shots taken. | 2.26 |
| 64% | Ball Possession | 36% |
| 9 | Goal Attempts | 15 |
| 2 | Shots on Goal | 9 |
| 4 | Shots off Goal | 2 |
| 3 | Blocked Shots | 4 |
| 15 | Free Kicks | 9 |
| 5 | Corner Kicks | 6 |
| 1 | Offsides | 4 |
| 20 | Throw-in | 16 |
| 8 | Goalkeeper Saves | 1 |
| 11 | Fouls | 14 |
| 2 | Yellow Cards | 2 |
| 124 | Attacks | 58 |
| 62 | Dangerous Attacks | 60 |
2023.06.04 18:05 JuanToeFree My feedback post
Since it seems to be a popular format, let me chime in with my own ideas for potential reworks, new features etc.
first, getting breached in a full health ship doesn not feel fair at all, taking any large ship into raid is just begging for trouble as half the map will try to breach into your ship, completely nullifying their utility.
the second issue i have with the current state of space combat is how unrewarding it feels in most cases.
i will not talk about ship and weapon balance as i'm sure the devs have heard everything there is to be said and balancing is forever a WIP.
breaching:
there's been a lot of ideas to "fix" breaching on this sub, the most talked about one is to make it impossible to breach ships until they are damaged enough. a similar but more flexible approach IMO would be to make breaching take time based on the amout of hull left in the ship and it's tier. the players inside the ship would hear a loud drilling sound at the breach spot giving them enough time to prepare an ambush. it might take 20s-30s to breach a full health heavy frigate, or 2s to breach a 15% hp rustbucket. this would achieve the following:
unrewarding dogfights:
winning a dogfights usually results in the ship still standing pelting the downed ship until the players in it pod out, there's really 4 options here:
after shooting their ship for an appropriate amount of time, you have to:
my solution:
Allow us to destroy downed ships. After depleting "hull integrity", give us a second health bar of "system integrity", when it reaches 0, a horn blares in the ship before it blows up killing everyone inside. this achieves the following:
vertical audio pls x)
zero to hero need some adjusting in places but since every second thread is "sas captain where?" i guess the devs are aware of that.
lots of small ergonomics changes to inventory management are needed. filling a large containers with meds takes way longer than it should. i made some suggestions here.
more post raid info would be really nice.
stacking meds. seriously, please allow us to stack meds. so much space is taken by meds, i can hardly loot anything :'(
prestige cost rebalance, 10 prestiges worth of Ps for a 6th hangar bay, is this a joke?
zero to hero probably shouldn't reset on prestige.
Kits:
Kits are packages that may contain any combination and amount of any kind of gear. the default kit is the classic "p08 pouch rig box of 9mm", more kits can be unlocked through questing, fulfilling trade requests, crafting base upgrades, achievements, prestige unlocks, whatever...
In the play screen, under the ship card and above the crew box, add a box for kit selection, with the default kit selected by default every raid.
Every kit outside of the default one costs money.
In raid, on the shelf where you would normally find free gear, you have a box instead that contains your selected kit.
most likely, kits would only be available to the crew's host.
there would be essentially 3 tiers of kits:
low tiers would contain cheap gear, maybe better than the current ship gear, might include sack bags, cheap helmets and a couple bandages, innefective weapons such as the sten, m1a1, various sidearms etc, these would be most useful for early prestige, noobs and broke players with some money in the bank, they would cost between 50-80% of their combined price.
mid tier would contain the better weapons and armors available for sale by the various traders, maybe some modded guns such as the m50, tommy, svt, ppsh, uzis etc, there are more useful for established players who want the convenience, they would cost 150-200% of their combined price.
high tier would contain endgame loadouts for VERY HIGH prices, these would act amongst other things as a cash sink for players currently accumulating millions with nothing to spend it on. is a kit containing a 12-12rig, radio full of meds and a modded bar slightly broken? yes, but what if it cost $750k?
base upgrades:
these would act as a ressource sink and long term goal to work toward.
have a bunch of stations and upgrades be craftable and upgradable, with low tiers beeing various degrees of very cheap, and high tiers beeing various degrees of extremely expensive.
workbench would gate the crafting of most weapons/armors/bags
chem lab for explosives and meds
ammo dump, med cabinet, gun racks, armor racks, hangar bays, crafting chest... would add new tabs in the gear menu, between player inventory and stash inventory, leading to unique stashes designed to store large amount of specific items.
for instance, the ammo dump would, at tier 1 be able to store 600 of every large ammo and 1200 of small ones. double that at tier 2, double again at tier 3.
treasures, treasure mats and supergear:
this is my problem: nothing in this game feels all that rare or valuable, gold bullions, meh, nukes, meh, supply crates, meh... the vaults are kinda worthless, the supply depots are full of crafting mats but i'm not excited about anything craftable.
this is my solution: treasures.
add a new tool, the breaching charge, used to get inside a secure chest found in every vault. that tool however is uncraftable and reasonably rare. (single use obv)
in this chest, have a decent chance to spawn 1-2 items from the trasure lootlist, amongst other high tier gear.
these treasures would include valuables worth A LOT, collectibles that might lead to achievments/quests/insert other features, and most importantly treasure mats.
treasure mats would be combined with a ton of regular materials to craft extremely high end gear that would outperform regular stuff, with the caveat that they would be NON REPAIRABLE.
for instance, say you open a secure chest and find a superpanzer rig blueprint, combine it with 12 reinforced metal, 15 fabric and 20 synthetic scrap to get a 15 armor rig with 3 2*2 pockets and 150-200 durability.
this might sound completely op but it really gets you from 5 bodyshots with an stg to 6 and it does fuck all for you if you get shot in the face or legs.
this achieves the following:
anyway, that's all for now, thanks for reading and let me know what you think.
submitted by JuanToeFree to MaraudersGame [link] [comments]
Part 1: space combat
space combat is just not very fun right now, there's mainly 2 issues.first, getting breached in a full health ship doesn not feel fair at all, taking any large ship into raid is just begging for trouble as half the map will try to breach into your ship, completely nullifying their utility.
the second issue i have with the current state of space combat is how unrewarding it feels in most cases.
i will not talk about ship and weapon balance as i'm sure the devs have heard everything there is to be said and balancing is forever a WIP.
breaching:
there's been a lot of ideas to "fix" breaching on this sub, the most talked about one is to make it impossible to breach ships until they are damaged enough. a similar but more flexible approach IMO would be to make breaching take time based on the amout of hull left in the ship and it's tier. the players inside the ship would hear a loud drilling sound at the breach spot giving them enough time to prepare an ambush. it might take 20s-30s to breach a full health heavy frigate, or 2s to breach a 15% hp rustbucket. this would achieve the following:
- yoloing around the map and breaching a full health ship becomes all but a death sentence.
- The magnitude of a dogfight's victory now matters, if you win without taking much damage, you are pretty much safe from the losers podding into you immediately , however, if you barely win you're still in danger.
- It opens the possibility to add different types of breachpods to different ships, or ship customization if it comes back such as pods that drill faster, pods that drill silently, pods that drop a flash or a nade seconds before breaching etc...
- as a mainly solo player i often leave the periscope just after getting breached, wich means i have zero sound info on breach location, while my opponent knows exactly where i am, this reverses that.
- synchronized breaching from a team remains a threat, but a diminished one.
- zero impact on breaching disabled ships.
- it gives solos a chance to fight against the disgusting strat of 1 breacher, 1 shooter by hopefully giving us time to deal with the ship before the breacher makes it in.
unrewarding dogfights:
winning a dogfights usually results in the ship still standing pelting the downed ship until the players in it pod out, there's really 4 options here:
- they pod out and breach you (see above)
- they pod out and leave (x fewer players to worry about)
- they pod out and you kill them (best case scenario atm)
- they stay in. this is the part that currently feels really wrong.
after shooting their ship for an appropriate amount of time, you have to:
- leave commands
- run to the pods, sit through the animation
- find their ship, get there, breach it
- optionnaly die because they were wearing heavy pilot armor, went through a whole pharmacy and ambushed you at the breach point
- otherwise, run around until you find their bodies
- loot what you can, usually ship gear, occasionally good gear you can't really carry
- run to the pods, sit through the animation
- find your ship if it's still here and intact, get there, breach it
- run back to the commands
my solution:
Allow us to destroy downed ships. After depleting "hull integrity", give us a second health bar of "system integrity", when it reaches 0, a horn blares in the ship before it blows up killing everyone inside. this achieves the following:
- it is no longer possible to wait forever inside a burning destroyed ship to ambush the winner of a dogfight.
- you can get your spoils much faster and safer by simply salvaging the ship
- you can add some material rewards to space combat by adding to the salvage crates some materials based on the destroyed ship craft cost.
part 2: QOL
obviously the game is very buggy and fixes are a priority, but i'm not going to get into that here.vertical audio pls x)
zero to hero need some adjusting in places but since every second thread is "sas captain where?" i guess the devs are aware of that.
lots of small ergonomics changes to inventory management are needed. filling a large containers with meds takes way longer than it should. i made some suggestions here.
more post raid info would be really nice.
stacking meds. seriously, please allow us to stack meds. so much space is taken by meds, i can hardly loot anything :'(
prestige cost rebalance, 10 prestiges worth of Ps for a 6th hangar bay, is this a joke?
zero to hero probably shouldn't reset on prestige.
part 3: base upgrades, "kits" and supergear
this part is 100% imaginary features, i'm just spitballing ideas here.
Kits:
Kits are packages that may contain any combination and amount of any kind of gear. the default kit is the classic "p08 pouch rig box of 9mm", more kits can be unlocked through questing, fulfilling trade requests, crafting base upgrades, achievements, prestige unlocks, whatever...
In the play screen, under the ship card and above the crew box, add a box for kit selection, with the default kit selected by default every raid.
Every kit outside of the default one costs money.
In raid, on the shelf where you would normally find free gear, you have a box instead that contains your selected kit.
most likely, kits would only be available to the crew's host.
there would be essentially 3 tiers of kits:
low tiers would contain cheap gear, maybe better than the current ship gear, might include sack bags, cheap helmets and a couple bandages, innefective weapons such as the sten, m1a1, various sidearms etc, these would be most useful for early prestige, noobs and broke players with some money in the bank, they would cost between 50-80% of their combined price.
mid tier would contain the better weapons and armors available for sale by the various traders, maybe some modded guns such as the m50, tommy, svt, ppsh, uzis etc, there are more useful for established players who want the convenience, they would cost 150-200% of their combined price.
high tier would contain endgame loadouts for VERY HIGH prices, these would act amongst other things as a cash sink for players currently accumulating millions with nothing to spend it on. is a kit containing a 12-12rig, radio full of meds and a modded bar slightly broken? yes, but what if it cost $750k?
base upgrades:
these would act as a ressource sink and long term goal to work toward.
have a bunch of stations and upgrades be craftable and upgradable, with low tiers beeing various degrees of very cheap, and high tiers beeing various degrees of extremely expensive.
workbench would gate the crafting of most weapons/armors/bags
chem lab for explosives and meds
ammo dump, med cabinet, gun racks, armor racks, hangar bays, crafting chest... would add new tabs in the gear menu, between player inventory and stash inventory, leading to unique stashes designed to store large amount of specific items.
for instance, the ammo dump would, at tier 1 be able to store 600 of every large ammo and 1200 of small ones. double that at tier 2, double again at tier 3.
treasures, treasure mats and supergear:
this is my problem: nothing in this game feels all that rare or valuable, gold bullions, meh, nukes, meh, supply crates, meh... the vaults are kinda worthless, the supply depots are full of crafting mats but i'm not excited about anything craftable.
this is my solution: treasures.
add a new tool, the breaching charge, used to get inside a secure chest found in every vault. that tool however is uncraftable and reasonably rare. (single use obv)
in this chest, have a decent chance to spawn 1-2 items from the trasure lootlist, amongst other high tier gear.
these treasures would include valuables worth A LOT, collectibles that might lead to achievments/quests/insert other features, and most importantly treasure mats.
treasure mats would be combined with a ton of regular materials to craft extremely high end gear that would outperform regular stuff, with the caveat that they would be NON REPAIRABLE.
for instance, say you open a secure chest and find a superpanzer rig blueprint, combine it with 12 reinforced metal, 15 fabric and 20 synthetic scrap to get a 15 armor rig with 3 2*2 pockets and 150-200 durability.
this might sound completely op but it really gets you from 5 bodyshots with an stg to 6 and it does fuck all for you if you get shot in the face or legs.
this achieves the following:
- makes high loot area high loot again
- killing that one superchad makes you feel like a kid at christmas
- ressource sink due to very high crafting cost
- get back those "i HAVE to make it out alive" moments
- possibility to add true gg gear without it ending up everywhere immediately due to high crafting cost and high rarity of the treasure mats
anyway, that's all for now, thanks for reading and let me know what you think.
2023.06.04 15:51 FennelSuperb7633 Luxe 2BR/2BA Apartment in Brookland – Pet-Friendly, and Possibly Furnished! Lease Takeover Opportunity 💼🏊♀️🐾🏡.
I have a beautiful and almost brand new 2 bed, 2 bath apartment in Brookland, available for you to move in between mid-June and September 1st. If you fall in love with the place, you have the option to extend the lease with the apartment management. It's 1002 sqft and in a brand-new building with a fitness center you'd actually want to use, a coworking space, a rooftop lounge, and a pool for the summer! Plus, it's a 6-min walk from the metro, and there are grocery stores and pharmacies just around the corner.
The apartment itself has a designer kitchen (think luxe quartz countertops, soft close 42” upper cabinets, and energy-efficient stainless-steel appliances) and a smart in-unit washer and dryer. There's a built-in workstation for all your WFH needs, and it's pet-friendly. If you're interested, we can even chat about a price to leave it furnished for you. It's also energy efficient. I barely turned the heat on in the winter, and it's quiet. My Pepco bill averaged about $80 in the winter. Leave a comment or DM me.However, the pictures do not reflect the current state of the apartment, so bear in mind that the beauty lies in its luxurious finishes and not in the displayed furnishings.
The current lease terms have the rent at $3095 plus utilities. If you're interested, we can even chat about leaving the furniture for you. For a better look, check out the apartment at: https://listings.peek.us/viewer?token=60c8e9de7f29c30daa1d3fc1&display=f
Feel free to leave a comment or DM me if you are interested or have any further queries.
submitted by FennelSuperb7633 to DCforRent [link] [comments]
The apartment itself has a designer kitchen (think luxe quartz countertops, soft close 42” upper cabinets, and energy-efficient stainless-steel appliances) and a smart in-unit washer and dryer. There's a built-in workstation for all your WFH needs, and it's pet-friendly. If you're interested, we can even chat about a price to leave it furnished for you. It's also energy efficient. I barely turned the heat on in the winter, and it's quiet. My Pepco bill averaged about $80 in the winter. Leave a comment or DM me.However, the pictures do not reflect the current state of the apartment, so bear in mind that the beauty lies in its luxurious finishes and not in the displayed furnishings.
The current lease terms have the rent at $3095 plus utilities. If you're interested, we can even chat about leaving the furniture for you. For a better look, check out the apartment at: https://listings.peek.us/viewer?token=60c8e9de7f29c30daa1d3fc1&display=f
Feel free to leave a comment or DM me if you are interested or have any further queries.
2023.06.04 15:34 ARSENAL_DAILYNEWS Arsenal 2022/23 Season Review.
Arsenal 22/23 A Season Review Part 1 Of 3: August-World Cup: A Stunning Start.
The 2022/23 season is Mikel Arteta’s 3rd full campaign in charge of Arsenal and as well the 3rd of his managerial career. His 1st game in the hot seat came on Boxing Day of 2019, a 1-1 draw at Bournemouth which saw Arsenal drop down a place to 12th in the table. Just a few months into his reign and Arteta was the first high-profile figure in English Football to be diagnosed with Covid-19, the virus which drew the Premier League to a standstill for 3 months and the wider world for a much longer time. It was to empty stadiums which Arsenal played out the remainder of their season which eventually concluded on the 1st of August. An 8th-placed finish was the club’s lowest since 1995. However, there was joy to be found as there so often has been for Arsenal, in the FA Cup. In the one and only Covid FA Cup Final played in front of no spectators Arsenal came from behind to defeat London rivals Chelsea for their record-extending 14th FA Cup, after reaching the final with an unlikely triumph over Manchester City in the semis. Arteta’s first half-season had ended brilliantly and his first full-season started in the same vein with more silverware following as Arsenal defeated Premier League Champions Liverpool to win the Community Shield. Tough times quickly followed and Arteta may have been somewhat grateful for the empty stadiums, as it’s questionable whether the board would have held their nerve and kept faith with such a young manager through this dreadful period had the fans been inside the ground and able to voice their frustrations. On Boxing Day of 2020, not only did Mikel celebrate the 1 year anniversary of his first match in charge, he celebrated a 3-1 victory over Chelsea, his side's first league win for nearly 2 months. It was the first time Saka, Martinelli & Smith Rowe all started a league game together for Arsenal. It was to prove a seminal moment, but it wasn’t enough to move his team up from 15th in the table. It was never so bad again for Arteta and his Arsenal team, with the side eventually settling for a repeat of the previous season’s finish, again coming in 8th. Failure to win the Europa League (exiting the competition to Villarreal in the Semi-Finals, who were incidentally managed by Unai Emery, the manager sacked prior to Arteta taking the job) meant that Arsenal would be without European football for the first time since the 95-96 campaign. And the 21-22 season would begin horribly with Arsenal bottom after 3 matches in which they failed to score and conceded 9 goals. However as the season progressed Arsenal began to find some resilience, quality and self-belief. The sides upheaval came not coincidentally around the time club captain Aubameyang was stripped of that duty before being allowed to depart for Barcelona in the January window. Aubameyang had been the team’s standout performer when winning the FA Cup, but since those performances had seen him rewarded with a new bumper contract which made him by far the club’s best-paid player, his attitude and performance level had become a problem that needed to be dealt with.
More so than any win, it was actually a home defeat to Champions City which perhaps best demonstrated this new Arsenal which was beginning to emerge. They took City on and pushed them all the way only to eventually lose in the 93rd minute, whilst being a man down for the final half-hour with centre-back Gabriel being harshly dismissed. The fight was on with local rivals Tottenham for the final Champions League spot and it was firmly in Arsenal’s hands until a run of 4 defeats in 5 allowed Spurs back into contention. The Gunners appeared to retake control with a run of 4 straight wins before losing tamely away at Spurs and then Newcastle, in the end missing out by 2 points. Throughout the season Arsenal had spells of real high-quality football, and the fans had taken to the project with more passion and belief than they had in the final years of Wenger’s reign or during Unai Emery’s short-lived stint. In the end, though they missed out on the prize of Champions League football due to a combination of injuries to important players and the inexperience of a young group.
Despite the significant setback of missing out on a Champions League spot having held it in their hands for many of the season’s final months, Arsenal still entered the summer of 2022 with plenty of reasons for optimism. Bukayo Saka and Emile Smith Rowe had emerged as the real breakout stars of the prior season and Gabriel Martinelli wasn’t too far behind. There had been some clearly smart signings made by the club, in particular, those of Martin Ødegaard and Ben White, signed from Real Madrid and Brighton & Hove Albion respectively. The July purchases of Gabriel Jesus and Oleksandr Zinchenko for a combined 75M from Manchester City seemed yet more smart business, in them, they had picked up two quality players with four Premier League winners medals each, and both arriving aged 25 they seemed in the perfect age bracket to become big players for Arsenal not just for the immediate but as well the foreseeable future.
Jesus’ Arsenal debut came in a 5-3 friendly win over FC Nurnberg in which he scored twice. He followed this up with another in a 2-0 win over Everton as Arsenal continued their pre-season with a tour of the USA. Arsenal played 3 matches in America and won all 3, by far the most impressive being a 4-0 trouncing of Chelsea. The Gunners made it 5 pre-season wins from 5 when they returned home the following weekend to beat Sevilla 6-0 at the Emirates, a hattrick from Jesus meaning he had netted 7 goals in his first 5 appearances in Arsenal colours. Arsenal would get the Premier League season underway away at Crystal Palace, under the Friday night lights of Selhurst Park. No Premier League side would have envied them this difficult fixture, Arsenal had experienced just how tough it was 4 months prior when a 3-0 loss away at the ground began a torrid run of results for the Gunners. Arsenal had also begun the previous season away on a Friday night and come unstuck against newly promoted Brentford. Again Arsenal was straight back under the Premier League spotlight to see whether they had grown and matured from such damaging defeats last season. The Arsenal quickly proved they were up to the test, starting right on the front foot and keeping Palace penned back in their own third. Jesus immediately highlighted the new dimension he was going to bring to Arsenal’s attack, when his strength and then neat dribbling fashioned a great chance out of nothing, a chance Martinelli should have done much better with, his side-foot finish going the wrong side of the post with the goal gaping. The Brazilian would make up for it in the 20th minute when a corner was headed into the six-yard box by Zinchenko, who was picked out by Saka to deliver a free header. His head found Martinelli’s and from close range, he was able to notch Arsenal’s first of the league campaign. That was to be the only goal in the game for the next hour, but despite Arsenal’s slender lead they rarely looked in danger of being pegged back. On the instances that keeper Aaron Ramsdale was called into action, he was ready and dealt with Palace’s occasional threats soundly. The game was put beyond Crystal Palace in the 85th minute when Bukayo Saka’s dangerous ball across the six-yard box was headed into his own net by Guehi. This made certain of 3 richly deserved points for the Gunners.
Jamie Carragher for one was particularly impressed with the start Arsenal made to the game saying afterwards: “Arsenal played like a big team. When I say a big team, I’m talking about a Man City or Liverpool, a team who wherever they go, dominate the opposition. I felt like we were watching City or Liverpool in that first 20 minutes, half an hour.” Fellow Sky Sports pundit Gary Neville was more impressed with Arsenal in the second half saying: “The question mark about Arsenal will be whether they’ve got that robustness and resilience, physicality to get through that difficult 15 or 20 minute periods in away matches, and they got through that (tonight) and that impressed me.” Saliba was also singled out for praise with Carragher adding: “He looked the real deal. He adds something, we’ve always felt they were weak, at Brentford last season they got bullied and here last season, his physical stature will certainly help them in tough away games.”
Arsenal’s first home league game of the season was against Leicester City. The opening goal began with Jesus tormenting Johnny Evans tight to the touchline, after beating him he fed Martinelli who was able to get into the penalty area and find Xhaka, the Swiss international touched it first time back into Jesus who took a touch to steady himself then teased it over the head of Ward in the Leicester goal and into the net. It was an angle he had no right to try from, let alone score from but such was the Brazilian forwards confidence in front of the goal he fancied his chances from anywhere. The goal was nominated for Premier League goal of the month. Jesus got his second to double Arsenal’s advantage in the 35th minute, this time in a much simpler fashion. A corner across the six-yard box was not dealt with, a Leicester head on it only sped up its path to Jesus who was waiting to nod home from practically on the goal line.
Later in the first half, Leicester thought they had a way back into the game when referee Darren England pointed to the spot having judged Ramsdale to have brought down Jamie Vardy. However VAR advised him to check the monitor, and after re-watching the incident it was clear there was no contact made and the penalty decision was reversed. Leicester did still manage to half their deficit early in the second half though, a long ball was flicked on leaving Saliba in a difficult situation to deal with. Ramsdale was advancing but wouldn’t get there first and Vardy was waiting on the French defender’s shoulder, leaving him no alternative but to try and head the ball clear whilst facing his own goal. He only succeeded in diverting it into the net. This could have been a moment when the Arsenal crowd got nervous and frustrated. They had allowed a soft goal and their youngest defender was at fault. However the crowd immediately rallied behind Saliba and his teammates, he and the team needed help putting that mistake behind them and the crowd’s noise in the aftermath of conceding will have been reassuring to the players.
Demonstrating this, Arsenal went straight up the other end and scored, Ward made a meal of a cross, dropping it at the feet of Jesus who squared for Xhaka. The Swiss midfielder was being deployed in a new, more adventurous role where he was spending more time in the opposition box, he got his reward for this new tactic with a simple tap-in from right in front of the goal. Leicester would again reduce the home team’s lead to one however when Iheanacho found Maddison, who was able to shoot straight through Ramsdale. The young English keeper will have been disappointed at being so easily beaten from such an angle, his wide-open legs presenting the opportunity to the Leicester midfielder. Again Arsenal immediately responded to the setback by going up the other end and scoring again. This move began with Martinelli winning the ball back and feeding Ødegaard who moved the ball on to Jesus, who carried it forward before finding Martinelli who shot low from outside the box, he beat the outstretched Ward and hit the bottom corner, with the ball hitting the inside of the post on its way in. It had been a good day at the office for Arsenal and a great day for Gabriel Jesus, though despite scoring 2 and assisting the other 2 of Arsenal’s 4 goals, according to his manager Jesus left the field disappointed because: “he thinks he should have scored 4, that’s the sort of mentality you need. I wouldn’t like to play against him. He’s so mobile, intuitive, sharp and proactive in any moment or phase of the game.”
Arsenal next travelled to newly promoted Bournemouth. It took The Gunners just 5 minutes to take the lead and again it came from the phenomenal centre-forward play of Gabriel Jesus. A loose touch from White saw the ball launch high into the air, the Brazilian reacted first, beautifully controlling the ball whilst at the same time using his considerable body strength to hold off the Bournemouth midfielder, with exceptional balance he then dribbled around two other Bournemouth shirts until he was on the edge of the box facing their defence, with a lovely disguised pass he then fed Martinelli who was free to his left, his shot was saved but it fell straight at the feet of new captain Martin Ødegaard who was on hand to notch his first of the season. Rightfully though the praise went to Jesus with commentator Alan Smith saying: “You won’t see a better example of centre forward play than this.”
Ødegaard had to wait just 6 more minutes for his second of the season, a cross along the floor from White found Jesus who was free, his first touch wasn’t the best but it allowed it to set up nicely for the Norwegian to strike first time, which he duly did and the ball flashed into the net. Early in the second half and Arsenal had a third goal, with Xhaka setting it back to Saliba just inside the penalty area. Saliba struck it beautifully the first time, keeping his shot down under the bar and too perfectly placed for the keeper to do anything about. It was just Saliba’s second goal in senior football but he had finished it with the class and composure of a player who had scored 200. The strike drew Zinchenko to his knees, clutching his head in disbelief at the quality of the finish and unsurprisingly it was voted as Arsenal’s goal of the month. Jesus thought he’d netted Arsenal’s 4th but a VAR check ruled the goal out for offside, so the North Londoners had to settle for a 3-0 win in what had been an excellent away performance.
The Arsenal faced more newly promoted opposition the following week, this time back at home against Fulham for Arteta’s 100th Premier League game in charge. They would be without Zinchenko and Partey who had picked up injuries and were replaced by Tierney and Elneny respectively. The best chance of the first half went to Saka who got beyond his marker to face Leno one-against one, but he was unable to beat the keeper. It would be Fulham who took the lead however with Arsenal falling behind for the first time in the season. From the full-back position, Saka flighted a ball into Gabriel, who unnecessarily played himself into trouble. He never seemed to have the ball truly under his spell, and his second touch invited Mitrovic to try and take it off him, the defender then got his body positioning wrong, and failed to protect the ball allowing the forward to nick it from behind him and then the Serb was able to keep his composure and finish past Ramsdale.
Fulham’s lead lasted just 8 minutes, Martin Ødegaard lodging Arsenal’s response. There was a degree of good fortune about the goal, with a big deflection on the strike. But there was no doubt the Norwegian had deserved it, he was having an outstanding game with all of Arsenal’s danger coming through him. He was constantly creating, with inventive passes and dribbling runs. In this instance, a clever stepover had bought him the space for the shot. Ødegaard continued to lead Arsenal’s push for a winner with he, in particular, deserving to be on the winning side, and the winner did come though not until the 86th minute. Leno failed to deal with a corner, missing his attempted punch clearance and the ball fell at the feet of Gabriel who was able to gain the perfect redemption for his earlier error by securing all 3 points for his side. The goal kept Arsenal at the top of the Premier League as they remained the only team with a 100% record.
Arsenal finished August with another home game, facing Steven Gerrard’s Aston Villa. This presented Arsenal with a chance to win their opening 5 league games for the first time since 2004. Saka passed up a golden opportunity to give Arsenal the ideal start when Martinelli’s cross found him completely free at the back post, it was set up perfectly for Saka to hit on the volley, which he did but he got too under the ball and lifted it horribly high and wide from inside the six-yard box. An Arsenal opening goal felt inevitable however and it came on the half-hour mark when Emi Martinez could only push out an Xhaka shot as far as Gabriel Jesus, who was on hand to punish him. Martinez did go someway to redeeming himself later in the half with an excellent stop to deny a brilliant half-volley from Martinelli from 25 yards out.
Arsenal dominated the first half and continued their domination in the second but could not increase their advantage, it was instead Aston Villa who got the second goal of the game, in a somewhat controversial fashion. A corner from Douglas Luiz went straight into the net with Ramsdale unable to reach the ball due to his path being completely blocked by Kamara, who also limited the keepers’ movement by having both arms wrapped around his back. The goal stood but Arsenal cancelled it out in their own way, by going straight up the Villa end and retaking the lead. Saka coolly picked out Martinelli who struck it the first time on the half volley, Martinez clawed desperately at the ball but could not prevent it from going over his goal line and The Gunners were able to see the victory out. Arsenal’s player of the month was unsurprisingly Gabriel Jesus with 3 goals and 3 assists in 5 games. Arsenal’s maximum points after 5 games saw Mikel Arteta pick up Premier League manager of the month.
Arsenal started September with a chance to go 4 points clear of City in 2nd, after just six games. Standing in their way was Manchester United who would be hosting the Gunners at Old Trafford, a ground Arsenal had only won at once in the league since 2006, that one as well being without fans during the Covid season. Arsenal was boosted by the return of Zinchenko but had to start with their 3rd choice midfielder Sambi Lokonga for the Partey role after Elneny had followed the Ghanaian onto the treatment table. Regardless of the blow, Arsenal appeared to have made the ideal start when Saka threaded the needle and put Martinelli clean through on goal. The Brazilian finished brilliantly to give Arsenal the lead, but VAR advised the referee to have a look at a potential foul in the build-up. On review, the referee judged Ødegaard to have won the ball from Eriksen unfairly and chalked the goal off. The intervention made by Lee Mason on VAR was later judged by a Premier League review to be an incorrect one, the minimal contact not penalised in real-time by the ref was judged not to be a clear or obvious error. The review came too little and too late as far as Arsenal were concerned as they’d lost their lead and instead found themselves trailing at half-time after a good move from United culminated in a debut goal for Antony who finished past Ramsdale.
VAR’s intervention in the Arsenal goal was always likely to prove a vital one as remarkably United had not lost at Old Trafford when leading at half-time since 1984. This showed the size of Arsenal’s task going into the second half, but they continued to probe and ask questions of United and they got their equaliser on the hour mark when the ball broke to Saka in the penalty area after Ødegaard had looked to thread one through to Jesus. United dealt with that immediate threat but could only clear as far as Saka who slotted through the legs of Martinez for his first of the season. Arsenal looked to be in the ascendancy, but they were only level for 6 minutes. Overcommitting bodies forward left them without a midfield and after winning it back United was able to counter-attack with Bruno Fernandes who looked and found Rashford in behind the defence and he put United back in front. Arteta reacted immediately by looking to chase the game, giving a debut to summer recruit Fabio Vieira. The changes appeared to backfire however as Arsenal were left with even fewer defensive bodies on the field and in the 75th minute they were cut through once more, with Eriksen and Rashford both left in acres of space as United hit Arsenal once more on the counter-attack. It was a horrible goal for Arsenal to concede, it reminded of the worst years of Wenger with everyone so committed to attacking they had no thought for defending. Arsenal suffered their first defeat of the season going down 3-1.
There were some positives to take in how confidently and capably they had passed the ball around, however, United had defended their penalty area very well and counter-attacked effectively. The frustration for Arsenal was how they had helped them in that regard, by leaving key areas of the midfield devoid of players. Partey had been very badly missed, and to a lesser extent so had Elneny whose defensive intelligence would not have seen him vacate his position as often as Lokonga did. The third goal conceded was perhaps the responsibility of Arteta who had gone all out attack mode too early, given the counter-attacking success United were already enjoying.
Arsenal got the chance to put the defeat behind them 4 days later when they began their Europa League campaign. They were placed in Group A alongside PSV Eindhoven, Bodo/Glimt and FC Zurich, and would kick off against the latter away in Switzerland. Summer signings Matt Turner and Marquinhos made their competitive debuts, and Vieira would make his full debut. Arsenal did some counterattacking of their own in the 16th minute when Vieira found Nketiah who travelled down the wing before playing a great ball across the box which found Marquinhos who expertly finished the first time into the top corner. The hosts equalised on the verge of half-time however when Nketiah was judged to have committed an offence in his own penalty box. The death of the Queen being announced during the first half led to the unusual circumstance of a minute’s silence taking place before the second half. When it did kick off, Arsenal regained the lead in the 62nd minute through Nketiah who was found with a delightful ball by Marquinhos who had made a fine debut. That’s how the score remained. Arsenal would not be in Premier League action that weekend, with their home game against Everton being postponed due to the Queen’s passing. Also delayed was their home game against PSV the following week, so the team were not back in action until 10 days after the Zurich game when they travelled to Brentford.
Arsenal dominated the games opening and took a deserved lead in the 17th minute when Saliba’s header from a corner struck the inside of the post on its way over the line. Just shy of the half-hour mark and Arsenal had their second, again with a header, this time it was Gabriel Jesus who rose to meet Xhaka’s perfectly placed ball. The Gunners then got the ideal start to the second half, when Vieira, making his first start in the Premier League in place of the unavailable Ødegaard, struck a beauty out of nowhere from well outside the box for Arsenal’s September goal of the month. Arsenal was in cruise control, always looking like the more likely team to score whilst barely giving Brentford sight of their goal. In the final minutes, Ethan Nwaneri came on for his Arsenal debut, aged 15 years and 181 days he became the youngest player to ever appear in the Premier League. After the match, Brentford Manager Thomas Frank was one of the first to tip Arsenal for a title challenge saying: “I think they will do brilliantly. I think they compete for the title now.” Xhaka was the resounding winner of Arsenal player of the month picking up 83% of the votes. A once deeply unpopular player, his turnaround best exemplified the strides in the right direction Arsenal were taking.
After the international break, Arsenal returned to action in the North London Derby against hated rivals Tottenham. Arsenal went into the fixture just one point above their opponents. Spurs were content to let Arsenal have possession whilst aiming to contain them and spring counterattacks. They kept Arsenal at bay until the 20th minute when Thomas Partey shot from over 20 yards out and hit it so perfectly that Lloris couldn’t get so much as a fingertip to it, the ball flew past him into the net for Arsenal’s goal of the month. Spurs responded in the 31st minute however after a good counterattack between the front three of Kane, Son and Richarlison saw the latter presented with a chance to cross from inside the penalty area and Arsenal did not effectively deal with the situation, a loose touch from Xhaka put his side back in trouble and Gabriel was panicked into conceding a penalty. Kane stepped up and of course, scored for the 7th time from the spot against Arsenal. This sent the sides in at the break-level pegging.
Arsenal regained the upper hand early in the second half after a shot by Saka was spilt by Lloris to his centre-half Romero who, under pressure from Jesus, looked to return it to the French keeper. Lloris missed the ball, it travelled under his body and then Jesus reacted first to poach it home. Spurs hopes of drawing level for a second time were damaged when Emerson Royal was shown a straight red card in the 62nd minute for a stupid and unnecessarily bad tackle on Martinelli. Arsenal quickly punished this ill discipline getting their third 5 minutes afterwards, with Granit Xhaka rifling past Lloris. At this stage Conte retreated to avoid a hammering, he accepted defeat and took off his offensive players, bringing on defenders to ensure the score line didn’t get embarrassing and Arsenal saw out a comfortable 3-1 derby win. Arsenal next returned to Europa League action putting Bodo/Glimt to the sword with a 3-0 win, goals coming from Nketiah, Holding and Vieira, the latter after brilliant footwork in the box from substitute Jesus.
Next up for Arsenal was another tough test at home against Liverpool. With a win, Arsenal would return to the top of the Premier League. Arsenal had faced Liverpool 4 times the previous season, failing to win any, losing 3 times including twice at home. They had also failed to even score against Liverpool in their last 6 meetings with them, but they needed just 58 seconds on this day, with Saka finding Ødegaard, whose ball between Van Dijk and Alexander Arnold put in Martinelli who finished beyond Alisson. Liverpool recovered well from the nightmare start however and was the better team from that point until they got their deserved equaliser in the 34th minute through Darwin Nunez. It was Arsenal however who went into half-time with the lead when Martinelli led a brilliant counter-attack from a Liverpool set piece, finally taking out both Arnold and Henderson by cutting inside and finding an unmarked Saka who slid in to put his team back in the ascendancy.
Again Liverpool responded well, equalising for a second time early in the second half through Roberto Firmino. From that point on though Arsenal found another level, they searched feverishly for a winning goal, looking to pass Liverpool to death and calving many openings. The noise inside the Emirates had reached deafening decibels as the fans urged their team on. The golden chance came with just under 15 minutes to go when Thiago was judged to have caught the back of Jesus’s foot inside the penalty area, having been beaten to the ball by the striker. Saka stepped up and held his nerve, confidently dispatching an excellent spot kick. Arsenal held out for what was in the end a deserved win after an excellent second-half display. In a decision that had raised a few eyebrows, Tomiyasu had been drafted in for a first league start of the season to go into an unfamiliar left-back position, the move paid dividends as the Japanese international had a fine game up against Mo Salah. The result put Arsenal 14 clear of Liverpool who had endured a dreadful start to the season.
“These are broad shoulders, this is courage. A sporting moment in time. Bukayo Saka.. Such poise! such noise!” – Peter Drury as Saka beats Alisson Becker from the penalty spot.
Four days later Arsenal made it 3 wins from 3 in the Europa, with an away win in Norway on the artificial pitch of Bodo/Glimt. A sole goal from Bukayo Saka was enough after he got on the end of a one-two with Lokonga. His initial shot was blocked by a defender but the ball then deflected in after coming back off the Arsenal winger. Bodo calved out many good chances for themselves but was let down by woeful finishing, squandering chance after chance by blazing high and wide of the target. Arsenal then returned to Premier League action at Elland Road against Leeds, though 40 minutes behind schedule after a power outage just after the game had initially kicked off caused the game to need restarting once power had returned.
Again Saka was the only man to get himself on the scoresheet, his goal coming after Jesus had passed up a golden chance to open the scoring failing to hit the net from close range after Ødegaard had found him with a backheeled flick. Jesus attempted to lift the ball over the keeper, but he lifted it too high and it ended up over the crossbar. Arsenal did not let Leeds off a second time however and punished them after a sloppy cross-field pass from Leeds midfielder Rodrigo only found Saka who headed it into Ødegaard’s path. Ødegaard’s return pass then asked a lot of the winger, but his speed allowed him to reach the ball first. Saka was faced with a tight angle, but it didn’t phase him one bit and he picked out the top corner hitting it high into the roof of the Leeds net.
The second half was full of drama, first when Bamford thought he’d equalised but was instead penalised for a foul on Gabriel. The Leeds striker received a second chance though when Saliba was found guilty of a handball in the box after the referee had checked the monitor. Ramsdale guessed correctly in his dive, but in the end, he wasn’t required as Bamford’s penalty went wide of the post. Arsenal continued to suffer in the second half, struggling to cope with the Leeds onslaught and maintain their slender advantage. Through fatigue and pressure from the home side, Arsenal had lost all ability to pass the ball and could do little else but stay in their own half and try to defend. Ramsdale proved his worth to this Arsenal side with his best performance of the season to date, right when his team needed him most. It appeared as though Arsenal had got the job done when crazily they conceded a second penalty of the half in additional time. Patrick Bamford was nowhere near the ball which was safely back with Ramsdale when Gabriel was penalised for a kick out in the box on the Leeds forward. As well as a penalty, the Brazilian centre-back was also dismissed. However on a VAR review, it was clear that Bamford had fouled Gabriel first, barging him to the floor, so rightfully the decision was reversed and Gabriel’s red card was rescinded. Arsenal held on to a win they’d scarcely deserved and it proved an even bigger win later that day when City lost at Anfield meaning The Gunners stayed 4 points clear after 10 games.
The following Thursday Arsenal were back in action in the Europa League. They were originally scheduled to host Manchester City in the league that mid-week, but the Queens’ death led to the postponement of Arsenal’s fixture with PSV, and it was re-arranged to this game week. Arsenal battered their Dutch visitors, in the end mustering 25 shots to Eindhoven’s 4. As was often the case Saka and Jesus were the standout performers. The young English winger was unstoppable in his direct dribbling runs, unstoppable that is without resorting to fouling, which PSV defenders did time and time again after being skinned by Saka’s great ball control when running at speed. Jesus was similarly dangerous, doing his usual thing of fashioning chances out of nowhere with his quick thinking and somehow even quicker feet. In the end, though the deadlock was broken by Xhaka in the 70th minute when Tomiyasu found him in space 15 yards from the goal. He hit the shot down into the ground and it bobbled just at the right time to go under the keeper and past him.
Next Arsenal travelled to struggling Southampton looking to make it 9 straight wins across the Premier League and Europa. They started fast, and when Xhaka finished off White’s cross with a brilliant volley into the back of the net in the 11th minute, it looked like it would be a case of how many, as it wasn’t the first good chance Arsenal had created. For the first 20 minutes, Southampton couldn’t get out of their own half, Ødegaard cleverly found Jesus with a lifted return pass but his volley was straight at Bazunu in the Saints goal. Jesus was in again after a long ball flighted over the head of Caleta-Car putting the Brazilian clean through until the defender dragged him back using both arms. There seemed to be enough contact for 3 separate penalties in there, but unbelievably the referee Robert Jones didn’t point to the spot and nor did VAR intervene. One of the most inexplicable decisions of the season, and that’s saying something, meant that Arsenal went in at the break only a single goal to the good.
The Southampton defence must have felt encouraged from not being penalised inside the box, as the fouling continued on Jesus outside the box for much of the second half, Lyanco getting away with man-handling Arsenal’s striker time and time again, wrapping both arms around his body whenever the ball was anywhere near the Brazilian. Jones did not however ignore perceived ‘diving’ from Saka showing him a yellow card for simulation, even though there did appear to be some contact. A one-sided refereeing performance and poor finishing from Arsenal allowed the home team back into the game and they got the equalising goal with 25 minutes to go through Armstrong after a swift move cut through Arsenal’s defence. In the 78th minute, Ødegaard thought he’d put Arsenal back in front but Tierney had just carried the ball beyond the line before he was able to cut it back into his captain’s path.
The Gunners had to settle for a point and an end to their winning run, paying the price for not scoring more in the first half. As they began to tire in the second half Southampton calved out some good chances of their own, but there’s no doubt the visitors were also harmed by a dire refereeing performance. The dropped points cut Arsenal’s lead at the top down to two. Another away game followed for The North London side as next they travelled to Eindhoven. With 2 group games remaining, they needed just 1 more win to secure the top spot which would mean they progressed straight through to the final 16, without the need for a playoff game. However Arsenal’s performance was poor, PSV were the better team for 90 minutes and good value for their 2-0 win.
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The 2022/23 season is Mikel Arteta’s 3rd full campaign in charge of Arsenal and as well the 3rd of his managerial career. His 1st game in the hot seat came on Boxing Day of 2019, a 1-1 draw at Bournemouth which saw Arsenal drop down a place to 12th in the table. Just a few months into his reign and Arteta was the first high-profile figure in English Football to be diagnosed with Covid-19, the virus which drew the Premier League to a standstill for 3 months and the wider world for a much longer time. It was to empty stadiums which Arsenal played out the remainder of their season which eventually concluded on the 1st of August. An 8th-placed finish was the club’s lowest since 1995. However, there was joy to be found as there so often has been for Arsenal, in the FA Cup. In the one and only Covid FA Cup Final played in front of no spectators Arsenal came from behind to defeat London rivals Chelsea for their record-extending 14th FA Cup, after reaching the final with an unlikely triumph over Manchester City in the semis. Arteta’s first half-season had ended brilliantly and his first full-season started in the same vein with more silverware following as Arsenal defeated Premier League Champions Liverpool to win the Community Shield. Tough times quickly followed and Arteta may have been somewhat grateful for the empty stadiums, as it’s questionable whether the board would have held their nerve and kept faith with such a young manager through this dreadful period had the fans been inside the ground and able to voice their frustrations. On Boxing Day of 2020, not only did Mikel celebrate the 1 year anniversary of his first match in charge, he celebrated a 3-1 victory over Chelsea, his side's first league win for nearly 2 months. It was the first time Saka, Martinelli & Smith Rowe all started a league game together for Arsenal. It was to prove a seminal moment, but it wasn’t enough to move his team up from 15th in the table. It was never so bad again for Arteta and his Arsenal team, with the side eventually settling for a repeat of the previous season’s finish, again coming in 8th. Failure to win the Europa League (exiting the competition to Villarreal in the Semi-Finals, who were incidentally managed by Unai Emery, the manager sacked prior to Arteta taking the job) meant that Arsenal would be without European football for the first time since the 95-96 campaign. And the 21-22 season would begin horribly with Arsenal bottom after 3 matches in which they failed to score and conceded 9 goals. However as the season progressed Arsenal began to find some resilience, quality and self-belief. The sides upheaval came not coincidentally around the time club captain Aubameyang was stripped of that duty before being allowed to depart for Barcelona in the January window. Aubameyang had been the team’s standout performer when winning the FA Cup, but since those performances had seen him rewarded with a new bumper contract which made him by far the club’s best-paid player, his attitude and performance level had become a problem that needed to be dealt with.
More so than any win, it was actually a home defeat to Champions City which perhaps best demonstrated this new Arsenal which was beginning to emerge. They took City on and pushed them all the way only to eventually lose in the 93rd minute, whilst being a man down for the final half-hour with centre-back Gabriel being harshly dismissed. The fight was on with local rivals Tottenham for the final Champions League spot and it was firmly in Arsenal’s hands until a run of 4 defeats in 5 allowed Spurs back into contention. The Gunners appeared to retake control with a run of 4 straight wins before losing tamely away at Spurs and then Newcastle, in the end missing out by 2 points. Throughout the season Arsenal had spells of real high-quality football, and the fans had taken to the project with more passion and belief than they had in the final years of Wenger’s reign or during Unai Emery’s short-lived stint. In the end, though they missed out on the prize of Champions League football due to a combination of injuries to important players and the inexperience of a young group.
Despite the significant setback of missing out on a Champions League spot having held it in their hands for many of the season’s final months, Arsenal still entered the summer of 2022 with plenty of reasons for optimism. Bukayo Saka and Emile Smith Rowe had emerged as the real breakout stars of the prior season and Gabriel Martinelli wasn’t too far behind. There had been some clearly smart signings made by the club, in particular, those of Martin Ødegaard and Ben White, signed from Real Madrid and Brighton & Hove Albion respectively. The July purchases of Gabriel Jesus and Oleksandr Zinchenko for a combined 75M from Manchester City seemed yet more smart business, in them, they had picked up two quality players with four Premier League winners medals each, and both arriving aged 25 they seemed in the perfect age bracket to become big players for Arsenal not just for the immediate but as well the foreseeable future.
Jesus’ Arsenal debut came in a 5-3 friendly win over FC Nurnberg in which he scored twice. He followed this up with another in a 2-0 win over Everton as Arsenal continued their pre-season with a tour of the USA. Arsenal played 3 matches in America and won all 3, by far the most impressive being a 4-0 trouncing of Chelsea. The Gunners made it 5 pre-season wins from 5 when they returned home the following weekend to beat Sevilla 6-0 at the Emirates, a hattrick from Jesus meaning he had netted 7 goals in his first 5 appearances in Arsenal colours. Arsenal would get the Premier League season underway away at Crystal Palace, under the Friday night lights of Selhurst Park. No Premier League side would have envied them this difficult fixture, Arsenal had experienced just how tough it was 4 months prior when a 3-0 loss away at the ground began a torrid run of results for the Gunners. Arsenal had also begun the previous season away on a Friday night and come unstuck against newly promoted Brentford. Again Arsenal was straight back under the Premier League spotlight to see whether they had grown and matured from such damaging defeats last season. The Arsenal quickly proved they were up to the test, starting right on the front foot and keeping Palace penned back in their own third. Jesus immediately highlighted the new dimension he was going to bring to Arsenal’s attack, when his strength and then neat dribbling fashioned a great chance out of nothing, a chance Martinelli should have done much better with, his side-foot finish going the wrong side of the post with the goal gaping. The Brazilian would make up for it in the 20th minute when a corner was headed into the six-yard box by Zinchenko, who was picked out by Saka to deliver a free header. His head found Martinelli’s and from close range, he was able to notch Arsenal’s first of the league campaign. That was to be the only goal in the game for the next hour, but despite Arsenal’s slender lead they rarely looked in danger of being pegged back. On the instances that keeper Aaron Ramsdale was called into action, he was ready and dealt with Palace’s occasional threats soundly. The game was put beyond Crystal Palace in the 85th minute when Bukayo Saka’s dangerous ball across the six-yard box was headed into his own net by Guehi. This made certain of 3 richly deserved points for the Gunners.
Jamie Carragher for one was particularly impressed with the start Arsenal made to the game saying afterwards: “Arsenal played like a big team. When I say a big team, I’m talking about a Man City or Liverpool, a team who wherever they go, dominate the opposition. I felt like we were watching City or Liverpool in that first 20 minutes, half an hour.” Fellow Sky Sports pundit Gary Neville was more impressed with Arsenal in the second half saying: “The question mark about Arsenal will be whether they’ve got that robustness and resilience, physicality to get through that difficult 15 or 20 minute periods in away matches, and they got through that (tonight) and that impressed me.” Saliba was also singled out for praise with Carragher adding: “He looked the real deal. He adds something, we’ve always felt they were weak, at Brentford last season they got bullied and here last season, his physical stature will certainly help them in tough away games.”
Arsenal’s first home league game of the season was against Leicester City. The opening goal began with Jesus tormenting Johnny Evans tight to the touchline, after beating him he fed Martinelli who was able to get into the penalty area and find Xhaka, the Swiss international touched it first time back into Jesus who took a touch to steady himself then teased it over the head of Ward in the Leicester goal and into the net. It was an angle he had no right to try from, let alone score from but such was the Brazilian forwards confidence in front of the goal he fancied his chances from anywhere. The goal was nominated for Premier League goal of the month. Jesus got his second to double Arsenal’s advantage in the 35th minute, this time in a much simpler fashion. A corner across the six-yard box was not dealt with, a Leicester head on it only sped up its path to Jesus who was waiting to nod home from practically on the goal line.
Later in the first half, Leicester thought they had a way back into the game when referee Darren England pointed to the spot having judged Ramsdale to have brought down Jamie Vardy. However VAR advised him to check the monitor, and after re-watching the incident it was clear there was no contact made and the penalty decision was reversed. Leicester did still manage to half their deficit early in the second half though, a long ball was flicked on leaving Saliba in a difficult situation to deal with. Ramsdale was advancing but wouldn’t get there first and Vardy was waiting on the French defender’s shoulder, leaving him no alternative but to try and head the ball clear whilst facing his own goal. He only succeeded in diverting it into the net. This could have been a moment when the Arsenal crowd got nervous and frustrated. They had allowed a soft goal and their youngest defender was at fault. However the crowd immediately rallied behind Saliba and his teammates, he and the team needed help putting that mistake behind them and the crowd’s noise in the aftermath of conceding will have been reassuring to the players.
Demonstrating this, Arsenal went straight up the other end and scored, Ward made a meal of a cross, dropping it at the feet of Jesus who squared for Xhaka. The Swiss midfielder was being deployed in a new, more adventurous role where he was spending more time in the opposition box, he got his reward for this new tactic with a simple tap-in from right in front of the goal. Leicester would again reduce the home team’s lead to one however when Iheanacho found Maddison, who was able to shoot straight through Ramsdale. The young English keeper will have been disappointed at being so easily beaten from such an angle, his wide-open legs presenting the opportunity to the Leicester midfielder. Again Arsenal immediately responded to the setback by going up the other end and scoring again. This move began with Martinelli winning the ball back and feeding Ødegaard who moved the ball on to Jesus, who carried it forward before finding Martinelli who shot low from outside the box, he beat the outstretched Ward and hit the bottom corner, with the ball hitting the inside of the post on its way in. It had been a good day at the office for Arsenal and a great day for Gabriel Jesus, though despite scoring 2 and assisting the other 2 of Arsenal’s 4 goals, according to his manager Jesus left the field disappointed because: “he thinks he should have scored 4, that’s the sort of mentality you need. I wouldn’t like to play against him. He’s so mobile, intuitive, sharp and proactive in any moment or phase of the game.”
Arsenal next travelled to newly promoted Bournemouth. It took The Gunners just 5 minutes to take the lead and again it came from the phenomenal centre-forward play of Gabriel Jesus. A loose touch from White saw the ball launch high into the air, the Brazilian reacted first, beautifully controlling the ball whilst at the same time using his considerable body strength to hold off the Bournemouth midfielder, with exceptional balance he then dribbled around two other Bournemouth shirts until he was on the edge of the box facing their defence, with a lovely disguised pass he then fed Martinelli who was free to his left, his shot was saved but it fell straight at the feet of new captain Martin Ødegaard who was on hand to notch his first of the season. Rightfully though the praise went to Jesus with commentator Alan Smith saying: “You won’t see a better example of centre forward play than this.”
Ødegaard had to wait just 6 more minutes for his second of the season, a cross along the floor from White found Jesus who was free, his first touch wasn’t the best but it allowed it to set up nicely for the Norwegian to strike first time, which he duly did and the ball flashed into the net. Early in the second half and Arsenal had a third goal, with Xhaka setting it back to Saliba just inside the penalty area. Saliba struck it beautifully the first time, keeping his shot down under the bar and too perfectly placed for the keeper to do anything about. It was just Saliba’s second goal in senior football but he had finished it with the class and composure of a player who had scored 200. The strike drew Zinchenko to his knees, clutching his head in disbelief at the quality of the finish and unsurprisingly it was voted as Arsenal’s goal of the month. Jesus thought he’d netted Arsenal’s 4th but a VAR check ruled the goal out for offside, so the North Londoners had to settle for a 3-0 win in what had been an excellent away performance.
The Arsenal faced more newly promoted opposition the following week, this time back at home against Fulham for Arteta’s 100th Premier League game in charge. They would be without Zinchenko and Partey who had picked up injuries and were replaced by Tierney and Elneny respectively. The best chance of the first half went to Saka who got beyond his marker to face Leno one-against one, but he was unable to beat the keeper. It would be Fulham who took the lead however with Arsenal falling behind for the first time in the season. From the full-back position, Saka flighted a ball into Gabriel, who unnecessarily played himself into trouble. He never seemed to have the ball truly under his spell, and his second touch invited Mitrovic to try and take it off him, the defender then got his body positioning wrong, and failed to protect the ball allowing the forward to nick it from behind him and then the Serb was able to keep his composure and finish past Ramsdale.
Fulham’s lead lasted just 8 minutes, Martin Ødegaard lodging Arsenal’s response. There was a degree of good fortune about the goal, with a big deflection on the strike. But there was no doubt the Norwegian had deserved it, he was having an outstanding game with all of Arsenal’s danger coming through him. He was constantly creating, with inventive passes and dribbling runs. In this instance, a clever stepover had bought him the space for the shot. Ødegaard continued to lead Arsenal’s push for a winner with he, in particular, deserving to be on the winning side, and the winner did come though not until the 86th minute. Leno failed to deal with a corner, missing his attempted punch clearance and the ball fell at the feet of Gabriel who was able to gain the perfect redemption for his earlier error by securing all 3 points for his side. The goal kept Arsenal at the top of the Premier League as they remained the only team with a 100% record.
Arsenal finished August with another home game, facing Steven Gerrard’s Aston Villa. This presented Arsenal with a chance to win their opening 5 league games for the first time since 2004. Saka passed up a golden opportunity to give Arsenal the ideal start when Martinelli’s cross found him completely free at the back post, it was set up perfectly for Saka to hit on the volley, which he did but he got too under the ball and lifted it horribly high and wide from inside the six-yard box. An Arsenal opening goal felt inevitable however and it came on the half-hour mark when Emi Martinez could only push out an Xhaka shot as far as Gabriel Jesus, who was on hand to punish him. Martinez did go someway to redeeming himself later in the half with an excellent stop to deny a brilliant half-volley from Martinelli from 25 yards out.
Arsenal dominated the first half and continued their domination in the second but could not increase their advantage, it was instead Aston Villa who got the second goal of the game, in a somewhat controversial fashion. A corner from Douglas Luiz went straight into the net with Ramsdale unable to reach the ball due to his path being completely blocked by Kamara, who also limited the keepers’ movement by having both arms wrapped around his back. The goal stood but Arsenal cancelled it out in their own way, by going straight up the Villa end and retaking the lead. Saka coolly picked out Martinelli who struck it the first time on the half volley, Martinez clawed desperately at the ball but could not prevent it from going over his goal line and The Gunners were able to see the victory out. Arsenal’s player of the month was unsurprisingly Gabriel Jesus with 3 goals and 3 assists in 5 games. Arsenal’s maximum points after 5 games saw Mikel Arteta pick up Premier League manager of the month.
Arsenal started September with a chance to go 4 points clear of City in 2nd, after just six games. Standing in their way was Manchester United who would be hosting the Gunners at Old Trafford, a ground Arsenal had only won at once in the league since 2006, that one as well being without fans during the Covid season. Arsenal was boosted by the return of Zinchenko but had to start with their 3rd choice midfielder Sambi Lokonga for the Partey role after Elneny had followed the Ghanaian onto the treatment table. Regardless of the blow, Arsenal appeared to have made the ideal start when Saka threaded the needle and put Martinelli clean through on goal. The Brazilian finished brilliantly to give Arsenal the lead, but VAR advised the referee to have a look at a potential foul in the build-up. On review, the referee judged Ødegaard to have won the ball from Eriksen unfairly and chalked the goal off. The intervention made by Lee Mason on VAR was later judged by a Premier League review to be an incorrect one, the minimal contact not penalised in real-time by the ref was judged not to be a clear or obvious error. The review came too little and too late as far as Arsenal were concerned as they’d lost their lead and instead found themselves trailing at half-time after a good move from United culminated in a debut goal for Antony who finished past Ramsdale.
VAR’s intervention in the Arsenal goal was always likely to prove a vital one as remarkably United had not lost at Old Trafford when leading at half-time since 1984. This showed the size of Arsenal’s task going into the second half, but they continued to probe and ask questions of United and they got their equaliser on the hour mark when the ball broke to Saka in the penalty area after Ødegaard had looked to thread one through to Jesus. United dealt with that immediate threat but could only clear as far as Saka who slotted through the legs of Martinez for his first of the season. Arsenal looked to be in the ascendancy, but they were only level for 6 minutes. Overcommitting bodies forward left them without a midfield and after winning it back United was able to counter-attack with Bruno Fernandes who looked and found Rashford in behind the defence and he put United back in front. Arteta reacted immediately by looking to chase the game, giving a debut to summer recruit Fabio Vieira. The changes appeared to backfire however as Arsenal were left with even fewer defensive bodies on the field and in the 75th minute they were cut through once more, with Eriksen and Rashford both left in acres of space as United hit Arsenal once more on the counter-attack. It was a horrible goal for Arsenal to concede, it reminded of the worst years of Wenger with everyone so committed to attacking they had no thought for defending. Arsenal suffered their first defeat of the season going down 3-1.
There were some positives to take in how confidently and capably they had passed the ball around, however, United had defended their penalty area very well and counter-attacked effectively. The frustration for Arsenal was how they had helped them in that regard, by leaving key areas of the midfield devoid of players. Partey had been very badly missed, and to a lesser extent so had Elneny whose defensive intelligence would not have seen him vacate his position as often as Lokonga did. The third goal conceded was perhaps the responsibility of Arteta who had gone all out attack mode too early, given the counter-attacking success United were already enjoying.
Arsenal got the chance to put the defeat behind them 4 days later when they began their Europa League campaign. They were placed in Group A alongside PSV Eindhoven, Bodo/Glimt and FC Zurich, and would kick off against the latter away in Switzerland. Summer signings Matt Turner and Marquinhos made their competitive debuts, and Vieira would make his full debut. Arsenal did some counterattacking of their own in the 16th minute when Vieira found Nketiah who travelled down the wing before playing a great ball across the box which found Marquinhos who expertly finished the first time into the top corner. The hosts equalised on the verge of half-time however when Nketiah was judged to have committed an offence in his own penalty box. The death of the Queen being announced during the first half led to the unusual circumstance of a minute’s silence taking place before the second half. When it did kick off, Arsenal regained the lead in the 62nd minute through Nketiah who was found with a delightful ball by Marquinhos who had made a fine debut. That’s how the score remained. Arsenal would not be in Premier League action that weekend, with their home game against Everton being postponed due to the Queen’s passing. Also delayed was their home game against PSV the following week, so the team were not back in action until 10 days after the Zurich game when they travelled to Brentford.
Arsenal dominated the games opening and took a deserved lead in the 17th minute when Saliba’s header from a corner struck the inside of the post on its way over the line. Just shy of the half-hour mark and Arsenal had their second, again with a header, this time it was Gabriel Jesus who rose to meet Xhaka’s perfectly placed ball. The Gunners then got the ideal start to the second half, when Vieira, making his first start in the Premier League in place of the unavailable Ødegaard, struck a beauty out of nowhere from well outside the box for Arsenal’s September goal of the month. Arsenal was in cruise control, always looking like the more likely team to score whilst barely giving Brentford sight of their goal. In the final minutes, Ethan Nwaneri came on for his Arsenal debut, aged 15 years and 181 days he became the youngest player to ever appear in the Premier League. After the match, Brentford Manager Thomas Frank was one of the first to tip Arsenal for a title challenge saying: “I think they will do brilliantly. I think they compete for the title now.” Xhaka was the resounding winner of Arsenal player of the month picking up 83% of the votes. A once deeply unpopular player, his turnaround best exemplified the strides in the right direction Arsenal were taking.
After the international break, Arsenal returned to action in the North London Derby against hated rivals Tottenham. Arsenal went into the fixture just one point above their opponents. Spurs were content to let Arsenal have possession whilst aiming to contain them and spring counterattacks. They kept Arsenal at bay until the 20th minute when Thomas Partey shot from over 20 yards out and hit it so perfectly that Lloris couldn’t get so much as a fingertip to it, the ball flew past him into the net for Arsenal’s goal of the month. Spurs responded in the 31st minute however after a good counterattack between the front three of Kane, Son and Richarlison saw the latter presented with a chance to cross from inside the penalty area and Arsenal did not effectively deal with the situation, a loose touch from Xhaka put his side back in trouble and Gabriel was panicked into conceding a penalty. Kane stepped up and of course, scored for the 7th time from the spot against Arsenal. This sent the sides in at the break-level pegging.
Arsenal regained the upper hand early in the second half after a shot by Saka was spilt by Lloris to his centre-half Romero who, under pressure from Jesus, looked to return it to the French keeper. Lloris missed the ball, it travelled under his body and then Jesus reacted first to poach it home. Spurs hopes of drawing level for a second time were damaged when Emerson Royal was shown a straight red card in the 62nd minute for a stupid and unnecessarily bad tackle on Martinelli. Arsenal quickly punished this ill discipline getting their third 5 minutes afterwards, with Granit Xhaka rifling past Lloris. At this stage Conte retreated to avoid a hammering, he accepted defeat and took off his offensive players, bringing on defenders to ensure the score line didn’t get embarrassing and Arsenal saw out a comfortable 3-1 derby win. Arsenal next returned to Europa League action putting Bodo/Glimt to the sword with a 3-0 win, goals coming from Nketiah, Holding and Vieira, the latter after brilliant footwork in the box from substitute Jesus.
Next up for Arsenal was another tough test at home against Liverpool. With a win, Arsenal would return to the top of the Premier League. Arsenal had faced Liverpool 4 times the previous season, failing to win any, losing 3 times including twice at home. They had also failed to even score against Liverpool in their last 6 meetings with them, but they needed just 58 seconds on this day, with Saka finding Ødegaard, whose ball between Van Dijk and Alexander Arnold put in Martinelli who finished beyond Alisson. Liverpool recovered well from the nightmare start however and was the better team from that point until they got their deserved equaliser in the 34th minute through Darwin Nunez. It was Arsenal however who went into half-time with the lead when Martinelli led a brilliant counter-attack from a Liverpool set piece, finally taking out both Arnold and Henderson by cutting inside and finding an unmarked Saka who slid in to put his team back in the ascendancy.
Again Liverpool responded well, equalising for a second time early in the second half through Roberto Firmino. From that point on though Arsenal found another level, they searched feverishly for a winning goal, looking to pass Liverpool to death and calving many openings. The noise inside the Emirates had reached deafening decibels as the fans urged their team on. The golden chance came with just under 15 minutes to go when Thiago was judged to have caught the back of Jesus’s foot inside the penalty area, having been beaten to the ball by the striker. Saka stepped up and held his nerve, confidently dispatching an excellent spot kick. Arsenal held out for what was in the end a deserved win after an excellent second-half display. In a decision that had raised a few eyebrows, Tomiyasu had been drafted in for a first league start of the season to go into an unfamiliar left-back position, the move paid dividends as the Japanese international had a fine game up against Mo Salah. The result put Arsenal 14 clear of Liverpool who had endured a dreadful start to the season.
“These are broad shoulders, this is courage. A sporting moment in time. Bukayo Saka.. Such poise! such noise!” – Peter Drury as Saka beats Alisson Becker from the penalty spot.
Four days later Arsenal made it 3 wins from 3 in the Europa, with an away win in Norway on the artificial pitch of Bodo/Glimt. A sole goal from Bukayo Saka was enough after he got on the end of a one-two with Lokonga. His initial shot was blocked by a defender but the ball then deflected in after coming back off the Arsenal winger. Bodo calved out many good chances for themselves but was let down by woeful finishing, squandering chance after chance by blazing high and wide of the target. Arsenal then returned to Premier League action at Elland Road against Leeds, though 40 minutes behind schedule after a power outage just after the game had initially kicked off caused the game to need restarting once power had returned.
Again Saka was the only man to get himself on the scoresheet, his goal coming after Jesus had passed up a golden chance to open the scoring failing to hit the net from close range after Ødegaard had found him with a backheeled flick. Jesus attempted to lift the ball over the keeper, but he lifted it too high and it ended up over the crossbar. Arsenal did not let Leeds off a second time however and punished them after a sloppy cross-field pass from Leeds midfielder Rodrigo only found Saka who headed it into Ødegaard’s path. Ødegaard’s return pass then asked a lot of the winger, but his speed allowed him to reach the ball first. Saka was faced with a tight angle, but it didn’t phase him one bit and he picked out the top corner hitting it high into the roof of the Leeds net.
The second half was full of drama, first when Bamford thought he’d equalised but was instead penalised for a foul on Gabriel. The Leeds striker received a second chance though when Saliba was found guilty of a handball in the box after the referee had checked the monitor. Ramsdale guessed correctly in his dive, but in the end, he wasn’t required as Bamford’s penalty went wide of the post. Arsenal continued to suffer in the second half, struggling to cope with the Leeds onslaught and maintain their slender advantage. Through fatigue and pressure from the home side, Arsenal had lost all ability to pass the ball and could do little else but stay in their own half and try to defend. Ramsdale proved his worth to this Arsenal side with his best performance of the season to date, right when his team needed him most. It appeared as though Arsenal had got the job done when crazily they conceded a second penalty of the half in additional time. Patrick Bamford was nowhere near the ball which was safely back with Ramsdale when Gabriel was penalised for a kick out in the box on the Leeds forward. As well as a penalty, the Brazilian centre-back was also dismissed. However on a VAR review, it was clear that Bamford had fouled Gabriel first, barging him to the floor, so rightfully the decision was reversed and Gabriel’s red card was rescinded. Arsenal held on to a win they’d scarcely deserved and it proved an even bigger win later that day when City lost at Anfield meaning The Gunners stayed 4 points clear after 10 games.
The following Thursday Arsenal were back in action in the Europa League. They were originally scheduled to host Manchester City in the league that mid-week, but the Queens’ death led to the postponement of Arsenal’s fixture with PSV, and it was re-arranged to this game week. Arsenal battered their Dutch visitors, in the end mustering 25 shots to Eindhoven’s 4. As was often the case Saka and Jesus were the standout performers. The young English winger was unstoppable in his direct dribbling runs, unstoppable that is without resorting to fouling, which PSV defenders did time and time again after being skinned by Saka’s great ball control when running at speed. Jesus was similarly dangerous, doing his usual thing of fashioning chances out of nowhere with his quick thinking and somehow even quicker feet. In the end, though the deadlock was broken by Xhaka in the 70th minute when Tomiyasu found him in space 15 yards from the goal. He hit the shot down into the ground and it bobbled just at the right time to go under the keeper and past him.
Next Arsenal travelled to struggling Southampton looking to make it 9 straight wins across the Premier League and Europa. They started fast, and when Xhaka finished off White’s cross with a brilliant volley into the back of the net in the 11th minute, it looked like it would be a case of how many, as it wasn’t the first good chance Arsenal had created. For the first 20 minutes, Southampton couldn’t get out of their own half, Ødegaard cleverly found Jesus with a lifted return pass but his volley was straight at Bazunu in the Saints goal. Jesus was in again after a long ball flighted over the head of Caleta-Car putting the Brazilian clean through until the defender dragged him back using both arms. There seemed to be enough contact for 3 separate penalties in there, but unbelievably the referee Robert Jones didn’t point to the spot and nor did VAR intervene. One of the most inexplicable decisions of the season, and that’s saying something, meant that Arsenal went in at the break only a single goal to the good.
The Southampton defence must have felt encouraged from not being penalised inside the box, as the fouling continued on Jesus outside the box for much of the second half, Lyanco getting away with man-handling Arsenal’s striker time and time again, wrapping both arms around his body whenever the ball was anywhere near the Brazilian. Jones did not however ignore perceived ‘diving’ from Saka showing him a yellow card for simulation, even though there did appear to be some contact. A one-sided refereeing performance and poor finishing from Arsenal allowed the home team back into the game and they got the equalising goal with 25 minutes to go through Armstrong after a swift move cut through Arsenal’s defence. In the 78th minute, Ødegaard thought he’d put Arsenal back in front but Tierney had just carried the ball beyond the line before he was able to cut it back into his captain’s path.
The Gunners had to settle for a point and an end to their winning run, paying the price for not scoring more in the first half. As they began to tire in the second half Southampton calved out some good chances of their own, but there’s no doubt the visitors were also harmed by a dire refereeing performance. The dropped points cut Arsenal’s lead at the top down to two. Another away game followed for The North London side as next they travelled to Eindhoven. With 2 group games remaining, they needed just 1 more win to secure the top spot which would mean they progressed straight through to the final 16, without the need for a playoff game. However Arsenal’s performance was poor, PSV were the better team for 90 minutes and good value for their 2-0 win.
2023.06.04 15:11 YukiteruAmano92 Remembrance, Chapter 3 of 28
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---Esme’s perspective---
---Saturday, 11th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar---
---Southern England---
Fucking Sussex!
‘Can you send me to the Forth Valley?’
‘Oh, we can try… On an unrelated note, how’s your standard English? No problems in communicating?’
I should’ve just said ‘No, I have great difficulty in communicating in anything but Lallans Scots!’ instead of putting on my poshest English speech register to say ‘Marjorie dearest, would you be a lamb and pass another buttered scone… hold the raspberry jam, it’s far too spicy for me!’ which she told me she’d take as a ‘Yes.’
“This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.” plays a loud, prerecorded Welsh language announcement, over speakers.
They’re fucking rubbing it in!
“This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.” it repeats in Scots Gaelic.
“Ceci est une caserne Anglophone. Si vous avez été assigné ici par erreur, veuillez vous faire connaître auprès du personnel de la caserne pour une réaffectation.” it says in what I’m 90% sure is a French version of the same announcement (I can’t be certain, though, as that’s not one of my languages).
Looking at the crowds queuing to get in makes me regret asserting that I didn’t need transport here.
‘You shouldn’t be sending someone to War that you don’t trust to navigate themself from Galloway to Sussex!’ were my exact words.
I brushed off the recruitment officer saying that I’d be processed faster if I arrived on Military organised transport.
Well, standing here’s not gonna get me to the front of the queue now, is it!
I walk forward to join the massive throng of people, almost all of which look to be about my age.
It’s astonishing how short you feel, being an average height girl in a crowd of people!
178cm really isn’t all that much when you’ve got a not insignificant number of +2m guys here!
Even guys who are the average 188cm can make a girl feel short when their packed too close…
I see a few Neanderthal hunks… perhaps conscription won’t be all bad(!)
When I make it to the front of the line, the guy just stares expectantly at me like I’m supposed to already know what to do.
“Y’awright?… Err… mah nam’s Esme Reid…?” I say, hesitantly, in perfectly comprehensible speech.
“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” he answers, looking at me like I just spoke to him in fucking Chinese!
“Greetings, gracious sir! You may kindly refer to me by the name ‘Esme Reid’!” I say, affecting my supercilious Southern English gentlewoman accent.
“Alright, Ms Reid. Please present your draft papers and identification.”
The balls they have to ask me to prove who I am when they’re the ones asking me to go off and fucking die for them!
I think about quipping that I should ask him to show me some proof that this is a legitimate Military installation sanctioned by the government of Sol… but think better of it…
Instead, I pull out my draft papers and my holopad, quickly getting up my identification app.
The man scans the code with his own holo and spends a few seconds glancing from his screen to my face and back.
Seeming satisfied that I’m not attempting to enlist under a false identity (for whatever strange reason a person might want to do that) he glances at my papers, says “Everything seems to be in order.” and waves a hand in front of a machine which whirs for half a second before spitting out a simple chain necklace with two little metal rectangles hanging off of it.
He hands it to me and says “This is your identification tag. Please check that the information on it is correct and, if it is, put it on and never take it off.”
I check the tag.
“You’ve got my name and birthday right…” I say, making a conscious effort to keep my speech register in that that a standard English speaker would consider acceptable “…don’t know about the regiment and serial number.”
“Those will be correct.” he says with a ‘move along’ tone.
I shrug, raise the dogtag over my head and drop it around my neck.
I walk on and he’s serving the girl behind me before I’ve even rounded the counter.
I’m ushered through the barracks, herded by the staff, until I reach a building labelled ‘Billet House 279’.
It doesn’t really look like I expected soldiers’ digs to look.
Definitely prefabbed but sort of has more the look of a uni hall than anything else… though I think it’s probably a bit much to expect that I’ll get a room to myself(!)
I follow the throng of draftees through to a wide open room, on the ground floor, that looks like it’s normally a cafeteria.
The camp attendants (who I’m guessing were in the same boat as us, not too long ago) direct us to stand along the left, right and nearside walls, keeping the back wall and centre of the room clear.
Everyone in place, there follows a few minutes of silence broken only by people whispering to one another.
Then, she enters the room.
Dark skinned and clad in green camo clothing, her scalp is easily visible between her cornrows with nary a hair out of place.
Her expression looks absolutely indifferent with just the slightest hint of a curled lip.
From the broadness and flatness of her facial features as well as her single mauve eye, she is clearly half Tshwane… though, you’d never guess that from her stature!
Female Tshwane average nearly 2m… the men are more like 2.2m!
She’s shorter than me!
She’s also built like a Sapiens, not the willowy thinness typical of Tshwane
I guess genetics interact in funny ways sometimes…
Based on her age, her Tshwane parent would probably have to have been one of the very first to be cloned back!
The other eye seems to have been ripped out at some point because in its place is a bionic and there’s a patch of hypopigmented scar tissue, forming a tear shape, at the right corner.
“Recruits… Welcome to the United Terran Coalition Infantry Trainin’ Camp, Graffham… My name is Warrant Officer Simone Sands… and I’ll be your drill instructor…” says the woman, cooly, speaking in a rough sounding, London accent.
The surname ‘Sands’ probably means her dad was the Tshwane (though not necessarily… she might have been given her mum’s surname… or it might be a coincidental English surname).
“…You all know why you’re here… Most of you’ve prob’ly already lost loved ones to this War… You are here to defend our right to exist… and I can’t think of a more worthy reason to fight than that…”
I’ve decided I like this woman… She may be English but I’ll try not to hold that against her(!)
“The first thing I need to tell all of you is that, by the end of your trainin’, you will NOT like me…” she says, as if reading my mind “…that’s OK. My job ain’t to be liked, my job ain’t to make friends… my job is to make soldiers!”
She casts her biological and bionic eyes around the room, letting her words hang in the air.
“Note… that I said ‘soldiers’… This ain’t Full Metal Jacket. This ain’t the 20th Century. There’ll be no Pvt Piles here!… I ain’t aimin’ to destroy your minds or your individuality. I ain’t goin’ to physic’ly and psychologic’ly abuse you into becomin’ robots or killers… I am makin’ you into soldiers… Regardless… this process will not be easy! In fact, it may well be the hardest thing you ever do!… As the face of this process, you will come to hate and resent me for it!… I hope for it! The more you hate me the more-DO YOU HAVE SOMETHIN’ TO SAY, PRIVATE?!”
Everyone in the room is startled by the authoritative woman breaking herself off to shout angrily at someone on the other side of the room.
“STEP FORWARD AND SPEAK SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR YOU!”
The boy that steps forward is tall, bulky and muscular with a handsome, half Neanderthal face… just my type!
Then he has to go and ruin it by opening his mouth.
“I was just saying… that I find it somewhat difficult to take you seriously as a commanding officer… You just seem a little bit… little.” says the boy in the poshest, smarmiest English drawl I’ve ever heard!
The woman does not shout, she does not scream, she doesn’t snarl or even purse her lips!
She just nods, as if considering his words, then asks “What’s your name, Soldier?”
“Rupert Forest.” responds the boy, proudly.
“And, how tall are you, Pvt Forest?” responds the woman, unimpressed
“195cm.” he answers.
“And, what’s your mass?” she asks.
“110kg.”
“I see, I see… So, by your logic… you’d make a better drill sergeant than me, would you? You’re 25cm taller and 35kg heavier, afterall!”
He smirks “I wouldn’t presume to say so, Ma’am…” in a way that definitely suggests that he thinks he would.
She seems to consider that for some moments before answering “Alright then, fight me for it!”
“I’m sorry…?” responds the poshboy.
“You heard me… Clearly, you got no respect for skill and experience but it seems like you must respect power… so fight me for it! You win, you get to train this lot, I win, you never question my authority again!”
Is this woman mad!?
She may be a soldier but this boy she just challenged is a half Neanderthal giant!
She’s gonna lose!
I do not want to be drilled by some snotty, privileged English brat who got here at the same time as I did and just couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut!
Then again, I don’t really want to be drilled by a woman so delusional that she felt the best way to squash insubordination was to challenge a man she has no hope of beating, either!
The guy is clearly salivating over the power that’s just been slapped on the table in front of him as he answers “I accept your terms, Ms Sands…” with faux magnanimity.
There’s no way they’d let a Private run drills, is there? When he wins, someone just needs to go and complain and they’ll give us another (less stupid) drill sergeant… right?
He strips off his jacket to reveal a pair of thick, muscular arms that (in spite of his repulsive personality) are a thrilling sight.
He has to go and ruin it by flexing and posing, clearly revelling in the room’s worth of gasps he got when he revealed his arms… He obviously likes being the centre of attention.
“Done?” asks Sands, drily.
“If you still want to do this…” he says, smugly “…you could just concede defeat and I’m sure no one would hold it against you!”
Her lip curls as she answers “But… if I did that, no one would learn nothin’, now would they…”
He shrugs before launching himself at her without waiting for her to give the word to begin.
She whirls out of the way and he snatches at her, unsuccessfully, as his momentum carries him past.
“Lesson 1:…” she shouts while snapping into the space behind him and kicking out his knee “…size does not determine victory, strength does not determine victory…” levelling another powerful kick between his shoulderblades to bring him to the ground.
She backs off, allowing him to scramble to his feet and turn to face her, hunched in readiness and scowling.
“…Pvt Forest here looked at me with contempt on account of my small size and, though he didn’t say so, I’d guess that my rough accent, my lack of a graduate epithet and my lack of a penis also played a roll in his judgin’ me as less than!… He thought he could beat me, he probably still DOES, and, ’causa that, he didn’t respect my ability to lead…!”
Forest makes another lunge for the smaller woman, misses and is punished for it by being knocked back to the floor.
I’m agog as I watch this little woman… there’s no other word but toy with the giant man!
“…but victory does not care how big you are, how strong you are, how classy or educated you are or what**’**s in your pants or panties…!”
She dodges around his arm and pins his chest to the floor with her knee.
“Discipline and trainin’ determine victory!… Things that I have and Pvt Forest LACKS!… Things that ALL of you will acquire, over the next 8 months!!!” she turns her head down to the mountain of man she’s pinning to the floor “Concede, Private!”
The man shakes his head, trying in vain to leverage himself up.
“Alright then… Lesson 2: When faced with a resistant individual, compliance can be effectively enforced by the expedient of lockin’ their joints to induce PAIN!!!”
She grabs his thick arms by the wrists and pulls them backwards in a way they are not meant to bend!
He screams in agony!
“CONCEDE!!!… Don’t make me send you to the Medical Officer! It’d be inconvenient for BOTH of us if your pride makes you miss your first week of trainin’ while your arms heal!!!”
He holds out for two more seconds before screaming “I concede! I CONCEDE!!!”
She releases him and stands back up.
“On your feet, Soldier…” she growls down at him.
He stands back up, his face beet red.
“Are you ever goin’ to question my fitness to instruct again, Private?” she glares up at the humiliated giant.
“No.” he answers, gracelessly.
“No…?” she says as if waiting for something else.
Forest looks as confused as I am about what she’s expecting.
“No, Ma’am!” she snarls.
“No, Ma’am.”
“Good, we’ll work on your attitude, movin’ forward. Now, get back in line!”
The humiliated man picks up his civvy jacket and returns to the place he was called out from.
“Now, I don’t think I need to prattle on anymore about how you’re gonna hate me by the end of our time together, do I?… I think Pvt Forest helped me prove that point quite well, so I’ll move on… You will sleep in this buildin’, six to a room. Your rooms will be gender segregated. If you wish for a place to be… intimate with people of the opposite gender, you may request use of one of the conjugal rooms… I suggest you do the same if you want to be intimate with a same gender partner but that’s between you and your roommates! You will eat in this room at 0700hrs, 1200hrs and 1800hrs. Diet’ry requirements will be accommodated but, bare in mind, this ain’t your mummies’ and daddies’ kitchen! ‘This food is forbidden by my religion/personal ethics’ is a diet’ry requirement. ‘I am allergic to this food’ is a diet’ry requirement! ‘I don’t like how this food tastes’ is not(!)… In the mornin’s, you will be receivin’ lessons in lecture theatres, workshops and the like…”
“Oh great… just what I wanted after leaving school(!) More classrooms(!)” I mutter to myself.
Her head instantly wheels to me with unnerving precision.
“Someone else with somethin’ they’d like to say!?” she says, locking eyes with me, terrifyingly.
“No, Ms Sands!” I answer, instantly.
“Miss?! I’m not your bloody schoolteacher girl!!!”
Everyone laughs. Even Pvt Forest, like he wasn’t just humiliated himself, 2 minutes ago!
“Ma’am… err… Ma’am, no, Ma’am!!!” I say, doing my best to emulate the tone I’ve seen soldiers use in films.
She rolls her eye (it’s difficult to tell if the bionic rolls too) and says “Better… What’s your name, Private?”
“Ma’am, the Private’s name is Esme Reid, Ma’am!!!”
“Do you remember me tellin’ you this ain’t Full Metal Jacket?… You don’t need to scream when you talk to me, you don’t need to refer to yourself in third person and one ‘Ma’am’, when you’re done speakin’, is enough, Reid!”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She points to her single, mauve eye, then to me and says “I’ll have my eye on you, Reid!”
Somehow, her tone sends a chill up my spine but I do my best not to show it.
She turns away and I release a silent sigh of relief.
“As I was sayin’… In your lectures you will learn the ins and outs of military theory; tactics, strategies, logistics etc. You will learn as much as we can tell you about the nature of the species we are fightin’; their capabilities, tendencies, political organisations and known weaknesses… bear in mind that First Contact weren’t much more than 4 years ago and we’ve been at War for almost all the intervenin’ time, so a lot of what we teach you will be little more than guesswork and hearsay from prisoners we’ve interrogated… The mornin’s’ll also be where you learn the particulars of the equipment you’ll be expected to be proficient with in the field. This includes firearms, plasmaweaponry and durasteel armour, as well as the tech you’ll likely encounter from the opposite side; kinetic pulse weapons, laser weapons, field emitters etc… I strongly suggest that no one allows word to get back to me that they’re not takin’ these classes seriously!… A stupid soldier is a dead soldier!”
She glares around the room, her eyes resting on me four a quarter of a second.
“…In the afternoons and evenin’s, you’ll be doing PT… that’s ‘Physical Trainin’’… soon to be every one of your two least favourite words in the English Language(!) “
I notice a wry smirk twist the mouths of a few of the camp attendants.
“In PT you will be drilled in agility, endurance, close quarters combat and coordinated marching… Five times over the comin’ 8 months, you and your trainin’ partner will be dropped into a remote bit of wilderness, somewhere on Earth, for five day practical survival experience. You will be given a beacon, to summon retrieval, but these are only to be used in cases of actual threat to life or bodily integrity… not because you’re feelin’ miserable!”
She takes a second to pause for breath.
“You get an allowance of 12 days off, over your time here… that’s two a month… These are subject to my approval and I may deny them for any reason, including no reason… so don’t piss me off!… You may not take more than 2 consecutive days leave at a time! Certain classes are mandatory and leave will not be approved on days they occur. If your allowance is spent, no more leave will be approved, barring a real emergency!… Now, for today, you are going to line up to have your maps and room keys downloaded onto your holos when your name is called, then you are going to have your bodies scanned for your armour measurements… at that point everyone with no uterus has the rest of the day free to settle in… If you have a uterus, you’ll need to report to medical to get your cycle paused! This is, I’m afraid, nonoptional… You are not prohibited from engaging in relations with your fellow recruits but you cannot be a soldier while you’re able to get pregnant. Attempts to circumvent this requirement in any way will land you in the Stockade!… After your cycle pause has been given, you’ll also have the rest of the day to settle in… Enjoy it! It’ll be the most downtime you get for a while!… Finally… I believe we have a 17 year old with us here… Pvt Taylor?”
A few people put their hands up, most looking confused.
“Pvt Oskar Taylor! The 17 year old?” she says, exasperated.
All but one of those with their hands up put them down.
The one remaining Pvt Taylor with his hand in the air has pale skin, black hair, brown eyes and a sharp featured face wearing a dour expression.
He stands even taller than Forest… Nearly 2m tall!
Though he’s not quite as heavily built, he’s certainly a good looking piece of boycandy!
“Pvt Taylor…” says Sands, her mouth breaking into a smile for the first time I’ve seen “…couldn’t wait to go off to War, could you(?)”
He mutters something but, while I can hear the power and deepness of his voice, I can’t make out a word he says.
“You’ll have to speak up, Taylor! Nobody’ll be able to hear you if you mumble.” points out Sands.
“I said I had some personal circumstances that made this the most sensible course of action for me, Ma’am.” says the tall, dark haired man, looking over her head rather than down at her and speaking in a grim monotone. He definitely loses boycandy points for the poshness of his accent, unfortunately…
“I see… I won’t pry into that but… you didn’t think of Officer Training? That’s the route that most people take when volunteering ahead of their conscription.”
He shakes his head “I thought of it and decided against it, Ma’am.”
“Oh? Why’s that, Pvt Taylor?”
“I didn’t believe I would make a good officer, Ma’am.” he answers simply.
She laughs “I wish every soldier could be as introspective, Taylor! I like you!… Unfortunately, bein’ a minor does mean that you can’t be put in a room with others… Sooo, that means you get a room to yourself… for the moment. Might sound cushy but before anyone else gets too jealous, bare in mind that privacy is the only advantage! His room will be a sixth the size of yours so its basic’ly a broomcupboard… the disadvantage will be severely reduced opportunity to socialise!… If that doesn’t sound doable, you can leave and come back when you turn 18, Taylor.”
“It’s acceptable, Ma’am.” he says without hesitating.
Yeah… it’s official… I don’t like him…
---later---
I rub the spot on my arm where the serum was thunked into me about 15 minutes ago.
Like with everything else about conscription, I get it… I understand the point…
But seeing the sense doesn’t mean I have to like it!
It’s not like I want to get pregnant (getting a nine month reprieve from service would be a fairly shitty reason for me to bring a child into the world) but it does feel like one last slap in the face to my personal autonomy that I’ve just had a cycle pause fucking mandated upon my body by the government!
As I draw near, door 1512 detects the key downloaded on my holo and unlocks
I open it and am greeted by a blonde girl, smiling broadly and instantly identifiable as brimming with ADHD energy.
“Hey there! My name’s Charlotte, it’s lovely to meet you!” says the girl, wrapping me in a hug without asking if I’m OK with that.
Her accent makes me wonder if everyone I meet here is going to be a posh toff!
She makes three of three of my fellow draftees!
“A pleasure, Charlotte… the name’s Esme…” I say, speaking Scottish accented standard English and gingerly patting her back.
“Oh, you’re Scottish…?” she says pulling herself off me with an expression that suggests meeting a Scottish person is just the most wonderful thing she could have imagined “…My great grandmother was from Edinburgh, where are you from?”
“Stranraer.” I answer.
She frowns “I don’t know it, I’m sorry!”
“I won’t hold it against you… Southwestern tip of Scotland? Where it nearly touches Ireland and the Man Peninsula?… ’Bout two and a half million people?”
“Oh, wooow! I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from a village before!” she says, seeming entirely oblivious to how that might be taken as an insult.
“Yeah… I guess it’s not that big.”
“Well…” she wraps me back in the hug and continues “…we’re the first ones to the room and that has to mean we’re going to be best friends!”
“I’m afraid my best friend’s name is Tamsin… the position is not open.” I say, firmly setting a boundary.
“I meant best bootcamp friends, silly!” she says, as if that should have gone without saying.
“Alright… I guess that positions open… but you’ve not got the job yet(!)” I quip, warming up a little to the ball of posh English energy.
She pulls back and beams at me “Alright then, for my first act as best bootcamp friend candidate, let me show you the view!… That should earn me some points!”
She says, leading me into the room that’s so small it makes me doubt that that goody-two-shoes 17 year old can possibly have one a sixth this size!
She leads me to the window and spends a few moments making sure I’m positioned just right before she draws back the curtain.
The view is quite breathtaking… rolling hills of snow blanketed mammoth steppe, lit by evening sun, with barely any of the sprawling military camp visible.
Though, you can see one of the tallest structures ever built by Humanity… the Sussex Space elevator… several times the Earth’s own diameter, the ‘top’, if you can even call it that, is a fifth of the way from here to Luna! …And… in 8 months, I’m going to be riding it, all the way up, to get on a troop transport.
“Look! See! There’s a herd of aurochs over on that hill! You know this place used to be a national park, before even Unification or the Reset! It’s called the South Downs! My mum told me we had family from here… obviously I never met any of them because they would have left hundreds of years ago!…”
The bubbly girl talks and talks and… just keeps talking… but I don’t particularly mind.
---
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---Esme’s perspective---
---Saturday, 11th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar---
---Southern England---
Fucking Sussex!
‘Can you send me to the Forth Valley?’
‘Oh, we can try… On an unrelated note, how’s your standard English? No problems in communicating?’
I should’ve just said ‘No, I have great difficulty in communicating in anything but Lallans Scots!’ instead of putting on my poshest English speech register to say ‘Marjorie dearest, would you be a lamb and pass another buttered scone… hold the raspberry jam, it’s far too spicy for me!’ which she told me she’d take as a ‘Yes.’
“This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.” plays a loud, prerecorded Welsh language announcement, over speakers.
They’re fucking rubbing it in!
“This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.” it repeats in Scots Gaelic.
“Ceci est une caserne Anglophone. Si vous avez été assigné ici par erreur, veuillez vous faire connaître auprès du personnel de la caserne pour une réaffectation.” it says in what I’m 90% sure is a French version of the same announcement (I can’t be certain, though, as that’s not one of my languages).
Looking at the crowds queuing to get in makes me regret asserting that I didn’t need transport here.
‘You shouldn’t be sending someone to War that you don’t trust to navigate themself from Galloway to Sussex!’ were my exact words.
I brushed off the recruitment officer saying that I’d be processed faster if I arrived on Military organised transport.
Well, standing here’s not gonna get me to the front of the queue now, is it!
I walk forward to join the massive throng of people, almost all of which look to be about my age.
It’s astonishing how short you feel, being an average height girl in a crowd of people!
178cm really isn’t all that much when you’ve got a not insignificant number of +2m guys here!
Even guys who are the average 188cm can make a girl feel short when their packed too close…
I see a few Neanderthal hunks… perhaps conscription won’t be all bad(!)
When I make it to the front of the line, the guy just stares expectantly at me like I’m supposed to already know what to do.
“Y’awright?… Err… mah nam’s Esme Reid…?” I say, hesitantly, in perfectly comprehensible speech.
“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” he answers, looking at me like I just spoke to him in fucking Chinese!
“Greetings, gracious sir! You may kindly refer to me by the name ‘Esme Reid’!” I say, affecting my supercilious Southern English gentlewoman accent.
“Alright, Ms Reid. Please present your draft papers and identification.”
The balls they have to ask me to prove who I am when they’re the ones asking me to go off and fucking die for them!
I think about quipping that I should ask him to show me some proof that this is a legitimate Military installation sanctioned by the government of Sol… but think better of it…
Instead, I pull out my draft papers and my holopad, quickly getting up my identification app.
The man scans the code with his own holo and spends a few seconds glancing from his screen to my face and back.
Seeming satisfied that I’m not attempting to enlist under a false identity (for whatever strange reason a person might want to do that) he glances at my papers, says “Everything seems to be in order.” and waves a hand in front of a machine which whirs for half a second before spitting out a simple chain necklace with two little metal rectangles hanging off of it.
He hands it to me and says “This is your identification tag. Please check that the information on it is correct and, if it is, put it on and never take it off.”
I check the tag.
“You’ve got my name and birthday right…” I say, making a conscious effort to keep my speech register in that that a standard English speaker would consider acceptable “…don’t know about the regiment and serial number.”
“Those will be correct.” he says with a ‘move along’ tone.
I shrug, raise the dogtag over my head and drop it around my neck.
I walk on and he’s serving the girl behind me before I’ve even rounded the counter.
I’m ushered through the barracks, herded by the staff, until I reach a building labelled ‘Billet House 279’.
It doesn’t really look like I expected soldiers’ digs to look.
Definitely prefabbed but sort of has more the look of a uni hall than anything else… though I think it’s probably a bit much to expect that I’ll get a room to myself(!)
I follow the throng of draftees through to a wide open room, on the ground floor, that looks like it’s normally a cafeteria.
The camp attendants (who I’m guessing were in the same boat as us, not too long ago) direct us to stand along the left, right and nearside walls, keeping the back wall and centre of the room clear.
Everyone in place, there follows a few minutes of silence broken only by people whispering to one another.
Then, she enters the room.
Dark skinned and clad in green camo clothing, her scalp is easily visible between her cornrows with nary a hair out of place.
Her expression looks absolutely indifferent with just the slightest hint of a curled lip.
From the broadness and flatness of her facial features as well as her single mauve eye, she is clearly half Tshwane… though, you’d never guess that from her stature!
Female Tshwane average nearly 2m… the men are more like 2.2m!
She’s shorter than me!
She’s also built like a Sapiens, not the willowy thinness typical of Tshwane
I guess genetics interact in funny ways sometimes…
Based on her age, her Tshwane parent would probably have to have been one of the very first to be cloned back!
The other eye seems to have been ripped out at some point because in its place is a bionic and there’s a patch of hypopigmented scar tissue, forming a tear shape, at the right corner.
“Recruits… Welcome to the United Terran Coalition Infantry Trainin’ Camp, Graffham… My name is Warrant Officer Simone Sands… and I’ll be your drill instructor…” says the woman, cooly, speaking in a rough sounding, London accent.
The surname ‘Sands’ probably means her dad was the Tshwane (though not necessarily… she might have been given her mum’s surname… or it might be a coincidental English surname).
“…You all know why you’re here… Most of you’ve prob’ly already lost loved ones to this War… You are here to defend our right to exist… and I can’t think of a more worthy reason to fight than that…”
I’ve decided I like this woman… She may be English but I’ll try not to hold that against her(!)
“The first thing I need to tell all of you is that, by the end of your trainin’, you will NOT like me…” she says, as if reading my mind “…that’s OK. My job ain’t to be liked, my job ain’t to make friends… my job is to make soldiers!”
She casts her biological and bionic eyes around the room, letting her words hang in the air.
“Note… that I said ‘soldiers’… This ain’t Full Metal Jacket. This ain’t the 20th Century. There’ll be no Pvt Piles here!… I ain’t aimin’ to destroy your minds or your individuality. I ain’t goin’ to physic’ly and psychologic’ly abuse you into becomin’ robots or killers… I am makin’ you into soldiers… Regardless… this process will not be easy! In fact, it may well be the hardest thing you ever do!… As the face of this process, you will come to hate and resent me for it!… I hope for it! The more you hate me the more-DO YOU HAVE SOMETHIN’ TO SAY, PRIVATE?!”
Everyone in the room is startled by the authoritative woman breaking herself off to shout angrily at someone on the other side of the room.
“STEP FORWARD AND SPEAK SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR YOU!”
The boy that steps forward is tall, bulky and muscular with a handsome, half Neanderthal face… just my type!
Then he has to go and ruin it by opening his mouth.
“I was just saying… that I find it somewhat difficult to take you seriously as a commanding officer… You just seem a little bit… little.” says the boy in the poshest, smarmiest English drawl I’ve ever heard!
The woman does not shout, she does not scream, she doesn’t snarl or even purse her lips!
She just nods, as if considering his words, then asks “What’s your name, Soldier?”
“Rupert Forest.” responds the boy, proudly.
“And, how tall are you, Pvt Forest?” responds the woman, unimpressed
“195cm.” he answers.
“And, what’s your mass?” she asks.
“110kg.”
“I see, I see… So, by your logic… you’d make a better drill sergeant than me, would you? You’re 25cm taller and 35kg heavier, afterall!”
He smirks “I wouldn’t presume to say so, Ma’am…” in a way that definitely suggests that he thinks he would.
She seems to consider that for some moments before answering “Alright then, fight me for it!”
“I’m sorry…?” responds the poshboy.
“You heard me… Clearly, you got no respect for skill and experience but it seems like you must respect power… so fight me for it! You win, you get to train this lot, I win, you never question my authority again!”
Is this woman mad!?
She may be a soldier but this boy she just challenged is a half Neanderthal giant!
She’s gonna lose!
I do not want to be drilled by some snotty, privileged English brat who got here at the same time as I did and just couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut!
Then again, I don’t really want to be drilled by a woman so delusional that she felt the best way to squash insubordination was to challenge a man she has no hope of beating, either!
The guy is clearly salivating over the power that’s just been slapped on the table in front of him as he answers “I accept your terms, Ms Sands…” with faux magnanimity.
There’s no way they’d let a Private run drills, is there? When he wins, someone just needs to go and complain and they’ll give us another (less stupid) drill sergeant… right?
He strips off his jacket to reveal a pair of thick, muscular arms that (in spite of his repulsive personality) are a thrilling sight.
He has to go and ruin it by flexing and posing, clearly revelling in the room’s worth of gasps he got when he revealed his arms… He obviously likes being the centre of attention.
“Done?” asks Sands, drily.
“If you still want to do this…” he says, smugly “…you could just concede defeat and I’m sure no one would hold it against you!”
Her lip curls as she answers “But… if I did that, no one would learn nothin’, now would they…”
He shrugs before launching himself at her without waiting for her to give the word to begin.
She whirls out of the way and he snatches at her, unsuccessfully, as his momentum carries him past.
“Lesson 1:…” she shouts while snapping into the space behind him and kicking out his knee “…size does not determine victory, strength does not determine victory…” levelling another powerful kick between his shoulderblades to bring him to the ground.
She backs off, allowing him to scramble to his feet and turn to face her, hunched in readiness and scowling.
“…Pvt Forest here looked at me with contempt on account of my small size and, though he didn’t say so, I’d guess that my rough accent, my lack of a graduate epithet and my lack of a penis also played a roll in his judgin’ me as less than!… He thought he could beat me, he probably still DOES, and, ’causa that, he didn’t respect my ability to lead…!”
Forest makes another lunge for the smaller woman, misses and is punished for it by being knocked back to the floor.
I’m agog as I watch this little woman… there’s no other word but toy with the giant man!
“…but victory does not care how big you are, how strong you are, how classy or educated you are or what**’**s in your pants or panties…!”
She dodges around his arm and pins his chest to the floor with her knee.
“Discipline and trainin’ determine victory!… Things that I have and Pvt Forest LACKS!… Things that ALL of you will acquire, over the next 8 months!!!” she turns her head down to the mountain of man she’s pinning to the floor “Concede, Private!”
The man shakes his head, trying in vain to leverage himself up.
“Alright then… Lesson 2: When faced with a resistant individual, compliance can be effectively enforced by the expedient of lockin’ their joints to induce PAIN!!!”
She grabs his thick arms by the wrists and pulls them backwards in a way they are not meant to bend!
He screams in agony!
“CONCEDE!!!… Don’t make me send you to the Medical Officer! It’d be inconvenient for BOTH of us if your pride makes you miss your first week of trainin’ while your arms heal!!!”
He holds out for two more seconds before screaming “I concede! I CONCEDE!!!”
She releases him and stands back up.
“On your feet, Soldier…” she growls down at him.
He stands back up, his face beet red.
“Are you ever goin’ to question my fitness to instruct again, Private?” she glares up at the humiliated giant.
“No.” he answers, gracelessly.
“No…?” she says as if waiting for something else.
Forest looks as confused as I am about what she’s expecting.
“No, Ma’am!” she snarls.
“No, Ma’am.”
“Good, we’ll work on your attitude, movin’ forward. Now, get back in line!”
The humiliated man picks up his civvy jacket and returns to the place he was called out from.
“Now, I don’t think I need to prattle on anymore about how you’re gonna hate me by the end of our time together, do I?… I think Pvt Forest helped me prove that point quite well, so I’ll move on… You will sleep in this buildin’, six to a room. Your rooms will be gender segregated. If you wish for a place to be… intimate with people of the opposite gender, you may request use of one of the conjugal rooms… I suggest you do the same if you want to be intimate with a same gender partner but that’s between you and your roommates! You will eat in this room at 0700hrs, 1200hrs and 1800hrs. Diet’ry requirements will be accommodated but, bare in mind, this ain’t your mummies’ and daddies’ kitchen! ‘This food is forbidden by my religion/personal ethics’ is a diet’ry requirement. ‘I am allergic to this food’ is a diet’ry requirement! ‘I don’t like how this food tastes’ is not(!)… In the mornin’s, you will be receivin’ lessons in lecture theatres, workshops and the like…”
“Oh great… just what I wanted after leaving school(!) More classrooms(!)” I mutter to myself.
Her head instantly wheels to me with unnerving precision.
“Someone else with somethin’ they’d like to say!?” she says, locking eyes with me, terrifyingly.
“No, Ms Sands!” I answer, instantly.
“Miss?! I’m not your bloody schoolteacher girl!!!”
Everyone laughs. Even Pvt Forest, like he wasn’t just humiliated himself, 2 minutes ago!
“Ma’am… err… Ma’am, no, Ma’am!!!” I say, doing my best to emulate the tone I’ve seen soldiers use in films.
She rolls her eye (it’s difficult to tell if the bionic rolls too) and says “Better… What’s your name, Private?”
“Ma’am, the Private’s name is Esme Reid, Ma’am!!!”
“Do you remember me tellin’ you this ain’t Full Metal Jacket?… You don’t need to scream when you talk to me, you don’t need to refer to yourself in third person and one ‘Ma’am’, when you’re done speakin’, is enough, Reid!”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She points to her single, mauve eye, then to me and says “I’ll have my eye on you, Reid!”
Somehow, her tone sends a chill up my spine but I do my best not to show it.
She turns away and I release a silent sigh of relief.
“As I was sayin’… In your lectures you will learn the ins and outs of military theory; tactics, strategies, logistics etc. You will learn as much as we can tell you about the nature of the species we are fightin’; their capabilities, tendencies, political organisations and known weaknesses… bear in mind that First Contact weren’t much more than 4 years ago and we’ve been at War for almost all the intervenin’ time, so a lot of what we teach you will be little more than guesswork and hearsay from prisoners we’ve interrogated… The mornin’s’ll also be where you learn the particulars of the equipment you’ll be expected to be proficient with in the field. This includes firearms, plasmaweaponry and durasteel armour, as well as the tech you’ll likely encounter from the opposite side; kinetic pulse weapons, laser weapons, field emitters etc… I strongly suggest that no one allows word to get back to me that they’re not takin’ these classes seriously!… A stupid soldier is a dead soldier!”
She glares around the room, her eyes resting on me four a quarter of a second.
“…In the afternoons and evenin’s, you’ll be doing PT… that’s ‘Physical Trainin’’… soon to be every one of your two least favourite words in the English Language(!) “
I notice a wry smirk twist the mouths of a few of the camp attendants.
“In PT you will be drilled in agility, endurance, close quarters combat and coordinated marching… Five times over the comin’ 8 months, you and your trainin’ partner will be dropped into a remote bit of wilderness, somewhere on Earth, for five day practical survival experience. You will be given a beacon, to summon retrieval, but these are only to be used in cases of actual threat to life or bodily integrity… not because you’re feelin’ miserable!”
She takes a second to pause for breath.
“You get an allowance of 12 days off, over your time here… that’s two a month… These are subject to my approval and I may deny them for any reason, including no reason… so don’t piss me off!… You may not take more than 2 consecutive days leave at a time! Certain classes are mandatory and leave will not be approved on days they occur. If your allowance is spent, no more leave will be approved, barring a real emergency!… Now, for today, you are going to line up to have your maps and room keys downloaded onto your holos when your name is called, then you are going to have your bodies scanned for your armour measurements… at that point everyone with no uterus has the rest of the day free to settle in… If you have a uterus, you’ll need to report to medical to get your cycle paused! This is, I’m afraid, nonoptional… You are not prohibited from engaging in relations with your fellow recruits but you cannot be a soldier while you’re able to get pregnant. Attempts to circumvent this requirement in any way will land you in the Stockade!… After your cycle pause has been given, you’ll also have the rest of the day to settle in… Enjoy it! It’ll be the most downtime you get for a while!… Finally… I believe we have a 17 year old with us here… Pvt Taylor?”
A few people put their hands up, most looking confused.
“Pvt Oskar Taylor! The 17 year old?” she says, exasperated.
All but one of those with their hands up put them down.
The one remaining Pvt Taylor with his hand in the air has pale skin, black hair, brown eyes and a sharp featured face wearing a dour expression.
He stands even taller than Forest… Nearly 2m tall!
Though he’s not quite as heavily built, he’s certainly a good looking piece of boycandy!
“Pvt Taylor…” says Sands, her mouth breaking into a smile for the first time I’ve seen “…couldn’t wait to go off to War, could you(?)”
He mutters something but, while I can hear the power and deepness of his voice, I can’t make out a word he says.
“You’ll have to speak up, Taylor! Nobody’ll be able to hear you if you mumble.” points out Sands.
“I said I had some personal circumstances that made this the most sensible course of action for me, Ma’am.” says the tall, dark haired man, looking over her head rather than down at her and speaking in a grim monotone. He definitely loses boycandy points for the poshness of his accent, unfortunately…
“I see… I won’t pry into that but… you didn’t think of Officer Training? That’s the route that most people take when volunteering ahead of their conscription.”
He shakes his head “I thought of it and decided against it, Ma’am.”
“Oh? Why’s that, Pvt Taylor?”
“I didn’t believe I would make a good officer, Ma’am.” he answers simply.
She laughs “I wish every soldier could be as introspective, Taylor! I like you!… Unfortunately, bein’ a minor does mean that you can’t be put in a room with others… Sooo, that means you get a room to yourself… for the moment. Might sound cushy but before anyone else gets too jealous, bare in mind that privacy is the only advantage! His room will be a sixth the size of yours so its basic’ly a broomcupboard… the disadvantage will be severely reduced opportunity to socialise!… If that doesn’t sound doable, you can leave and come back when you turn 18, Taylor.”
“It’s acceptable, Ma’am.” he says without hesitating.
Yeah… it’s official… I don’t like him…
---later---
I rub the spot on my arm where the serum was thunked into me about 15 minutes ago.
Like with everything else about conscription, I get it… I understand the point…
But seeing the sense doesn’t mean I have to like it!
It’s not like I want to get pregnant (getting a nine month reprieve from service would be a fairly shitty reason for me to bring a child into the world) but it does feel like one last slap in the face to my personal autonomy that I’ve just had a cycle pause fucking mandated upon my body by the government!
As I draw near, door 1512 detects the key downloaded on my holo and unlocks
I open it and am greeted by a blonde girl, smiling broadly and instantly identifiable as brimming with ADHD energy.
“Hey there! My name’s Charlotte, it’s lovely to meet you!” says the girl, wrapping me in a hug without asking if I’m OK with that.
Her accent makes me wonder if everyone I meet here is going to be a posh toff!
She makes three of three of my fellow draftees!
“A pleasure, Charlotte… the name’s Esme…” I say, speaking Scottish accented standard English and gingerly patting her back.
“Oh, you’re Scottish…?” she says pulling herself off me with an expression that suggests meeting a Scottish person is just the most wonderful thing she could have imagined “…My great grandmother was from Edinburgh, where are you from?”
“Stranraer.” I answer.
She frowns “I don’t know it, I’m sorry!”
“I won’t hold it against you… Southwestern tip of Scotland? Where it nearly touches Ireland and the Man Peninsula?… ’Bout two and a half million people?”
“Oh, wooow! I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from a village before!” she says, seeming entirely oblivious to how that might be taken as an insult.
“Yeah… I guess it’s not that big.”
“Well…” she wraps me back in the hug and continues “…we’re the first ones to the room and that has to mean we’re going to be best friends!”
“I’m afraid my best friend’s name is Tamsin… the position is not open.” I say, firmly setting a boundary.
“I meant best bootcamp friends, silly!” she says, as if that should have gone without saying.
“Alright… I guess that positions open… but you’ve not got the job yet(!)” I quip, warming up a little to the ball of posh English energy.
She pulls back and beams at me “Alright then, for my first act as best bootcamp friend candidate, let me show you the view!… That should earn me some points!”
She says, leading me into the room that’s so small it makes me doubt that that goody-two-shoes 17 year old can possibly have one a sixth this size!
She leads me to the window and spends a few moments making sure I’m positioned just right before she draws back the curtain.
The view is quite breathtaking… rolling hills of snow blanketed mammoth steppe, lit by evening sun, with barely any of the sprawling military camp visible.
Though, you can see one of the tallest structures ever built by Humanity… the Sussex Space elevator… several times the Earth’s own diameter, the ‘top’, if you can even call it that, is a fifth of the way from here to Luna! …And… in 8 months, I’m going to be riding it, all the way up, to get on a troop transport.
“Look! See! There’s a herd of aurochs over on that hill! You know this place used to be a national park, before even Unification or the Reset! It’s called the South Downs! My mum told me we had family from here… obviously I never met any of them because they would have left hundreds of years ago!…”
The bubbly girl talks and talks and… just keeps talking… but I don’t particularly mind.
---
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2023.06.04 14:59 Danklyy The second Rayne administration: my headcanon for a second term in office (Chapter 1, part 2)
This is my headcanon for the events following Suzerain as the game played out in my (communist) playthrough:
Disclaimer 1: This obviously includes many spoilers from the game.
Disclaimer 2: This story is written with storytelling and lore at the forefront, not necessarily gameplay accuracy.
Disclaimer 3: This is only the first chapter (and backstory) of this headcanon story/fanfic/whatever you want to call it. I want to write more, but would like to see what people in the Suzerain community think about the writing so far and if they’d like to see more of it. :)
(Part 1 is on my page if you cannot find it elsewhere)
“Thank you for your trust in me Serge. It truly means a lot.” Serge smiled through the rear-view mirror once more before replying “Thank you Mr. President for setting such a great example for the people of this nation.” Anton knew it would be impossible to beat Serge in a humility contest, so he conceded with his usual reply “You are too kind, Serge.” Before long they were off, and it didn’t take them as long as they’d thought to get back to the hill of pride, as the traffic had wound down along with the day. As the car headed up the long and winding road that led to the maroon palace through capitol park Anton noticed the palace gates were open and the driveway was filled with journalists, as opposed to the politicians and oligarchs usually present at the previous inauguration events. As Serge entered the car into the driveway, the journalists made way for the car to park next to the small row of black sedans and limos that had brought the rest of the night’s dinner guests to the palace.
Serge quickly stopped the engine and exited the car to open Anton’s door. As he did so, Anton was met with the now familiar camera flashes and the sounds of journalists speaking over each other to the point of near incomprehension. “Mr. President” started a young woman in a sharp azure pantsuit, holding a microphone up to the President’s lips. “There have been a lot of concerns voiced by the opposition after you used the phrase ‘Sordish Revolution’ at your rally. Is the opposition correct that this is an indication of political violence being endorsed by the presidency?” Anton noticed the ‘Lachaven Times’ label on the woman’s microphone before replying to her question. “No. Revolution does not mean violence. Revolution means that this country has problems, and we need radical and rapid change to address those issues.”
“Mr. President, one more question. This revolution outburst, as well as your administration’s close association with communism and United Contana, has brought fear to the hearts of many business owners in Sordland. Do you plan to completely nationalise our nation’s economy, and will business owners be compensated for the loss of the fruits of their labour? Anton briefly chuckled before opening his mouth to reply. Before he could do so however, he saw a hand cover the woman’s microphone. “The President will not be answering any more questions as of now.” Ranye looked left and saw his newly appointed Vice President, Lucian, looking as stern as ever. He took his other hand on Anton’s back, leading him away from the flock of journalists, into the maroon palace.
As they moved inside, there were still a large amount of journalists, although not as many as there were outside. These journalists however, knew better than to try and approach the President, as Lucian’s glare was warning enough. “It’s good to have you here Mr. President. We’ve already set up everything in the dining room upstairs, both for the dinner itself and the televising of the event. Your wife insisted on waiting on you in your office. It would be good for the press to be able to get pictures of you two together, so I would advise you to go get her so you can welcome the dinner guests together.” Anton now noticed his Vice President was wearing a tuxedo, as were many of the male journalists and camera crew. “Knowing you, there is already a tuxedo in my office as well.” Lucian nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go get ready.”
As the President and Vice President separated, it did not take long before Anton found himself in conversation again, while on his way to his office. This time with the director of the Sordish Radio and Television Supreme Council that Anton had founded during his first administration. In fact this was Anton’s first time meeting the director of the council, as Lucian was the one who appointed him. “Mr. President, it’s an honour to meet you. Damien Ves, at your service.” The stocky and wide man grabbed Anton’s hand and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet with you Mr. Ves. Lucian told me you’d be in charge of today’s broadcast.” Anton began to increase his pace, which Damien attempted to duplicate. “Yes, it's all very exciting. It will be like you’re having dinner with the entire country! This new technology is amazing!”
“Yes, truly amazing. If you’ll excuse me I have to go get ready. It was nice meeting you.” Anton entered his office and closed the door with a sigh. Before being able to look around the room, he was ambushed by a hug from his daughter Deana. “Papa! You’re finally here!” Anton looked down at his daughter, who looked tired from the eventful day. “How did you like the rally sweetheart?” asked Anton as he got down on one knee to be eye-level with Deana. “There were so many people! Mama talked to so many of them. She talked a lot about exploitation. What is exploitation Papa?”
Before Anton could think of how he was going to explain that to his daughter, Monica came up behind her and picked her up. “Alright, let your papa at least get inside properly before you start asking him harder questions than the journalists outside.” Anton followed his wife into the room as she plopped down Deana on the couch. Only then was he able to see how beautiful his wife looked in her elegant scarlet dress. The only thing he could fathom doing was kissing her, and as he did, she pulled away. “Later. Now you have to get ready. It’s nearly seven.” Before going to the bathroom in his office to change, Anton took a last look at his wife as she started doing Deana’s hair. “You look absolutely gorgeous, honey.” Monica gave her husband a warm smile and a wink back as a reply.
Anton entered the office bathroom, where a tuxedo hung from the door on a hanger. It looked old, yet well-maintained. Its white bowtie and waistcoat, coupled with a long tailcoat reminded Anton of the similar suits worn by the wealthiest students during his time at university in the 1920s. As he put on the tuxedo and started adjusting it, he found a note in the left-hand pocket on the tailcoat.
It read “Anton, as you read this, getting ready for the start of your next term, know that the people of Sordland have reaffirmed their trust in you, and it is your duty to not let them down. This suit belonged to my father, and he used it for events just like the one you’re about to go to all the time when he was president. When he fell, Sordland became cursed with two despots, who ignored the cries of the weak. I believe that you have the power to break that curse, as evident by your first term. I believe that you are the only one who might be able to stop this curse now. But only if you keep true to yourself and your ideals, don’t let the world of politics suck you in too much. Don’t forget that you are where you are to serve the people. Not the powerful, but the weak. Good luck my old student and good friend. -Deivid Wisci.”
Anton had very fond memories of his mentor Deivid Wisci, both as his professor, and as his minister of foreign affairs. The day he retired was a sad day for Sordland. Although he definitely deserved a retirement, after all the good he had done, Anton thought to himself. He put the note back in his pocket and adjusted his bowtie for the final time. Before leaving the bathroom however, he remembered to take the pocket watch he was gifted by Serge from the breast-pocket of his usual attire. He placed it in the breast-pocket of his new tailcoat, slicked back his jet black hair, and headed out of the bathroom. “Ready?” Monica and Deana were sitting on the couch patiently waiting. “Yes, let’s go.” Anton reached out his hand to escort Monica out. As she put her hand into his, he kissed her hand before the pair proceeded out of the office along with Deana.
The Rayne family made their way into the maroon palace’s dining room, where the camera crew had already started filming. Anton and his family took their place in the lounge area that decorated the backdrop for the dining table, where the Rayne cabinet slowly started to assemble to be welcomed by Anton and Monica. First was Lucian who, to nobody’s surprise, came alone. He came up to Anton and shook his hand, followed by that of Monica’s, while Deana tried to hide slightly behind her mother. Lucian took his seat in the lounge, making sure to sit as close to Anton as he could.
He was soon followed by the equally lonesome minister of defence, Iosef Lancea. Unlike nearly every man present in the maroon palace however, Iosef came in his regular military attire, as opposed to a tuxedo, or even a regular suit. Although Anton was unsure, he might’ve added a few medals to his uniform for the occasion. He saluted the President and First Lady, to which Anton replied with an adequate, but not nearly as impressive salute. He took his seat next to Lucian, and they started the obligatory small-talk that was expected of them as dinner guests.
At last came the minister of agriculture, Gus Manger, who was accompanied by his wife and son. They walked up to the President’s family, where Gus proceeded to shake Monica’s hand, while his wife greeted Anton. They then switched places, and Anton welcomed Gus and his family to the palace, and to the dinner. Gus then took his seat beside Iosef, promptly followed by his wife and son. Anton didn’t know much about Gus’ family, however his son somewhat reminded him of Franc, albeit a few years younger. The boy didn’t seem that excited to be here, understandably enough. It seemed as though Monica had noticed the same thing, as she faintly pulled on her husband’s arm, gesturing to him to lead everyone to their seats at the table.
As he was about to do just that, the doors to the eastern wing of the room swung open one more time. It was Ciara. She was wearing an off-white dress, surprisingly similar in shade to the bathrobe she’d worn earlier today, though obviously much more classy. Monica gave Anton’s hand a slight squeeze as she noticed her friend. Anton looked towards a smiling Monica, and gave her a grin back. “You managed to get her to rejoin your cabinet?” Anton smiled even wider “It was a hard task, but I think you had a lot to do with it.” Ciara walked up to Monica and shook her hand, bowing slightly as she did it. She turned to Anton and shook his hand, though not with as much vigour as with Monica. “Mr. President.” “Ms. Walda. Welcome.”
When the rest of the guests noticed Ciara, Iosef flung up out of his seat, looking positively resentful. “What is she doing here? Didn’t you resign you-” Lucian quickly got out of his seat and put his hand on Iosef’s shoulder, or at least as far as he could get to the shoulder of the colossal man. Iosef turned his head sharply and scowled at Lucian, prompting him to remove his hand and gesture to Damien, who was behind the camera, making sure our conversation was out of range for the camera to pick up on. Iosef turned to Anton “Mr. President, with all due respect, did you really invite this woman back to your cabinet after her treacherous resignation?!” Anton had noticed the tension between Iosef and Ciara the few times they’d been in the same room together, and it was clear they were good at pressing each other’s buttons, intentionally or not. Iosef must’ve been glad when she resigned. For her to come back unannounced must’ve been seen as a big middle finger to not just Iosef, but Lucian as well, as Anton hadn’t discussed it with him either. But Lucian, unlike Iosef, knew how to act like a politician, and wouldn’t risk his career for a televised outburst.
“Iosef, with all due respect, I am your superior. We need people in our cabinet, and may I remind you that this event is currently being televised.” Anton stared at Iosef in a way he’d never done before. It was actually quite satisfying for Anton to be able to speak to Iosef like that, as he had real experience on how Iosef treated his subordinates from his time in the army. Iosef mumbled something before speaking up “Of course Mr. President. I am sorry.” Anton could actually see Iosef’s eye visibly twitch as he mouthed that last part. “Good, then we’ll be seated. Follow me everyone, right this way.” President Rayne led the dinner guests towards the table, where Deana and Gus’ son were seated first, followed by Ciara, Monica and Gus’ wife, the two latter of whom were seated by their husbands respectively. After which the rest of the cabinet, along with Anton took their seats.
The camera panned to look directly at Anton, who would deliver his post-inauguration speech to the nation. “Brothers and sisters, today has been a great day, not just for myself, not just for the USP, but for our nation. You have reaffirmed your support for me as your President, as a conduit for the will of the people. In doing so you have reaffirmed your trust in our nation, our collective passion to make the lives of others better. Because that is what a nation is. A nation is a band of people who share a home, and who are passionate enough to help each other and push each other forward to greater things. It is a sentiment to collectivism and what we can accomplish when we band together and fight for each other, with compassion and solidarity. That is what we are, we are brothers and sisters. No matter if you are a sord or blud, man or woman, eight or eighty. If you live in Sordland, your neighbours are your brothers and sisters, together you hold this nation on your backs through your trust and your belief that together we can make the world a better place. United we stand, divided we fall. A Morgna wes core, vectern sis da!”
The camera panned away from Anton’s face but continued filming the dining table. Everyone seated applauded Anton’s speech. He raised his wine glass, which had already been filled prior to everyone being seated. “I’d also like to raise a toast. To Bernard Circas. We sit here, on the four year anniversary of the tragic end of his great life. His words moved millions, and continue to move millions more after his death. He inspired love, compassion and hope. He dreamed of a better Sordland, one where we were free of exploitation and united in proletarian solidarity.” There were mixed reactions across the table, but mainly looks of disagreement. Anton continued nonetheless. “Bernard was killed for his beliefs. After a long investigation the main culprits are finally behind bars, but this does not solve the deeper issue. Fascism. The scourge that kept Bernard’s dream from being realised is what killed him, and he will have died in vain if we do not take that threat seriously, and do what we can to rid this country of the fascism that wants to tear it apart. It was only Bernard who would have the words to give us the hope we need, but while he is gone, his spirit remains, and it remains to give us the willpower we need to do what we can to make sure nothing like what happened four years ago ever happens again. To Bernard, our only strength is the will to survive.”
After Anton finished he took a sip of his bitter wine and sat the glass back down, followed by everyone else. Iosef mumbled something again, but as Anton briefly looked towards Damien, it looked like the speech, and following toast, had been a hit with him and the rest of the camera crew. “Well said Mr. President '' said Lucian, before taking another sip of his wine. A moment later, the chef, a tall and lanky young man, came out followed by servers bearing plates of food. “For the first course we have prepared…” The next few hours flew by as Anton was bored senseless by the conversations, or lack thereof, between the “strictly-work-talk” Vice President, traditionalist minister of defence, radical minister of education, and anrican capitalist minister of agriculture. After hours of dull conversation and several courses, all representing a different region of Sordland, the dinner was finally over and the broadcast finished off with a speech from the first lady. Anton felt bad, being too tired to properly listen to Monica’s speech, although it seemed to have a similar effect on the guests as Anton’s speech did. As the applause following her speech died down, the broadcast was shut off, and nearly everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief, including Anton and Monica.
Anton stood up, and was followed by the rest of the table. The presidential couple bid farewell to their guests as nearly everyone left. As Anton, Monica and Deana were getting ready to go change and head home, Anton was approached by Damien who wanted to have a few words before leaving.
“It was a wonderful broadcast Mr. President!” he said with a fake enthusiasm. Damien knew the basics of political intrigue, but had yet to grasp the subtle art of lying convincingly. Anton simply replied “Thank you, Mr. Ves, you did very well yourself managing the production.'' Unlike Damien, Anton bore no attempt to show his lack of interest in the conversation, as he slowly started making his way out of the dining room area of the palace. “Thank you Mr. President, you honour me!.” he nervously paused for few seconds before continuing “Mr. President, would you please consider having a meeting with me later this week.” “Whenever you have the time!” blurted out the nervous, and now slightly sweaty, man. “I’d be glad to have a meeting with you Damien. In fact I was planning on having one with you anyway, to discuss the goals and strategies of the commission going forward.” Anton again started walking a bit faster, trying to get out of the conversations with the hippo-like man. “How does tuesday 9:30 sound?” Damien struggled to keep up with the President, making him sweat even more profusely as he panted out a reply “Wonderful! Great! Thank you Mr.Presdi..Ray..” He stopped for a second to catch his breath “Thank you Mr. President!” he shouted down the hallway as the President hurried back into his office.
“Why do such social events seem to drain me more than dull meetings about infrastructure development?” joked Anton as he walked into his office to greet his wife. “It wasn’t that bad, I had quite the interesting conversation with Ciara and Erica.” Anton looked confused for a moment before Monica elaborated. “Gus’ wife. Erica Manger.” She sat down on the couch next to a half asleep Deana. “Ah! And what did she have to say?” inquired Anton, loosening his bowtie as he said it. “She was surprisingly supportive of our participation in politics, considering she’s from Anrica, like Gus.” Anton sat next to his wife, wrapping his arm around her before answering. “Well not everyone in Anrica is exactly Curtan Leste. You know he’s been losing a lot of support in the city ever since his stunt in Benfi, interrupting your speech like that.” Monica looked out the window to the view of capitol park. “Still, even with the waning influence of the old guard, both him and Gloria Tory have become increasingly popular with the conservatives now that Soll, Graff, Hawker and the like are all in prison. They are still a real threat, now with even more concentrated support.” Anton stood up and walked over to the window, now looking at dusk settling over the park as well. “I know.” he paused for a second. “We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The couple stood there for a few minutes in silence, enjoying a peaceful moment together while contemplating the future. After a while, however, they decided they best head home for the day. They went into the office bathroom to get changed again. After doing so, Anton took his sleeping daughter in his arms and the three of them exited the maroon palace. They had stayed there so long that all the journalists had gotten tired of waiting for them and gone home. The courtyard of the palace was all but empty, aside from a few guards, and of course, the Rayne family’s loyal driver. Serge opened the backseat door for the family to get in the car, where they were able to relax for the long drive home in the quiet of the night.
The new Valgslandian presidential car was slowly making its way towards the presidential residence built during the Alphonso presidency. It was a modern home, inspired by the works of some Arcasian architects. While Anton certainly disagreed with Alphonso about a lot, and despised Arcasia, he had to admit it was a pretty nice home. As he sat in the car he dreamt about getting home and being able to jump into bed after such a long day, and from the looks of it, Monica was thinking about the same thing.
They were driving past a newly built secondary school, Circas Secondary, that was built as part of Anton and Ciara’s education program during the first term. Anton’s mind drifted from the architecture of his own home to the architecture of this school, and was suddenly filled with pride, being able to see the material results of his work as president. He was admiring the building’s large gymnasium when suddenly the white walls of the pristine building turned a fiery orange hue, followed by a loud “BANG!”. Before they could comprehend what had happened the car had been flipped on its head and the glass from the windows shattered. Deana immediately woke up in panic and started crying. Anton was able to get to her quickly, and shield her and Monica. They sat there together in the wreck of the car for what felt like minutes, not being able to move out of pure shock, before they heard a series of coughs followed by the voice of their driver “Anton, Monica, Deana. Are you okay?!” Anton managed to muster a response despite his distress. “I think so Serge. How about you?”
As he felt a hand grab him by the collar of his coat, Serge replied “Don’t worry about me, we need to get out of here!” Before Anton could respond he felt his collar tighten around his neck as he was slowly dragged out of the car wreck along with his wife and daughter. When they were all out of the car Anton opened his eyes to find he was lying on the pavement, looking up at Serge who was examining the family for any serious injuries. He then heard the sound of sirens in the distance, and noticed the night looked very bright. He looked to his right and saw the cause of this brightness, the school was on fire. At least what was left of the school. There was rubble everywhere, it had been blown to pieces. He looked back up at Serge, with the starry night sky behind him. Hints of flashing red and blue lights began to appear as Anton’s eyes began to shut and the night became darker. The previously clear voice of his driver became muffled, as he heard cars approaching and the sound of doors being shut. Before passing out, he felt someone lift him up and put his body onto something soft, followed by the sound of doors being shut again.
To be continued.
submitted by Danklyy to suzerain [link] [comments]
Disclaimer 1: This obviously includes many spoilers from the game.
Disclaimer 2: This story is written with storytelling and lore at the forefront, not necessarily gameplay accuracy.
Disclaimer 3: This is only the first chapter (and backstory) of this headcanon story/fanfic/whatever you want to call it. I want to write more, but would like to see what people in the Suzerain community think about the writing so far and if they’d like to see more of it. :)
(Part 1 is on my page if you cannot find it elsewhere)
Chapter 1: Inauguration Day (Continuation)
Serge had always been one for praise as long as Anton had known him, but it seemed to be out of sheer admiration and trust, unlike the usual political suck-up. It was definitely appreciated praise, but somewhat uncomfortable in a way, as Anton wasn’t used to such high praise from politicians, and was a little afraid all the compliments would bloat his ego. Though he rarely vocally disagreed with Serge’s remarks, as a president shouldn’t appear doubtful of their abilities. That was one of the many rules Anton had learned to follow as a president. He didn’t like it, yet it had still become almost second nature to him by now, something that also concerned him quite a bit.“Thank you for your trust in me Serge. It truly means a lot.” Serge smiled through the rear-view mirror once more before replying “Thank you Mr. President for setting such a great example for the people of this nation.” Anton knew it would be impossible to beat Serge in a humility contest, so he conceded with his usual reply “You are too kind, Serge.” Before long they were off, and it didn’t take them as long as they’d thought to get back to the hill of pride, as the traffic had wound down along with the day. As the car headed up the long and winding road that led to the maroon palace through capitol park Anton noticed the palace gates were open and the driveway was filled with journalists, as opposed to the politicians and oligarchs usually present at the previous inauguration events. As Serge entered the car into the driveway, the journalists made way for the car to park next to the small row of black sedans and limos that had brought the rest of the night’s dinner guests to the palace.
Serge quickly stopped the engine and exited the car to open Anton’s door. As he did so, Anton was met with the now familiar camera flashes and the sounds of journalists speaking over each other to the point of near incomprehension. “Mr. President” started a young woman in a sharp azure pantsuit, holding a microphone up to the President’s lips. “There have been a lot of concerns voiced by the opposition after you used the phrase ‘Sordish Revolution’ at your rally. Is the opposition correct that this is an indication of political violence being endorsed by the presidency?” Anton noticed the ‘Lachaven Times’ label on the woman’s microphone before replying to her question. “No. Revolution does not mean violence. Revolution means that this country has problems, and we need radical and rapid change to address those issues.”
“Mr. President, one more question. This revolution outburst, as well as your administration’s close association with communism and United Contana, has brought fear to the hearts of many business owners in Sordland. Do you plan to completely nationalise our nation’s economy, and will business owners be compensated for the loss of the fruits of their labour? Anton briefly chuckled before opening his mouth to reply. Before he could do so however, he saw a hand cover the woman’s microphone. “The President will not be answering any more questions as of now.” Ranye looked left and saw his newly appointed Vice President, Lucian, looking as stern as ever. He took his other hand on Anton’s back, leading him away from the flock of journalists, into the maroon palace.
As they moved inside, there were still a large amount of journalists, although not as many as there were outside. These journalists however, knew better than to try and approach the President, as Lucian’s glare was warning enough. “It’s good to have you here Mr. President. We’ve already set up everything in the dining room upstairs, both for the dinner itself and the televising of the event. Your wife insisted on waiting on you in your office. It would be good for the press to be able to get pictures of you two together, so I would advise you to go get her so you can welcome the dinner guests together.” Anton now noticed his Vice President was wearing a tuxedo, as were many of the male journalists and camera crew. “Knowing you, there is already a tuxedo in my office as well.” Lucian nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go get ready.”
As the President and Vice President separated, it did not take long before Anton found himself in conversation again, while on his way to his office. This time with the director of the Sordish Radio and Television Supreme Council that Anton had founded during his first administration. In fact this was Anton’s first time meeting the director of the council, as Lucian was the one who appointed him. “Mr. President, it’s an honour to meet you. Damien Ves, at your service.” The stocky and wide man grabbed Anton’s hand and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet with you Mr. Ves. Lucian told me you’d be in charge of today’s broadcast.” Anton began to increase his pace, which Damien attempted to duplicate. “Yes, it's all very exciting. It will be like you’re having dinner with the entire country! This new technology is amazing!”
“Yes, truly amazing. If you’ll excuse me I have to go get ready. It was nice meeting you.” Anton entered his office and closed the door with a sigh. Before being able to look around the room, he was ambushed by a hug from his daughter Deana. “Papa! You’re finally here!” Anton looked down at his daughter, who looked tired from the eventful day. “How did you like the rally sweetheart?” asked Anton as he got down on one knee to be eye-level with Deana. “There were so many people! Mama talked to so many of them. She talked a lot about exploitation. What is exploitation Papa?”
Before Anton could think of how he was going to explain that to his daughter, Monica came up behind her and picked her up. “Alright, let your papa at least get inside properly before you start asking him harder questions than the journalists outside.” Anton followed his wife into the room as she plopped down Deana on the couch. Only then was he able to see how beautiful his wife looked in her elegant scarlet dress. The only thing he could fathom doing was kissing her, and as he did, she pulled away. “Later. Now you have to get ready. It’s nearly seven.” Before going to the bathroom in his office to change, Anton took a last look at his wife as she started doing Deana’s hair. “You look absolutely gorgeous, honey.” Monica gave her husband a warm smile and a wink back as a reply.
Anton entered the office bathroom, where a tuxedo hung from the door on a hanger. It looked old, yet well-maintained. Its white bowtie and waistcoat, coupled with a long tailcoat reminded Anton of the similar suits worn by the wealthiest students during his time at university in the 1920s. As he put on the tuxedo and started adjusting it, he found a note in the left-hand pocket on the tailcoat.
It read “Anton, as you read this, getting ready for the start of your next term, know that the people of Sordland have reaffirmed their trust in you, and it is your duty to not let them down. This suit belonged to my father, and he used it for events just like the one you’re about to go to all the time when he was president. When he fell, Sordland became cursed with two despots, who ignored the cries of the weak. I believe that you have the power to break that curse, as evident by your first term. I believe that you are the only one who might be able to stop this curse now. But only if you keep true to yourself and your ideals, don’t let the world of politics suck you in too much. Don’t forget that you are where you are to serve the people. Not the powerful, but the weak. Good luck my old student and good friend. -Deivid Wisci.”
Anton had very fond memories of his mentor Deivid Wisci, both as his professor, and as his minister of foreign affairs. The day he retired was a sad day for Sordland. Although he definitely deserved a retirement, after all the good he had done, Anton thought to himself. He put the note back in his pocket and adjusted his bowtie for the final time. Before leaving the bathroom however, he remembered to take the pocket watch he was gifted by Serge from the breast-pocket of his usual attire. He placed it in the breast-pocket of his new tailcoat, slicked back his jet black hair, and headed out of the bathroom. “Ready?” Monica and Deana were sitting on the couch patiently waiting. “Yes, let’s go.” Anton reached out his hand to escort Monica out. As she put her hand into his, he kissed her hand before the pair proceeded out of the office along with Deana.
The Rayne family made their way into the maroon palace’s dining room, where the camera crew had already started filming. Anton and his family took their place in the lounge area that decorated the backdrop for the dining table, where the Rayne cabinet slowly started to assemble to be welcomed by Anton and Monica. First was Lucian who, to nobody’s surprise, came alone. He came up to Anton and shook his hand, followed by that of Monica’s, while Deana tried to hide slightly behind her mother. Lucian took his seat in the lounge, making sure to sit as close to Anton as he could.
He was soon followed by the equally lonesome minister of defence, Iosef Lancea. Unlike nearly every man present in the maroon palace however, Iosef came in his regular military attire, as opposed to a tuxedo, or even a regular suit. Although Anton was unsure, he might’ve added a few medals to his uniform for the occasion. He saluted the President and First Lady, to which Anton replied with an adequate, but not nearly as impressive salute. He took his seat next to Lucian, and they started the obligatory small-talk that was expected of them as dinner guests.
At last came the minister of agriculture, Gus Manger, who was accompanied by his wife and son. They walked up to the President’s family, where Gus proceeded to shake Monica’s hand, while his wife greeted Anton. They then switched places, and Anton welcomed Gus and his family to the palace, and to the dinner. Gus then took his seat beside Iosef, promptly followed by his wife and son. Anton didn’t know much about Gus’ family, however his son somewhat reminded him of Franc, albeit a few years younger. The boy didn’t seem that excited to be here, understandably enough. It seemed as though Monica had noticed the same thing, as she faintly pulled on her husband’s arm, gesturing to him to lead everyone to their seats at the table.
As he was about to do just that, the doors to the eastern wing of the room swung open one more time. It was Ciara. She was wearing an off-white dress, surprisingly similar in shade to the bathrobe she’d worn earlier today, though obviously much more classy. Monica gave Anton’s hand a slight squeeze as she noticed her friend. Anton looked towards a smiling Monica, and gave her a grin back. “You managed to get her to rejoin your cabinet?” Anton smiled even wider “It was a hard task, but I think you had a lot to do with it.” Ciara walked up to Monica and shook her hand, bowing slightly as she did it. She turned to Anton and shook his hand, though not with as much vigour as with Monica. “Mr. President.” “Ms. Walda. Welcome.”
When the rest of the guests noticed Ciara, Iosef flung up out of his seat, looking positively resentful. “What is she doing here? Didn’t you resign you-” Lucian quickly got out of his seat and put his hand on Iosef’s shoulder, or at least as far as he could get to the shoulder of the colossal man. Iosef turned his head sharply and scowled at Lucian, prompting him to remove his hand and gesture to Damien, who was behind the camera, making sure our conversation was out of range for the camera to pick up on. Iosef turned to Anton “Mr. President, with all due respect, did you really invite this woman back to your cabinet after her treacherous resignation?!” Anton had noticed the tension between Iosef and Ciara the few times they’d been in the same room together, and it was clear they were good at pressing each other’s buttons, intentionally or not. Iosef must’ve been glad when she resigned. For her to come back unannounced must’ve been seen as a big middle finger to not just Iosef, but Lucian as well, as Anton hadn’t discussed it with him either. But Lucian, unlike Iosef, knew how to act like a politician, and wouldn’t risk his career for a televised outburst.
“Iosef, with all due respect, I am your superior. We need people in our cabinet, and may I remind you that this event is currently being televised.” Anton stared at Iosef in a way he’d never done before. It was actually quite satisfying for Anton to be able to speak to Iosef like that, as he had real experience on how Iosef treated his subordinates from his time in the army. Iosef mumbled something before speaking up “Of course Mr. President. I am sorry.” Anton could actually see Iosef’s eye visibly twitch as he mouthed that last part. “Good, then we’ll be seated. Follow me everyone, right this way.” President Rayne led the dinner guests towards the table, where Deana and Gus’ son were seated first, followed by Ciara, Monica and Gus’ wife, the two latter of whom were seated by their husbands respectively. After which the rest of the cabinet, along with Anton took their seats.
The camera panned to look directly at Anton, who would deliver his post-inauguration speech to the nation. “Brothers and sisters, today has been a great day, not just for myself, not just for the USP, but for our nation. You have reaffirmed your support for me as your President, as a conduit for the will of the people. In doing so you have reaffirmed your trust in our nation, our collective passion to make the lives of others better. Because that is what a nation is. A nation is a band of people who share a home, and who are passionate enough to help each other and push each other forward to greater things. It is a sentiment to collectivism and what we can accomplish when we band together and fight for each other, with compassion and solidarity. That is what we are, we are brothers and sisters. No matter if you are a sord or blud, man or woman, eight or eighty. If you live in Sordland, your neighbours are your brothers and sisters, together you hold this nation on your backs through your trust and your belief that together we can make the world a better place. United we stand, divided we fall. A Morgna wes core, vectern sis da!”
The camera panned away from Anton’s face but continued filming the dining table. Everyone seated applauded Anton’s speech. He raised his wine glass, which had already been filled prior to everyone being seated. “I’d also like to raise a toast. To Bernard Circas. We sit here, on the four year anniversary of the tragic end of his great life. His words moved millions, and continue to move millions more after his death. He inspired love, compassion and hope. He dreamed of a better Sordland, one where we were free of exploitation and united in proletarian solidarity.” There were mixed reactions across the table, but mainly looks of disagreement. Anton continued nonetheless. “Bernard was killed for his beliefs. After a long investigation the main culprits are finally behind bars, but this does not solve the deeper issue. Fascism. The scourge that kept Bernard’s dream from being realised is what killed him, and he will have died in vain if we do not take that threat seriously, and do what we can to rid this country of the fascism that wants to tear it apart. It was only Bernard who would have the words to give us the hope we need, but while he is gone, his spirit remains, and it remains to give us the willpower we need to do what we can to make sure nothing like what happened four years ago ever happens again. To Bernard, our only strength is the will to survive.”
After Anton finished he took a sip of his bitter wine and sat the glass back down, followed by everyone else. Iosef mumbled something again, but as Anton briefly looked towards Damien, it looked like the speech, and following toast, had been a hit with him and the rest of the camera crew. “Well said Mr. President '' said Lucian, before taking another sip of his wine. A moment later, the chef, a tall and lanky young man, came out followed by servers bearing plates of food. “For the first course we have prepared…” The next few hours flew by as Anton was bored senseless by the conversations, or lack thereof, between the “strictly-work-talk” Vice President, traditionalist minister of defence, radical minister of education, and anrican capitalist minister of agriculture. After hours of dull conversation and several courses, all representing a different region of Sordland, the dinner was finally over and the broadcast finished off with a speech from the first lady. Anton felt bad, being too tired to properly listen to Monica’s speech, although it seemed to have a similar effect on the guests as Anton’s speech did. As the applause following her speech died down, the broadcast was shut off, and nearly everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief, including Anton and Monica.
Anton stood up, and was followed by the rest of the table. The presidential couple bid farewell to their guests as nearly everyone left. As Anton, Monica and Deana were getting ready to go change and head home, Anton was approached by Damien who wanted to have a few words before leaving.
“It was a wonderful broadcast Mr. President!” he said with a fake enthusiasm. Damien knew the basics of political intrigue, but had yet to grasp the subtle art of lying convincingly. Anton simply replied “Thank you, Mr. Ves, you did very well yourself managing the production.'' Unlike Damien, Anton bore no attempt to show his lack of interest in the conversation, as he slowly started making his way out of the dining room area of the palace. “Thank you Mr. President, you honour me!.” he nervously paused for few seconds before continuing “Mr. President, would you please consider having a meeting with me later this week.” “Whenever you have the time!” blurted out the nervous, and now slightly sweaty, man. “I’d be glad to have a meeting with you Damien. In fact I was planning on having one with you anyway, to discuss the goals and strategies of the commission going forward.” Anton again started walking a bit faster, trying to get out of the conversations with the hippo-like man. “How does tuesday 9:30 sound?” Damien struggled to keep up with the President, making him sweat even more profusely as he panted out a reply “Wonderful! Great! Thank you Mr.Presdi..Ray..” He stopped for a second to catch his breath “Thank you Mr. President!” he shouted down the hallway as the President hurried back into his office.
“Why do such social events seem to drain me more than dull meetings about infrastructure development?” joked Anton as he walked into his office to greet his wife. “It wasn’t that bad, I had quite the interesting conversation with Ciara and Erica.” Anton looked confused for a moment before Monica elaborated. “Gus’ wife. Erica Manger.” She sat down on the couch next to a half asleep Deana. “Ah! And what did she have to say?” inquired Anton, loosening his bowtie as he said it. “She was surprisingly supportive of our participation in politics, considering she’s from Anrica, like Gus.” Anton sat next to his wife, wrapping his arm around her before answering. “Well not everyone in Anrica is exactly Curtan Leste. You know he’s been losing a lot of support in the city ever since his stunt in Benfi, interrupting your speech like that.” Monica looked out the window to the view of capitol park. “Still, even with the waning influence of the old guard, both him and Gloria Tory have become increasingly popular with the conservatives now that Soll, Graff, Hawker and the like are all in prison. They are still a real threat, now with even more concentrated support.” Anton stood up and walked over to the window, now looking at dusk settling over the park as well. “I know.” he paused for a second. “We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The couple stood there for a few minutes in silence, enjoying a peaceful moment together while contemplating the future. After a while, however, they decided they best head home for the day. They went into the office bathroom to get changed again. After doing so, Anton took his sleeping daughter in his arms and the three of them exited the maroon palace. They had stayed there so long that all the journalists had gotten tired of waiting for them and gone home. The courtyard of the palace was all but empty, aside from a few guards, and of course, the Rayne family’s loyal driver. Serge opened the backseat door for the family to get in the car, where they were able to relax for the long drive home in the quiet of the night.
The new Valgslandian presidential car was slowly making its way towards the presidential residence built during the Alphonso presidency. It was a modern home, inspired by the works of some Arcasian architects. While Anton certainly disagreed with Alphonso about a lot, and despised Arcasia, he had to admit it was a pretty nice home. As he sat in the car he dreamt about getting home and being able to jump into bed after such a long day, and from the looks of it, Monica was thinking about the same thing.
They were driving past a newly built secondary school, Circas Secondary, that was built as part of Anton and Ciara’s education program during the first term. Anton’s mind drifted from the architecture of his own home to the architecture of this school, and was suddenly filled with pride, being able to see the material results of his work as president. He was admiring the building’s large gymnasium when suddenly the white walls of the pristine building turned a fiery orange hue, followed by a loud “BANG!”. Before they could comprehend what had happened the car had been flipped on its head and the glass from the windows shattered. Deana immediately woke up in panic and started crying. Anton was able to get to her quickly, and shield her and Monica. They sat there together in the wreck of the car for what felt like minutes, not being able to move out of pure shock, before they heard a series of coughs followed by the voice of their driver “Anton, Monica, Deana. Are you okay?!” Anton managed to muster a response despite his distress. “I think so Serge. How about you?”
As he felt a hand grab him by the collar of his coat, Serge replied “Don’t worry about me, we need to get out of here!” Before Anton could respond he felt his collar tighten around his neck as he was slowly dragged out of the car wreck along with his wife and daughter. When they were all out of the car Anton opened his eyes to find he was lying on the pavement, looking up at Serge who was examining the family for any serious injuries. He then heard the sound of sirens in the distance, and noticed the night looked very bright. He looked to his right and saw the cause of this brightness, the school was on fire. At least what was left of the school. There was rubble everywhere, it had been blown to pieces. He looked back up at Serge, with the starry night sky behind him. Hints of flashing red and blue lights began to appear as Anton’s eyes began to shut and the night became darker. The previously clear voice of his driver became muffled, as he heard cars approaching and the sound of doors being shut. Before passing out, he felt someone lift him up and put his body onto something soft, followed by the sound of doors being shut again.
To be continued.
2023.06.04 14:10 Colt_Leasure Have you ever heard of The Triangle Game?
1
We underestimate the trials the dead have gone through.
This obvious mistake leads to avoidable missteps in life. It is still all too common.
When my Grandfather passed away, I inherited a house in the mountains. The view was breathtaking. It had a sweeping vista of infinite pine trees. The place was nowhere near as large as the properties surrounding it.
It was a summer home for him and my Grandma. The interior of it contained many of his items. This included tobacco pipes, cabinets of obscure teas, and cupboards of whiskey bottles.
One Saturday evening I went through the attic and found a dozen stacks of boxes. The majority of them remained unlabeled. Several contained pulp paperbacks and stacks of old photos. Towards the end of his life, he gave up his old pastimes of hunting and fishing. He stayed at home and watched old game shows instead.
I tried to clean the roof space in one day. I found myself unable to complete it before tiring and going to bed.
The next morning I resumed the activity. It was no longer about trying to declutter the area and fill it with my own possessions. It was now a way to learn more about the man.
All I knew about his reputation was how he had served in World War II. My family told me how he was as short on words as he was on patience.
I found an old newspaper article, dated 1983. There were other period pieces around it. The topics varied. This included the US invasion of Grenada and the debut of Cabbage Patch Kids dolls. A device known as the mobile phone received a mention.
Yet what caught my attention was the first piece. I brushed aside cobwebs to find it buried underneath a pile of cardboard with burnt edges.
The picture was of my Grandfather, Roy Davies. He held a check for fifty thousand dollars. This was an amount I later found out equaled to one hundred and fifty two thousand in today’s money. The mystery of how he could afford the place he gave me was no longer one worth pondering.
The wall behind him had an illustration of a ramshackle house on a hill. The title of the write-up was NORTHERN CALIFORNIA MAN WINS IN THE PILOT FOR NEW SHOW ‘THE TRIANGLE GAME.’
I read the five hundred word account. It detailed how he flew to Los Angeles to be a participant in an allegedly syndicated program. There were two other people he competed against. The editorial feature did not go into detail about what the goal of the game was. How to win or get disqualified was unknown to me. Still Still, my Grandfather walked out a much richer man before he flew back home.
It did mention the couple he played against, a man called James Grover and a woman named Daisy Francis.
I flipped the article. I found were words written in orange ink with a marker on the back, CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
I searched online for the triangle game. I found variations on the pastime ‘I Spy’ first. Players would spot triangular items in their immediate vicinity. I discovered a few board games, along with IQ-related quizzes.
No information was available about a television broadcast.
2
It took almost a month of research to find where James Grover lived.
I managed to find his house by paying for a background checking website. He had gotten a criminal charge for running a red light in front of a cop. Otherwise his record was clean. That single infraction allowed me to find him since it put him in that specific database.
I stood outside his red brick house in a suburb. It was a Wednesday afternoon in a neighborhood located in an upscale part of Illinois.
Frost caked the lawns near the heated sidewalk I stood on. I imagined the place to be serene in the summertime, even if it was a vacant-seeming region now.
A stretch of abodes stood before me without their lights on. Nervousness coursed through me. The idea of having traveled all this way for the information to be wrong made me anxious.
I walked along the concrete pathway towards his front door. I stepped on a creaky porch. I set aside my awareness of the likely pending disappointment and knocked.
A shuffling of feet was on the other side of the entrance. as well as A remote control clicked as the volume of a television blaring a news report got turned down.
He answered. The man fit the correct age range I calculated he would fall into. He wore a flannel jacket and slacks, He had on a blue pair of slippers. His gray mustache bristled as he saw me.
“James Grover?” I asked.
“If you’re trying to sell me something I’m not interested.”
“I’m very sorry to bother you sir, and I promise I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here to ask if you would be willing to let me ask you a few questions about something you might know about. See, I make documentaries for a living, and I have concluded that you might be able to help me.”
I could not take a good photograph when asked, but it was a stringent falsehood I conveyed well in the moment.
In reality, I was a podcaster. The term documentarian, though not as modern, seemed more legitimate. Especially to an older gentleman.
“Alright,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “What are you making a movie on? Also, where’s your film crew?”
“I gleaned that you were the type to prefer remaining anonymous. The conversation‘s recorded. This will be with your consent, of course. The subject I want to discuss with you involves the triangle game.”
Grover took a few steps away from the threshold and broke eye contact with me as his lips pursed. His eyes wandered over to the corner of his living room, and he brought his gaze back to mine.
“Why do you want to know about that?”
“Because I can’t find anything about it anywhere,” I said. “I’ve even been to the National Archives of Game Show history in search of it. It’s as though it never existed. I know it did because I found this article.”
As I brandished the piece of writing to him, his eyes bulged as he focused and scanned the text.
“Ahh,” he said as he took in a deep inhalation, “I remember that man. Tell you what, come on in. Would you like some coffee?”
I took a seat in one of his recliners as I asked him a few generic questions about his life.
James spent a considerable time of his youth in North Lawndale, one of the rougher places in Chicago. He escaped his impoverished upbringing by pursuing a career as an inventory clerk. He worked his way up to management in a warehousing company.
“I beat the odds in a big way,” he said as he folded his hands and sat across from me.
“So, what can you tell me about your experience on set that day? Do you know about anything that happened post-production?”
“They made us sign contracts where we would promise not to talk about what we went through with anyone. Still, I’m at the point where I’m not very worried, or I don’t think I should be. I was much younger then, about your age. I lived at the boxing gym and had dreams of going pro. Of course that didn’t happen, but when I wasn’t training I was drinking and doing stupid things that young men do. Bar brawls I didn’t deserve to get away with but somehow did. My mother watched a lot of game shows. Without my knowledge, she submitted my name for consideration to become a contestant. She thought it would make me a better person if I had some kind of hope for helping the family. One besides crushing peoples noses for a living.”
“How did she hear about it?”
“I have no idea. I wish I asked her.”
“How did you find out you were going to go on?”
“Back then, everything was a phone call, so that’s what we got. They flew me out there, I took a taxi to get to the set. It was not a traditional studio. The place was closer to a factory with a fake space ship built inside of it. In the center of the room was a neon triangle with the same spaciousness of a house.”
“How was the game played?”
“Before it started, they told us to write down three things we were good at. I put boxing, organizational skills, and running. Daisy listed hers as poker, math, and long distance swimming. Roy - that was his name, the person in the picture you showed me - put outdoor survival, shooting, and cooking. We would stand at each point of the triangle. We’d get asked a question by the host, and we had three minutes to answer it. If we got it right, they gave us a reward being able to attack one of the other two people using the skill sets we put down. The goal is to make the other two quit by getting enough questions correct. Of course, we went into the game blind to the rule set. Otherwise I may have chosen the most aggressive ability imaginable. Roy won because he chose aptitude with a firearm, which trumps any martial art, whether I like it or not.”
James lifted his pant leg and showed me a scar above his knee.
“At least he was kind enough to not make it a fatal blow,” he said.
I showed him the words written on the back of the newspaper clipping. He shrugged and told me he was unaware, dismissive of it as someone’s scrapped note.
I asked him if he remembered the name of the host or could give me a physical description.
“I don’t remember anything about what we called him, if he even told us what he went by. His hair was black and a pompadour style. He wore a purple suit with a bright orange tie.”
“Two last questions,” I said. “Do you know what happened to Daisy, if she’s still alive? Also, do you recall the address of the place where they filmed the game?”
“I wrote to Daisy twice a year before she vanished. We did have one conversation over the phone, and she told me that bad luck was going to follow the losers of that pilot. There was no media coverage about her passing that I ever saw. As far as the location, sure. I wrote it down in a journal I kept with me even when I traveled. I used to keep track of my workouts and diet regiment back then. Let me grab it.”
3
The location where the Triangle Game took place four decades earlier stood in a squalid part of the city.
I passed the ruins of the old LA zoo on my way to the spot. I contemplated how the sight I was about to take in could not get any stranger. I was wrong.
The building was five stories, but the front only had a trio of stained glass windows. Bullet holes surrounded the casements. The place had a nave roof and flying buttresses on both sides. Multi-colored graffiti littered the outside.
It sat in a neighborhood filled with homeless people who slept on benches.
I went there mid-afternoon. I approached the front and found two locked doors. I scaled around back. I stepped over heaps of trash in the process, and saw an opening in the form of a hole large enough to crawl into.
A surge of adrenaline hit me me as I belly crawled through. I was taking a bet on how there were no cameras, guards or residents who would make a scene out of my trespassing.
It is amazing the rules one will bend for the sake of new content on social media, I opined as I made way into the space.
I turned on the flashlight of my phone and saw nothing but an enormous dusty chamber made of concrete.
I moved into the next room. A hoarders lifetime supply of broken antiques sat. Spray painted devil-horned faces grinned from the ceiling.
What caught my attention the most was a camera’s tripod. It stood alone in the far left corner.
I approached it to get a better look. I kicked aside a bunch of cans. As they clattered away, I looked down and saw a pointed tip of something drawn on the ground.
I removed most of the trash by shoving the majority of it aside and saw what was underneath.
The large triangle, which took up most of the flooring in the chamber, was still there after all these years.
In the center of it was a thin line of blood. I crouched down and peered at it.
The fluid was still wet, and a horrid stench met me. I gagged and recoiled, and in my backing away, my shoulder bumped against a dusty and discarded shelf.
Gunfire rang out.
I did not know if it was outside or near me, but I did not wish to find out. I exited the way I came in with a relentless sprint and drove as far away as I could.
4
A year later, I was finally wrapping up my recording of the podcast. I titled it ‘Three Ways to Die.’
While the name of the series was quite sensational, I felt the story merited a bit of clickbait. I had no followers and was unsure of how it would perform.
I reasoned that giving the story any publicity I could would help me find the lost piece of media. Even if it was on the cutting room floor of that very space I had to leave.
I went to call Grover, to try and collect an email address so I could send him the pre-uploaded production.
A woman answered.
“You’re looking for my father. He lost his life six months ago. Someone killed him. I would appreciate it if you got rid of this number.”
She ended the call less than a second after the last word. She wrote me off as an insurance agent looking to take advantage of a grieving family member.
I paced around my room. Although I did not know him well, I had come to like him, and his gruesome end was not one he deserved. I researched crime news to find out what had happened to him, to no avail.
The newspaper piece I had collected that fateful day sat at the edge of my desk.
I lifted it towards me and flipped it over again. I stared at the words — CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
The sentence was nonsensical. I had applied my own meanings to the gibberish phrase. Like it was a cryptic and silly way of saying ‘outgoing mail.’
I do not know whether it was desperation, a creative inclination or an admixture of both. I decided to run it through an anagram generator I had searched for on the web.
It came up with many phrases, some of them surreal, but the one that popped out to me was EXPECT VIOLENCE.
My stomach turned as I realized how my own personal investigation yielded nothing. I opened the window and was soon exposed to some fresh Sierra air, which was therapeutic but not curative.
I decided to take a long walk. I had been sedentary over the last week due to intensive editing. I figured a jaunt would help me smooth a few psychological knots things out.
I slid my closet door open to try and find a pair of sweat pants.
The sound of thunder reverberated outside. I stared out to find the sky had become overcast.
The closet door creaked even louder than I could remember it having been before.
Orange ties hung on the rack, and a triangle painted a pastel green was visible behind it.
submitted by Colt_Leasure to Colt_Leasure [link] [comments]
We underestimate the trials the dead have gone through.
This obvious mistake leads to avoidable missteps in life. It is still all too common.
When my Grandfather passed away, I inherited a house in the mountains. The view was breathtaking. It had a sweeping vista of infinite pine trees. The place was nowhere near as large as the properties surrounding it.
It was a summer home for him and my Grandma. The interior of it contained many of his items. This included tobacco pipes, cabinets of obscure teas, and cupboards of whiskey bottles.
One Saturday evening I went through the attic and found a dozen stacks of boxes. The majority of them remained unlabeled. Several contained pulp paperbacks and stacks of old photos. Towards the end of his life, he gave up his old pastimes of hunting and fishing. He stayed at home and watched old game shows instead.
I tried to clean the roof space in one day. I found myself unable to complete it before tiring and going to bed.
The next morning I resumed the activity. It was no longer about trying to declutter the area and fill it with my own possessions. It was now a way to learn more about the man.
All I knew about his reputation was how he had served in World War II. My family told me how he was as short on words as he was on patience.
I found an old newspaper article, dated 1983. There were other period pieces around it. The topics varied. This included the US invasion of Grenada and the debut of Cabbage Patch Kids dolls. A device known as the mobile phone received a mention.
Yet what caught my attention was the first piece. I brushed aside cobwebs to find it buried underneath a pile of cardboard with burnt edges.
The picture was of my Grandfather, Roy Davies. He held a check for fifty thousand dollars. This was an amount I later found out equaled to one hundred and fifty two thousand in today’s money. The mystery of how he could afford the place he gave me was no longer one worth pondering.
The wall behind him had an illustration of a ramshackle house on a hill. The title of the write-up was NORTHERN CALIFORNIA MAN WINS IN THE PILOT FOR NEW SHOW ‘THE TRIANGLE GAME.’
I read the five hundred word account. It detailed how he flew to Los Angeles to be a participant in an allegedly syndicated program. There were two other people he competed against. The editorial feature did not go into detail about what the goal of the game was. How to win or get disqualified was unknown to me. Still Still, my Grandfather walked out a much richer man before he flew back home.
It did mention the couple he played against, a man called James Grover and a woman named Daisy Francis.
I flipped the article. I found were words written in orange ink with a marker on the back, CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
I searched online for the triangle game. I found variations on the pastime ‘I Spy’ first. Players would spot triangular items in their immediate vicinity. I discovered a few board games, along with IQ-related quizzes.
No information was available about a television broadcast.
2
It took almost a month of research to find where James Grover lived.
I managed to find his house by paying for a background checking website. He had gotten a criminal charge for running a red light in front of a cop. Otherwise his record was clean. That single infraction allowed me to find him since it put him in that specific database.
I stood outside his red brick house in a suburb. It was a Wednesday afternoon in a neighborhood located in an upscale part of Illinois.
Frost caked the lawns near the heated sidewalk I stood on. I imagined the place to be serene in the summertime, even if it was a vacant-seeming region now.
A stretch of abodes stood before me without their lights on. Nervousness coursed through me. The idea of having traveled all this way for the information to be wrong made me anxious.
I walked along the concrete pathway towards his front door. I stepped on a creaky porch. I set aside my awareness of the likely pending disappointment and knocked.
A shuffling of feet was on the other side of the entrance. as well as A remote control clicked as the volume of a television blaring a news report got turned down.
He answered. The man fit the correct age range I calculated he would fall into. He wore a flannel jacket and slacks, He had on a blue pair of slippers. His gray mustache bristled as he saw me.
“James Grover?” I asked.
“If you’re trying to sell me something I’m not interested.”
“I’m very sorry to bother you sir, and I promise I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here to ask if you would be willing to let me ask you a few questions about something you might know about. See, I make documentaries for a living, and I have concluded that you might be able to help me.”
I could not take a good photograph when asked, but it was a stringent falsehood I conveyed well in the moment.
In reality, I was a podcaster. The term documentarian, though not as modern, seemed more legitimate. Especially to an older gentleman.
“Alright,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “What are you making a movie on? Also, where’s your film crew?”
“I gleaned that you were the type to prefer remaining anonymous. The conversation‘s recorded. This will be with your consent, of course. The subject I want to discuss with you involves the triangle game.”
Grover took a few steps away from the threshold and broke eye contact with me as his lips pursed. His eyes wandered over to the corner of his living room, and he brought his gaze back to mine.
“Why do you want to know about that?”
“Because I can’t find anything about it anywhere,” I said. “I’ve even been to the National Archives of Game Show history in search of it. It’s as though it never existed. I know it did because I found this article.”
As I brandished the piece of writing to him, his eyes bulged as he focused and scanned the text.
“Ahh,” he said as he took in a deep inhalation, “I remember that man. Tell you what, come on in. Would you like some coffee?”
I took a seat in one of his recliners as I asked him a few generic questions about his life.
James spent a considerable time of his youth in North Lawndale, one of the rougher places in Chicago. He escaped his impoverished upbringing by pursuing a career as an inventory clerk. He worked his way up to management in a warehousing company.
“I beat the odds in a big way,” he said as he folded his hands and sat across from me.
“So, what can you tell me about your experience on set that day? Do you know about anything that happened post-production?”
“They made us sign contracts where we would promise not to talk about what we went through with anyone. Still, I’m at the point where I’m not very worried, or I don’t think I should be. I was much younger then, about your age. I lived at the boxing gym and had dreams of going pro. Of course that didn’t happen, but when I wasn’t training I was drinking and doing stupid things that young men do. Bar brawls I didn’t deserve to get away with but somehow did. My mother watched a lot of game shows. Without my knowledge, she submitted my name for consideration to become a contestant. She thought it would make me a better person if I had some kind of hope for helping the family. One besides crushing peoples noses for a living.”
“How did she hear about it?”
“I have no idea. I wish I asked her.”
“How did you find out you were going to go on?”
“Back then, everything was a phone call, so that’s what we got. They flew me out there, I took a taxi to get to the set. It was not a traditional studio. The place was closer to a factory with a fake space ship built inside of it. In the center of the room was a neon triangle with the same spaciousness of a house.”
“How was the game played?”
“Before it started, they told us to write down three things we were good at. I put boxing, organizational skills, and running. Daisy listed hers as poker, math, and long distance swimming. Roy - that was his name, the person in the picture you showed me - put outdoor survival, shooting, and cooking. We would stand at each point of the triangle. We’d get asked a question by the host, and we had three minutes to answer it. If we got it right, they gave us a reward being able to attack one of the other two people using the skill sets we put down. The goal is to make the other two quit by getting enough questions correct. Of course, we went into the game blind to the rule set. Otherwise I may have chosen the most aggressive ability imaginable. Roy won because he chose aptitude with a firearm, which trumps any martial art, whether I like it or not.”
James lifted his pant leg and showed me a scar above his knee.
“At least he was kind enough to not make it a fatal blow,” he said.
I showed him the words written on the back of the newspaper clipping. He shrugged and told me he was unaware, dismissive of it as someone’s scrapped note.
I asked him if he remembered the name of the host or could give me a physical description.
“I don’t remember anything about what we called him, if he even told us what he went by. His hair was black and a pompadour style. He wore a purple suit with a bright orange tie.”
“Two last questions,” I said. “Do you know what happened to Daisy, if she’s still alive? Also, do you recall the address of the place where they filmed the game?”
“I wrote to Daisy twice a year before she vanished. We did have one conversation over the phone, and she told me that bad luck was going to follow the losers of that pilot. There was no media coverage about her passing that I ever saw. As far as the location, sure. I wrote it down in a journal I kept with me even when I traveled. I used to keep track of my workouts and diet regiment back then. Let me grab it.”
3
The location where the Triangle Game took place four decades earlier stood in a squalid part of the city.
I passed the ruins of the old LA zoo on my way to the spot. I contemplated how the sight I was about to take in could not get any stranger. I was wrong.
The building was five stories, but the front only had a trio of stained glass windows. Bullet holes surrounded the casements. The place had a nave roof and flying buttresses on both sides. Multi-colored graffiti littered the outside.
It sat in a neighborhood filled with homeless people who slept on benches.
I went there mid-afternoon. I approached the front and found two locked doors. I scaled around back. I stepped over heaps of trash in the process, and saw an opening in the form of a hole large enough to crawl into.
A surge of adrenaline hit me me as I belly crawled through. I was taking a bet on how there were no cameras, guards or residents who would make a scene out of my trespassing.
It is amazing the rules one will bend for the sake of new content on social media, I opined as I made way into the space.
I turned on the flashlight of my phone and saw nothing but an enormous dusty chamber made of concrete.
I moved into the next room. A hoarders lifetime supply of broken antiques sat. Spray painted devil-horned faces grinned from the ceiling.
What caught my attention the most was a camera’s tripod. It stood alone in the far left corner.
I approached it to get a better look. I kicked aside a bunch of cans. As they clattered away, I looked down and saw a pointed tip of something drawn on the ground.
I removed most of the trash by shoving the majority of it aside and saw what was underneath.
The large triangle, which took up most of the flooring in the chamber, was still there after all these years.
In the center of it was a thin line of blood. I crouched down and peered at it.
The fluid was still wet, and a horrid stench met me. I gagged and recoiled, and in my backing away, my shoulder bumped against a dusty and discarded shelf.
Gunfire rang out.
I did not know if it was outside or near me, but I did not wish to find out. I exited the way I came in with a relentless sprint and drove as far away as I could.
4
A year later, I was finally wrapping up my recording of the podcast. I titled it ‘Three Ways to Die.’
While the name of the series was quite sensational, I felt the story merited a bit of clickbait. I had no followers and was unsure of how it would perform.
I reasoned that giving the story any publicity I could would help me find the lost piece of media. Even if it was on the cutting room floor of that very space I had to leave.
I went to call Grover, to try and collect an email address so I could send him the pre-uploaded production.
A woman answered.
“You’re looking for my father. He lost his life six months ago. Someone killed him. I would appreciate it if you got rid of this number.”
She ended the call less than a second after the last word. She wrote me off as an insurance agent looking to take advantage of a grieving family member.
I paced around my room. Although I did not know him well, I had come to like him, and his gruesome end was not one he deserved. I researched crime news to find out what had happened to him, to no avail.
The newspaper piece I had collected that fateful day sat at the edge of my desk.
I lifted it towards me and flipped it over again. I stared at the words — CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
The sentence was nonsensical. I had applied my own meanings to the gibberish phrase. Like it was a cryptic and silly way of saying ‘outgoing mail.’
I do not know whether it was desperation, a creative inclination or an admixture of both. I decided to run it through an anagram generator I had searched for on the web.
It came up with many phrases, some of them surreal, but the one that popped out to me was EXPECT VIOLENCE.
My stomach turned as I realized how my own personal investigation yielded nothing. I opened the window and was soon exposed to some fresh Sierra air, which was therapeutic but not curative.
I decided to take a long walk. I had been sedentary over the last week due to intensive editing. I figured a jaunt would help me smooth a few psychological knots things out.
I slid my closet door open to try and find a pair of sweat pants.
The sound of thunder reverberated outside. I stared out to find the sky had become overcast.
The closet door creaked even louder than I could remember it having been before.
Orange ties hung on the rack, and a triangle painted a pastel green was visible behind it.
2023.06.04 14:09 Colt_Leasure Have you ever heard of The Triangle Game?
1
We underestimate the trials the dead have gone through.
This obvious mistake leads to avoidable missteps in life. It is still all too common.
When my Grandfather passed away, I inherited a house in the mountains. The view was breathtaking. It had a sweeping vista of infinite pine trees. The place was nowhere near as large as the properties surrounding it.
It was a summer home for him and my Grandma. The interior of it contained many of his items. This included tobacco pipes, cabinets of obscure teas, and cupboards of whiskey bottles.
One Saturday evening I went through the attic and found a dozen stacks of boxes. The majority of them remained unlabeled. Several contained pulp paperbacks and stacks of old photos. Towards the end of his life, he gave up his old pastimes of hunting and fishing. He stayed at home and watched old game shows instead.
I tried to clean the roof space in one day. I found myself unable to complete it before tiring and going to bed.
The next morning I resumed the activity. It was no longer about trying to declutter the area and fill it with my own possessions. It was now a way to learn more about the man.
All I knew about his reputation was how he had served in World War II. My family told me how he was as short on words as he was on patience.
I found an old newspaper article, dated 1983. There were other period pieces around it. The topics varied. This included the US invasion of Grenada and the debut of Cabbage Patch Kids dolls. A device known as the mobile phone received a mention.
Yet what caught my attention was the first piece. I brushed aside cobwebs to find it buried underneath a pile of cardboard with burnt edges.
The picture was of my Grandfather, Roy Davies. He held a check for fifty thousand dollars. This was an amount I later found out equaled to one hundred and fifty two thousand in today’s money. The mystery of how he could afford the place he gave me was no longer one worth pondering.
The wall behind him had an illustration of a ramshackle house on a hill. The title of the write-up was NORTHERN CALIFORNIA MAN WINS IN THE PILOT FOR NEW SHOW ‘THE TRIANGLE GAME.’
I read the five hundred word account. It detailed how he flew to Los Angeles to be a participant in an allegedly syndicated program. There were two other people he competed against. The editorial feature did not go into detail about what the goal of the game was. How to win or get disqualified was unknown to me. Still Still, my Grandfather walked out a much richer man before he flew back home.
It did mention the couple he played against, a man called James Grover and a woman named Daisy Francis.
I flipped the article. I found were words written in orange ink with a marker on the back, CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
I searched online for the triangle game. I found variations on the pastime ‘I Spy’ first. Players would spot triangular items in their immediate vicinity. I discovered a few board games, along with IQ-related quizzes.
No information was available about a television broadcast.
2
It took almost a month of research to find where James Grover lived.
I managed to find his house by paying for a background checking website. He had gotten a criminal charge for running a red light in front of a cop. Otherwise his record was clean. That single infraction allowed me to find him since it put him in that specific database.
I stood outside his red brick house in a suburb. It was a Wednesday afternoon in a neighborhood located in an upscale part of Illinois.
Frost caked the lawns near the heated sidewalk I stood on. I imagined the place to be serene in the summertime, even if it was a vacant-seeming region now.
A stretch of abodes stood before me without their lights on. Nervousness coursed through me. The idea of having traveled all this way for the information to be wrong made me anxious.
I walked along the concrete pathway towards his front door. I stepped on a creaky porch. I set aside my awareness of the likely pending disappointment and knocked.
A shuffling of feet was on the other side of the entrance. as well as A remote control clicked as the volume of a television blaring a news report got turned down.
He answered. The man fit the correct age range I calculated he would fall into. He wore a flannel jacket and slacks, He had on a blue pair of slippers. His gray mustache bristled as he saw me.
“James Grover?” I asked.
“If you’re trying to sell me something I’m not interested.”
“I’m very sorry to bother you sir, and I promise I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here to ask if you would be willing to let me ask you a few questions about something you might know about. See, I make documentaries for a living, and I have concluded that you might be able to help me.”
I could not take a good photograph when asked, but it was a stringent falsehood I conveyed well in the moment.
In reality, I was a podcaster. The term documentarian, though not as modern, seemed more legitimate. Especially to an older gentleman.
“Alright,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “What are you making a movie on? Also, where’s your film crew?”
“I gleaned that you were the type to prefer remaining anonymous. The conversation‘s recorded. This will be with your consent, of course. The subject I want to discuss with you involves the triangle game.”
Grover took a few steps away from the threshold and broke eye contact with me as his lips pursed. His eyes wandered over to the corner of his living room, and he brought his gaze back to mine.
“Why do you want to know about that?”
“Because I can’t find anything about it anywhere,” I said. “I’ve even been to the National Archives of Game Show history in search of it. It’s as though it never existed. I know it did because I found this article.”
As I brandished the piece of writing to him, his eyes bulged as he focused and scanned the text.
“Ahh,” he said as he took in a deep inhalation, “I remember that man. Tell you what, come on in. Would you like some coffee?”
I took a seat in one of his recliners as I asked him a few generic questions about his life.
James spent a considerable time of his youth in North Lawndale, one of the rougher places in Chicago. He escaped his impoverished upbringing by pursuing a career as an inventory clerk. He worked his way up to management in a warehousing company.
“I beat the odds in a big way,” he said as he folded his hands and sat across from me.
“So, what can you tell me about your experience on set that day? Do you know about anything that happened post-production?”
“They made us sign contracts where we would promise not to talk about what we went through with anyone. Still, I’m at the point where I’m not very worried, or I don’t think I should be. I was much younger then, about your age. I lived at the boxing gym and had dreams of going pro. Of course that didn’t happen, but when I wasn’t training I was drinking and doing stupid things that young men do. Bar brawls I didn’t deserve to get away with but somehow did. My mother watched a lot of game shows. Without my knowledge, she submitted my name for consideration to become a contestant. She thought it would make me a better person if I had some kind of hope for helping the family. One besides crushing peoples noses for a living.”
“How did she hear about it?”
“I have no idea. I wish I asked her.”
“How did you find out you were going to go on?”
“Back then, everything was a phone call, so that’s what we got. They flew me out there, I took a taxi to get to the set. It was not a traditional studio. The place was closer to a factory with a fake space ship built inside of it. In the center of the room was a neon triangle with the same spaciousness of a house.”
“How was the game played?”
“Before it started, they told us to write down three things we were good at. I put boxing, organizational skills, and running. Daisy listed hers as poker, math, and long distance swimming. Roy - that was his name, the person in the picture you showed me - put outdoor survival, shooting, and cooking. We would stand at each point of the triangle. We’d get asked a question by the host, and we had three minutes to answer it. If we got it right, they gave us a reward being able to attack one of the other two people using the skill sets we put down. The goal is to make the other two quit by getting enough questions correct. Of course, we went into the game blind to the rule set. Otherwise I may have chosen the most aggressive ability imaginable. Roy won because he chose aptitude with a firearm, which trumps any martial art, whether I like it or not.”
James lifted his pant leg and showed me a scar above his knee.
“At least he was kind enough to not make it a fatal blow,” he said.
I showed him the words written on the back of the newspaper clipping. He shrugged and told me he was unaware, dismissive of it as someone’s scrapped note.
I asked him if he remembered the name of the host or could give me a physical description.
“I don’t remember anything about what we called him, if he even told us what he went by. His hair was black and a pompadour style. He wore a purple suit with a bright orange tie.”
“Two last questions,” I said. “Do you know what happened to Daisy, if she’s still alive? Also, do you recall the address of the place where they filmed the game?”
“I wrote to Daisy twice a year before she vanished. We did have one conversation over the phone, and she told me that bad luck was going to follow the losers of that pilot. There was no media coverage about her passing that I ever saw. As far as the location, sure. I wrote it down in a journal I kept with me even when I traveled. I used to keep track of my workouts and diet regiment back then. Let me grab it.”
3
The location where the Triangle Game took place four decades earlier stood in a squalid part of the city.
I passed the ruins of the old LA zoo on my way to the spot. I contemplated how the sight I was about to take in could not get any stranger. I was wrong.
The building was five stories, but the front only had a trio of stained glass windows. Bullet holes surrounded the casements. The place had a nave roof and flying buttresses on both sides. Multi-colored graffiti littered the outside.
It sat in a neighborhood filled with homeless people who slept on benches.
I went there mid-afternoon. I approached the front and found two locked doors. I scaled around back. I stepped over heaps of trash in the process, and saw an opening in the form of a hole large enough to crawl into.
A surge of adrenaline hit me me as I belly crawled through. I was taking a bet on how there were no cameras, guards or residents who would make a scene out of my trespassing.
It is amazing the rules one will bend for the sake of new content on social media, I opined as I made way into the space.
I turned on the flashlight of my phone and saw nothing but an enormous dusty chamber made of concrete.
I moved into the next room. A hoarders lifetime supply of broken antiques sat. Spray painted devil-horned faces grinned from the ceiling.
What caught my attention the most was a camera’s tripod. It stood alone in the far left corner.
I approached it to get a better look. I kicked aside a bunch of cans. As they clattered away, I looked down and saw a pointed tip of something drawn on the ground.
I removed most of the trash by shoving the majority of it aside and saw what was underneath.
The large triangle, which took up most of the flooring in the chamber, was still there after all these years.
In the center of it was a thin line of blood. I crouched down and peered at it.
The fluid was still wet, and a horrid stench met me. I gagged and recoiled, and in my backing away, my shoulder bumped against a dusty and discarded shelf.
Gunfire rang out.
I did not know if it was outside or near me, but I did not wish to find out. I exited the way I came in with a relentless sprint and drove as far away as I could.
4
A year later, I was finally wrapping up my recording of the podcast. I titled it ‘Three Ways to Die.’
While the name of the series was quite sensational, I felt the story merited a bit of clickbait. I had no followers and was unsure of how it would perform.
I reasoned that giving the story any publicity I could would help me find the lost piece of media. Even if it was on the cutting room floor of that very space I had to leave.
I went to call Grover, to try and collect an email address so I could send him the pre-uploaded production.
A woman answered.
“You’re looking for my father. He lost his life six months ago. Someone killed him. I would appreciate it if you got rid of this number.”
She ended the call less than a second after the last word. She wrote me off as an insurance agent looking to take advantage of a grieving family member.
I paced around my room. Although I did not know him well, I had come to like him, and his gruesome end was not one he deserved. I researched crime news to find out what had happened to him, to no avail.
The newspaper piece I had collected that fateful day sat at the edge of my desk.
I lifted it towards me and flipped it over again. I stared at the words — CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
The sentence was nonsensical. I had applied my own meanings to the gibberish phrase. Like it was a cryptic and silly way of saying ‘outgoing mail.’
I do not know whether it was desperation, a creative inclination or an admixture of both. I decided to run it through an anagram generator I had searched for on the web.
It came up with many phrases, some of them surreal, but the one that popped out to me was EXPECT VIOLENCE.
My stomach turned as I realized how my own personal investigation yielded nothing. I opened the window and was soon exposed to some fresh Sierra air, which was therapeutic but not curative.
I decided to take a long walk. I had been sedentary over the last week due to intensive editing. I figured a jaunt would help me smooth a few psychological knots things out.
I slid my closet door open to try and find a pair of sweat pants.
The sound of thunder reverberated outside. I stared out to find the sky had become overcast.
The closet door creaked even louder than I could remember it having been before.
Orange ties hung on the rack, and a triangle painted a pastel green was visible behind it.
submitted by Colt_Leasure to nosleep [link] [comments]
We underestimate the trials the dead have gone through.
This obvious mistake leads to avoidable missteps in life. It is still all too common.
When my Grandfather passed away, I inherited a house in the mountains. The view was breathtaking. It had a sweeping vista of infinite pine trees. The place was nowhere near as large as the properties surrounding it.
It was a summer home for him and my Grandma. The interior of it contained many of his items. This included tobacco pipes, cabinets of obscure teas, and cupboards of whiskey bottles.
One Saturday evening I went through the attic and found a dozen stacks of boxes. The majority of them remained unlabeled. Several contained pulp paperbacks and stacks of old photos. Towards the end of his life, he gave up his old pastimes of hunting and fishing. He stayed at home and watched old game shows instead.
I tried to clean the roof space in one day. I found myself unable to complete it before tiring and going to bed.
The next morning I resumed the activity. It was no longer about trying to declutter the area and fill it with my own possessions. It was now a way to learn more about the man.
All I knew about his reputation was how he had served in World War II. My family told me how he was as short on words as he was on patience.
I found an old newspaper article, dated 1983. There were other period pieces around it. The topics varied. This included the US invasion of Grenada and the debut of Cabbage Patch Kids dolls. A device known as the mobile phone received a mention.
Yet what caught my attention was the first piece. I brushed aside cobwebs to find it buried underneath a pile of cardboard with burnt edges.
The picture was of my Grandfather, Roy Davies. He held a check for fifty thousand dollars. This was an amount I later found out equaled to one hundred and fifty two thousand in today’s money. The mystery of how he could afford the place he gave me was no longer one worth pondering.
The wall behind him had an illustration of a ramshackle house on a hill. The title of the write-up was NORTHERN CALIFORNIA MAN WINS IN THE PILOT FOR NEW SHOW ‘THE TRIANGLE GAME.’
I read the five hundred word account. It detailed how he flew to Los Angeles to be a participant in an allegedly syndicated program. There were two other people he competed against. The editorial feature did not go into detail about what the goal of the game was. How to win or get disqualified was unknown to me. Still Still, my Grandfather walked out a much richer man before he flew back home.
It did mention the couple he played against, a man called James Grover and a woman named Daisy Francis.
I flipped the article. I found were words written in orange ink with a marker on the back, CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
I searched online for the triangle game. I found variations on the pastime ‘I Spy’ first. Players would spot triangular items in their immediate vicinity. I discovered a few board games, along with IQ-related quizzes.
No information was available about a television broadcast.
2
It took almost a month of research to find where James Grover lived.
I managed to find his house by paying for a background checking website. He had gotten a criminal charge for running a red light in front of a cop. Otherwise his record was clean. That single infraction allowed me to find him since it put him in that specific database.
I stood outside his red brick house in a suburb. It was a Wednesday afternoon in a neighborhood located in an upscale part of Illinois.
Frost caked the lawns near the heated sidewalk I stood on. I imagined the place to be serene in the summertime, even if it was a vacant-seeming region now.
A stretch of abodes stood before me without their lights on. Nervousness coursed through me. The idea of having traveled all this way for the information to be wrong made me anxious.
I walked along the concrete pathway towards his front door. I stepped on a creaky porch. I set aside my awareness of the likely pending disappointment and knocked.
A shuffling of feet was on the other side of the entrance. as well as A remote control clicked as the volume of a television blaring a news report got turned down.
He answered. The man fit the correct age range I calculated he would fall into. He wore a flannel jacket and slacks, He had on a blue pair of slippers. His gray mustache bristled as he saw me.
“James Grover?” I asked.
“If you’re trying to sell me something I’m not interested.”
“I’m very sorry to bother you sir, and I promise I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here to ask if you would be willing to let me ask you a few questions about something you might know about. See, I make documentaries for a living, and I have concluded that you might be able to help me.”
I could not take a good photograph when asked, but it was a stringent falsehood I conveyed well in the moment.
In reality, I was a podcaster. The term documentarian, though not as modern, seemed more legitimate. Especially to an older gentleman.
“Alright,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “What are you making a movie on? Also, where’s your film crew?”
“I gleaned that you were the type to prefer remaining anonymous. The conversation‘s recorded. This will be with your consent, of course. The subject I want to discuss with you involves the triangle game.”
Grover took a few steps away from the threshold and broke eye contact with me as his lips pursed. His eyes wandered over to the corner of his living room, and he brought his gaze back to mine.
“Why do you want to know about that?”
“Because I can’t find anything about it anywhere,” I said. “I’ve even been to the National Archives of Game Show history in search of it. It’s as though it never existed. I know it did because I found this article.”
As I brandished the piece of writing to him, his eyes bulged as he focused and scanned the text.
“Ahh,” he said as he took in a deep inhalation, “I remember that man. Tell you what, come on in. Would you like some coffee?”
I took a seat in one of his recliners as I asked him a few generic questions about his life.
James spent a considerable time of his youth in North Lawndale, one of the rougher places in Chicago. He escaped his impoverished upbringing by pursuing a career as an inventory clerk. He worked his way up to management in a warehousing company.
“I beat the odds in a big way,” he said as he folded his hands and sat across from me.
“So, what can you tell me about your experience on set that day? Do you know about anything that happened post-production?”
“They made us sign contracts where we would promise not to talk about what we went through with anyone. Still, I’m at the point where I’m not very worried, or I don’t think I should be. I was much younger then, about your age. I lived at the boxing gym and had dreams of going pro. Of course that didn’t happen, but when I wasn’t training I was drinking and doing stupid things that young men do. Bar brawls I didn’t deserve to get away with but somehow did. My mother watched a lot of game shows. Without my knowledge, she submitted my name for consideration to become a contestant. She thought it would make me a better person if I had some kind of hope for helping the family. One besides crushing peoples noses for a living.”
“How did she hear about it?”
“I have no idea. I wish I asked her.”
“How did you find out you were going to go on?”
“Back then, everything was a phone call, so that’s what we got. They flew me out there, I took a taxi to get to the set. It was not a traditional studio. The place was closer to a factory with a fake space ship built inside of it. In the center of the room was a neon triangle with the same spaciousness of a house.”
“How was the game played?”
“Before it started, they told us to write down three things we were good at. I put boxing, organizational skills, and running. Daisy listed hers as poker, math, and long distance swimming. Roy - that was his name, the person in the picture you showed me - put outdoor survival, shooting, and cooking. We would stand at each point of the triangle. We’d get asked a question by the host, and we had three minutes to answer it. If we got it right, they gave us a reward being able to attack one of the other two people using the skill sets we put down. The goal is to make the other two quit by getting enough questions correct. Of course, we went into the game blind to the rule set. Otherwise I may have chosen the most aggressive ability imaginable. Roy won because he chose aptitude with a firearm, which trumps any martial art, whether I like it or not.”
James lifted his pant leg and showed me a scar above his knee.
“At least he was kind enough to not make it a fatal blow,” he said.
I showed him the words written on the back of the newspaper clipping. He shrugged and told me he was unaware, dismissive of it as someone’s scrapped note.
I asked him if he remembered the name of the host or could give me a physical description.
“I don’t remember anything about what we called him, if he even told us what he went by. His hair was black and a pompadour style. He wore a purple suit with a bright orange tie.”
“Two last questions,” I said. “Do you know what happened to Daisy, if she’s still alive? Also, do you recall the address of the place where they filmed the game?”
“I wrote to Daisy twice a year before she vanished. We did have one conversation over the phone, and she told me that bad luck was going to follow the losers of that pilot. There was no media coverage about her passing that I ever saw. As far as the location, sure. I wrote it down in a journal I kept with me even when I traveled. I used to keep track of my workouts and diet regiment back then. Let me grab it.”
3
The location where the Triangle Game took place four decades earlier stood in a squalid part of the city.
I passed the ruins of the old LA zoo on my way to the spot. I contemplated how the sight I was about to take in could not get any stranger. I was wrong.
The building was five stories, but the front only had a trio of stained glass windows. Bullet holes surrounded the casements. The place had a nave roof and flying buttresses on both sides. Multi-colored graffiti littered the outside.
It sat in a neighborhood filled with homeless people who slept on benches.
I went there mid-afternoon. I approached the front and found two locked doors. I scaled around back. I stepped over heaps of trash in the process, and saw an opening in the form of a hole large enough to crawl into.
A surge of adrenaline hit me me as I belly crawled through. I was taking a bet on how there were no cameras, guards or residents who would make a scene out of my trespassing.
It is amazing the rules one will bend for the sake of new content on social media, I opined as I made way into the space.
I turned on the flashlight of my phone and saw nothing but an enormous dusty chamber made of concrete.
I moved into the next room. A hoarders lifetime supply of broken antiques sat. Spray painted devil-horned faces grinned from the ceiling.
What caught my attention the most was a camera’s tripod. It stood alone in the far left corner.
I approached it to get a better look. I kicked aside a bunch of cans. As they clattered away, I looked down and saw a pointed tip of something drawn on the ground.
I removed most of the trash by shoving the majority of it aside and saw what was underneath.
The large triangle, which took up most of the flooring in the chamber, was still there after all these years.
In the center of it was a thin line of blood. I crouched down and peered at it.
The fluid was still wet, and a horrid stench met me. I gagged and recoiled, and in my backing away, my shoulder bumped against a dusty and discarded shelf.
Gunfire rang out.
I did not know if it was outside or near me, but I did not wish to find out. I exited the way I came in with a relentless sprint and drove as far away as I could.
4
A year later, I was finally wrapping up my recording of the podcast. I titled it ‘Three Ways to Die.’
While the name of the series was quite sensational, I felt the story merited a bit of clickbait. I had no followers and was unsure of how it would perform.
I reasoned that giving the story any publicity I could would help me find the lost piece of media. Even if it was on the cutting room floor of that very space I had to leave.
I went to call Grover, to try and collect an email address so I could send him the pre-uploaded production.
A woman answered.
“You’re looking for my father. He lost his life six months ago. Someone killed him. I would appreciate it if you got rid of this number.”
She ended the call less than a second after the last word. She wrote me off as an insurance agent looking to take advantage of a grieving family member.
I paced around my room. Although I did not know him well, I had come to like him, and his gruesome end was not one he deserved. I researched crime news to find out what had happened to him, to no avail.
The newspaper piece I had collected that fateful day sat at the edge of my desk.
I lifted it towards me and flipped it over again. I stared at the words — CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
The sentence was nonsensical. I had applied my own meanings to the gibberish phrase. Like it was a cryptic and silly way of saying ‘outgoing mail.’
I do not know whether it was desperation, a creative inclination or an admixture of both. I decided to run it through an anagram generator I had searched for on the web.
It came up with many phrases, some of them surreal, but the one that popped out to me was EXPECT VIOLENCE.
My stomach turned as I realized how my own personal investigation yielded nothing. I opened the window and was soon exposed to some fresh Sierra air, which was therapeutic but not curative.
I decided to take a long walk. I had been sedentary over the last week due to intensive editing. I figured a jaunt would help me smooth a few psychological knots things out.
I slid my closet door open to try and find a pair of sweat pants.
The sound of thunder reverberated outside. I stared out to find the sky had become overcast.
The closet door creaked even louder than I could remember it having been before.
Orange ties hung on the rack, and a triangle painted a pastel green was visible behind it.
2023.06.04 13:04 godrej146noida Godrej 146 Noida Perfect Home For Your Precious Family
 | Godrej Sector 146 Noida is a luxurious residential project developed by Godrej Properties in the prime location of Noida. It offers an array of amenities and modern facilities to its residents, making it one of the best places to live in. The project has been designed keeping in mind all needs and requirements that people have while looking for their dream home. submitted by godrej146noida to u/godrej146noida [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/wrbk3hbwgz3b1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a28a2bc05f23d4a023eea20e51f27e94aa66f79c The apartments at Godrej Sector 146 are spacious, airy and well-ventilated with ample natural light coming through windows as well as balconies which offer spectacular views from every corner. All rooms come fitted with high-end fixtures such as Italian marble flooring, designer kitchen cabinets etc., giving it a very contemporary look & feel throughout the house. In addition to these features, there are also various recreational activities available within this complex such as swimming pool , gymnasium , jogging track , clubhouse etc., providing plenty of opportunities for entertainment & leisure time activities . https://preview.redd.it/zyfbmf2xgz3b1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7707ae3ccd4f9074eef51d310ddd16b189ea30c5 Godrej sector 146 provides a great living experience combined with quality construction standards along with excellent customer service so that you can enjoy your life here without any worries or hassle . Furthermore , safety measures like 24*7 security surveillance system ensures complete peace of mind when you stay here . Thus if you're looking for an affordable yet luxurious place where comfort meets convenience then this is definitely worth considering !.for more help visit my site:- https://godrej146noida.in/ |
2023.06.04 12:28 Bignicholas75 Best person/place to get early modern firearms?
I love the early modern period, and I love guns. and I've always wanted a reproduction from the early modern period (specifically the late 16th and early 17th century.)
I'm actually making a late 16th century costume right now. Maybe an early, mid or even a late 17th century costume in the future. It would be really cool to have some period firearms as well. I've always loved those guns, whether it be wheellocks, snaphaunces, snaplocks, dog locks, or some sort of early flintlock. I think they're awesome!
I'm in the north-western US, I've been looking for a while for people who make them but I haven't found much. I don't really even know where, or how to start. I've found a few companies that import some stuff like flintlocks and matchlocks from India, but idk if I really want that. I've heard they're usually pretty finicky or low quality. But they are really cheap.
I've seen a few people from Europe who have some really nice looking wheellocks and other things, even those reenactors in Jamestown VA, but I have no idea where they get them. I know of at least one wheellock maker in Poland but idk much about him, or if there are better options. From what I've found, most of them are in Europe, which is fine.
Looking online all I can find is mostly stuff from 1800 onwards. Unless it's real 1500/1600's stuff at auctions, but I would never want to shoot that! 😂 Pretty much all of the reenactors here are of the early 1800's trappers and explorers so I can't really ask them.
Anyways, TLDR: I want some early modern firearms, but I don't know where to look. Even if I can't do it right now, I think it would be good just to know for the future.
Any suggestions?
submitted by Bignicholas75 to blackpowder [link] [comments]
I'm actually making a late 16th century costume right now. Maybe an early, mid or even a late 17th century costume in the future. It would be really cool to have some period firearms as well. I've always loved those guns, whether it be wheellocks, snaphaunces, snaplocks, dog locks, or some sort of early flintlock. I think they're awesome!
I'm in the north-western US, I've been looking for a while for people who make them but I haven't found much. I don't really even know where, or how to start. I've found a few companies that import some stuff like flintlocks and matchlocks from India, but idk if I really want that. I've heard they're usually pretty finicky or low quality. But they are really cheap.
I've seen a few people from Europe who have some really nice looking wheellocks and other things, even those reenactors in Jamestown VA, but I have no idea where they get them. I know of at least one wheellock maker in Poland but idk much about him, or if there are better options. From what I've found, most of them are in Europe, which is fine.
Looking online all I can find is mostly stuff from 1800 onwards. Unless it's real 1500/1600's stuff at auctions, but I would never want to shoot that! 😂 Pretty much all of the reenactors here are of the early 1800's trappers and explorers so I can't really ask them.
Anyways, TLDR: I want some early modern firearms, but I don't know where to look. Even if I can't do it right now, I think it would be good just to know for the future.
Any suggestions?
2023.06.04 10:54 Ok_Bluebird_1032 How Ibn Sina's (Avicenna) "Floating Man" Argument Challenges Our Understanding of Consciousness
Are you ready to explore one of the most fascinating thought experiments in the history of philosophy? In this article, we will introduce you to Ibn Sina (Avicenna), a brilliant philosopher, physician, astronomer, logician, and polymath of the Islamic Golden Age. We will also explain his intriguing "Floating Man" argument, a thought experiment that questions our self-awareness, consciousness, and existence.
🌌 What is the "Floating Man" Experiment?
The "Floating Man" argument is a thought experiment devised by Ibn Sina to demonstrate his theory of self-awareness. It invites us to imagine a person who is suspended in mid-air, with no sensory perception or prior knowledge of their existence. The person cannot see, hear, touch, smell, or taste anything. They cannot even feel their own body or limbs. The question is: would this person still be aware of themselves?
🤔 What Does It Mean for Self-Awareness?
According to Ibn Sina, the answer is yes. Even in this extreme scenario, the person would still have a sense of self-awareness. They would know that they exist and that they are distinct from everything else. This shows that self-awareness is not dependent on sensory input or external objects. It is a form of knowledge by presence, which is immediate and intuitive. It is also different from other types of knowledge, such as knowledge by representation or knowledge by inference.
🧠 What Are the Implications for Philosophy and Metaphysics?
The "Floating Man" argument has profound implications for philosophy and metaphysics. It challenges the traditional views on how we acquire knowledge and how we relate to our bodies and the world. It also suggests that there is a part of us that is immaterial and eternal, which Ibn Sina calls the soul or the intellect. Ibn Sina's ideas have influenced many other philosophers and thinkers throughout history and continue to inspire debate and research today.
✨ How Is It Relevant Today?
The "Floating Man" argument is still relevant today because it touches on some of the most fundamental questions about human nature and consciousness. How do we know ourselves? What makes us who we are? How do we experience reality? These questions have been explored by modern philosophers such as Descartes, Nagel, and Chalmers, who have drawn parallels to Ibn Sina's thought experiment. They have also been tested by neuroscientists who have conducted sensory deprivation experiments to examine the effects of isolation on self-awareness and cognition.
The "Floating Man" argument is a captivating thought experiment that invites us to rethink our understanding of self-awareness and consciousness. It showcases the intellectual brilliance of Ibn Sina, one of the greatest philosophers and polymaths of all time. It also sparks our curiosity and imagination to explore the deeper aspects of our existence. Join us as we celebrate the legacy and significance of Ibn Sina's thought experiment, which has enriched philosophy and science for centuries.
#IbnSina #Avicenna #FloatingMan #Philosophy #Consciousness #Metaphysics #SelfAwareness #ThoughtExperiment
submitted by Ok_Bluebird_1032 to Muslim_Stories [link] [comments]
🌌 What is the "Floating Man" Experiment?
The "Floating Man" argument is a thought experiment devised by Ibn Sina to demonstrate his theory of self-awareness. It invites us to imagine a person who is suspended in mid-air, with no sensory perception or prior knowledge of their existence. The person cannot see, hear, touch, smell, or taste anything. They cannot even feel their own body or limbs. The question is: would this person still be aware of themselves?
🤔 What Does It Mean for Self-Awareness?
According to Ibn Sina, the answer is yes. Even in this extreme scenario, the person would still have a sense of self-awareness. They would know that they exist and that they are distinct from everything else. This shows that self-awareness is not dependent on sensory input or external objects. It is a form of knowledge by presence, which is immediate and intuitive. It is also different from other types of knowledge, such as knowledge by representation or knowledge by inference.
🧠 What Are the Implications for Philosophy and Metaphysics?
The "Floating Man" argument has profound implications for philosophy and metaphysics. It challenges the traditional views on how we acquire knowledge and how we relate to our bodies and the world. It also suggests that there is a part of us that is immaterial and eternal, which Ibn Sina calls the soul or the intellect. Ibn Sina's ideas have influenced many other philosophers and thinkers throughout history and continue to inspire debate and research today.
✨ How Is It Relevant Today?
The "Floating Man" argument is still relevant today because it touches on some of the most fundamental questions about human nature and consciousness. How do we know ourselves? What makes us who we are? How do we experience reality? These questions have been explored by modern philosophers such as Descartes, Nagel, and Chalmers, who have drawn parallels to Ibn Sina's thought experiment. They have also been tested by neuroscientists who have conducted sensory deprivation experiments to examine the effects of isolation on self-awareness and cognition.
The "Floating Man" argument is a captivating thought experiment that invites us to rethink our understanding of self-awareness and consciousness. It showcases the intellectual brilliance of Ibn Sina, one of the greatest philosophers and polymaths of all time. It also sparks our curiosity and imagination to explore the deeper aspects of our existence. Join us as we celebrate the legacy and significance of Ibn Sina's thought experiment, which has enriched philosophy and science for centuries.
#IbnSina #Avicenna #FloatingMan #Philosophy #Consciousness #Metaphysics #SelfAwareness #ThoughtExperiment
2023.06.04 09:41 2bitDO Open concept entryway
SO and I recently moved into this apartment and we are looking for ideas about what to do with this entryway and open space. We would ideally like to put a bench and possibly a console table somewhere here. Hard to decide what will work with these hardwood floors. Design-wise we are going for more of a mid century modern look. Currently waiting on our sofa which will go against the dividing wall closest to the main entry and media table/TV which will be against the kitchen wall, if that helps. Open to any suggestions at this point. TIA
submitted by 2bitDO to DesignMyRoom [link] [comments]
2023.06.04 09:25 SWMobileStorage SHIPPING CONTAINER TERMS TO KNOW
Shipping containers have become common in our modern world, from construction sites and ports to portable offices, modular buildings and more. However, for those unfamiliar, shipping container terminology and jargon can be confusing and overwhelming. In this article, we’ll take a closer look at some of the shipping container terminology you need to know to understand the language of shipping containers.
The standard shipping container is 8’ 6” tall, and the most common container sizes are 20 and 40 feet long. They’re created out of Corten steel, a type of weathering steel resistant to weather effects. Typical containers have double cargo doors on one end and an end frame on the other.
When a padlock is enclosed in a steel lock box, it becomes much more difficult to successfully gain access inside a container. Moreover, potential thieves must use cutting or drilling, deterring criminals that don’t have the time or energy to deal with the challenge.
The door-locking handles secure the locking bars in place, holding the doors securely closed and preventing them from opening during transportation. Two locking bars are standard in 20-foot containers, while larger 40-foot containers may have four or more.
submitted by SWMobileStorage to u/SWMobileStorage [link] [comments]
13 SHIPPING CONTAINER TERMS TO KNOW
Whether you’re a business owner looking to ship your products overseas or simply curious about how these massive steel boxes work, we’ve got you covered. This guide will give you the knowledge you need to navigate the world of shipping container terminology.The standard shipping container is 8’ 6” tall, and the most common container sizes are 20 and 40 feet long. They’re created out of Corten steel, a type of weathering steel resistant to weather effects. Typical containers have double cargo doors on one end and an end frame on the other.
1. DOOR HEADER
A door header is an integral part of the container’s structure. It’s a horizontal beam that runs along the top of the cargo doors, adding support for the roof, distributing storage weight and strengthening the security of the doors to the container. For modified containers that add roll-up doors, the plate protects the roll-up door barrel.2. DOOR GASKET
Seals called gaskets are installed around the cargo doors to prevent moisture, dust, and other contaminants from entering the container’s storage space. These gaskets are lodged in channels and grooves around the perimeter of the door frame. They’re also a crucial part of the container’s wind and weather-tight qualities.3. LOCK BOX
Here at Southwest Mobile Storage, we use a three-tiered system to make sure our containers offer vault-level security. Lock boxes are a critical security feature we install on shipping containers that prevent unauthorized access to stored materials.When a padlock is enclosed in a steel lock box, it becomes much more difficult to successfully gain access inside a container. Moreover, potential thieves must use cutting or drilling, deterring criminals that don’t have the time or energy to deal with the challenge.
4. SLIDE BOLT
The second part of our container security system is our slide bolt. When closed, a heavy-duty puck lock can be attached to the circular spot inside the slid bolt frame, creating another layer of security to deter break-ins.5. DOOR LOCKING HANDLE
Our container security system’s third step is the door-locking handle. The handles aid in opening and closing the doors and have the capability to lock in their final resting place, situated beneath the container locking tabs. The locking tabs are lockable with padlocks, thus providing a final seal for container security.6. DOOR PANEL
The door panel of a container allows access to the inside of your container and holds the other components attached to the door, like locking bars. Each door is made of thick steel and can swing 270 degrees outward.7. LOCKING BARS
The locking bars span the width of the container’s door opening and attach to the end frame on each side of the door. Handles located on the exterior of the container typically operate the locking bars, which rods or cables connect to.The door-locking handles secure the locking bars in place, holding the doors securely closed and preventing them from opening during transportation. Two locking bars are standard in 20-foot containers, while larger 40-foot containers may have four or more.
8. FORKLIFT POCKETS
One of the biggest benefits of using a container for storage is that you can easily transport it. Containers can be transported by forklifts using the two pockets on the bottom sides of the container. From here, they can be transported on-site or onto a truck bed for delivery to a location farther away.9. CORNER CASTING
Corner castings serve an essential role in maintaining your container’s structure. These eight 3.0mm thick corner castings have some of the thickest steel on the container, allowing containers to be stacked and handled securely. You can stack a maximum of nine containers, but this limit may be lower depending on local conditions.10. TOP SIDE RAIL
The top side rail of a container helps provide structure to the roof. That helps distribute weight evenly across the top of the container. It also ensures a level surface that prevents stacked containers from shifting during transportation.11. SIDE PANEL
The corner posts, top rails, and bottom rails work together with container side panels to create a rigid frame that distributes weight. Corrugated side panels, which have distinctive ridges and grooves add strength and flexibility. These panels enclose the storage area and prevent stored materials from moving around when properly stored.12. END FRAME
A container end frame is a structural component of a shipping container located at the end of the container. Thus, the rectangular frame made of steel provides stability to the back of the container.13. BOTTOM RAILS
The bottom side rail performs a crucial function in holding up the rest of the container, acting as the primary load-bearing component of the container. It connects to the bottom corner castings to lock on to containers beneath.SUMMARY
After this list, you should better understand shipping container terminology and how the different parts of a container work together to provide you with secure storage space. Moreover, knowing what container parts do can give you the confidence to undertake repair projects or inspire you to modify a container for a specific use.RELATED BLOGS
If you’re interested in learning more about shipping containers and the terminology associated with them, we have several helpful blog posts that can help you deepen your understanding. Some popular topics include container sizes, types, and uses, as well as shipping container modifications and creative reuse ideas. Other posts may cover topics such as best practices for container shipping and handling, and container design and modification. Click on a link below for more insights!2023.06.04 08:19 hesitant--alien Recap - MBMBaM 662: The Consequence Race
As table setting, I haven’t listened to MBMBaM in three years, give-or-take, so I have no clue what the modren era (😎) of the show is like. However, I have been hate-listening to a movie podcast enough that I’ve actually turned a corner into liking it, so I feel spiritually ready for this. Plus I’m a little drunk, which has never been a bad decision for anybody ever.
0:00 - I’ve always kind of disliked the intro, especially the “cool baby” part, and sadly that has not changed with time.
0:20 - First time hearing the new theme song, which is fine if a little twee for my taste. I weirdly hate how they deliver the “1, 2, 3, 4” up top, but that’s just nitpicky. We can’t all be DeeDee Ramone, you know?
1:10 - Introductions. Travis introduces himself as “noted intellectual and middlest brother”, and Griffin just says “…And I’m Griffin… McElroy”. I didn’t laugh, but I did actually find that slightly funny, so I’m optimistic for how this goes.
1:35 - Justin has invented a new game that he wants to play called “Simply the Guests” where he tells them who guested on a celebrity’s podcast and they have to guess the celebrity. Travis points out that the title is a touching tribute (to Tina Turner, he clarifies a few seconds later) and there’s a bit where Justin and Griffin pretend not to know she died that Justin interrupts with a parody song. Is this too soon? I can’t tell, but I also only get my celebrity death news from Simpsons memes.
2:31 - I’ve had to pause and restart enough times that I’ve realized how shitty the web player is, since I have to click like three times before it registers as being on the page and actually trying to play instead of just highlighting the button, and if I try to click the 15 second rewind button it usually skips to the ~11 minute mark right above the button. However, I refuse to actually download the episode because if I do that, Jesse Thorne wins.
2:58 - Justin only has one round prepared, but expects it will take longer than they expect. Griffin rightly questions if it’s actually possible to play this game based on the information that will be provided. Travis says that sometimes when he comes up with a game, it’s like when you start off at level 1 fighting Sephiroth and die, but it just takes you to a cutscene and is all part of the game. I’m struggling to think of games he’s come up, which is maybe a metaphor for how I never finished FFVII. Justin says it should be easy if their heads are on a swivel, and 50-50 if they’re half paying attention.
4:30 - Justin is giving the guests in order as they’ve appeared: Billy Ray Cryrus, John Carter Cash, Billy Bush, Albert Pujols. Griffin laughs and makes a joke about how his head is on a swivel but it hurts, and I’m shocked and a little disappointed that it wasn’t a joke about how one of the greatest Cardinals of all time has a name that’s pronounced “Poo Holes”.
5:00 - The next guests listed Adam Carrolla, Clint Black, and Gary Busey. Travis incorrectly guesses Blake Shelton. Justin says Katie Couric was the next guess, and Griffin’s postulation of Kevin Sorbo is apparently pretty close.
6:10 - Dr. Drew is the next guest. Travis asks if they would be willing to guest, and Justin says he likes to think they’d have a nice long talk about it. Griffin guesses Randy Quaid. Justin neither confirms nor denies, but instead finishes listing the guests - Sharon Stone, Martin Short, Mike Lindell (the MyPillow CEO), Jim Brown, and Anthony Fauci. I actually kind of like this game, because what the fuck?
8:40 - Justin says he’ll give them an episode title for any celeb mentioned. Travis picks Sharon Stone, who covered “Pandemics, Social Justice Movements, and Animal Actors”. Griffin picks Pujols, who covers “Baseball, Downs Syndrome, and Living the American Dream”, and asked if there were other baseball players on the list.
10:05 - Justin admits he skipped Jimmy Morris because he didn’t know who that is. I didn’t either, but I have the power of Google and in the time it took him to explain why he was skipped, learned that he starting playing for Tampa Bay Devil Rays when he was 35 and The Rookie was based on him.
10:30 - Travis and Griffin discuss “Sorbo adjacent” celebrities and Justin scolds them for not talking to each other, saying that’s what a podcast is and that he’s trying to do a podcast. To paraphrase a joke from Jon Gabrus, it’s three straight white men talking, we already know it’s a podcast.
11:30 - Travis suggests Dennis Quaid, since he has a strong connection to baseball and Christ. Griffin agrees and Travis is in fact correct. Ironically, that means that Jimmy Morris was probably the most helpful clue, since Dennis Quaid starred in The Rookie. Justin offers a bonus for naming the show, and says it’s something with “Dennis”. Griffin accurately guesses “The Dennissance”.
13:45 - Justin mentions Morris was the titular rookie, and claims that people forget Dennis Quaid. They discuss the Quaid siblings a bit and advise Dennis to get back in the podcasting game.
15:15 - First question of the episode: “My boyfriend and I were looking for a bar before your Columbus TAZ show and walked by one that looked empty and not our vibe, but it had tinted windows so it was hard to tell. We walked to another bar and inside the door person flagged us down and said someone was looking for us. We were already inside this other bar when the woman who was working at the first bar said she saw us looking in and said “Please come into my bar - we have cheaper drinks. We were confused and startled and decided to stay at the bar we were already at, but we weren’t sure if we regretted it because this person went to the effort to chase us down half a block, cross a busy street, went through a revolving door to get to us. Also, the drinks at the bar were expensive. Should we have gone back to the other bar instead?” - Confused in Columbus. Not to brag, but I’ve been to a lot of bars in my lifetime and can say with some confidence this didn’t happen.
16:05 - They immediately answer that, no, they should not have gone back to the other bar. Travis accurately points out that weird pursuit aside, if they have that little business then 100% of the focus would be on them. Griffin thinks they would have had a tremendous amount of power and would get their drinks immediately, and the bartender might have cool stories. They discuss how bad the design of this bar is that it’s impossible to see inside, both because they crave attention and so that someone will notice in case they go missing.
18:45 - Travis says if he ran a restaurant across from another restaurant, he would go up to patrons at the competitor and try to lure them away. Apparently Tom Green did this with pizza delivery as a TV show, and Justin thinks he would have Shark Tank’d it if it was a viable option.
19:36 - Travis says Tom Green would’ve probably called it “Shart Tank”. I laughed out loud.
20:00 - Griffin says in Austin they basically have to have barkers for the various bars given the amount of competition for foot traffic and Justin thinks they should just go for hyper-local advertising.
21:00 - Travis offers Griffin an investment opportunity, claiming he needs angel investors. Justin is incensed that he isn’t offered the chance, and Griffin says it’s because he has no money but maybe his “crypto shit’s gonna pay off some day”. Justin says he doesn’t have “crypto shits unless I’ve been eating cryp-tacos” (Griffin pitches crypto-salsa) and that Superman hates cleaning up Krypto shits.
21:44 - Travis points out that Superman named his dog after a thing he hates. I swear this had to be a Seinfeld joke at some point, since the two things I know about Jerry Seinfeld are (a) he loves Superman and (b) he’s not funny. Actually, I know a third thing, which is that he dated a 17-year-old when he was 38. Anyway, fuck that guy.
21:50 - Travis pitches having a long stretch of connected bars by buying all the existing bars and knocking down the connecting walls. Griffin and Justin point out that’s essentially the Disneyland model, and Justin mentions the Goofy sour balls.
21:51 - I Googled “Goofy sour balls” and thankfully it was a real candy. Griffin indignantly says that they stopped making them and that “Goofy took his sour balls away”. Travis says “He washed them” and they ignore him. I laughed out loud again, man’s really winning me back. They continue on this riff, making more and worse versions of the same joke.
24:07 - Question 2: “I’m enrolled in summer college courses. In one of my classes, a guy in front of me likes to stretch backwards over his chair with his eyes closed. His head basically ends up right on my desk and he will breathe in my face. I’ve had to move my laptop to stop him from laying on it. Am I the weird one for staring at the guy as he disrupts all my belongings and my personal space? He does it more than five times a class. It’s very awkward and makes it hard to focus on the lecture. Should I say something? Help me brothers, how do I stop this stretching bandit from stealing my peace of mind?” - Cramped College Co-Ed in Canada.
24:57 - Justin has an immediate suggestion. I assume it’s the actual solution, which is to say something like an adult or just switch seats, but nope, it’s the old chestnut of put some jelly on it. Griffin suggests surprise massage. Travis clarifies that they’re definitely ignoring the “excuse me, could you not do that” option, which Griffin confirms because it’s not very funny. This takes me back to when I used to regularly listen, since part of the driving force for me stopping was the sheer number of questions that could be solved by two seconds of slightly awkward conversation. I totally get it, social anxiety is a bitch and I’ve absolutely been there, but the lack of funny kinda stems from the question. They all agree, and Travis suggests adding broken glass to the jelly.
26:57 - Griffins goes back to the massage suggestion, with “dual percussive massagers”. Justin suggests hovering over them and saying “There’s my sweet boy” and Travis suggests a “little kiss on the forehead” which, thankfully, they immediately shoot down. Still, I’m uncomfortable.
28:00 - Justin points out that, if someone actually followed the advice they give, the problem would be solved, it’s just a question of consequences. There’s some more discussion of the Quaids but my spirit is a little broken and I can’t bring myself to rewind to accurately transcribe any of it.
29:43 - Money Zone: Travis says, “Well Justin,” and Justin misidentifies him as Griffin. So far, hardest laugh of the episode. The ad is for Zocdoc, which Justin mispronounces a lot. I assume any service that advertises on a podcast is actually just a money laundering scheme, medical stuff doubly so, but it does remind me that MaxFun podcasts are the only ones where I can tell the ad copy was done in a single take with no edits. I admire it, in a way.
32:45 - A MaxFun ad for “Just the Zoo of Us”, which is apparently a podcast where they rate animals on their “effectiveness, ingenuity, and aesthetics”. It kind of worked on me, which is to say I’m debating the merits of getting a Zoobooks subscription as a childless woman approaching her thirties.
33:30 - A MaxFun ad for “Feeling Seen”, where the editor likes to play the game of taking a sip of coffee anytime the guest says how good a question is, how smart the host is, or cries unexpectedly. I cannot stress enough how much this makes me not want to listen. I don’t even have anything snide to say, I’m just genuinely put off by it.
34:19 - Griffin introduces the Wizard of the Cloud: How to “Talk Nerdy” to someone, which is meant to help you talk to the “cute nerd in your science class” by becoming more adorkable to them. Justin and Travis are disgusted by the word “adorkable”, which feels like a real split with their brand of appealing to mid-2010s Tumblr users.
36:00 - Travis points out that this article presupposes that nerdy people only want to be seduced with nerdy things, and will shun all other romance. The original pickup line is “Are you a carbon sample? Because I definitely want to date you. If you’ve seen The Big Bang Theory, you already know science and physics nerds are the best” Travis punches it up with “I’ve got a theory that we should Big Bang.” Currently he’s batting a thousand for me.
36:55 - Wikihow asks “Can math be sexy?” They talk about how sexy 8 is and Travis makes a 69 joke, so I retract my previous statement. There’s a gross astronomy-based pickup line saying “Do you mind if my comet enters your solar system” and “Hey, nice asteroids”. Mercifully, no “Can I touch Uranus?”
38:30 - More bad pickup lines, now about computers. Apparently “You’re hotter than the bottom of my laptop” is a good come-on. The video game lines are equally impressive, and Wikihow recommends that distracting gamers away from their games is easier said than done. These are more sexually charged than before, but no more clever.
43:30 - We’ve arrived at Star Wars. Wikihow says “Jedis are tough nuts to crack, so you may need to use the Force to woo them effectively.” It’s been a while, but I’m fairly certain Jedis aren’t allowed to fall in love and that’s kind of a whole thing with the prequel trilogy. Also, are we not doing phrasing anymore? Cuz Jesus, they should take a second pass at that.
43:46 - Wikihow suggests several “Yoda-approved pickup lines”, and they do some bad Yoda impressions like “pull down some trim, you will” and “wet, you will get”. This is apparently a thing they’ve done before called “Clipping Yoda”. Justin makes a “something something something, I thought they smelled bad on the outside” joke.]
46:08 - They discuss the very limited situations when the suggested “I find your lack of nudity disturbing” is acceptable, then move on to the Lord of the Rings lines which are equally questionable. Travis brings up the theory that Frodo doesn’t know Legolas’ name, and now I wanna rewatch LotR.
50:09 - Justin suggests coming up with their own lines, which results in “You make me feel like John Rhys-Davies in Sliders, cuz I wanna climb in those holes” and Griffin looking up “nerd movies”.
51:40 - Question 3: “My bank has been advertising a home ownership service to help folks buy and sell homes. I usually ignore them, but this time they’ve been offering a chance to win a flattop grill package with a $100 gift card to a very expensive butcher. I’ve been really wanting to get my dad a new grill. Brothers, I have no way of buying a house, let alone sell one. They’re contacting me, trying to help me buy a house. How do I explain to them I’m only entered to maybe win the grill and have no interest in the service?” From the Poor Hopeful in B (?).
53:00 - First of all. Second, they suggest the asker (a) admits they were only in it for the grill or (b) saying they have a budget of $750 for a furnished home. It devolves into a riff about Bobby Flay and pitches for “Flay Bobby Flay” and “Bob Bobby Flay” to see if he floats.
56:15 - Plugs for stuff and the end of the episode.
Closing Thoughts: I actually enjoyed that, although with a lot of stopping and starting to write this. Also anyone who likes Clipping Yoda may also like Action Boyz, because pedophile Yoda is a surprisingly rich vein to mine. I don’t think I’ll ever actually pick up listening again, since I have about 280 episodes of Off Book to get to first and this whole recap has made me really contemplate my mortality, but I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it
submitted by hesitant--alien to TAZCirclejerk [link] [comments]
0:00 - I’ve always kind of disliked the intro, especially the “cool baby” part, and sadly that has not changed with time.
0:20 - First time hearing the new theme song, which is fine if a little twee for my taste. I weirdly hate how they deliver the “1, 2, 3, 4” up top, but that’s just nitpicky. We can’t all be DeeDee Ramone, you know?
1:10 - Introductions. Travis introduces himself as “noted intellectual and middlest brother”, and Griffin just says “…And I’m Griffin… McElroy”. I didn’t laugh, but I did actually find that slightly funny, so I’m optimistic for how this goes.
1:35 - Justin has invented a new game that he wants to play called “Simply the Guests” where he tells them who guested on a celebrity’s podcast and they have to guess the celebrity. Travis points out that the title is a touching tribute (to Tina Turner, he clarifies a few seconds later) and there’s a bit where Justin and Griffin pretend not to know she died that Justin interrupts with a parody song. Is this too soon? I can’t tell, but I also only get my celebrity death news from Simpsons memes.
2:31 - I’ve had to pause and restart enough times that I’ve realized how shitty the web player is, since I have to click like three times before it registers as being on the page and actually trying to play instead of just highlighting the button, and if I try to click the 15 second rewind button it usually skips to the ~11 minute mark right above the button. However, I refuse to actually download the episode because if I do that, Jesse Thorne wins.
2:58 - Justin only has one round prepared, but expects it will take longer than they expect. Griffin rightly questions if it’s actually possible to play this game based on the information that will be provided. Travis says that sometimes when he comes up with a game, it’s like when you start off at level 1 fighting Sephiroth and die, but it just takes you to a cutscene and is all part of the game. I’m struggling to think of games he’s come up, which is maybe a metaphor for how I never finished FFVII. Justin says it should be easy if their heads are on a swivel, and 50-50 if they’re half paying attention.
4:30 - Justin is giving the guests in order as they’ve appeared: Billy Ray Cryrus, John Carter Cash, Billy Bush, Albert Pujols. Griffin laughs and makes a joke about how his head is on a swivel but it hurts, and I’m shocked and a little disappointed that it wasn’t a joke about how one of the greatest Cardinals of all time has a name that’s pronounced “Poo Holes”.
5:00 - The next guests listed Adam Carrolla, Clint Black, and Gary Busey. Travis incorrectly guesses Blake Shelton. Justin says Katie Couric was the next guess, and Griffin’s postulation of Kevin Sorbo is apparently pretty close.
6:10 - Dr. Drew is the next guest. Travis asks if they would be willing to guest, and Justin says he likes to think they’d have a nice long talk about it. Griffin guesses Randy Quaid. Justin neither confirms nor denies, but instead finishes listing the guests - Sharon Stone, Martin Short, Mike Lindell (the MyPillow CEO), Jim Brown, and Anthony Fauci. I actually kind of like this game, because what the fuck?
8:40 - Justin says he’ll give them an episode title for any celeb mentioned. Travis picks Sharon Stone, who covered “Pandemics, Social Justice Movements, and Animal Actors”. Griffin picks Pujols, who covers “Baseball, Downs Syndrome, and Living the American Dream”, and asked if there were other baseball players on the list.
10:05 - Justin admits he skipped Jimmy Morris because he didn’t know who that is. I didn’t either, but I have the power of Google and in the time it took him to explain why he was skipped, learned that he starting playing for Tampa Bay Devil Rays when he was 35 and The Rookie was based on him.
10:30 - Travis and Griffin discuss “Sorbo adjacent” celebrities and Justin scolds them for not talking to each other, saying that’s what a podcast is and that he’s trying to do a podcast. To paraphrase a joke from Jon Gabrus, it’s three straight white men talking, we already know it’s a podcast.
11:30 - Travis suggests Dennis Quaid, since he has a strong connection to baseball and Christ. Griffin agrees and Travis is in fact correct. Ironically, that means that Jimmy Morris was probably the most helpful clue, since Dennis Quaid starred in The Rookie. Justin offers a bonus for naming the show, and says it’s something with “Dennis”. Griffin accurately guesses “The Dennissance”.
13:45 - Justin mentions Morris was the titular rookie, and claims that people forget Dennis Quaid. They discuss the Quaid siblings a bit and advise Dennis to get back in the podcasting game.
15:15 - First question of the episode: “My boyfriend and I were looking for a bar before your Columbus TAZ show and walked by one that looked empty and not our vibe, but it had tinted windows so it was hard to tell. We walked to another bar and inside the door person flagged us down and said someone was looking for us. We were already inside this other bar when the woman who was working at the first bar said she saw us looking in and said “Please come into my bar - we have cheaper drinks. We were confused and startled and decided to stay at the bar we were already at, but we weren’t sure if we regretted it because this person went to the effort to chase us down half a block, cross a busy street, went through a revolving door to get to us. Also, the drinks at the bar were expensive. Should we have gone back to the other bar instead?” - Confused in Columbus. Not to brag, but I’ve been to a lot of bars in my lifetime and can say with some confidence this didn’t happen.
16:05 - They immediately answer that, no, they should not have gone back to the other bar. Travis accurately points out that weird pursuit aside, if they have that little business then 100% of the focus would be on them. Griffin thinks they would have had a tremendous amount of power and would get their drinks immediately, and the bartender might have cool stories. They discuss how bad the design of this bar is that it’s impossible to see inside, both because they crave attention and so that someone will notice in case they go missing.
18:45 - Travis says if he ran a restaurant across from another restaurant, he would go up to patrons at the competitor and try to lure them away. Apparently Tom Green did this with pizza delivery as a TV show, and Justin thinks he would have Shark Tank’d it if it was a viable option.
19:36 - Travis says Tom Green would’ve probably called it “Shart Tank”. I laughed out loud.
20:00 - Griffin says in Austin they basically have to have barkers for the various bars given the amount of competition for foot traffic and Justin thinks they should just go for hyper-local advertising.
21:00 - Travis offers Griffin an investment opportunity, claiming he needs angel investors. Justin is incensed that he isn’t offered the chance, and Griffin says it’s because he has no money but maybe his “crypto shit’s gonna pay off some day”. Justin says he doesn’t have “crypto shits unless I’ve been eating cryp-tacos” (Griffin pitches crypto-salsa) and that Superman hates cleaning up Krypto shits.
21:44 - Travis points out that Superman named his dog after a thing he hates. I swear this had to be a Seinfeld joke at some point, since the two things I know about Jerry Seinfeld are (a) he loves Superman and (b) he’s not funny. Actually, I know a third thing, which is that he dated a 17-year-old when he was 38. Anyway, fuck that guy.
21:50 - Travis pitches having a long stretch of connected bars by buying all the existing bars and knocking down the connecting walls. Griffin and Justin point out that’s essentially the Disneyland model, and Justin mentions the Goofy sour balls.
21:51 - I Googled “Goofy sour balls” and thankfully it was a real candy. Griffin indignantly says that they stopped making them and that “Goofy took his sour balls away”. Travis says “He washed them” and they ignore him. I laughed out loud again, man’s really winning me back. They continue on this riff, making more and worse versions of the same joke.
24:07 - Question 2: “I’m enrolled in summer college courses. In one of my classes, a guy in front of me likes to stretch backwards over his chair with his eyes closed. His head basically ends up right on my desk and he will breathe in my face. I’ve had to move my laptop to stop him from laying on it. Am I the weird one for staring at the guy as he disrupts all my belongings and my personal space? He does it more than five times a class. It’s very awkward and makes it hard to focus on the lecture. Should I say something? Help me brothers, how do I stop this stretching bandit from stealing my peace of mind?” - Cramped College Co-Ed in Canada.
24:57 - Justin has an immediate suggestion. I assume it’s the actual solution, which is to say something like an adult or just switch seats, but nope, it’s the old chestnut of put some jelly on it. Griffin suggests surprise massage. Travis clarifies that they’re definitely ignoring the “excuse me, could you not do that” option, which Griffin confirms because it’s not very funny. This takes me back to when I used to regularly listen, since part of the driving force for me stopping was the sheer number of questions that could be solved by two seconds of slightly awkward conversation. I totally get it, social anxiety is a bitch and I’ve absolutely been there, but the lack of funny kinda stems from the question. They all agree, and Travis suggests adding broken glass to the jelly.
26:57 - Griffins goes back to the massage suggestion, with “dual percussive massagers”. Justin suggests hovering over them and saying “There’s my sweet boy” and Travis suggests a “little kiss on the forehead” which, thankfully, they immediately shoot down. Still, I’m uncomfortable.
28:00 - Justin points out that, if someone actually followed the advice they give, the problem would be solved, it’s just a question of consequences. There’s some more discussion of the Quaids but my spirit is a little broken and I can’t bring myself to rewind to accurately transcribe any of it.
29:43 - Money Zone: Travis says, “Well Justin,” and Justin misidentifies him as Griffin. So far, hardest laugh of the episode. The ad is for Zocdoc, which Justin mispronounces a lot. I assume any service that advertises on a podcast is actually just a money laundering scheme, medical stuff doubly so, but it does remind me that MaxFun podcasts are the only ones where I can tell the ad copy was done in a single take with no edits. I admire it, in a way.
32:45 - A MaxFun ad for “Just the Zoo of Us”, which is apparently a podcast where they rate animals on their “effectiveness, ingenuity, and aesthetics”. It kind of worked on me, which is to say I’m debating the merits of getting a Zoobooks subscription as a childless woman approaching her thirties.
33:30 - A MaxFun ad for “Feeling Seen”, where the editor likes to play the game of taking a sip of coffee anytime the guest says how good a question is, how smart the host is, or cries unexpectedly. I cannot stress enough how much this makes me not want to listen. I don’t even have anything snide to say, I’m just genuinely put off by it.
34:19 - Griffin introduces the Wizard of the Cloud: How to “Talk Nerdy” to someone, which is meant to help you talk to the “cute nerd in your science class” by becoming more adorkable to them. Justin and Travis are disgusted by the word “adorkable”, which feels like a real split with their brand of appealing to mid-2010s Tumblr users.
36:00 - Travis points out that this article presupposes that nerdy people only want to be seduced with nerdy things, and will shun all other romance. The original pickup line is “Are you a carbon sample? Because I definitely want to date you. If you’ve seen The Big Bang Theory, you already know science and physics nerds are the best” Travis punches it up with “I’ve got a theory that we should Big Bang.” Currently he’s batting a thousand for me.
36:55 - Wikihow asks “Can math be sexy?” They talk about how sexy 8 is and Travis makes a 69 joke, so I retract my previous statement. There’s a gross astronomy-based pickup line saying “Do you mind if my comet enters your solar system” and “Hey, nice asteroids”. Mercifully, no “Can I touch Uranus?”
38:30 - More bad pickup lines, now about computers. Apparently “You’re hotter than the bottom of my laptop” is a good come-on. The video game lines are equally impressive, and Wikihow recommends that distracting gamers away from their games is easier said than done. These are more sexually charged than before, but no more clever.
43:30 - We’ve arrived at Star Wars. Wikihow says “Jedis are tough nuts to crack, so you may need to use the Force to woo them effectively.” It’s been a while, but I’m fairly certain Jedis aren’t allowed to fall in love and that’s kind of a whole thing with the prequel trilogy. Also, are we not doing phrasing anymore? Cuz Jesus, they should take a second pass at that.
43:46 - Wikihow suggests several “Yoda-approved pickup lines”, and they do some bad Yoda impressions like “pull down some trim, you will” and “wet, you will get”. This is apparently a thing they’ve done before called “Clipping Yoda”. Justin makes a “something something something, I thought they smelled bad on the outside” joke.]
46:08 - They discuss the very limited situations when the suggested “I find your lack of nudity disturbing” is acceptable, then move on to the Lord of the Rings lines which are equally questionable. Travis brings up the theory that Frodo doesn’t know Legolas’ name, and now I wanna rewatch LotR.
50:09 - Justin suggests coming up with their own lines, which results in “You make me feel like John Rhys-Davies in Sliders, cuz I wanna climb in those holes” and Griffin looking up “nerd movies”.
51:40 - Question 3: “My bank has been advertising a home ownership service to help folks buy and sell homes. I usually ignore them, but this time they’ve been offering a chance to win a flattop grill package with a $100 gift card to a very expensive butcher. I’ve been really wanting to get my dad a new grill. Brothers, I have no way of buying a house, let alone sell one. They’re contacting me, trying to help me buy a house. How do I explain to them I’m only entered to maybe win the grill and have no interest in the service?” From the Poor Hopeful in B (?).
53:00 - First of all. Second, they suggest the asker (a) admits they were only in it for the grill or (b) saying they have a budget of $750 for a furnished home. It devolves into a riff about Bobby Flay and pitches for “Flay Bobby Flay” and “Bob Bobby Flay” to see if he floats.
56:15 - Plugs for stuff and the end of the episode.
Closing Thoughts: I actually enjoyed that, although with a lot of stopping and starting to write this. Also anyone who likes Clipping Yoda may also like Action Boyz, because pedophile Yoda is a surprisingly rich vein to mine. I don’t think I’ll ever actually pick up listening again, since I have about 280 episodes of Off Book to get to first and this whole recap has made me really contemplate my mortality, but I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it
2023.06.04 07:42 Edwardthecrazyman Hiraeth or Where the Children Play: Dog-meat and the Whipping Boy [6]
Previous
If I were to guess, I’d imagine they took Andrew to Boss Harold before anyone else and the rumors around Golgotha seemed to support this supposition; the Bosses enjoyed their personal retribution away from the eyes of citizens, maybe it was talking or maybe more, and although there were whispers of the boy being strung up on the wall or maybe he’d be violated in the stocks for all to see, I imagined that the council I held with Boss Harold might’ve had something to do with that never materializing. When I was allowed to the boy’s cell, it was dark, and his face was bruised and the bandaging I’d applied to his severed wrist had been removed probably for amusement. The room was small and there were no windows and only a single doorway let out into the hallway which contained other cells and further, near the exit, there was the office of wall men. The guard that’d let me in locked the door behind me and Andrew sat on a metallic cot without cushioning, and he stared at the grimy floor through swollen eyes.
“Hello,” he said. And I was taken aback by the comment because he spoke it as quickly as he might passing a person in the street. He'd been through so much that the word was abrupt, skittish. I nodded and moved to him, reaching for his arm where he’d been nearly fatally wounded. It was infected. Without fighting me, he allowed me to tend to it without even a question; I wiped it and applied salve. Once it was cleaned and rewrapped and only after I’d settled on the cot beside him, he spoke again, “I heard stories about the cells, but I never thought they’d smell.”
I withdrew a handful of antibiotics, and he took them without putting them to his mouth. “You should have them,” I said, “You might lose the whole arm if not.”
“I might lose my life.”
“Maybe not,” I offered a grim smile and water with for the pills. “You’re alive still.”
“How much longer though?” He took the medicine and grimaced hard. The boy looked older than he was. “It smells like blood here. I can smell the people that’ve been here before.”
I patted him on the back and removed myself from the cell and he did not call after me, not even to ask for the return of his hand and I hoped that I could stave off whatever tortures the Bosses might have in store for him.
It’d been two days since I’d returned with Dave and Andrew and quickly after our arrival, I’d tried departing from the man and hoped he’d drop whatever revenge he believed I could assist him with, but it was to no avail for he attended everywhere with me since our return to Golgotha. Although he’d not been allowed to enter the cells alongside me, he was waiting for me outside as I stepped through the wall men’s office and into the noonday sun; I deftly plucked a pre-rolled cigarette from my pocket and tried at lighting it but before I’d even gotten the chance, he was there at the stoop of the office, pestering, “We should go somewhere quiet,” he said.
“What do you take me for exactly?” I asked while maintaining eye contact with the flame off a match.
“You’re capable enough. You could be a hero. I’d do it with you. We could scrounge up a handful of people and change things. We really could.” Dave was casting sidelong glances at those that passed us in the dirt street just off the stoop, but nary one seemed to care about our conversation.
“Leave it.”
“I won’t.”
I sighed.
He put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.
Felina’s was a structure partially built from ancient shipping containers directly in the heart of the hydroponics towers in the center of town; the chicken shit smell from the base of the towers came with nauseating stagnation and could make a passerby sick, but upon entering Felina’s, the smell subsided and was replaced with the smell of body sweat. The older barwoman stood behind the counter and me and Dave took up on the far corner where we sat around an old card table, using crates as chairs; no one else was there—the smell of the hydro towers probably had some hand in that.
Dave took in close to me so that I could feel the moisture off his breath, “I’ve been talking to a few others over at the towers and they feel the same way I feel—but with you—well without you I don’t think I’d want to do it.”
“No, please go on without me,” I slanted my body across the table to push my face away from Dave’s; with me positioned with my back against the wall, I spied Felina beyond the counter, arms across her chest and watching us with an air of suspicion. She came to our table, slowly with her club foot and upon reaching us, she used our table for mild support with her big hands and greeted us without excitement.
Dave asked for water and her gaze shifted to me and I dismissed her, and we were alone till she limped back over with a pitcher and glass and Dave drank it greedily while Felina watched on from beyond the counter—her eyes suspicious but pretty blue too. She kept the haft from a dismembered axe behind the counter and was known to throttle unruly patrons with it.
Although some might have called Felina’s a bar, it was just short of it because of the rarity of spirits—besides, it was the upstairs brothel portion that the establishment owed to its popularity. Anyone might brave the smell from the street for companionship and if the noises from the rusted overhead support beams were anything to measure, the clientele was content indeed. A man descended from the stairs by the bar, gave a brief nod to Felina then to us and disappeared through the front door; a waft of the outside air rushed in, and Dave scrunched his nose.
“It’s a funny thing, I’ve passed by here all the time, but I don’t think I’ve been inside since before—” he paused, “Well, since before anyway.” He took a drink of water and rubbed his palms against his cheeks. “I know someone that works underground and could get us some gunpowder.”
I merely laughed at this. “Gunpowder, huh?”
“Well sure. The Bosses have reserves in the basements. We could blow them sky high.”
“More likely that you’d blow your hands off.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you?”
I thought, “Could you promise no one would die?”
Dave seemed baffled at the question. “Who cares?”
“These things hardly ever happen quietly—or without collateral. How’s this? Could you promise that no innocents get caught in stray fire?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are as ill prepared as I’d imagined.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The meek are intended to inherit, but many will die before all that.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I wish you’d leave it be.”
Another patron stumbled down the stairs, a scrawny tall man with a thin beard came charging into the chamber without clothes and a voice followed him, crying loudly, “Sonofabitch tried choking me!” A pair of arms and legs came stumbling down after—the source of the cries. There was a topless woman, a belt secured around one of her wrists and a pink mark around her throat. The naked man protested and put up his hands as the woman swung the arm with the belt and whipped at him with it, striking across the forearm he’d shielded himself with.
Felina moved carefully from around the counter, raised the haft, then brought it down across the man’s back. He stumbled to his knees, pleading. The barwoman raised the weapon once more and the sound was like wood against wood as it met the man’s head and his body was taken to the ground completely, perhaps dead, perhaps unconscious. The two women lifted the man out the door and Felina spat through the opening. Outside wind came again and Dave scrunched his nose once more before the door shut. The topless woman removed the belt from around her wrist, tossed it to the floor, then secured an arm across her chest before hurrying upstairs.
“So, gunpowder?” I asked Dave.
He nodded and took another drink of water while eyeing Felina as she took herself back to the counter and stowed the makeshift club into whatever place she kept it. “Yeah.”
“Go for it then and leave me out of it.” I fiddled with my thumbs across the table. “I’ll even make you a deal for when you come running to me for help later. If you blow your fingers off, I’ll try and help you find them. How’s about that?”
“I’ll wear you down.”
Another gust of wind came from the far door and I half expected to see the man that’d been removed there in the doorway, standing on his feet and ready for another round of punishment, but there was no one there in the hollow spot; as my gaze drifted from person-face level, I saw a medium sized mutt there in gray fur, pushing the door in with its nose and then sliding the rest of its starved body through—each of its yellowy sad eyes peered in and I could not tell the breed but Dave lifted himself from his seat and Felina went to the dog too.
“No dogs,” stated the woman.
Dave, the indomitable sweetheart that he was knelt to the dog’s face and touched its snout; it licked his hand and Dave said to Felina, “He’s not mine, but have you got some water for him?”
“No dogs inside. I don’t like repeating it.”
“Fair enough,” said Dave, “I don’t know who he—” he froze and then examined the rear of the dog before petting the dog on the head, “She belongs to, but I’ll take her outside. Just. Please some water, won’t you?”
The barwoman first drummed her fingers against her leg then went to the counter and I noticed Dave flinch as she reached under there, but she came back with a bowl and he took it and ushered the dog out; as he exited, he called to me, and I sighed and moved with him.
Remaining in the street was the man that’d been tossed out, face up, half-opened eyes, and flies buzzed about, and I touched him with my foot, but he didn’t move. Blood leaked from his ears. “Dead,” I said.
Dave took the dog from the body around to the side of the building and the feces smell was strong with the hydro towers, but he sat the water down and the dog went at it quickly, without restraint and spilt half before the man went to steady it with his hand; he knelt by the dog and pushed a shoulder against the wall of the brothel.
“There you go,” I told him, “You’ve found someone dumb enough and maybe loyal enough to follow through with your little gunpowder plan. Strap a handful of dynamite to him and watch him go boom in the Boss’s faces.” I genuinely did try it as a joke.
“You can be very mean,” said Dave.
Once the bowl was dry besides dog spit, he returned it to Felina, reentering briefly, and it was just me and the dog and the dog looked up at me and I turned away while its voice whined in the back of its throat and I took a piece of hardtack from my pocket and tossed it on the ground—the dog went after it, assuredly snapping up dirt in the process. Then the creature made a dry and throaty sound from swallowing too quickly, but moments after the thick cracker was gone. It licked my hand gently, and I scratched its chin and Dave returned and upon seeing me with the dog, he gave me a look and then brought himself to the height of the dog in a hunker.
“Hey there,” he said to it, “Someone’s beat you up pretty bad, huh?” It was true; scars stood out in places where the dog had no fur.
In response, the weathered mutt hoisted its forepaws onto his knees and pushed its nose into his.
“Yeah, girl,” he took one of the dog’s ears between his forefinger and thumb and rubbed it gently and the animal looked up, sad eyed, “What’s a good name for you?”
“Dog-meat?” I proposed.
Dave shook his head. “What sort of sick joke is that?” but he was smiling, “No. I’ll come up with something to call her. Isn’t that right?” He asked the dog, massaging the face of the animal with his thumbs; the dog stared dumbly at him. “Maybe a Beth or a Patty might suit you. How do you like them?”
The dog licked his face but couldn’t speak.
“Well,” I said, “It’s a shame it got you, you’ll pick a person name for it and that’s strange. Why not call her Mary if you want a person name?”
“Bah,” said Dave, rising to a full stand; momentarily, even with the other folks passing us in the street, he took a moment to see the dead man we’d passed on our way out of Felina’s and for a moment he remained quiet. “I’ll come to you again Harlan. Maybe when I’ve got more of a plan. I only hope you’ll listen to the stuff I’ve said about it. I really do. I really hope you’ll be on the right side of this thing.”
“Sides are overrated.”
Dave put a hand on my shoulder, “Of course,” he nodded, “Whatever you say.”
He left with his new friend—the dog following him traced from left to right close behind Dave and I watched him take off and around the nearest hydro tower and I was alone on the street and evening wouldn’t be far away, so I took to home while staring at my moving feet and speaking to no one. A few people along the way tried nodding at me or saying a small greeting here or there, but I was absorbed in my own head, and nothing took me from it once I got going. Maybe that was one of the reasons I enjoyed the wastes; there were no pretenses out there and with the constant thought of death there was no other thing to think about than each passing moment. I could not shut my thoughts up. I could ramble more about the motivations of a scavver, but I don’t think I should—leave that for someone that cares.
Upon taking the catwalks where I could look out on a swatch of Golgotha with the sun beating down and the constant hum of people going about their business, I was frozen on the railing and wishing I’d taken my own life and wishing that Dave had not found me out there; maybe if I was faster or smarter or better in whatever way that mattered.
I pushed into the door into my small abode and cool blood pushed through my body on seeing the robed girl there on my mattress, holding a shotgun with its barrel angled directly at me; she donned a flowy mess of dresses and kept her head wrapped in garb so that only her eyes shone through, but her arms stuck from the mess of cloth and I could see they were skinny with long scab marks like a blade had drawn across the flesh.
“Harlan?” asked the girl.
“Is that mine?” I nodded at the pump-shotgun in her hands. The slowness of the world was gone, and I could think again; if things were different, I’d have been a dead man, but it was unloaded, and I knew it.
“It was hanging on the wall—I don’t know how to use the thing anyway. I don’t know what I was doing with it,” she said, “You just scared me, and I didn’t know who you might’ve been.”
“This is my place.”
She laid the shotgun on the bed and unwrapped her face; it was Gemma, “You were with Andrew.”
“I was.”
“You said he was dead.”
I brought in air slowly through my nose. “I did.”
“You lied.”
I nodded, letting the air come out.
“Why?”
“I needed to find you.”
“But you found us both then, I guess.”
“Not on purpose.” A thought occurred to me, “Does you father know where you are right now?”
She shook her head; although rest had done her good, there was still a fair amount of fatigue present on her. “I snuck out.”
“Would’a though you learned your lesson on that front.”
“Is Andrew okay? No one will tell me anything about it.”
“He’s locked up right now, but he is alive. For how long? I don’t know. I figured your pop paid a visit to him already—wouldn’t you know about that?”
She shook her head again. “Woo,” Gemma slumped onto the side of my mattress and gathered the robes around her, “I’m feeling faint.”
I moved to the bed and gathered the shotgun, putting it back on the hooks in the wall. “You shouldn’t break into people’s homes.”
Cupping her brow in a hand so that I could only see her mouth and the bottom of her nose, she said, “I just needed to know he was alive. These past days I’ve been so worried about him. I knew you told me he was dead, but I knew you were a liar too. So, I had bad thoughts about what might’ve happened to him out there. If what happened to me was anything to go off.” Her voice broke for a moment and then she pulled her hand from her face and blinked a few sudden times. “I just.”
“I get it. You love the boy.”
She nodded without looking at me.
“So, beg your dad to let him go.”
“Everyone’s so mad at him. It’s funny that everyone’s so mad at him, but it was my idea, and they all treat me like a darling little flower. Like I couldn’t have been the one with the idea of running away. I had more reason to run than he ever did.”
“You should leave.”
“I don’t want to. Can’t you see that’s what I’ve been saying? Judge all you like. Call me rich all you like, but I can tell you this: I don’t feel like it.” Gemma grabbed the edge of the bed as her head wavered on her shoulders. “Dizzy spells are awful.” She shook her head. “Like no sickness ever.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Help me.”
“I’ve already tried convincing them not to kill him.” Taking a pause, I thought to add, “And I personally saw to his injuries. Please go and leave me be.”
“Oh, but you’ve asked for it,” she said, “You put yourself in the business of it.”
“Look. All’s I wanted was to save you if I could and get the water running again. That’s it. Now go.” I put my arm up to wave her out the door and she stood to make her way there, catching herself on the frame, then out on the catwalk railing before turning and looking at me over her shoulder.
“Bastard.” she said.
“Yes.” The door shut between us, and I took myself to sitting on the bed’s edge and reminiscing over how Dave reminded me so much of Jackson. Jackson was a real tough one; whatever happened he always kept a cool head (so I reckon him and Dave would be different in that way) and the idea of being a hero was so big for him. It’s a curious thought: whether Dave would have such ideas if hadn’t been for the tragic loss of his family.
The shotgun sat on there on the wall, and I took it and looked over it, putting the stock in my left hand then my right and laid it across my legs; the woven strap on it had gone thin so that the place I’d once worn it over my shoulder was mostly threadbare. I moved to the cabinet by the sink where I kept a few essentials and in the very back there was an old box of shells—it was a surprise they still seemed good, but with old ammo you never could tell, and the shells were just as likely to fire true as they might be to never send pellets from the barrel. I took a knife and began whittling into a shell I’d plucked from the box. Pellets spilled between my feet as I sat on the bed and they rolled across the floor and then I found the gunpowder and rose again, sprinkling it onto the cabinet top into a neat pile. Dave said he had a fella’ he knew that worked in the underground—the sort of person that could get him all the gunpowder he needed. Was he familiar with its destructive force; had he ever fired a gun? He promised me no one innocent would die and I knew that was a lie and there’s surely a piece of him that knew it was a lie just as well.
It was just then as I took a forefinger and thumb and pinched up a bit from the gunpowder splat that I remembered a thing that Jackson told me all the time when he thought none of the others were listening. The gunpowder rained from my fingertips as I rubbed them together and I sniffed the place where they’d become sooty, taking in a smell I’d not smelled in a long time. Jackson would say, “Whoever fights monsters should be sure that he don’t become a monster.” It wouldn’t be for a long time—after I’d visited the libraries in Alexandria or Babylon (take your preference)—till I realized it was a quote that Jackson stole from some guy named Neet-chee. It seemed like a good thing to adhere to, and it was certainly something I wasn’t good at keeping with and if I couldn’t then there was little certainty that Dave would keep to it either. Maybe I had become a monster; morally dubious anyway.
Jackson was a hero, and he was dead as was Sibylle as was Billy as was John and all of them. We’d tried heroing and it got all of us dead. Almost all of us.
I hung the shotgun on the wall and left it there and swept the gunpowder into the floor with a flat palm where the pellets were and chucked the box of old shells into the cabinet again.
Ringing of bells came from the hall of the Bosses and it was time for a display. Denizens gathered in the front square by the gates and awaited while they trotted out Andrew; perhaps the words I’d passed to Boss Harold rang hollow after all. The Bosses were there just as always, drinking their wine on the platform, and Maron was out front with his wall men in the semicircle of gathered Golgotha residents. Of the population, only a hundred or two gathered for this poor boy’s execution. The guards had, at some point after my departure, removed the bandage on his empty wrist and he looked more sickly in the face than before and his cheeks were swollen and he wept, seemingly not from the terror of it but from the skin around his eyes having been so damaged; tears came through swelled eyelids and a wall man kept him by the elbow and Maron marched to the boy and lifted the boy’s face with his hand to look into it and maybe he whispered something to him.
I weaved through the crowd, moving to the steps that led to the stage where the Bosses stood with their foods and wines and their plenty and upon approach, I was stopped by a wall men, but upon catching Boss Harold’s eye, he told the guard to let me through and I took the stairs and from the platform, I could see over the crowd—Dave was far in the rear of those gathered, totally disconnected from the others for he hunkered by a set of crates, patting the head of the dog we’d found just earlier in the day. For a moment, I wished I was there with him and not on the stage at all.
“Dear boy!” Boss Harold shouted at me over the excited jeers of the others, “It’s so good to see you again. You are quite the hero, and it’s always good to be in the company of those.”
I nodded at him and within a flash, he’d slammed his cup of wine into my hand, telling me to drink, and only moments passed before his own cup was replaced by a nearby servant. “We spoke about this?” I tried.
His face was red, and I could just make out the miniscule veins vibrant along the corners of his nose; the man was far gone drunk. “That boy’s been a thorn in my side for too long, so I know you understand it when I say that he needs punishment. I took all that you said into account,” his words slurred, and the sweet sick came off him in a breath of hot air when he pulled me in, resting his ear on my shoulder. “Nobody dies today, but ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’,” the Boss paused. “You’re not a father yourself, are you?”
I shook my head.
“Ah! Then you might not be familiar with that proverb required in bringing a child up in this world.” Boss Harold laughed. “I’d never take my sweet Gemma out in the square like this, but God there’s been times I’ve wanted it. ‘Spare the rod’.” He repeated. “But we’ve something a fair bit more interesting than a rod for that boy.” Boss Harold swayed on his feet and took the fist containing his cup of wine, pointing with his index finger at the open place by the wall where Maron and Andrew and the wall men were. “Speaking of!” Boss Harold was giddy, and he took a magnificent gulp from his cup, throwing his head far back. “You’re a learned man, yes?”
“What?”
“You know how to read? Maron said something about your reading. That’s a rare quality! I’d love to talk about books with you sometime. I’ve my own personal collection.”
The wall men stripped Andrew of his clothes then threw them to the ground and a gasp escaped the audience and the boy shouted and Maron moved to a nearby bucket and reached into the mouth of the container, coming back to a full stand; a whip was coiled around his arm. The Bosses didn’t even look on. The punishment was for the benefit of Boss Harold, and not even he looked on. He jabbered on about how he’d like to speak with me over an old philosophy called Objectivism then he went on about how he’d learned long ago the greatest achievement of man was his own happiness and I listened to the drunk man and when the whip broke skin the first time, I’m sure Andrew felt every bit.
Blood exploded in violent dew off his back and the crack of the whip struck the boy till he couldn’t stand and then several times more. Splatter reached onlookers each time Maron lifted the whip over his head, and it was only once the boy stopped moving that the Boss Sheriff swaggered over to inspect him; Andrew had fallen face down and Maron took his boot to the boy’s side so that the boy rolled onto his back and seconds passed without movement and even Boss Harold quit with his talking. The prone body just lay there and for a moment Andrew looked like the body I’d seen earlier out front of Felina’s. Then the boy spasmed and gasped air and Maron shouted about how he was still alive before giving the toe of his boot to Andrew’s ribs.
“What a show,” said the Bosses—what a show indeed.
The crowd dispersed in clumps, taking back to their jobs or leisure and I left the platform only after agreeing that Objectivism sounded good and Boss Harold laughed and stumbled in pivoting to take on in conversation with the other Bosses and I briefly imagined giving him a nudge, so he’d fall off the stage, but refrained from doing so.
When I met the boy lying in the dirt there, there was me and Dave moved in too and Maron had taken to his station where there was a table by sandbags, and he was engrossed in a game of solitaire; it seemed the man was totally unfazed by the justice he’d dealt. There was a time when that body could’ve been a hero and yet there he was, poisoned.
I called out to the Boss Sheriff, “Ain’t you going to put him back to his cell?”
Without even looking over, Maron swept his mustache with his fingers and waved me off, “Harold was real clear on letting the boy out of custody once it was done.” He lifted his cowboy hat and scratched his head while looking at the cards on the table then he laughed. “He’s a free man. I’ve heard that was your meddlin’ that did it.”
I moved to the boy and snatched up the clothes they ripped from him and Dave, not saying a word with his new mutt by his side, helped me to return some dignity to the boy.
We took him to my small apartment and washed him and tended over him while he lay in my bed.
Gemma came soon after Andrew had been draped in a sheet—she was there in disguise as she’d been earlier and upon me opening the doorway, she began to ask me if the boy was with me. I merely stepped aside, and she rushed to Andrew’s side; if he was aware of her presence, there was no way to tell.
“They killed him.” She’d taken to her knees to be nearer his level. “Oh. Oh, he’s dead.” She touched him and he shivered at the touch. Gemma removed the wrappings of cloth around her head and looked at her sweetie closer and she put a hand to her mouth. “They took his hand!”
“No,” said Dave, “He’s going to live.” The man looked to me and I shrugged. “Yeah,” his voice didn’t sound sure, “He’ll live.”
I moved to the catwalk and Dave came with me, the dog following behind him—the timid mutt looked over the edge of the catwalk to the city below then stepped away and returned to my room. When Dave took up beside me, leaning over the railing, and the sun hit his face just so, he looked exactly like Jackson and maybe that was why when he raised eyebrows then cut his eyes at me with a question—the question was everything and I finally nodded.
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Neovel
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If I were to guess, I’d imagine they took Andrew to Boss Harold before anyone else and the rumors around Golgotha seemed to support this supposition; the Bosses enjoyed their personal retribution away from the eyes of citizens, maybe it was talking or maybe more, and although there were whispers of the boy being strung up on the wall or maybe he’d be violated in the stocks for all to see, I imagined that the council I held with Boss Harold might’ve had something to do with that never materializing. When I was allowed to the boy’s cell, it was dark, and his face was bruised and the bandaging I’d applied to his severed wrist had been removed probably for amusement. The room was small and there were no windows and only a single doorway let out into the hallway which contained other cells and further, near the exit, there was the office of wall men. The guard that’d let me in locked the door behind me and Andrew sat on a metallic cot without cushioning, and he stared at the grimy floor through swollen eyes.
“Hello,” he said. And I was taken aback by the comment because he spoke it as quickly as he might passing a person in the street. He'd been through so much that the word was abrupt, skittish. I nodded and moved to him, reaching for his arm where he’d been nearly fatally wounded. It was infected. Without fighting me, he allowed me to tend to it without even a question; I wiped it and applied salve. Once it was cleaned and rewrapped and only after I’d settled on the cot beside him, he spoke again, “I heard stories about the cells, but I never thought they’d smell.”
I withdrew a handful of antibiotics, and he took them without putting them to his mouth. “You should have them,” I said, “You might lose the whole arm if not.”
“I might lose my life.”
“Maybe not,” I offered a grim smile and water with for the pills. “You’re alive still.”
“How much longer though?” He took the medicine and grimaced hard. The boy looked older than he was. “It smells like blood here. I can smell the people that’ve been here before.”
I patted him on the back and removed myself from the cell and he did not call after me, not even to ask for the return of his hand and I hoped that I could stave off whatever tortures the Bosses might have in store for him.
It’d been two days since I’d returned with Dave and Andrew and quickly after our arrival, I’d tried departing from the man and hoped he’d drop whatever revenge he believed I could assist him with, but it was to no avail for he attended everywhere with me since our return to Golgotha. Although he’d not been allowed to enter the cells alongside me, he was waiting for me outside as I stepped through the wall men’s office and into the noonday sun; I deftly plucked a pre-rolled cigarette from my pocket and tried at lighting it but before I’d even gotten the chance, he was there at the stoop of the office, pestering, “We should go somewhere quiet,” he said.
“What do you take me for exactly?” I asked while maintaining eye contact with the flame off a match.
“You’re capable enough. You could be a hero. I’d do it with you. We could scrounge up a handful of people and change things. We really could.” Dave was casting sidelong glances at those that passed us in the dirt street just off the stoop, but nary one seemed to care about our conversation.
“Leave it.”
“I won’t.”
I sighed.
He put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.
Felina’s was a structure partially built from ancient shipping containers directly in the heart of the hydroponics towers in the center of town; the chicken shit smell from the base of the towers came with nauseating stagnation and could make a passerby sick, but upon entering Felina’s, the smell subsided and was replaced with the smell of body sweat. The older barwoman stood behind the counter and me and Dave took up on the far corner where we sat around an old card table, using crates as chairs; no one else was there—the smell of the hydro towers probably had some hand in that.
Dave took in close to me so that I could feel the moisture off his breath, “I’ve been talking to a few others over at the towers and they feel the same way I feel—but with you—well without you I don’t think I’d want to do it.”
“No, please go on without me,” I slanted my body across the table to push my face away from Dave’s; with me positioned with my back against the wall, I spied Felina beyond the counter, arms across her chest and watching us with an air of suspicion. She came to our table, slowly with her club foot and upon reaching us, she used our table for mild support with her big hands and greeted us without excitement.
Dave asked for water and her gaze shifted to me and I dismissed her, and we were alone till she limped back over with a pitcher and glass and Dave drank it greedily while Felina watched on from beyond the counter—her eyes suspicious but pretty blue too. She kept the haft from a dismembered axe behind the counter and was known to throttle unruly patrons with it.
Although some might have called Felina’s a bar, it was just short of it because of the rarity of spirits—besides, it was the upstairs brothel portion that the establishment owed to its popularity. Anyone might brave the smell from the street for companionship and if the noises from the rusted overhead support beams were anything to measure, the clientele was content indeed. A man descended from the stairs by the bar, gave a brief nod to Felina then to us and disappeared through the front door; a waft of the outside air rushed in, and Dave scrunched his nose.
“It’s a funny thing, I’ve passed by here all the time, but I don’t think I’ve been inside since before—” he paused, “Well, since before anyway.” He took a drink of water and rubbed his palms against his cheeks. “I know someone that works underground and could get us some gunpowder.”
I merely laughed at this. “Gunpowder, huh?”
“Well sure. The Bosses have reserves in the basements. We could blow them sky high.”
“More likely that you’d blow your hands off.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you?”
I thought, “Could you promise no one would die?”
Dave seemed baffled at the question. “Who cares?”
“These things hardly ever happen quietly—or without collateral. How’s this? Could you promise that no innocents get caught in stray fire?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are as ill prepared as I’d imagined.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The meek are intended to inherit, but many will die before all that.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I wish you’d leave it be.”
Another patron stumbled down the stairs, a scrawny tall man with a thin beard came charging into the chamber without clothes and a voice followed him, crying loudly, “Sonofabitch tried choking me!” A pair of arms and legs came stumbling down after—the source of the cries. There was a topless woman, a belt secured around one of her wrists and a pink mark around her throat. The naked man protested and put up his hands as the woman swung the arm with the belt and whipped at him with it, striking across the forearm he’d shielded himself with.
Felina moved carefully from around the counter, raised the haft, then brought it down across the man’s back. He stumbled to his knees, pleading. The barwoman raised the weapon once more and the sound was like wood against wood as it met the man’s head and his body was taken to the ground completely, perhaps dead, perhaps unconscious. The two women lifted the man out the door and Felina spat through the opening. Outside wind came again and Dave scrunched his nose once more before the door shut. The topless woman removed the belt from around her wrist, tossed it to the floor, then secured an arm across her chest before hurrying upstairs.
“So, gunpowder?” I asked Dave.
He nodded and took another drink of water while eyeing Felina as she took herself back to the counter and stowed the makeshift club into whatever place she kept it. “Yeah.”
“Go for it then and leave me out of it.” I fiddled with my thumbs across the table. “I’ll even make you a deal for when you come running to me for help later. If you blow your fingers off, I’ll try and help you find them. How’s about that?”
“I’ll wear you down.”
Another gust of wind came from the far door and I half expected to see the man that’d been removed there in the doorway, standing on his feet and ready for another round of punishment, but there was no one there in the hollow spot; as my gaze drifted from person-face level, I saw a medium sized mutt there in gray fur, pushing the door in with its nose and then sliding the rest of its starved body through—each of its yellowy sad eyes peered in and I could not tell the breed but Dave lifted himself from his seat and Felina went to the dog too.
“No dogs,” stated the woman.
Dave, the indomitable sweetheart that he was knelt to the dog’s face and touched its snout; it licked his hand and Dave said to Felina, “He’s not mine, but have you got some water for him?”
“No dogs inside. I don’t like repeating it.”
“Fair enough,” said Dave, “I don’t know who he—” he froze and then examined the rear of the dog before petting the dog on the head, “She belongs to, but I’ll take her outside. Just. Please some water, won’t you?”
The barwoman first drummed her fingers against her leg then went to the counter and I noticed Dave flinch as she reached under there, but she came back with a bowl and he took it and ushered the dog out; as he exited, he called to me, and I sighed and moved with him.
Remaining in the street was the man that’d been tossed out, face up, half-opened eyes, and flies buzzed about, and I touched him with my foot, but he didn’t move. Blood leaked from his ears. “Dead,” I said.
Dave took the dog from the body around to the side of the building and the feces smell was strong with the hydro towers, but he sat the water down and the dog went at it quickly, without restraint and spilt half before the man went to steady it with his hand; he knelt by the dog and pushed a shoulder against the wall of the brothel.
“There you go,” I told him, “You’ve found someone dumb enough and maybe loyal enough to follow through with your little gunpowder plan. Strap a handful of dynamite to him and watch him go boom in the Boss’s faces.” I genuinely did try it as a joke.
“You can be very mean,” said Dave.
Once the bowl was dry besides dog spit, he returned it to Felina, reentering briefly, and it was just me and the dog and the dog looked up at me and I turned away while its voice whined in the back of its throat and I took a piece of hardtack from my pocket and tossed it on the ground—the dog went after it, assuredly snapping up dirt in the process. Then the creature made a dry and throaty sound from swallowing too quickly, but moments after the thick cracker was gone. It licked my hand gently, and I scratched its chin and Dave returned and upon seeing me with the dog, he gave me a look and then brought himself to the height of the dog in a hunker.
“Hey there,” he said to it, “Someone’s beat you up pretty bad, huh?” It was true; scars stood out in places where the dog had no fur.
In response, the weathered mutt hoisted its forepaws onto his knees and pushed its nose into his.
“Yeah, girl,” he took one of the dog’s ears between his forefinger and thumb and rubbed it gently and the animal looked up, sad eyed, “What’s a good name for you?”
“Dog-meat?” I proposed.
Dave shook his head. “What sort of sick joke is that?” but he was smiling, “No. I’ll come up with something to call her. Isn’t that right?” He asked the dog, massaging the face of the animal with his thumbs; the dog stared dumbly at him. “Maybe a Beth or a Patty might suit you. How do you like them?”
The dog licked his face but couldn’t speak.
“Well,” I said, “It’s a shame it got you, you’ll pick a person name for it and that’s strange. Why not call her Mary if you want a person name?”
“Bah,” said Dave, rising to a full stand; momentarily, even with the other folks passing us in the street, he took a moment to see the dead man we’d passed on our way out of Felina’s and for a moment he remained quiet. “I’ll come to you again Harlan. Maybe when I’ve got more of a plan. I only hope you’ll listen to the stuff I’ve said about it. I really do. I really hope you’ll be on the right side of this thing.”
“Sides are overrated.”
Dave put a hand on my shoulder, “Of course,” he nodded, “Whatever you say.”
He left with his new friend—the dog following him traced from left to right close behind Dave and I watched him take off and around the nearest hydro tower and I was alone on the street and evening wouldn’t be far away, so I took to home while staring at my moving feet and speaking to no one. A few people along the way tried nodding at me or saying a small greeting here or there, but I was absorbed in my own head, and nothing took me from it once I got going. Maybe that was one of the reasons I enjoyed the wastes; there were no pretenses out there and with the constant thought of death there was no other thing to think about than each passing moment. I could not shut my thoughts up. I could ramble more about the motivations of a scavver, but I don’t think I should—leave that for someone that cares.
Upon taking the catwalks where I could look out on a swatch of Golgotha with the sun beating down and the constant hum of people going about their business, I was frozen on the railing and wishing I’d taken my own life and wishing that Dave had not found me out there; maybe if I was faster or smarter or better in whatever way that mattered.
I pushed into the door into my small abode and cool blood pushed through my body on seeing the robed girl there on my mattress, holding a shotgun with its barrel angled directly at me; she donned a flowy mess of dresses and kept her head wrapped in garb so that only her eyes shone through, but her arms stuck from the mess of cloth and I could see they were skinny with long scab marks like a blade had drawn across the flesh.
“Harlan?” asked the girl.
“Is that mine?” I nodded at the pump-shotgun in her hands. The slowness of the world was gone, and I could think again; if things were different, I’d have been a dead man, but it was unloaded, and I knew it.
“It was hanging on the wall—I don’t know how to use the thing anyway. I don’t know what I was doing with it,” she said, “You just scared me, and I didn’t know who you might’ve been.”
“This is my place.”
She laid the shotgun on the bed and unwrapped her face; it was Gemma, “You were with Andrew.”
“I was.”
“You said he was dead.”
I brought in air slowly through my nose. “I did.”
“You lied.”
I nodded, letting the air come out.
“Why?”
“I needed to find you.”
“But you found us both then, I guess.”
“Not on purpose.” A thought occurred to me, “Does you father know where you are right now?”
She shook her head; although rest had done her good, there was still a fair amount of fatigue present on her. “I snuck out.”
“Would’a though you learned your lesson on that front.”
“Is Andrew okay? No one will tell me anything about it.”
“He’s locked up right now, but he is alive. For how long? I don’t know. I figured your pop paid a visit to him already—wouldn’t you know about that?”
She shook her head again. “Woo,” Gemma slumped onto the side of my mattress and gathered the robes around her, “I’m feeling faint.”
I moved to the bed and gathered the shotgun, putting it back on the hooks in the wall. “You shouldn’t break into people’s homes.”
Cupping her brow in a hand so that I could only see her mouth and the bottom of her nose, she said, “I just needed to know he was alive. These past days I’ve been so worried about him. I knew you told me he was dead, but I knew you were a liar too. So, I had bad thoughts about what might’ve happened to him out there. If what happened to me was anything to go off.” Her voice broke for a moment and then she pulled her hand from her face and blinked a few sudden times. “I just.”
“I get it. You love the boy.”
She nodded without looking at me.
“So, beg your dad to let him go.”
“Everyone’s so mad at him. It’s funny that everyone’s so mad at him, but it was my idea, and they all treat me like a darling little flower. Like I couldn’t have been the one with the idea of running away. I had more reason to run than he ever did.”
“You should leave.”
“I don’t want to. Can’t you see that’s what I’ve been saying? Judge all you like. Call me rich all you like, but I can tell you this: I don’t feel like it.” Gemma grabbed the edge of the bed as her head wavered on her shoulders. “Dizzy spells are awful.” She shook her head. “Like no sickness ever.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Help me.”
“I’ve already tried convincing them not to kill him.” Taking a pause, I thought to add, “And I personally saw to his injuries. Please go and leave me be.”
“Oh, but you’ve asked for it,” she said, “You put yourself in the business of it.”
“Look. All’s I wanted was to save you if I could and get the water running again. That’s it. Now go.” I put my arm up to wave her out the door and she stood to make her way there, catching herself on the frame, then out on the catwalk railing before turning and looking at me over her shoulder.
“Bastard.” she said.
“Yes.” The door shut between us, and I took myself to sitting on the bed’s edge and reminiscing over how Dave reminded me so much of Jackson. Jackson was a real tough one; whatever happened he always kept a cool head (so I reckon him and Dave would be different in that way) and the idea of being a hero was so big for him. It’s a curious thought: whether Dave would have such ideas if hadn’t been for the tragic loss of his family.
The shotgun sat on there on the wall, and I took it and looked over it, putting the stock in my left hand then my right and laid it across my legs; the woven strap on it had gone thin so that the place I’d once worn it over my shoulder was mostly threadbare. I moved to the cabinet by the sink where I kept a few essentials and in the very back there was an old box of shells—it was a surprise they still seemed good, but with old ammo you never could tell, and the shells were just as likely to fire true as they might be to never send pellets from the barrel. I took a knife and began whittling into a shell I’d plucked from the box. Pellets spilled between my feet as I sat on the bed and they rolled across the floor and then I found the gunpowder and rose again, sprinkling it onto the cabinet top into a neat pile. Dave said he had a fella’ he knew that worked in the underground—the sort of person that could get him all the gunpowder he needed. Was he familiar with its destructive force; had he ever fired a gun? He promised me no one innocent would die and I knew that was a lie and there’s surely a piece of him that knew it was a lie just as well.
It was just then as I took a forefinger and thumb and pinched up a bit from the gunpowder splat that I remembered a thing that Jackson told me all the time when he thought none of the others were listening. The gunpowder rained from my fingertips as I rubbed them together and I sniffed the place where they’d become sooty, taking in a smell I’d not smelled in a long time. Jackson would say, “Whoever fights monsters should be sure that he don’t become a monster.” It wouldn’t be for a long time—after I’d visited the libraries in Alexandria or Babylon (take your preference)—till I realized it was a quote that Jackson stole from some guy named Neet-chee. It seemed like a good thing to adhere to, and it was certainly something I wasn’t good at keeping with and if I couldn’t then there was little certainty that Dave would keep to it either. Maybe I had become a monster; morally dubious anyway.
Jackson was a hero, and he was dead as was Sibylle as was Billy as was John and all of them. We’d tried heroing and it got all of us dead. Almost all of us.
I hung the shotgun on the wall and left it there and swept the gunpowder into the floor with a flat palm where the pellets were and chucked the box of old shells into the cabinet again.
Ringing of bells came from the hall of the Bosses and it was time for a display. Denizens gathered in the front square by the gates and awaited while they trotted out Andrew; perhaps the words I’d passed to Boss Harold rang hollow after all. The Bosses were there just as always, drinking their wine on the platform, and Maron was out front with his wall men in the semicircle of gathered Golgotha residents. Of the population, only a hundred or two gathered for this poor boy’s execution. The guards had, at some point after my departure, removed the bandage on his empty wrist and he looked more sickly in the face than before and his cheeks were swollen and he wept, seemingly not from the terror of it but from the skin around his eyes having been so damaged; tears came through swelled eyelids and a wall man kept him by the elbow and Maron marched to the boy and lifted the boy’s face with his hand to look into it and maybe he whispered something to him.
I weaved through the crowd, moving to the steps that led to the stage where the Bosses stood with their foods and wines and their plenty and upon approach, I was stopped by a wall men, but upon catching Boss Harold’s eye, he told the guard to let me through and I took the stairs and from the platform, I could see over the crowd—Dave was far in the rear of those gathered, totally disconnected from the others for he hunkered by a set of crates, patting the head of the dog we’d found just earlier in the day. For a moment, I wished I was there with him and not on the stage at all.
“Dear boy!” Boss Harold shouted at me over the excited jeers of the others, “It’s so good to see you again. You are quite the hero, and it’s always good to be in the company of those.”
I nodded at him and within a flash, he’d slammed his cup of wine into my hand, telling me to drink, and only moments passed before his own cup was replaced by a nearby servant. “We spoke about this?” I tried.
His face was red, and I could just make out the miniscule veins vibrant along the corners of his nose; the man was far gone drunk. “That boy’s been a thorn in my side for too long, so I know you understand it when I say that he needs punishment. I took all that you said into account,” his words slurred, and the sweet sick came off him in a breath of hot air when he pulled me in, resting his ear on my shoulder. “Nobody dies today, but ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’,” the Boss paused. “You’re not a father yourself, are you?”
I shook my head.
“Ah! Then you might not be familiar with that proverb required in bringing a child up in this world.” Boss Harold laughed. “I’d never take my sweet Gemma out in the square like this, but God there’s been times I’ve wanted it. ‘Spare the rod’.” He repeated. “But we’ve something a fair bit more interesting than a rod for that boy.” Boss Harold swayed on his feet and took the fist containing his cup of wine, pointing with his index finger at the open place by the wall where Maron and Andrew and the wall men were. “Speaking of!” Boss Harold was giddy, and he took a magnificent gulp from his cup, throwing his head far back. “You’re a learned man, yes?”
“What?”
“You know how to read? Maron said something about your reading. That’s a rare quality! I’d love to talk about books with you sometime. I’ve my own personal collection.”
The wall men stripped Andrew of his clothes then threw them to the ground and a gasp escaped the audience and the boy shouted and Maron moved to a nearby bucket and reached into the mouth of the container, coming back to a full stand; a whip was coiled around his arm. The Bosses didn’t even look on. The punishment was for the benefit of Boss Harold, and not even he looked on. He jabbered on about how he’d like to speak with me over an old philosophy called Objectivism then he went on about how he’d learned long ago the greatest achievement of man was his own happiness and I listened to the drunk man and when the whip broke skin the first time, I’m sure Andrew felt every bit.
Blood exploded in violent dew off his back and the crack of the whip struck the boy till he couldn’t stand and then several times more. Splatter reached onlookers each time Maron lifted the whip over his head, and it was only once the boy stopped moving that the Boss Sheriff swaggered over to inspect him; Andrew had fallen face down and Maron took his boot to the boy’s side so that the boy rolled onto his back and seconds passed without movement and even Boss Harold quit with his talking. The prone body just lay there and for a moment Andrew looked like the body I’d seen earlier out front of Felina’s. Then the boy spasmed and gasped air and Maron shouted about how he was still alive before giving the toe of his boot to Andrew’s ribs.
“What a show,” said the Bosses—what a show indeed.
The crowd dispersed in clumps, taking back to their jobs or leisure and I left the platform only after agreeing that Objectivism sounded good and Boss Harold laughed and stumbled in pivoting to take on in conversation with the other Bosses and I briefly imagined giving him a nudge, so he’d fall off the stage, but refrained from doing so.
When I met the boy lying in the dirt there, there was me and Dave moved in too and Maron had taken to his station where there was a table by sandbags, and he was engrossed in a game of solitaire; it seemed the man was totally unfazed by the justice he’d dealt. There was a time when that body could’ve been a hero and yet there he was, poisoned.
I called out to the Boss Sheriff, “Ain’t you going to put him back to his cell?”
Without even looking over, Maron swept his mustache with his fingers and waved me off, “Harold was real clear on letting the boy out of custody once it was done.” He lifted his cowboy hat and scratched his head while looking at the cards on the table then he laughed. “He’s a free man. I’ve heard that was your meddlin’ that did it.”
I moved to the boy and snatched up the clothes they ripped from him and Dave, not saying a word with his new mutt by his side, helped me to return some dignity to the boy.
We took him to my small apartment and washed him and tended over him while he lay in my bed.
Gemma came soon after Andrew had been draped in a sheet—she was there in disguise as she’d been earlier and upon me opening the doorway, she began to ask me if the boy was with me. I merely stepped aside, and she rushed to Andrew’s side; if he was aware of her presence, there was no way to tell.
“They killed him.” She’d taken to her knees to be nearer his level. “Oh. Oh, he’s dead.” She touched him and he shivered at the touch. Gemma removed the wrappings of cloth around her head and looked at her sweetie closer and she put a hand to her mouth. “They took his hand!”
“No,” said Dave, “He’s going to live.” The man looked to me and I shrugged. “Yeah,” his voice didn’t sound sure, “He’ll live.”
I moved to the catwalk and Dave came with me, the dog following behind him—the timid mutt looked over the edge of the catwalk to the city below then stepped away and returned to my room. When Dave took up beside me, leaning over the railing, and the sun hit his face just so, he looked exactly like Jackson and maybe that was why when he raised eyebrows then cut his eyes at me with a question—the question was everything and I finally nodded.
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2023.06.04 04:50 TECHNOMARC357 History lesson
Gray Tools is a Canadian professional tool company based in Brampton, Ontario. Founded in 1912 by Alex Gray (1883-1969), Gray Tools is Canada's largest professional tool manufacturing company, with 4000 industrial products available.
Gray Tools Canada was founded in 1912 by Alex Gray as a machinery equipment supplier. As the automobile industry was starting up, Gray began making automobile manufacturing tools and tool kits specific to the automobile companies in nearby Detroit. In May 2012, President and owner Alex Gray III sold the company to Garry Nuttall and Frank Dominguez. Alex Gray III remains with the company as chairman.As of 2013, the company employed 60 people at its head office in Brampton, Ontario, where all manufacturing is done. Company warehouses are located in Brampton and Edmonton, Alberta.
Gray Tools celebrated its 100th birthday by making a large donation of tools and equipment to local schools and by initiating the Gray Tools Canada Highest Standard Achievement Award, presented to a student with exceptional success in vocational education.
A simple philosophy
Having left home at 16, Alex Gray travelled the world for many years before settling in Toronto, Canada. During his travels, he met a wide variety of tradesmen who earned their living with their hands and their tools every single day. He quickly learned that the quality of a man's work and his choice of tools were the difference between prosperity and poverty.In 1912, he decided to establish Gray Tools and began manufacturing hand tools specifically for the accomplished professional. His early experiences taught him the value of maintaining close relationships with the users and the resellers who served them. The strength of these relationships and the mutual respect they created helped Gray Tools become the standard amongst these uncompromising users.Today, over 100 years later, the business continues to be built on relationships and trust. No different from generations before, we continue to spend time with the people who use our tools and appreciate the difference a better hand tool makes in their hands.We are extremely proud to be the only industrial-quality manufacturer of hand tools in Canada. Our goal is always to exceed your rigorous expectations for quality and reliability. We continue to deliver tools of the highest standard, providing tradesmen the confidence to perform and achieve exceptional results.As we enter our second century in business, we look forward to being a part of your future projects, achievements, and successes.
-The Team at Gray Tools Canada Inc.Part of Your Success Since 1912
1912. The year 1912 was one of great personal significance for Alex Gray 1st in that it set his family’s course for a century.Alex, now twenty-nine, and two of his brothers incorporated the Gray Manufacturing & Machine Company Limited in September.The letterhead described the company as a “Manufacturer of steam and power pumps and special machinery”.
1920's. The first hand-tool catalogue was printed in 1922. There were two editions of the catalogue, which were identical except for the cover. The Canadian edition Gray-Toronto was issued by the Gray Ball Bearing Company Limited.
The catalogue listed 302 different hand tools including sockets, wrenches, handles, extension bars, universal joints, and associated parts. In addition, many wrench sets were produced specifically for certain cars made at that time. Tool sets were packed in handsome hardwood boxes with a natural-stain finish and brass trimmings.
1930's.To take advantage of the prosperity of the forties, the business had been gradually growing for many years, not only in technology and manufacturing expertise but also in physical space.
In 1937, a single-storey addition was added to the west side of the factory. This increased the building size to 43,000 square feet so that it extended the full length of the city block. The company now had three street frontages and was at a main intersection serviced by two bus lines. This made it a site that employees and customers could easily access.
1940's. After ten years of decline and misery, Canada was pulled out of the Great Depression in 1939 by the Second World War.Hundreds of Canadian factories devoted their energy and resources to supplying the Allies with massive quantities of war material, and Gray-Bonney did the same.
The Canadian Armed Forces became the single largest customer for the company, buying tools, machines, and other miscellaneous metal parts for military use.
1950's. Gray Tools continued to expand with the catalogue now listing more than 1,800 items. In addition, new products were often larger: for example, pry bars were longer, tool boxes had more drawers, and roller cabinets needed extra room.
To fill that need, a 17,000-square-foot, two-storey, cement-block warehouse was built in 1953, on the east side of St. Clarens Avenue directly across from the 1929 factory.
1960's. Peace and prosperity followed World War Two. Canadian factories and businesses had not suffered the devastation of bombardment.
For the first time, several innovative marketing features were added to the Gray-Bonney line. The wrench sets were packaged for the first time in colourful cardboard boxes with cellophane wrapping.
Also in stores now were multi-panel counter displays that mechanics could revolve to better see and touch the many different tools that were available.
1970's. Due to increased customer demand the need for expansion became evident.
The construction of the current Gray Tools facility in Brampton, Ontario took place throughout the winter of 1969 and the spring of 1970. One major improvement came in 1974 when a nickel-and-chrome electroplating line was purchased and installed. Although for many decades all of this work had been done by Industrial Electroplating, the increased factory space in Brampton made it more economical to have an in-house plating line.
1980's. In the early 1980s, Canada entered a new economic era defined by a revolution in information technology and globalization. Although always important, it was particularly necessary at this time for the company to try to differentiate itself from its competitors.
A very effective way was by providing excellent customer service. Travel allowed C. Alex to establish a connection with customers that they rarely, if ever, had with another company or company president. Over the course of several decades, C. Alex journeyed all across Canada for at least two months of each year, visiting distributors in many cities, towns, and villages.
1990's. As the demand for tool storage solutions increased Gray launched the PRO, GT and XL series of “Made In Canada” toolboxes.
For the mechanic who needed to store many pounds of tools as well as hard hats, safety glasses, and other work-related objects, a larger and more substantial box was especially useful.
So the box itself was made using heavy-gauge sheet metal, and the casters were made wider and larger to support the weight and to roll easily on the floor. Often, the box was sold as a set consisting of a bottom roller cabinet with a second, stepped-in top chest resting above.
2000's. In 1912, Gray Tools was the only company that manufactured a broad line of hand tools in Canada. In 2012, Gray Tools is still the only company that manufactures a broad line of hand tools in Canada.
With over two hundred million tools manufactured and sold, the company has a proud history. The business standards of integrity and quality, the emphasis on customer service, and the respect for Canadian heritage have persisted unchanged for a hundred years.
2023.06.04 04:25 Mock_Twain MCM Garage Door questions
 | Hey folks, I need help from the hive mind… my wife and I have been collecting photos of mid century garage doors for the last couple years. We’ve found at least 600 different doors in the Seattle area, and seen many more in e.g. parts of California and Australia. What we don’t know much is: where did these come from?!? submitted by Mock_Twain to midcenturymodern [link] [comments] We know they were mass marketed, and have seen a couple advertisements for Raynor and other door companies with various designs. But trying to find more history of these gems has been hard… especially as 60’s era houses keep getting flipped and ugly modern doors get installed. This was our pandemic hobby, and we’ve become passionate about keeping a record of their existence! Anyone have research tips? First hand knowledge? Know of any other photo collections or places with lots of these doors? |
2023.06.04 04:04 Mombot_2000 Aquinas Hall
Aquinas Hall at CUA seems to be a good example of mid century modern design in an academic building. When I was there in 2003 it was the Life Cycle Institute Building.
What is the history of this building? Has anyone written on this topic? Who was the architect etc? It’s not like any other space on campus!
submitted by Mombot_2000 to CUA [link] [comments]
What is the history of this building? Has anyone written on this topic? Who was the architect etc? It’s not like any other space on campus!
2023.06.04 04:01 CornerCornea Wedding Nightmares. Night Wedding.
I'm recently engaged to a beautiful woman named Larissa who makes my head swirl. Looks, personality, and a similar taste in food, I mean she had it all. For my birthday last year I got to drive one of those Lamborghinis across the track, and fire a round out of an Abram tank. A tank round! I'm not much of a gun aficionado, but a tank round!
Which was all the worst, when 3 weeks before the wedding I had to tell my drop dead gorgeous fiancée that I needed to leave for a couple of days.
It's not an easy thing for a bride to swallow: juggling food prep, alterations, cancellations, seating arrangements, two sides of the family, busy bodies, food allergies, one aunt that won't stop calling, and another one that keeps asking if her wearing white to our wedding as she's sort of the matriarch of the family was going to be a problem (side note: we told her multiple times that it was not okay). The list goes on, trust me.
So when my fiancee asked for an explanation. I had to tell her the truth no matter how terrible it sounded. It wouldn't feel right knowing that the precursor to our marriage was a lie.
"Is it kids? Oh God, do you have a little Jimmy running around somewhere? No, Jim. I can't handle this right now."
"Lars, what? No. It's not a kid."
She was peeling and stamping invitations in our tiny 625 square foot apartment. "Well then what is it? I thought we agreed to no bachelor parties. I thought. We agreed that those were for people who were ready for a wedding but not the marriage. I don't care if it's tradition." She stamped the envelop extra hard.
"No, it's nothing like that. Trust me." I shuddered just thinking about it. "It's not any kind of thing I would be doing if I didn't have to."
She glared at me, "But you have to."
I nodded.
The table shook again. "Okay. So spit it out." She handed me a few envelopes. "If it's not a kid. And it's not a bachelor party. Then what is it?" She scoffed, "It's not like you're married right?" Her smile slowly started leaving her face, "Oh my God." She crumpled an envelop against her forehead. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Larissa..."
"Don't you Larissa me!" She looked me right in the eye, "Tell me I'm not the other woman Jim!"
"Well not technically."
"What does that even mean," she exasperated. "Go on, tell me how it's not technically."
So several years ago I was straight out of college. I could have worked some menial desk job and climbed the corporate ladder. But the idea of never leaving my home town ate me up.
So when an ad for native English speakers to come teach on some remote island presented itself to me. I jumped at the opportunity. Next thing I know I was booking a one way ticket to begin my new life as an expat.
In my head, I thought I was going to land, check into my hotel, enjoy the sights, and come the first Monday walk to the nearest English Cram school and get a job on my good looks alone.
On Monday, the school I went to, the hallways were packed with other Americans, British, Australians, and I think some Canadian was squishing himself into one of the tiny student chairs. All waiting for a job interview.
The next place was like that as well.
So was the next.
By the end of the first week I was beat. Tired and defeated, I thought my luck had run out. So I did what any 20 something would in a brand new city. I hit the bars. I hit them hard.
After the last place kicked me out as they closed I was stumbling around trying to make my way back to the hotel. Grumbling, groggy eyed and trying not to vomit all over the street. When something shiny caught my eye.
It was a silk red purse with gold embroidery tied with a thick yarn. There weren't many people out this late. But everyone who passed by it acted as if it wasn't even there. Like they didn't see it or something.
The bag alone looked like it was worth something. At the time all I was thinking was that, maybe someone would trade a drink for it, as my pockets were empty and all I wanted was for my head to be the same way.
I stumbled as inconspicuously as possible, or as much a drunk guy could finesse and made my way toward the bag. Looking around the entire time, making sure no one was running up claiming that it was theirs, or worse calling me a thief and have me thrown in jail in a different country.
And when no one did, I finally scooped it up and untied it. To my surprise, the bag was filled with money. Bright colorful bills with huge figures even at the current exchange rate. And there was even gold. Some rubies. I took one out and bit into it, almost breaking my tooth.
I couldn't believe how my luck had changed. I flipped through the cash and realized that there was enough to fund my trip for a few extra weeks. AND get me a plane ticket back home. The jewelry even, seemed sizeable.
There I was in one of the lowest, darkest moments. And a pot of gold seemingly dropped out of the sky for me. Thoughts of finding its real owner never even occurred to me.
I was quickly pocketing the thing and planning to high tail it out of there when a frail old man approached me from the shadows. Now I had learned some of the language before hand, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.
He kept smiling though and patting my shoulder, spouting words so quickly that if they weren't already gibberish to me, they would still make no sense in my drunken state.
I fumbled the bag around before juggling it into the crook of my arm, in order to reach my phone to help translate what the hell the old guy was trying to tell me.
The translation caught him mid sentence but all I needed was to hear one word back then and I regurgitated the last couple of hours all over the sidewalk and blacked out.
When I came to, I was back at the hotel with a killer hang over. I was wondering how I made it back when I remembered faintly of the old man helping me. That's when I remembered the pouch and my eyes darted around the room and to my relief, "It wasn't just a dream." The pouch was there, full and plump with a few bills sticking out from the throat.
Next to it was a note, that I would later translate to read about a woman who had turned 18 that year. The numbers 3 and 13 were inscribed as well. Her approximate height, which seemed weird. I mean, why would they go through all this trouble and not just tell me her actual height? Her name, her sign, and her address.
I was completely fucking baffled at all of this information, when I suddenly remembered my phone. I pulled it out and looked up the last thing still on my screen, which was a translation from Google. It read: my future son-in-law. I am so happy you've agreed to marry my daughter. Don't forget to come to the wedding.
No wonder I passed the fuck out.
I shook my head and checked the purse again. Yeah there must have been close to 5 grand in there. Not including the gold, the rubies, or a jade piece I found at the bottom.
Whatever was going on. I had no clue. But I sure as hell wasn't about to get married to some girl I didn't know. Even if I did need the money.
So I used a bit of the cash to get a taxi to the address. When I arrived, the old man saw me from his courtyard. He was smiling and happy, pointing and calling for someone inside the house. A few seconds later a short lively woman appeared. And she was just as happy to see me.
I didn't know what was happening but next thing I do know was they surrounded me in a hug. Happy and joyous, bouncing and wobbling, enough for me to almost hurl again, which I did, except this time I swallowed it.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on. But the note says something about marriage."
The pair looked at each other and exchanged a series of phrases. "Marriage," the old man finally enunciated.
I nodded. Then shook my head. "No, not marriage."
We went back and forth in a similar manner for awhile before the woman ran off to get someone. When she returned with a young man about 14 or 15, wearing glasses and sporting a bowl cut, he explained to me about the pouch.
"It's a tradition in this area for a ghost dowry. I think that is how you say it."
"A ghost dowry?"
"Yeah. In our area. When a daughter dies really young, especially as an infant. THe parents will start saving money for her ghost dowry. Because we believe that when she turns 18, she'll return and ask to be married off."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"No, it's quite common. Mostly everyone knows about it. Which is why they don't pick up the pouch. Not unless they're really in need of money."
"I'm really in need of cash kid, but I'm not about to get married. I'm especially not getting married to some...girl that passed away." I handed him the money but he wouldn't even touch it. Avoiding it like some kind of plague. I even tried handing it back to the old man but he kept pushing the pouch back at me and shaking his head.
The kid shrugged, "You can't give it back. Those are the rules. Once you've picked it up, you've accepted the dowry and MUST get married."
"Why me," I asked rhetorically.
"She chose you."
"What? Okay. Listen kid. What if I don't get married? Are they going to report me to the cops or sue me?"
"No."
"So I can just walk away?"
The kid shrugged again, "You'll be back."
"What?"
"I'm not sure. But from the stories I've heard. The groom to be always comes back. It might take awhile, but he does. Sometimes it's because he's traditional himself and his family tells him he must do the right thing. Other times he comes back because the girl won't leave him alone."
"Won't leave him alone?"
"Yeah. They say that the bride will come find the man at the hour of her birth, haunting him until he returns and agrees to fulfill his end of the bargain."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Sure. I'm sure that's it kid. Either way. I can't take this money knowing what it's for." I put it on the table. "Please tell him that I wish their family luck in fulfilling their tradition. Also, tell them that I'm sorry for using some of the money for the cab fare. I had no other choice to return what is theirs."
The boy shrugged a third time, "It's yours now. You should take it. What are you going to do? Walk all the way back?"
"That's exactly what I'm going to do."
"It'll be dark by then," he added. "She could come find you."
"I'll be fine. And plus what if she was born in the day time?"
"They only come at the dark time of her birth hour. If she was born in the afternoon. She'll come at midnight," he shouted after me as I left.
I tried not to think about everything that's happened to me this past week as I walked back. But it wasn't a rocks throw by any stretch. Which gave me plenty of time to think. About my maxed out credit cards, the hotel stay winding out by the end of the week, and of course the wedding.
By the time that I got back to the hotel I was a tired, hot mess. I was also hungry and my feet were swollen as they were unused to the tropical heat. But I was sure glad that the showers were already paid up. I took an extra long one before crashing into my bed. Snacking on a candy bar I had brought from back home.
I turned on some tv and tried not to let the impending doom of being kicked out on the streets bother me too much. As a plan began brewing in my head on who I'd call in a few hours when it was morning stateside. A few people still owed me favors back home, which I hoped they would be good for, which I hoped was good enough to get me back home.
Several times I dozed off as the tv buzzed in the background. Each time I woke up staring at the bright red alarm clock blaring its red angry dashes at me. By the third or fourth time my head jerked me awake as it fell to my chest. I looked up to see the time on the clock. It was 3:12. When something clicked in my head and I fished for the note still in my back pocket.
Su-ru Yen
18 this year.
3:13
I stopped reading and glanced back up at the clock. The little kids words reaing in my ear. "She comes at her death hour."
I waited, not realizing that I was holding my breath until I felt my lungs start to burn.
In a blink the clock changed and I glanced around as if waiting for something to happen. But nothing happened. My stomach suddenly growled, echoing in the empty room and I laughed, "Maybe I should have just taken the money."
*dak dak*
Came a knock from the motel door.
*dak dak*
My heart was caught in my chest. The main artery was constricted and wouldn't let go.
*dak*
I was shaking in my bed, too afraid to move or answer the door.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
It went on like this a full 4 minutes before it stopped. WHen it had finally stopped I tried getting out of bed, but I couldn't. For a second I was afraid to look down, afraid that her hand would be there holding me in place so that we could elope.
But it was just my hand clenching the bed sheets so tightly that I couldn't budge. I had to use my other hand to pry my own fingers off in order to creep slowly to the door and look into the eyehole.
It felt blurry as I blinked my eye, trying to clear it. Tears had welled at the corners without me realizing it. I wiped them away and slowly, reluctantly bent down and stared into the peephole.
No one was there.
But for the next 3 days. My door would knock. It didn't matter if I was on the bed, or in the bathroom. The closet was the worst as the knocking felt like it was right against my face. It didn't even matter if I ran outside, as no one would be around within eyesight. The knocking would always find me.
On the fourth and last day of my stay. The door knocked right on time.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
I felt the familiar twinge in my chest and my body was numb all over. But this time I was determined to take a look. And finally catch whoever or whatever it was that was playing this cruel joke on me.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
I tried gettoung out of bed but I couldn't. I was too scared. Several times I glanced from the clock to the door. Afraid to take my eyes off the door for too long, afraid that she would come through it if I did. Afraid that I would miss her and she would haunt me forever. And as the clock started ticking down. I kept whsipering myself. "She's only here for four minutes. She's only here for four minutes." And it was almost 3:17.
Seconds before the clock changed I jumped out of bed. Determined to end this thing once and for all.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
I didn't have time to look through the door. Even if I did I was afraid if I saw something there. I'd be too chicken to open the door. So I tore the band aid right off and swung the door open wide.
There was no one there.
But then from my corner cornea, something caught my eyes. A trail of something translucent was dragging away. I tried to take a step after it but my first step out of the door stopped me dead. My foot was drenched wet and it felt sticky beneath my sock. The coldness of it traveled up my spine, and to this day I can only describe it as the feeling of something metal scraping across my vertebrate. By the time I looked up, the wisps were gone. ANd the trail it left behind was already drying.
That night I couldn't sleep a wink. I waited until morning came and took to the streets. Desperate to find the old couple's house. Stopping several times to ask for directions and circling around streets and street signs that I couldn't read until I heard a familiar voice.
"I told you you'd be back."
"Kid," I grabbed him.
"Whoa. You look like you've seen a ghost." His eyes grew wide as he looked me over. "So the stories are true!" He didn't waste any more time. "Come on," he called after me. Leading me down the street and to the old couples courtyard. The pouch was still on the table outside where I had left it days ago.
The kid knocked on the door and shouted until the old man answered. He was still in his sleeping clothes when he saw my face, and his demeanor completely changed. He was so happy to see me. Opening the door wider and ushering us inside.
"Tell him I want it to stop," I told the kid. "Tell him I want her to leave me alone."
The kid translated but the old man shook his head before speaking. The kid looked at me and said, "He says then 'Marry her'."
"I can't do that!"
"Then she'll never leave you alone."
"She just going to keep knocking on my door? Forever?"
The kid turned to the old man and told him in their language what I said. The old man gripped his cane and tapped it once lightly on the ground, almost as if he were proud, before he told the boy who then told me, "She's a kind and gentle soul. He knew she would be. If she's only knocking on your door so far."
"So far? So far? Okay. What? Fuck. So then what? What happens if I marry her?"
The kid asks the old man and after a few words were exchanged he turned to me, "Then you will be wed."
"yeah. I get that. But what does that really mean?"
The kid clicks his tongue, "From what I understand. I think it means you'll have to honor her every month."
"Honor her? How? Like make a sacrifice? A blood sacrifice or something?"
The kid laughed, "No. Just Bai Bai. I don't know how to say it. Pray?".
"Pray to her?"
"Acknowledge her. Talk to her wooden nameplate. It's what serves as a gravestone for our dead."
"So just pray to her once a month, and that's it?"
The kid talks to the old man for awhile before turning back to me. "Yeah. That, and you'll be blessed."
"Blessed?"
"Yeah. Not sure about that one."
"Okay. Fine. What else. Like what if I want a girlfriend someday. Or get married. Have kids. Can I not do that? Will she haunt me? Haunt them?"
The kid asks the old man before turning to me, "Not if you ask for her permission. In a ghost dowry, you're allowed to have concubines. As long as she is consulted first and agrees."
I shake my head, "This is fucking crazy."
The kid shrugs. I seem to get the feeling he likes to shrug. "It's either that or she keeps haunting you."
I mulled that over in my head. "Shit." I stomped around the courtyard. "Okay. Fine. Fine! What do I need to do?"
The kid looks up at the sky. "We'll have to prepare."
"What? But it's already late. I want to get it over with as soon as possible. I don't want to wait another night of her coming to my door."
The kid smiles, "Don't worry. You won't. This kind of wedding can only happen at night."
For the next several hours I waited. Watched as neighbors and family. Cousins. Came to help. Food was brought in. Large round tables were set outside the courtyard. A tailor came and measured me up, twice. Decorations were strung and the sun began to fall.
When night came, the people who had gathered were tired but pleased with themselves that they had finished. I was asked to change into my wedding clothes and to wait outside the door of the couple's house until called. The lanterns behind me burning and the smell of food wafted in the air.
I waited until the doors finally opened.
Inside I saw the old man and the old woman start constructing something before a traditional wooden shrine at the back of the room.
They started with the legs. Sewn pieces of white cloth. The torso. The arms. And finally the head. When it was put together, the couple slipped on a white dress over the effigy they had constructed. Then the old woman went off through one of the side doors and returned with a box. From inside the box she withdrew a folded blanket. It looked faded but the edges were crisp and completely clean. The old man reach into the box and removed a sickly green thread that seemed to stick to his fingers, from it hung tiny strands of black hair, which he stuck gently to the back of the effigy's head.
The woman threw the blanket over its face, covering it.
Then the old couple turned to me and beckoned me forward. I looked behind me and none of the other guests moved.
Even the kid stood next to the door, unwilling to step inside as I entered.
I walked slowly up, next to the effigy until we stood side by side.
The old woman turned toward the shrine where a wooden plaque stood at the table. On it were three character words that I couldn't read. And she began to speak, the kid behind us translated in suit.
"Dear daughter. Mother is glad that you're finally being wed off. Though Mother will miss you as a girl. I am so glad of the woman that you have become. I am so proud of you. Please, continue to make me proud." She sighed. "When you were born I was so happy. Even if you only lived for a few short minutes. And I am sorry that the fates have been cruel to you. But I am thankful that they at least showed mercy enough to give you a husband. Take care my sweet girl."
"We love you," the father finished.
The old couple hands me a bowl. Inside are small boba looking balls swimming in a clear soup.
The kid behind me, "It's tradition to take a bite, and then feed your bride."
I looked at the old couple and they nodded at me, motioning for me to eat. I dipped my spoon in and took a mouthful. Chewing slowly. And swallowing.
Then they motioned for me to feed her.
I dipped my spoon again. And awkwardly raised it towards her. Slipping it under her veil to where her lips would be. Pretending to feed her.
Now I watched them put this thing together. Besides the creepy hair and the swaddling cloth for a veil. It was nothing more than cloth and stuff. I knew this.
At least that was what I thought until I heard it chew.
I could hear her jaws sticking as they moved up and down. The room was dark but signs of the veil moving completely terrified me. I couldn't even hear the people breathing behind me or the lanterns burning. All I could hear was her chewing.
When she finished. There was silence. Then everyone cheered.
After that, it was like any normal wedding I had attended. The guests poured in and I shook just about everyone's hand. Hugging complete strangers. My new parents. And even the kid.
Then we ate and drank, for almost a week. Someone was sent to get my things from the hotel and I stayed with my in-laws for the remainder of my stay. Which turned out to be several years. Because the following week I was offered as job as an English instructor at a nearby school.
I was told the principal owed the old couple a favor, but something told me that it wasn't the whole story.
I enjoyed my work at the school but didn't stay for long. As I started traveling to film a documentary about the local cuisine after a few of my YouTube videos mysteriously went viral as an expat who tried weird but delicious treats.
Eventually, my in-laws passed away. First it was mom. And four days later dad followed suit. I lived alone in the house for awhile, before I hit the jackpot at the weekly supermarket draw from one of my receipts. That, along with selling the house, was enough for me to go back to America and start a brand new life. Where I opened several shabu shabu restaurants that were met with great success.
"Eventually meeting you during one of my rounds."
My fiancée who had been listening to my story slack jawed the entire time couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Bull-fucking-shit!" She slapped me playfully across the arm. "You are such a good fucking liar!" She laughed. "I've always heard about guys not wanting to help out about the wedding arrangements. But this one takes the fucking cake. I'm going to post this in the group chat tomorrow. Bra-vo."
I laughed with her. "Yeah. That's it. It's just a great story."
"Now finish this up and let's go upstairs," she commanded. We stamped the last envelopes and went to bed. She was still laughing sporadically as I closed the door to our bedroom. "Knock knock," she joked.
I humored her, "Knock knock."
And we watched tv until she fell asleep.
I made sure she was sound asleep, before I gently crawled out of bed and put on my slippers. Softly opening the door and closing it behind me as I walked through the house. Down to the first floor. Then to the basement. Where I pulled the key I kept around my neck and slipped it into the lock.
Inside the basement was bare, except for two chairs and some boxes that I had taken from the old house, and the table, and the small wooden plaque that had my first wife's name inscribed on it in her native language.
"I'm going to get married soon," I told her. "She's a great person. Funny. Beautiful. And devoted. Kind of like you." I held the wood plaque in my hands. "I hope you approve." I waited as if she would answer. But she didn't. Never in all the years we've been married. "I can't go back home to ask for your permission. But I hope that this is enough." I looked at her name, almost longingly. As I had grown quite attached to our time together. "And I hope that this will be the last time we talk as I move on with my life. Thank you so much," I told her as I put her away."
Months flew by, and I never revisited the basement. Knowing full well that I had missed our visiting days. Though I'd often catch myself talking to her on some tough days. But nothing bad happened, by not seeing her plaque. Nothing bad at all.
Soon the wedding day was upon us. And it was a great party, as great as the best there ever was. Great good. Great company. And tons and tons of alcohol.
Larissa and I were giggling at the end of it, drunk as we stumbled upstairs from the venue to the presidential suite. Laughing all the way, kissing, barely able to keep our hands off each other as we got into our room.
My new bride pushed herself off me as we entered the threshold, and sprawled herself on the bed. Her legs rubbing against each other as her eyes invited me to come closer. I propped a knee on the bed to join her.
*dak dak*
We both shot our eyes to the door and then at the table side where the clock blared at us an angry red of 3:13.
Larissa looked up at me with a horrified look. I could see her bottom lip quivering.
"Hello," I called out. With my back to the door. "Sam? Bobby?" But no one answered. "Room service?"
*dak dak*
*dak*
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Which was all the worst, when 3 weeks before the wedding I had to tell my drop dead gorgeous fiancée that I needed to leave for a couple of days.
It's not an easy thing for a bride to swallow: juggling food prep, alterations, cancellations, seating arrangements, two sides of the family, busy bodies, food allergies, one aunt that won't stop calling, and another one that keeps asking if her wearing white to our wedding as she's sort of the matriarch of the family was going to be a problem (side note: we told her multiple times that it was not okay). The list goes on, trust me.
So when my fiancee asked for an explanation. I had to tell her the truth no matter how terrible it sounded. It wouldn't feel right knowing that the precursor to our marriage was a lie.
"Is it kids? Oh God, do you have a little Jimmy running around somewhere? No, Jim. I can't handle this right now."
"Lars, what? No. It's not a kid."
She was peeling and stamping invitations in our tiny 625 square foot apartment. "Well then what is it? I thought we agreed to no bachelor parties. I thought. We agreed that those were for people who were ready for a wedding but not the marriage. I don't care if it's tradition." She stamped the envelop extra hard.
"No, it's nothing like that. Trust me." I shuddered just thinking about it. "It's not any kind of thing I would be doing if I didn't have to."
She glared at me, "But you have to."
I nodded.
The table shook again. "Okay. So spit it out." She handed me a few envelopes. "If it's not a kid. And it's not a bachelor party. Then what is it?" She scoffed, "It's not like you're married right?" Her smile slowly started leaving her face, "Oh my God." She crumpled an envelop against her forehead. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Larissa..."
"Don't you Larissa me!" She looked me right in the eye, "Tell me I'm not the other woman Jim!"
"Well not technically."
"What does that even mean," she exasperated. "Go on, tell me how it's not technically."
So several years ago I was straight out of college. I could have worked some menial desk job and climbed the corporate ladder. But the idea of never leaving my home town ate me up.
So when an ad for native English speakers to come teach on some remote island presented itself to me. I jumped at the opportunity. Next thing I know I was booking a one way ticket to begin my new life as an expat.
In my head, I thought I was going to land, check into my hotel, enjoy the sights, and come the first Monday walk to the nearest English Cram school and get a job on my good looks alone.
On Monday, the school I went to, the hallways were packed with other Americans, British, Australians, and I think some Canadian was squishing himself into one of the tiny student chairs. All waiting for a job interview.
The next place was like that as well.
So was the next.
By the end of the first week I was beat. Tired and defeated, I thought my luck had run out. So I did what any 20 something would in a brand new city. I hit the bars. I hit them hard.
After the last place kicked me out as they closed I was stumbling around trying to make my way back to the hotel. Grumbling, groggy eyed and trying not to vomit all over the street. When something shiny caught my eye.
It was a silk red purse with gold embroidery tied with a thick yarn. There weren't many people out this late. But everyone who passed by it acted as if it wasn't even there. Like they didn't see it or something.
The bag alone looked like it was worth something. At the time all I was thinking was that, maybe someone would trade a drink for it, as my pockets were empty and all I wanted was for my head to be the same way.
I stumbled as inconspicuously as possible, or as much a drunk guy could finesse and made my way toward the bag. Looking around the entire time, making sure no one was running up claiming that it was theirs, or worse calling me a thief and have me thrown in jail in a different country.
And when no one did, I finally scooped it up and untied it. To my surprise, the bag was filled with money. Bright colorful bills with huge figures even at the current exchange rate. And there was even gold. Some rubies. I took one out and bit into it, almost breaking my tooth.
I couldn't believe how my luck had changed. I flipped through the cash and realized that there was enough to fund my trip for a few extra weeks. AND get me a plane ticket back home. The jewelry even, seemed sizeable.
There I was in one of the lowest, darkest moments. And a pot of gold seemingly dropped out of the sky for me. Thoughts of finding its real owner never even occurred to me.
I was quickly pocketing the thing and planning to high tail it out of there when a frail old man approached me from the shadows. Now I had learned some of the language before hand, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.
He kept smiling though and patting my shoulder, spouting words so quickly that if they weren't already gibberish to me, they would still make no sense in my drunken state.
I fumbled the bag around before juggling it into the crook of my arm, in order to reach my phone to help translate what the hell the old guy was trying to tell me.
The translation caught him mid sentence but all I needed was to hear one word back then and I regurgitated the last couple of hours all over the sidewalk and blacked out.
When I came to, I was back at the hotel with a killer hang over. I was wondering how I made it back when I remembered faintly of the old man helping me. That's when I remembered the pouch and my eyes darted around the room and to my relief, "It wasn't just a dream." The pouch was there, full and plump with a few bills sticking out from the throat.
Next to it was a note, that I would later translate to read about a woman who had turned 18 that year. The numbers 3 and 13 were inscribed as well. Her approximate height, which seemed weird. I mean, why would they go through all this trouble and not just tell me her actual height? Her name, her sign, and her address.
I was completely fucking baffled at all of this information, when I suddenly remembered my phone. I pulled it out and looked up the last thing still on my screen, which was a translation from Google. It read: my future son-in-law. I am so happy you've agreed to marry my daughter. Don't forget to come to the wedding.
No wonder I passed the fuck out.
I shook my head and checked the purse again. Yeah there must have been close to 5 grand in there. Not including the gold, the rubies, or a jade piece I found at the bottom.
Whatever was going on. I had no clue. But I sure as hell wasn't about to get married to some girl I didn't know. Even if I did need the money.
So I used a bit of the cash to get a taxi to the address. When I arrived, the old man saw me from his courtyard. He was smiling and happy, pointing and calling for someone inside the house. A few seconds later a short lively woman appeared. And she was just as happy to see me.
I didn't know what was happening but next thing I do know was they surrounded me in a hug. Happy and joyous, bouncing and wobbling, enough for me to almost hurl again, which I did, except this time I swallowed it.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on. But the note says something about marriage."
The pair looked at each other and exchanged a series of phrases. "Marriage," the old man finally enunciated.
I nodded. Then shook my head. "No, not marriage."
We went back and forth in a similar manner for awhile before the woman ran off to get someone. When she returned with a young man about 14 or 15, wearing glasses and sporting a bowl cut, he explained to me about the pouch.
"It's a tradition in this area for a ghost dowry. I think that is how you say it."
"A ghost dowry?"
"Yeah. In our area. When a daughter dies really young, especially as an infant. THe parents will start saving money for her ghost dowry. Because we believe that when she turns 18, she'll return and ask to be married off."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"No, it's quite common. Mostly everyone knows about it. Which is why they don't pick up the pouch. Not unless they're really in need of money."
"I'm really in need of cash kid, but I'm not about to get married. I'm especially not getting married to some...girl that passed away." I handed him the money but he wouldn't even touch it. Avoiding it like some kind of plague. I even tried handing it back to the old man but he kept pushing the pouch back at me and shaking his head.
The kid shrugged, "You can't give it back. Those are the rules. Once you've picked it up, you've accepted the dowry and MUST get married."
"Why me," I asked rhetorically.
"She chose you."
"What? Okay. Listen kid. What if I don't get married? Are they going to report me to the cops or sue me?"
"No."
"So I can just walk away?"
The kid shrugged again, "You'll be back."
"What?"
"I'm not sure. But from the stories I've heard. The groom to be always comes back. It might take awhile, but he does. Sometimes it's because he's traditional himself and his family tells him he must do the right thing. Other times he comes back because the girl won't leave him alone."
"Won't leave him alone?"
"Yeah. They say that the bride will come find the man at the hour of her birth, haunting him until he returns and agrees to fulfill his end of the bargain."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Sure. I'm sure that's it kid. Either way. I can't take this money knowing what it's for." I put it on the table. "Please tell him that I wish their family luck in fulfilling their tradition. Also, tell them that I'm sorry for using some of the money for the cab fare. I had no other choice to return what is theirs."
The boy shrugged a third time, "It's yours now. You should take it. What are you going to do? Walk all the way back?"
"That's exactly what I'm going to do."
"It'll be dark by then," he added. "She could come find you."
"I'll be fine. And plus what if she was born in the day time?"
"They only come at the dark time of her birth hour. If she was born in the afternoon. She'll come at midnight," he shouted after me as I left.
I tried not to think about everything that's happened to me this past week as I walked back. But it wasn't a rocks throw by any stretch. Which gave me plenty of time to think. About my maxed out credit cards, the hotel stay winding out by the end of the week, and of course the wedding.
By the time that I got back to the hotel I was a tired, hot mess. I was also hungry and my feet were swollen as they were unused to the tropical heat. But I was sure glad that the showers were already paid up. I took an extra long one before crashing into my bed. Snacking on a candy bar I had brought from back home.
I turned on some tv and tried not to let the impending doom of being kicked out on the streets bother me too much. As a plan began brewing in my head on who I'd call in a few hours when it was morning stateside. A few people still owed me favors back home, which I hoped they would be good for, which I hoped was good enough to get me back home.
Several times I dozed off as the tv buzzed in the background. Each time I woke up staring at the bright red alarm clock blaring its red angry dashes at me. By the third or fourth time my head jerked me awake as it fell to my chest. I looked up to see the time on the clock. It was 3:12. When something clicked in my head and I fished for the note still in my back pocket.
Su-ru Yen
18 this year.
3:13
I stopped reading and glanced back up at the clock. The little kids words reaing in my ear. "She comes at her death hour."
I waited, not realizing that I was holding my breath until I felt my lungs start to burn.
In a blink the clock changed and I glanced around as if waiting for something to happen. But nothing happened. My stomach suddenly growled, echoing in the empty room and I laughed, "Maybe I should have just taken the money."
*dak dak*
Came a knock from the motel door.
*dak dak*
My heart was caught in my chest. The main artery was constricted and wouldn't let go.
*dak*
I was shaking in my bed, too afraid to move or answer the door.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
It went on like this a full 4 minutes before it stopped. WHen it had finally stopped I tried getting out of bed, but I couldn't. For a second I was afraid to look down, afraid that her hand would be there holding me in place so that we could elope.
But it was just my hand clenching the bed sheets so tightly that I couldn't budge. I had to use my other hand to pry my own fingers off in order to creep slowly to the door and look into the eyehole.
It felt blurry as I blinked my eye, trying to clear it. Tears had welled at the corners without me realizing it. I wiped them away and slowly, reluctantly bent down and stared into the peephole.
No one was there.
But for the next 3 days. My door would knock. It didn't matter if I was on the bed, or in the bathroom. The closet was the worst as the knocking felt like it was right against my face. It didn't even matter if I ran outside, as no one would be around within eyesight. The knocking would always find me.
On the fourth and last day of my stay. The door knocked right on time.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
I felt the familiar twinge in my chest and my body was numb all over. But this time I was determined to take a look. And finally catch whoever or whatever it was that was playing this cruel joke on me.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
I tried gettoung out of bed but I couldn't. I was too scared. Several times I glanced from the clock to the door. Afraid to take my eyes off the door for too long, afraid that she would come through it if I did. Afraid that I would miss her and she would haunt me forever. And as the clock started ticking down. I kept whsipering myself. "She's only here for four minutes. She's only here for four minutes." And it was almost 3:17.
Seconds before the clock changed I jumped out of bed. Determined to end this thing once and for all.
*dak dak* *dak dak* *dak*
I didn't have time to look through the door. Even if I did I was afraid if I saw something there. I'd be too chicken to open the door. So I tore the band aid right off and swung the door open wide.
There was no one there.
But then from my corner cornea, something caught my eyes. A trail of something translucent was dragging away. I tried to take a step after it but my first step out of the door stopped me dead. My foot was drenched wet and it felt sticky beneath my sock. The coldness of it traveled up my spine, and to this day I can only describe it as the feeling of something metal scraping across my vertebrate. By the time I looked up, the wisps were gone. ANd the trail it left behind was already drying.
That night I couldn't sleep a wink. I waited until morning came and took to the streets. Desperate to find the old couple's house. Stopping several times to ask for directions and circling around streets and street signs that I couldn't read until I heard a familiar voice.
"I told you you'd be back."
"Kid," I grabbed him.
"Whoa. You look like you've seen a ghost." His eyes grew wide as he looked me over. "So the stories are true!" He didn't waste any more time. "Come on," he called after me. Leading me down the street and to the old couples courtyard. The pouch was still on the table outside where I had left it days ago.
The kid knocked on the door and shouted until the old man answered. He was still in his sleeping clothes when he saw my face, and his demeanor completely changed. He was so happy to see me. Opening the door wider and ushering us inside.
"Tell him I want it to stop," I told the kid. "Tell him I want her to leave me alone."
The kid translated but the old man shook his head before speaking. The kid looked at me and said, "He says then 'Marry her'."
"I can't do that!"
"Then she'll never leave you alone."
"She just going to keep knocking on my door? Forever?"
The kid turned to the old man and told him in their language what I said. The old man gripped his cane and tapped it once lightly on the ground, almost as if he were proud, before he told the boy who then told me, "She's a kind and gentle soul. He knew she would be. If she's only knocking on your door so far."
"So far? So far? Okay. What? Fuck. So then what? What happens if I marry her?"
The kid asks the old man and after a few words were exchanged he turned to me, "Then you will be wed."
"yeah. I get that. But what does that really mean?"
The kid clicks his tongue, "From what I understand. I think it means you'll have to honor her every month."
"Honor her? How? Like make a sacrifice? A blood sacrifice or something?"
The kid laughed, "No. Just Bai Bai. I don't know how to say it. Pray?".
"Pray to her?"
"Acknowledge her. Talk to her wooden nameplate. It's what serves as a gravestone for our dead."
"So just pray to her once a month, and that's it?"
The kid talks to the old man for awhile before turning back to me. "Yeah. That, and you'll be blessed."
"Blessed?"
"Yeah. Not sure about that one."
"Okay. Fine. What else. Like what if I want a girlfriend someday. Or get married. Have kids. Can I not do that? Will she haunt me? Haunt them?"
The kid asks the old man before turning to me, "Not if you ask for her permission. In a ghost dowry, you're allowed to have concubines. As long as she is consulted first and agrees."
I shake my head, "This is fucking crazy."
The kid shrugs. I seem to get the feeling he likes to shrug. "It's either that or she keeps haunting you."
I mulled that over in my head. "Shit." I stomped around the courtyard. "Okay. Fine. Fine! What do I need to do?"
The kid looks up at the sky. "We'll have to prepare."
"What? But it's already late. I want to get it over with as soon as possible. I don't want to wait another night of her coming to my door."
The kid smiles, "Don't worry. You won't. This kind of wedding can only happen at night."
For the next several hours I waited. Watched as neighbors and family. Cousins. Came to help. Food was brought in. Large round tables were set outside the courtyard. A tailor came and measured me up, twice. Decorations were strung and the sun began to fall.
When night came, the people who had gathered were tired but pleased with themselves that they had finished. I was asked to change into my wedding clothes and to wait outside the door of the couple's house until called. The lanterns behind me burning and the smell of food wafted in the air.
I waited until the doors finally opened.
Inside I saw the old man and the old woman start constructing something before a traditional wooden shrine at the back of the room.
They started with the legs. Sewn pieces of white cloth. The torso. The arms. And finally the head. When it was put together, the couple slipped on a white dress over the effigy they had constructed. Then the old woman went off through one of the side doors and returned with a box. From inside the box she withdrew a folded blanket. It looked faded but the edges were crisp and completely clean. The old man reach into the box and removed a sickly green thread that seemed to stick to his fingers, from it hung tiny strands of black hair, which he stuck gently to the back of the effigy's head.
The woman threw the blanket over its face, covering it.
Then the old couple turned to me and beckoned me forward. I looked behind me and none of the other guests moved.
Even the kid stood next to the door, unwilling to step inside as I entered.
I walked slowly up, next to the effigy until we stood side by side.
The old woman turned toward the shrine where a wooden plaque stood at the table. On it were three character words that I couldn't read. And she began to speak, the kid behind us translated in suit.
"Dear daughter. Mother is glad that you're finally being wed off. Though Mother will miss you as a girl. I am so glad of the woman that you have become. I am so proud of you. Please, continue to make me proud." She sighed. "When you were born I was so happy. Even if you only lived for a few short minutes. And I am sorry that the fates have been cruel to you. But I am thankful that they at least showed mercy enough to give you a husband. Take care my sweet girl."
"We love you," the father finished.
The old couple hands me a bowl. Inside are small boba looking balls swimming in a clear soup.
The kid behind me, "It's tradition to take a bite, and then feed your bride."
I looked at the old couple and they nodded at me, motioning for me to eat. I dipped my spoon in and took a mouthful. Chewing slowly. And swallowing.
Then they motioned for me to feed her.
I dipped my spoon again. And awkwardly raised it towards her. Slipping it under her veil to where her lips would be. Pretending to feed her.
Now I watched them put this thing together. Besides the creepy hair and the swaddling cloth for a veil. It was nothing more than cloth and stuff. I knew this.
At least that was what I thought until I heard it chew.
I could hear her jaws sticking as they moved up and down. The room was dark but signs of the veil moving completely terrified me. I couldn't even hear the people breathing behind me or the lanterns burning. All I could hear was her chewing.
When she finished. There was silence. Then everyone cheered.
After that, it was like any normal wedding I had attended. The guests poured in and I shook just about everyone's hand. Hugging complete strangers. My new parents. And even the kid.
Then we ate and drank, for almost a week. Someone was sent to get my things from the hotel and I stayed with my in-laws for the remainder of my stay. Which turned out to be several years. Because the following week I was offered as job as an English instructor at a nearby school.
I was told the principal owed the old couple a favor, but something told me that it wasn't the whole story.
I enjoyed my work at the school but didn't stay for long. As I started traveling to film a documentary about the local cuisine after a few of my YouTube videos mysteriously went viral as an expat who tried weird but delicious treats.
Eventually, my in-laws passed away. First it was mom. And four days later dad followed suit. I lived alone in the house for awhile, before I hit the jackpot at the weekly supermarket draw from one of my receipts. That, along with selling the house, was enough for me to go back to America and start a brand new life. Where I opened several shabu shabu restaurants that were met with great success.
"Eventually meeting you during one of my rounds."
My fiancée who had been listening to my story slack jawed the entire time couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Bull-fucking-shit!" She slapped me playfully across the arm. "You are such a good fucking liar!" She laughed. "I've always heard about guys not wanting to help out about the wedding arrangements. But this one takes the fucking cake. I'm going to post this in the group chat tomorrow. Bra-vo."
I laughed with her. "Yeah. That's it. It's just a great story."
"Now finish this up and let's go upstairs," she commanded. We stamped the last envelopes and went to bed. She was still laughing sporadically as I closed the door to our bedroom. "Knock knock," she joked.
I humored her, "Knock knock."
And we watched tv until she fell asleep.
I made sure she was sound asleep, before I gently crawled out of bed and put on my slippers. Softly opening the door and closing it behind me as I walked through the house. Down to the first floor. Then to the basement. Where I pulled the key I kept around my neck and slipped it into the lock.
Inside the basement was bare, except for two chairs and some boxes that I had taken from the old house, and the table, and the small wooden plaque that had my first wife's name inscribed on it in her native language.
"I'm going to get married soon," I told her. "She's a great person. Funny. Beautiful. And devoted. Kind of like you." I held the wood plaque in my hands. "I hope you approve." I waited as if she would answer. But she didn't. Never in all the years we've been married. "I can't go back home to ask for your permission. But I hope that this is enough." I looked at her name, almost longingly. As I had grown quite attached to our time together. "And I hope that this will be the last time we talk as I move on with my life. Thank you so much," I told her as I put her away."
Months flew by, and I never revisited the basement. Knowing full well that I had missed our visiting days. Though I'd often catch myself talking to her on some tough days. But nothing bad happened, by not seeing her plaque. Nothing bad at all.
Soon the wedding day was upon us. And it was a great party, as great as the best there ever was. Great good. Great company. And tons and tons of alcohol.
Larissa and I were giggling at the end of it, drunk as we stumbled upstairs from the venue to the presidential suite. Laughing all the way, kissing, barely able to keep our hands off each other as we got into our room.
My new bride pushed herself off me as we entered the threshold, and sprawled herself on the bed. Her legs rubbing against each other as her eyes invited me to come closer. I propped a knee on the bed to join her.
*dak dak*
We both shot our eyes to the door and then at the table side where the clock blared at us an angry red of 3:13.
Larissa looked up at me with a horrified look. I could see her bottom lip quivering.
"Hello," I called out. With my back to the door. "Sam? Bobby?" But no one answered. "Room service?"
*dak dak*
*dak*