A heavy mist settled on the cemetery, just as it always had when we were children. Thwack! I ran straight into another headstone and fell into the mud, breathless. Scrambling to my feet, I looked behind me, hoping that whatever was chasing me had gone off somewhere else.
It was a mistake to come back to Endeavor for my 25 year reunion. I swore I’d never step foot in this town again, with its three block main street where everyone was either a drunk, an abuser, or a holier-than-the saints-themselves wannabe street preacher, or some combination of all of the above.
How the hell do I get out of this cemetery?
I’d gotten drunk, but not so drunk that I shouldn’t have been able to find my way out, even in this heavy mist. It descended as soon as we kicked over Mr. Grantz’ headstone, that old, blustering asshole. He deserved some sort of retribution after the shit he put kids through for decades in this town. He was Mister Evangelical himself, somehow granted the right to stuff his convoluted ideologies on us in the place of an actual science education.
After we turned a bit tipsy Derrick, Anne, Roger, and I decided to leave the bar that was hosting the reunion to stagger out to the cemetery one last time — pay homage to our old midnight refuge. What better way to relive our inglorious days?
Damn! I hit my knee on another headstone. I just wanted out, an escape from this hellhole. “I’ll go home and never bother this place again!” I shouted into the mist.
Derrick played football — still as skinny and probably at least half as fast as that knobby-elbowed teenager who was practically chased out of town for not scoring a winning touchdown to get us to state. Anne was the girl we were all in love with. She stayed in town and teaches history, or I'm sure as much actual history as she can get away with uttering aloud. Roger couldn’t do anything right, but could still get away with anything by his smile.
On June nights like this we’d always go hang out late at night drinking non-age-appropriate beverages at the Endeavor cemetery. It was about a half-mile walk on the train tracks from “town.” We’d all sneak out with our flashlights and walk there, sometimes solo, sometimes in pairs, and even then it sort of creeped me out to go it alone, walking on that path of lonesome steel between the walls of tall grass that swayed in the wind.
My alcohol tolerance had gone way down since I grew up and life stopped being about partying. Otherwise I would have been way too inhibited to let those old friends pry me back to the cemetery. Whose idea was this? It was Roger's ideas wasn't it?
The only good idea he had in his entire life is that we needed to get out of Endeavor.
Was I running in circles or something? I limped in a direction I believed had to be the way out. Tipsy, sure, but there’s no way I was drunk enough that I couldn’t find my way out of a small town cemetery.
In high school Roger has been spared, but the rest of us had been Mr. Grantz’ personal classroom punching bags, all because our families didn’t go to church, or didn’t go enough for Mr. Grantz’ liking. My heathen mother even had the gall to speak the word “evolution” in public once, so as far as the church folk were concerned (meaning nearly everyone) my family needed to be chased out of town.
Congratulations. Endeavor wasn't a paradise. It was a graveyard of aspiration.
So yeah, we stomped to the cemetery in the delirium of getting drunk together one last time in Endeavor after spending half our lives away from each other.
Derrick is the one who stumbled onto Mr. Grantz’ headstone. “Whoa!? That psychopath finally died. Hallelujah!” he yelled.
“Derrick!” Anne said, “I know you had your differences but that’s no reason to celebrate his passing. He was a human being.” She must have made her peace with the people of this town years ago. The rest of us did our real growing up once we got outside.
“Differences? Do you remember when I missed that touchdown, how it was because my family was unclean? He was the one who kept telling people we needed to go back to the old ways and they should burn me on a pyre for it. It was one bad play against a team of kids who were twice our size.” Derrick caught the wind in his throat, “It would be hard for me to mourn someone who wanted to kill a kid over a touchdown.”
“I gotta piss,” Roger said, smirking.
“No,” Anne said.
“See, even Roger wants to get this guy, and he wasn’t even one of Mr. Grantz’ targets.”
As they argued I swayed in the wind getting angrier and angrier remembering that old blowhard. Once, when I was having trouble sleeping, I fell to sleep on my desk in the middle of his science class, and he dropped a bowling ball on my desk to wake me up and “teach me a lesson.” It slid off the desk and landed on my foot breaking some small bones that never healed well and still bother me to this day.
“Let’s tip it over,” I said.
They all looked at me wide eyed, then grins spread over Derrick and Roger’s faces, devious in the moonlight.
“Hell yeah!” they agreed.
“You’re all going to hell for this,” Anne said, trying to stop them. But we were all already kicking at the marble headstone, trying to get it to budge from the Earth. My foot throbbed in that old familiar way, but this was worth it.
“Are you being serious, Anne? Are you a believer now? Don’t tell me this town got to you,” Derrick said.
“‘Got to me?’If that’s what you call growing up and getting over my youthful rebellious phase, then yes. Earl Grantz was a town hero. He only wanted the best for the people here and I can’t just let you desecrate his grave.”
Roger blocked Anne from stopping us while Derrick and I kept kicking the headstone. Hard and heavy, the thing didn’t want to budge. I got on its level and tried pushing it with my shoulder while Derrick kept kicking it.
After a minute I fell to the ground to rest.
Anne looked at me, “If you’re having a heart attack you deserve it. You don’t even know what will happen if you manage to knock that thing down. You don’t know what they’ll do.”
“Oh come on, I’m going to be out of this town for the rest of my life in about six hours. There’s nothing the community of Endeavor will be able to do to me ever again.”
“We’ll see about that,” she said.
I got back up and resumed kicking with Derrick who hadn’t stopped for a second. In fact, it was like he was getting stronger and stronger, maybe remembering more of Mr. Granz’ vitriolic outbursts. I could still see the old man with his white beard and loud, sharp face barrelling down at me for any perceived sleight.
“It’s starting to give,” Derrick said.
Then all at once, with one last kick the headstone cracked at its base and thudded over into the damp grass.
“Whoa, we did it.” Derrick took a step back.
We all stood there for a moment, struck by a kind of awe. That old man who had made things so hard for us in high school, he was really dead. He was dead in the ground and could never yell at us or throw bowling balls at us or set the entire town against us ever again. He was being eaten by worms. A sad meal. We’d survived him and this town.
I guess Anne was struck by a different kind of awe. Probably she was surprised at the audacity of her old friends, drunk and stupid in the cemetery. Whatever her feelings were, by the time I turned to look for her she’d already disappeared into the night.
We had a good laugh, the three of us, reunited for this taste of revenge. The headstone lay there in the barely tended grass and I thought of how pointless his attacks on us had been, the harassment, the ostracization, the constant preaching and withholding of an actual education — we were all doing fine to spite him. Derrick worked as head of sales at a sportswear company, I was the top non-profit tax whiz in my city, Roger had one of those vague program manager positions at an even more vague start-up gone big, and we all had families waiting for us at home. "Here lies a failure in life and death" is what the headstone should have read.
That’s when we heard it, a placeless whispering descended onto the cemetery.
It was as if the wind was made of barely audible voices, speaking in rolling anger that went on and on. And with it a dark mist fell on us.
“What the —” Roger said.
“It’s just the mist playing tricks on us, an auditory illusion,” Derrick said.
But up the back of my spine a tingling sensation had already started to warn me that something insidious was happening. Even when we were children, we’d joked about how the mist in the cemetery felt unnatural, but now it came on twice as quickly and it was twice as thick. I could barely see the others. “We should start making it back to our cars," I said.
"I don't remember the fog ever being this bad," Derrick said.
"We had actual flashlights with us. That might have made a difference," I offered. We only had the flashlights on our phones, and as the moments passed the mist deepened until they were nearly useless.
"Climate change," Roger said.
"Don't tell that one to Mr. Grantz," I said.
Laughing, Derrick stumbled on a small divet in the ground, rolling onto his back. I think he saw something then. I can’t say for sure, but as I looked down at him, my mind still blurred by the alcohol, I saw a serious fear drawn over his eyes, stifling his laughter. For a moment his lip quivered before he let out a scream that was swallowed by the thick country air. A column of mist poured into his mouth. It might have been the shock, but I thought in the mist I saw a torrent of pale hands forcing their way down his throat.
Derrick’s body convulsed. He shook harder and harder until the attack ceased and he sank, limp, into the ground.
“Help!” Roger screamed as he was pulled into the mist by something I couldn’t see.
I didn’t wait a moment longer. I didn’t try to stay and help my friends or check to see if Derrick was still alive. I bolted. Whatever that was in the mist, if I could put some distance between myself and it, maybe I could get out of this cemetery, follow the traintracks back to town, get back into my Honda Civic and drive away from this godforsaken town.
The mumbling whispers grew louder behind me, but I didn’t dare look. I’d give anything just to make it out of this cemetery. This was a stupid night. I never should have come back, but I wasn’t going to let this drunken mistake leave my children to grow up without a father.
Sorry Derrick, I thought. Sorry Roger. And, what in the hell happened to Anne? What was it she said, we didn’t know what they’ll do? Is that what’s happening now?
I ran until my lungs burned, bumping into headstones left and right. This place wasn’t a labyrinth. How was it that I hadn’t gotten out of it by now? The cemetery couldn’t be bigger than a couple few city blocks. Hardly anyone lived in Endeavor to begin with. It didn’t take much space to house their dead. How many of these people have been completely forgotten to time by now? How many of them were succeeded only by children like me, children who they chased out of town. How many of them had bigoted, evil hearts like Mr. Grantz?
My knee smacked on something hard, another headstone, and I cried out. I could hardly move anymore from all the bruises I’d just taken. But I limp-ran in desperation, my hurt leg skidding on the ground. The mist was close behind me. I could feel it wet on the back of my neck, but I knew I only needed to make it a little further.
An exposed tree root caught my foot and I tumbled to the ground, my head knocking against something hard. I frantically crawled back toward my feet but I kept falling back down. I wasn’t seeing straight. Why is this happening to me? I swore I’d never come back.
It was Anne that reached out to us all. She’d wanted to bring the old gang back together for the reunion. Over half the class had stayed in town after graduation, but the rest of us had left Endeavor, and from what I gathered none of us spared a look back. Why didn’t we ever think of how that would have felt for Anne? She didn’t have the same agency as the rest of us. Heck, her parents had threatened to pull her from school and homeschool her in their traditional way. Of course she ended up like this. We were her lifeline.
Damn it!
Every time I tried to get up I twisted some other muscle and collapsed back to the ground. I’d never put my body through something like this before, especially after the age of forty. I’d already been dreading the day-long hangover I saw in my future as we left the bar, but at this rate I’d be lucky to be able to walk — that is, if I even got out of this cemetery alive.
Anne had gone to the trouble of mailing us each nice, handwritten letters on stationary inviting us to the reunion. She wanted everyone to get together. It was incredibly thoughtful of her. Apparently she’d worked with all the others to make sure everyone else who’d abandoned Endeavor had an invitation. Of course, not everyone came, but most of the class made it.
We met at Freddy’s, an old country dive we’d never been able to get into before. In Endeavor everybody knows everybody, so there’s no sneaking into bars with a fake id.
I’d been in city dives, but Freddy’s was something else. It reminded me more of a barn where bats would live in the rafters than a bar — a big open space with tables strung about here and there, a pool table near the corner, dust counting the years on the floor. Just my guess, but I don’t think the owner knows what the flooring is made of, that’s how often it looked like it’d been cleaned. Still, it was nice coming back and seeing this part of Endeavor we’d always wondered about.
The folks that stayed in town welcomed us back in, but it was obvious there was a sort of familiarity and camaraderie among them that the rest of us would never have again — the kind of camaraderie that comes from spending forty years with the same small group of people, of having small town secrets and knowing all the things in a human life that can go unsaid.
It was Anne’s idea to go to the cemetery, wasn’t it?
She could tell we were all a bit uncomfortable and wanted to catch up more privately. As always, she was the sensitive person who could tell what we were all feeling and gave us direction. There was a time when I was young when I thought I’d grow up to marry her — funny to think of it now, that I pictured my life in Endeavor, of scraping out an existence in this place that now seemed so desolate, an isolated island away from everything that truly mattered to me. I’m sure Derrick and Roger felt like that too. Did Anne think about us like that? In her imagination, had she pictured the future with each of us, trying us on like coats, only to be abandoned in the end.
The mist had gotten so deep I couldn’t see where I was going, though I’d slowed to a crawl. My hand felt something cold and hard on the ground. I pulled myself close and I saw the inscription, “Here lies Earl Grantz.” After all that running I was back at Mr. Grantz’ headstone where I’d started.
I lifted myself to my feet and noticed two long shapes beside me on the ground. Derrick and Roger. My heart dropped. Something had dragged them back.
A cold hand grabbed onto my hair and pulled my head back. The mist poured into my open mouth like a thousand frozen beads of pain. I tried to scream, but it kept pouring into me as I collapsed to the damp dirt on my already bruised and skinned knees. Stop! Please, I can’t take any more! I wanted to beg. It kept going until I lost consciousness.
I awakened to the sun already high in the sky, my whole body throbbing with pain. Derrick was nudging me with his foot.
“Good,” he gasped, “we’re all alive then.”
“What? What just happened?” I asked.
He stood above me with Roger. Alive. Somehow after the events of last night we’d made it to the morning in the land of the living. I didn’t orphan my kids.
“I saw the mist get you, both of you. I ran, but I couldn’t escape the cemetery,” I said.
“All I know is that I’m getting out of here and I’m not looking back,” Roger said.
“I’m with ya.” Derrick helped me up to my feet.
Neither of them was as outwardly hurt as I knew I was. I could feel every scrape and bruise down to my bones, not to mention the hangover. “What about Anne?” I asked.
“No sign of her.”
Before we limped back to town I pulled out my cellphone to see the worried messages from my wife. She assumed I’d only gotten drunk and let my phone die. I sent her a selfie of my swollen face and said that last night hadn’t gone as planned, but I was on my way home — desperate to get out of godforsaken Endeavor — and would explain everything to her. How could I explain this? I can’t even explain it to myself.
I told the others about the events of last night after I’d lost them, and they nodded, listening. None of us had anything resembling a logical explanation.
My phone dinged with a message. “I’m glad you’re safe! I was so worried. But are you using some sort of filter? Your eyes are green in this picture.”

Special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for allowing fanfiction and giving us Tilfish.
[First] [Prior] [Next]
.*~*.
Memory Transcription Subject: ? , run run run run run run.
Date: December 2, 2136
.~*~.
I'm tired. I'm so unbearably tired. I don't remember the fall or when my legs quit working, but I'm still denied the sweet release of sleep by the fires radiating from my muscles. It's sick and twisted, but I don't think I can move any more. I'm stuck here face down in the soil, unable or unwilling to do anything but wonder if a harvesting drone will roll over me and turn me into mist on the crops I'm lost in. My mouth itches. Some loose soil in my nose makes me hack, but there's nothing I can do but wheeze and pant. There's not a drop of moisture left in me. I'm all shriveled up. Everything's a haze.
I should've stopped for water. There was time. A few ponds that didn't look filmed over with vile algae blooms. The last town had a fountain on the outskirts. There were a few distant outbuildings that could've had a sink or a hose. Really, a few mouthfuls would've been enough to keep me from cramping up. Now I feel like I'm all dried out, like a stick of fruit jerky.
I should've taken a break. I've not been able to run in so long. I knew it was getting bad, but I ignored it. I'm paying for it now. I pushed way too far. Run until I black out. Wake up. Repeat. For days and days, or however long I've been free. I don't know. Every time I wake I can't tell if minutes have passed or days. I would push myself back to my feet and run. Because distance is all that matters. I made the right call avoiding the roads. The cameras. The soles of my feet are battered and wail in pain, but for every step I took was a minute longer I got to feel the sun kiss my scales and the gentle caress of the wind upon my neck. The cool soil seeping into my burning side. Fresh air in my lungs. Faint mist on my back.
I should've calmed down. I'm wasting what little time I have left stuck here in misery. I missed my chance to escape. My saviors were predators, but it would've been a better fate. And they're everywhere. Monsters and Predators alike. The whole planet is getting what it deserves. I made my choice, but now I'm squandering it. At least the soil is nice. Even as broken as I feel, it is only temporary. I know this is heaven. I wouldn't trade it for anything else. Even if my tongue is dried and bleeding.
I.
Just.
Need.
To.
Get.
Up.
no no no no no. Hurts. Hurts hurts hurts.
UP.
My body rebels. I settle on crawling. Dragging my tainted digits through the soil and forcing myself through the mud.
Puddle. Puddle Puddle Puddle.
I'm glad to be alive. I'm glad for this puddle. It's my whole world. I crawl to it as quickly as my body allows and beyond, but I'm too dehydrated to cry at the lancing pain in my joints. I slip and tumble into it face first, a cold shock making me freeze up. I don't even try to drink at first, my eyes closed as I lay partially submerged in this brackish water. It makes me feel slightly better as the cold gently eases my neck muscles, and I feel the rest of my body cramping up again.
Imagine drowning in a claw of water. I'm suddenly terrified that it's possible. I throw an arm out and dig it deep into the mud, clawing silt as I awkwardly pull myself in sideways. I roll, splashing the rest of the way in and feeling my poorly treated scales weep as the cold bleeds into them. I lay my head sideways and drink, gagging at the taste but unable to stop myself. I still can't cry, but my face is still trying to produce tears anyways.
In delirium, I notice the corner of a structure well above me. It's a pole, made of metal and towering well above me. Morning dew drips off of it and into my eye not currently submerged, and I blink it away.
Thank you pole. You're a life saver.
I don't plan on moving for a while, so I don't. The dew drips onto my snout several times, and my body rejoices at the cool water I've partially submerged myself in. The silt in my mouth is a necessary and tolerable evil from my desperate dive, and I angle my snout so that I can catch the fresh dew dripping from above instead. It tastes far better than the puddle, and for the first time in ever, I feel a smile creeping on my face.
.*~*.
I blink lazily, one eyelid operating a few seconds behind the other. I feel better. This blackout felt more natural, less forced. Like a gentle wave over my mind than the harsh crack of a baton. My mouth is still full of silt that I spit out, and a moment later I realize I can spit again. The bitter taste of blood in my mouth is faint now, and the joy of having a wet palate can't be described.
ow.
It hurts to move. I try again, but my flesh feels like it's been filled with concrete. My muscles are too tight on my bones. Stiffly, I try again, making little progress, but still progress. I edge out a claw at a time, barely getting my neck out of the pool before collapsing, the chilly waters leaving me shivering.
Where am I?
A very good question, I ask myself. I don't know. That's the cost of running without direction for so long. I think I'm in a field, judging by the crops looking over me and encompassing my wide vision of the vibrant sky overhead.
Yeah... that's it. I'm in a field. Brilliant observation skills.
I try again, but nothing new comes up. For the first time since I fled, I think about what I'm going to do. I'm free. I'm free. What am I going to do now that I'm free? How long do I have? I know the answer to that already. I have a long time. Everybody that knew me is dead and gone. I just need to be careful and not ruin this chance. I should try and find a town. Cities are too big, too many problems could come up. Too many exterminators. I could start over off the beaten path. Somewhere I can hide in plain sight.
This is Sillis. Being me shouldn't be an issue. I... I can get a labor job somewhere. Change my name. What can I do?
...
What can I do?
What is my name?
"Oh dear." I whispered quietly to myself, brows furrowing. Odd. How odd. I can move on from that. Makes starting a new life easier. Something that isn't four walls and a paper thin mattress. Something outside. I just... need to get... out of this darn puddle. No, still not happening. Ouch.
I splash my paw into the puddle in frustration, using about the full range of motion I seem capable of in a mild fit. I want to stay on the move, but the consequences of my poor decision making have come back to bite me right on the rear. At least I have some time to think.
I could try the lumber industry. That's usually away from people. I think I can figure out how to knock down trees, or at least fix up the machines that can. Maybe I can join a farm around here once I'm cleaned up. There's always something to do on a farm. Like counting shipments, or unloading shipments, or loading them. Maybe I can fix things around the property. Golly, I hope I know how to fix the automated machinery. That would really be nice.
Ooh! I could try and be a tram service maintenance operator. Wait, no no no. That requires background checks, I think. Darn it. Uuuh, road utility services? No, that'll take me into cities one way or another. There's a ton of work with drainage systems and water run off here. I could get good money for that since it's risky. Pollutants, constant thundering streams of water. I think I can go with that. There would be a lot of rural investigations that I could apply for. If not, I'm certain the underground construction projects would bear fruit. I'll miss the sun but nobody would bother me too much... no, still too many people. Drainage systems it is!
A faint whistle catches my ear and I freeze, tilting my head as something green flies just overhead. It clips several stalks and leaves as it passes, but seems unbothered as the severed branches fall to the ground and leaves gently cascade after. I follow its path with an eye and it vanishes between some tall plants, leaving me alone just as quickly as-
Nope, the same thing floats by again, darting between crops once more directly above me. It's odd, I can't hear wing beats or buzzing, or see anything keeping it airborne as it passed, and I wait with baited breath to see if it shows itself again. I don't know what I feel, but it isn't terror. It's... something. Curiosity? This time I hear a chirrup, but it's close. I don't see it float by, and painfully I crane my neck and look at the other side of the puddle.
It's an insectoid of some kind, strangely wide and flat. It looks pretty similar to the leaves on the many trees that I've seen since I got out, with uneven, tapered sides. It has a few pairs of legs, and it scuttles to the puddle and dips the front of its body towards the surface. It really does look like a large leaf, but my observation is cut short when the bug abruptly stops moving within barely a claw of the water, a pair of forward facing compound eyes snug against the stem near the tip of its body. It chirps again, and I see narrow maw under the front of this creature, a slim set of fangs briefly glinting in the sun before its mandibles hide them.
"Oh dear." I manage to whisper.
With remarkable dexterity it hops across the body of water and splashes down on top of me, and several legs grip my ribs and arms. My tail flicks under the water's surface, but I don't move as the thing's maw looms over my snout. A smaller set of feelers touch my scales and let it guide where it can't see, and it pecks at my nostril once. I smell ozone and feel a different fire burn in my core, and relax.
This isn't ideal. It really isn't. But it's still better that what once was. You won't hurt me for too long. You're better than they ever were.
Trading my cell for this... it's not that scary. Somehow, despite this predator straddling me and chewing on my snout, I'm not scared of it. I have alarms shrieking in my ears and ozone burning my nostrils and wrists. Bubbly poison twisting my insides and making me gag. I'm terrified of that, but that's long gone. That broken visage cuts deep, but it leaves me feeling empty. I'm alone with this thing pecking at my skull, occasionally chirping or hissing softly as it chews over my scales.
It's little mandibles flutter over my cheek and squish it, the fangs behind it pricking at my scales but never really puncturing. It's odd, almost exploratory. I hear a faint plip as some dew from the pole overhead drips onto the creature, and it leans back slightly to presumably look up. It lowers back down on me, and I wince as it gets a little rougher. It halts for a moment, mandibles still dancing over my scales, before I feel a set of legs slip past my arms and latch onto my back.
I grit my teeth, expecting it to finally lunge down and bite into my flesh as the rest of it's body tenses, but with a start it lifts me up with strength I didn't think it had. My back scrapes along the mud as it lifts me and drags me partially out of the muck. It lowers me down just as quickly as it started, leaving a bit of my upper body out of the water and in the warm air. I blink as it lowers its body down onto my own, legs tightening its grip on me as it presses itself against me. It chirrups again and resumes nibbling on my neck, and my mind absently puzzles over this change of events.
It's roosting on me. Is it my body heat? I feel cold, but maybe it's colder. I wish I knew what you were. I'm glad you're not really biting me. It tickles, stop!
I couldn't help but squeak out a laugh, despite the very present danger I was in. The bug tensed for a moment but didn't sink its fangs into my neck, and after a moment it resumed licking at me. Slowly, it's legs tightened on my body and it pressed itself against me further, and it hissed softly. I closed my eyes when it's maw pressed against me, but once again no bite split me open and drained my lifeblood. It's mandibles tickled my scales some more as the creature flattened out, the ridges of its body laying in the mud as it settled down. I was all but buried under the thing that was almost as big as me, and my tail swished lightly in the water.
Once again, I find myself stuck. I wasn't going anywhere anyways, but now I'm very stuck. Hopefully it doesn't get peckish. This thing could definitely eat me if it wanted to. It's funny that I'm supposed to fear it. All those training exercises failed. Every test and experiment. Maybe it enforced the wrong behavior. I think I might've been respectfully afraid of this creature once, but that part of me is all burned up. If it existed at all.
.~*~.
I've missed the novelty of clouds. Sillis has an overabundance of them, but so far I've been lucky that none of the ones passing overhead were angry. It's almost odd that no rain has come, but I'm glad. I faintly remember that the rains could become acidic if there's too long a pause between storms. Too much smoke or warp residue building up in the atmosphere.
So far I've counted two absolutely towering thunderheads and small storm systems roll by in all their stunning glory, and dozens of smaller offsets in their wake. Hundreds of individual clouds dot the skies, not quite blanketing it yet. It's pleasant, even within the grasp of a large, sleeping predator that's fully enveloped me. I can feel it's diaphragm shifting ever so slightly on my chest, and it twitches occasionally.
I don't mind. For now, things are peaceful. I'm enjoying that. At least, until something crunched a few rows over.
That sounds a lot bigger than this predator.
The creature shifts slightly but doesn't wake as whatever else is out there stalks through the crops. It has to be a predator, from how quiet it moves. Every little rustle and faint step happen far from each other, and my mind immediately jumps to an ambush hunter. Carefully, I move my head to catch a glimpse of the thing, trying not to disturb the slumbering creature that is currently resting it's mouth on my neck. My scales fade into a dirty black that matches the soil, and I squint to hide my eyes from whatever is out there.
There's movement on my left, something tall shifting between the crops a few rows down. I hear a rumbling noise- a deep based growl, and the back of my skull itches.
"...D-1?"
No no no no no. I don't want to go back. I want to be free.
I know what the thing is. It's a new predator. A sapient one. The same ones that freed me. The same ones that wanted to herd me onto a ship. I can't do this. Sapient predators are cruel, far crueler than the average ones. A normal predator wasn't personal about the kill. It could be reasoned with. Where did that come from? A sapient predator was ruthless for entertainment.
I owe them my life.
They'll just take it.
There's a rustle from a different direction, and a behemoth steps out of the crops far closer to me than I would prefer. It is armored like the many I've seen before, but I realize instead of a firearm it wields a bulky tool of some kind tightly in its paws. It dawns on me that it's colors are different, green and blue instead of solid blue, and there's a colorful flag of some kind pressed on the garments of its arm.
"Copy." It rumbled quietly.
"Crikey, you spooked me there!" the other predator whispered, changing course. Thankfully the closest one broke off to meet it, and they stopped one row over. It was best I stay still. Their hearing was better than they let on. "Okay, did you get it done?"
I can't see them clearly, but some non verbal communication must have occurred because the one predator continues speaking.
"Good. Look, trouble is coming. A fellow seppo noticed the ordinance went missing. He's suspicious. There'll be heat soon. Have you made any progress with the other front?" A pause. "Same. I've dealt with several of his goons, but none knew anything good."
"I'll have him tonight."
"...D-1?"
"An exterminator account and reversed polarity on some switches works wonders."
"...you seppos are terrifying."
"We're a world power for a reason."
"...yeah. Do you have the drive? Nice. You keep this up and we'll have everything we need from this planet before Christmas. We're going to make things right." There's an odd grunt, and one of them starts rumbling quietly in what translates as amusement. "Involved in peace. What do they really think this accomplishes?"
"Don't care. We find our whales and move on."
"Come on, we can have some more fun if we're careful! Don't act like that doesn't entertain you after that bomber plot of yours!"
"S-4," there's an undertone in that growl that makes my scales shrink, "remember the prize."
"...God, you're a hard ass. Fine. I'm certain you're carrying that giant wrench for peaceful reasons and not to crack open any skulls out here. I'll check the smuggling routes. Rig up something to keep these bugs under our thumb. You keep being you. I need to move before they notice I'm gone."
Faint footsteps leading away, and I sighed. While brief, just being around them made my scales crawl-
The crops right beside me parted, and the other predator stepped out. It's covered foot splashed into the puddle, and stirred the predator enveloping me. Much to my horror the thing chirruped and hissed, releasing me and spinning around. The apex predator looked down at the smaller thing and regarded it.
:)
The drawing on the mask was comical, and not at all what I was expecting. Most humans didn't wear masks, so blinding terror didn't sweep me away. I almost laughed at the absurdity of concealing one's face, only to make a lazy drawing of a face overtop of it.
The smaller predator didn't find it nearly as confusing or entertaining as I did, and hissed. The apex didn't falter, but surprisingly held its ground despite being threatened by a lesser predator.
Most predators would make a threat back and assert itself. Or lash out. What is this one up too? It's not acting submissive so it isn't backing down. But it isn't retaliating either. Does it need to? It's using it's own size as a deterrent.
My thoughts are interrupted when my toothy cover abruptly spins and flees, gaining air under its body and become airborne. It slashes through a row of crops and is gone, just like how it arrived. The apex still hasn't moved. It takes a few steps forward, nearing me. I can't tell if it's looking at me or not so I close my eyes tight, hoping that my eyes hadn't given me away. There's a thump right beside me and I flinch. I can feel it's presence. It has stopped walking.
It knows. Somehow it sees me. It knows it knows it knows.
Something warm grazes my neck and I flinch again, despite myself. I can't do it. I don't want to die with my eyes closed. I want to see the sun and the clouds and the crops, not this faux darkness.
I open my eyes and it's right there, crouched over me. I can't bother with wasting my energy by screaming. It saw through my camouflage and had a paw to my neck. I wished it to be merciful and just strike me down with the wrench it brought, but it doesn't. Instead it plunges its paw into the water, under my rump. It rips me out of the water and I gasp as its other paw slips down under my shoulders and lifts, but my mind catches up a moment later when it pressed me against it's chest instead of its mouth, forsaking my exposed stomach. It's grip loosens slightly and it adjusts, an arm under my shoulder blades and legs. I can feel the muscles rippling in it's grip, and how easily it could fold me over backwards and squish me. I've seen it first hand.
But it's so gently. So unbelievably gentle. I don't remember the last time I was touched like this. Something in a dark recess of my mind wavered, and I realized I'd curled my tail around the creature's arm without meaning to. It holds me a little closer, nowhere near enough to hurt, and my scales start to change to match the colors it wears. It's not looking at me, the mask is angled too far up. We're moving at a blinding pace suddenly, the rows of crops blurring in my vision. It doesn't stop. This apex runs like a machine, each breath consistent and calculated to a rhythm I notice. Its breathing labors but it keeps going, warm jets of air spitting out the bottom of its mask and onto my soggy, damp form.
It's so warm. I didn't realize the chill of the water until now but I'm shivering. My body takes over for my confused mind and curls into the predator's grasp, trying to get as much warmth from the human's rough garments as I can. I don't know what's come over me. I don't know where it's taking me. I don't care. I can't escape it, and if this thing kills me it was at least kind enough to be gentle.
The skies are so beautiful. I try and focus on them but all I can really see is the predator's mask. I can see the bottom of it's jaw, the taught muscles there. I dread what its face looks like in this moment under that mask. Its digits tighten on my shoulder and side in response to me curling into it, and absently I wonder how this predator is the same as the ones from days ago with their thundering bellows and ruthless firepower.
The apex thunders out of the field and I'm assaulted by new sights. There's a few dozen of them roving around a clearing by several vehicles.
I also spot an Exterminator's van, and my claws unsheathe. The predator winces and I realize I've nailed him with them, but he doesn't throw me down or bark at me. He sprints by the van without stopping, but I see several Tilfish locked inside and doomed to a terrible fate worse than being eaten.
"Ambulance!?" It barks sharply, out of breath. It skids to a stop beside one of the transports, clutching me firmly.
"Just left with the patient. Where the hell did this one come from?" An unmasked predator growled, eyes beady and looking over me. Mine made an odd jerking motion and continued.
"Get Doc."
"I will. What hospital are we calling?" The thought of a clinical space makes me flinch. White walls. White floors. Cold tiles. Needles. Beeping. Humming. Frying.
"None. Operational security."
The other predator screwed its face up and departed, and abruptly mine was sitting down on the back of one of the trucks. Gently I was plopped down on its lap, and I watched transfixed as it peeled its armor off, then its outer garment. There's an image of a veiled human on the back with its eyes closed, head craned down. Its hands are clasped together in thought, and the meaning of it goes over my head.
The predator is a lot smaller than I thought it was. It gently lifts me and set me in the garment, before it starts wiping me down with it. I'm too sore to fight it, and the cloth is exceptionally warm from the creature's body heat. It pulls me closer and holds me in a way that makes my chest hurt, and it looks out at an approaching predator. It rumbles softly.
"You're going to be okay."
My body relaxes despite my mind's warnings. I'm wrapped up in this garment it wore. I can't escape it. But it's warm. The material soaks up the water on my skin, and wipes away the grime and muck I've accumulated over the days. Slowly, my scales begin to shift again, bleeding back to my normal tan coloration.
"Did something finally bite you Sunshine? I haven't seen you run like that in- oh-kay." The approaching predator flinched when it got close and tensed up.
It wants to eat me. This one- Sunshine- it won't let it without a fight. Are they going to eat me? Sunshine won't. Right?
"I thought there was only one victim." The predator rumbled after a moment, creeping closer. I shrank into the material and took on it's color, only for a warm paw to settle on my arm.
"You're fine." Sunshine whispered. It looked up at the approaching predator and jerked its head awkwardly. "There is. Look at it. Do you see it too?"
Gently, it lifted my arm. I was too stiff to pull it back, not that I could've against its powerful grip. I was completely exposed to this other predator.
"Relax. Please." Sunshine whispered once more. The growl was soft, and I looked up at the mask above me. The grip on my arm was careful, I realized. I could pull away right now. Slowly, my scales lightened. The other predator leaned in closer and I flashed white and yellow briefly, but Sunshine propped me up a bit and started gently poking at sore parts of my body. My ribs. My neck. "Here. And... and here."
The other predator's eyes seemed to get bigger. Something deeper changed in its face. "Holy shit." It made to move forward and I reeled back, pressing myself further into Sunshine. The predator immediately froze and slunk back.
"He can help." Sunshine rumbled softly.
Oh dear. Oh dear.
It touched me. It's diminutive nails didn't rend into my scales as it touched my ribs, prodding them softly. Sunshine adjusted how it sat so that the other predator could have better access to me, and I couldn't help but focus on the skies again as it assessed what part of me it wanted.
Sunshine won't let it eat me.
I don't know where the thought came from, but it was firm. I believed it entirely. Even though Sunshine was a sapient predator, it wouldn't let it happen. Maybe it claimed me as its own already. I... I had doubts I would be eaten. The thoughts were there, but Sunshine had a perfect chance already. Unless it wanted to flaunt its catch first, which the Arxur did- but it was gentle. Sunshine was better than an Arxur.
"Malnourished, deep sores. Ulcers. There's bruising up and down the rib cage. Jesus- sorry."
"They're old. Persistent. Its feet."
"What about..." The predator got quiet. I felt my scales shift in worry as it gingerly lifted one of my legs. It remained quiet, but its face stretched further. "What happened?"
It was looking at me. Asking me. I shrank further into the fabric, but there was nowhere to go. The silence was unbearable, and I started trembling.
The silence continued.
"A runaway." Sunshine rumbled after forever. I didn't understand what that meant. My translator didn't pick it up quite right. Run-away? Like fleeing? Was that what these predators called their prey? No... no that didn't seem right. It was possible, but...
"Could have been kidnapped." Another word I didn't understand, but my translator worked on the other predator. Stealing a person by force? Using fear outside of the law? How did predators have such a word? "We need to get it to the hospital. Figure out what happened and how it ended up in this field."
NO NO NO NO NO
Sunshine's arms draped over me before I could escape, my attempt no better than a drunk Mazic trying to fit through a Venlil sized door. I couldn't stop the whine in my throat, but its soft digits down my back froze me. A subtle noise filtered out behind the mask, and it settled me back down in its garment. It picked up an edge lined with little metal teeth and draped it over me, blocking my sight from the other predator. I felt safe, suddenly. Sunshine's firm grip on my body didn't feel threatening. It felt like a promise, as it carefully pulled me against it's bulk. I was warm, despite my terror.
"Zuda will handle it. No hospitals. This stays with us."
"Sunshine," the other predator protested, "we need to figure out what happened!"
"Think, Doc." Sunshine growled, and this was no doubt a warning. I felt relief that the difference between the two growls was so obvious.
"What?"
"Think. Use your head."
There was a period of silence. "You don't... that can't be right." I didn't understand what conclusion it made.
"The injuries are uniform. Too clean to be anything else."
They can't know. How can they know?
"We need confirmation!"
"We already have it." Sunshine stated, and slowly the fabric was lifted off of my head. I blinked, and noticed that the other predator had changed a different shade.
That's odd. Are you predators like me?
That's terrifying. I'm not a threat. I'm me.
"It reacted to the van and mention of a hospital, Doc. Nobody outside the UN hears of this. Operational security."
It... does Sunshine know? How do they know?
"What the fuck is this planet, Sunshine?" The other predator lamented.
Sunshine didn't respond. He looked around at the surrounding encampment, and I realized it was shrinking. They were leaving. A few other predators were subtly watching as they worked, but I doubted they could hear the conversation with how quiet it was. I realize there's a few Venlil in their ranks, unbothered by their presence and even wearing garments similar to the predators around them.
A digit tapped the end of my snout and I flinched, looking up at Sunshine. It's paw retracted as the other predator withdrew a medical kit with a paw print on it and began to unclasp it. "You're safe. We're... we're going to help."
You know. You know what I am. And you're helping me anyway. Why are you helping me? I'm weak. I'm dangerous. But not to you. You're an apex. Is that why? Does your species stick together, unlike the Arxur? Do you uplift those around you, no matter if they're prey or dangerous? The Venlil are not afraid of you. You must not eat them. What do you eat? It has to be meat. But, it must be something that they can handle. Does what makes me dangerous fall away under your hierarchy? I hope it does. It doesn't seem real. I guess to you, what makes me a threat is meaningless.
I believe Sunshine. I really do. When the other predator comes forward with a healing gel, I surrender.
I am safe.

(I did search the subreddit but a lot of the threads are dated, covid era related and perhaps not entirely current)
Going through a lot of pain and change in my life and may need to move to Eugene in a few months. I want to apologize for making this thread as I know many of you may be tired and annoyed by it.
I am not from Oregon but have been in Salem since 2019. I'm just curious what the best time to try and find an apartment would be knowing kids will be coming back to school in the fall and that might be hectic and competitive.
Along with that what are the areas I need to stay away from? Any reviews or feedback on apartments or the like? Ideally I need a one bedroom for around $1500 with AC and in-unit washedryer but I know this is a tall task and asking for a lot in today's sad times with cost of living and unfair wages and such. Seems like everything goes up but our pay.
I am also not against having a roommate. I do have plenty of experience with that being former military but that's clearly a different situation. I just know I am dependable and have a high standard of ethics and am a very clean person. No pets but wouldn't mind a cat down the road. I am just so new to this all being an active 38yo guy that it feels a bit overwhelming mentally at a very dark time in my life so any help and advice at all is very appreciated.
Very much appreciate those of you taking your time out to assist me with this. I really hope to find some community in Eugene and make good friends. Thank you so much.
ps- I want everyone who reads this to know that life is absolutely worth living. We sometimes will be in the fog and mud but it really takes effort and understanding that a new day will arise tomorrow and all you have to do is try. Just try. You will also get through it- believe in yourself first and let others notice that strength and may they find it through you. You matter and always will.

--- Table of Contents ---
Autumn 4986, 16 Aoimoth
Shon and Nangran hobbled their horses at the base of a steep hill deep in the woods north of Hamerfoss. They'd left at fourth bell, before any of the other Squires had woken for their morning run, and it had still taken them hours of riding through narrow trails to reach this place. At least they hadn't run into any monsters. The snow that had dusted the landscape during the night lay thick here, crunching underfoot and occasionally flopping noisily to either side as it fell from the tall evergreen branches.
Shon adjusted the strap of his sword across his chest and reached his left hand back to brush shaking fingers over its hilt. He'd been glad when the Paladins insisted he take it with him. To them, it marked Shon as a representative of Hengist and the Temple. To Shon, it was a sign of his hard work and resolve. Having it was a comfort.
Nangran started up the hill, and Shon hurried to follow. The smith hadn’t spoken a word since they set out, not even to try and ease Shon’s anxiety, for which Shon was grateful. Master Daunas had tried to sound confident as Shon saddled his borrowed horse, and The Major General had offered him encouragement as they mounted. Neither realized how much that just drove home the desperation of the situation in Shon’s mind.
The smith pulled his heavy cloak tighter, and Shon looked away. He hadn’t bothered to wear his cloak. He'd never really felt chilled in the winter like others seemed to. Now that he knew why, he wished he had. Cold continued to swirl around him, enhanced by his worries. If he could just block those emotions, the power would never have been a problem to begin with.
The trees thinned the higher they climbed, disappearing almost entirely as they crested the top of the hill. The clearing looked over the treetops, offering an unimpeded view of the horizon. Forest all around, with flatland to the south and rocky mountain peaks to the north. Only a handful of small trees grew in the clearing, and in the middle stood a little ramshackle hut only slightly larger than an outhouse.
Nangran threw his arm out, stopping Shon from walking past him, "Don't touch anything. And don't be surprised if he says no right off."
Shon nodded, trying to swallow down his fear so it wouldn't be seen in his eyes. Dropping his hand, Nangran started forward again, finishing, "Be honest, but not insulting." The instructions, -or perhaps advice?- seemed like common courtesy, which made Shon wonder why quiet Nangran had bothered to say anything.
As they drew closer to the little shack, Shon could make out a sign on the door. He squinted to read it and had just made out 'No Soliciting' when the door swung open, banging against the wall and sending birds into flight. An old man, so thin he looked like a skeleton with yellow skin pulled tight across its bones, stormed out. Wearing nothing but a loincloth, he was shaking a thick stick at them that glinted with red rubies in the low autumn light.
"I already paid my dues for this decade! So you can take your request and shove it-" Shon’s hand instinctively reached for his sword, but Nangran just crossed his arms over his barrel chest. The old -virtually naked- man stopped yelling mid-rant and lifted one shriveled arm to shade his eyes as he squinted at them, "Eh? Flintchest, what’re you doing way out here with a blasted mage in tow?"
Rather than answer, Nangran started forward again, he didn't much care for talking, let alone shouting. Looking from Nangran to the loincloth man, Shon slowly lowered his arm, but still took position to the left and just behind the Smith as they approached the crazy man with the glittering club.
"No mage." Nangran said as he came right up to the strange old man, "Squire." he glanced over his shoulder at Shon and finished, "Sorcerer."
The old man spat on the ground and moved his squint to Shon. Running his eyes from the top of his black head to the tip of his polished boots and back, exaggerating the movement before he stopped at the Squire’s cold blue eyes.
He spat again, then barked "Where's your familiar?" scanning first the ground at Shon's feet then the sky above his head.
Shon blinked at him, furrowing his brow in confusion at the question. The mage snapped his fingers impatiently, "Your familiar! All Sorcerers have a familiar."
Nangran came to his rescue, "Just woke last night," he said shortly.
The mage spat again but didn't argue, "Well, come in then." Shon looked sideways at Nangran, but the Smith had already begun following the skinny old man into the shack. Shon hurried to catch up.
Inside, Shon's eyes were assaulted with a sparkling rainbow of colors. The room they'd entered was considerably larger than the outside would suggest, with plush carpet and a stuffed high-back armchair in front of a blazing fire in the opposite wall. Shelves full of exotic plants, glowing glass jars, and glittering stones filled every available space, reflecting off one another and setting streaks of light to dance on the floor and walls like sun rays through crystal.
There was too much to take in, so Shon focused on their host. The old man was slipping into a thick robe of deep purple velvet. He'd hung the club on the wall beside the door, which looked just as decrepit on this side as it had on the outside.
"Make a habit of greeting visitors half-naked and swinging an old fireball wand?" Nangran asked as he slipped out of his cloak.
"Keeps the conversations short." the old man replied tersely, tying his belt and turning to his guests. With boney knuckles on boney hips and glare firmly planted on his wrinkled face, he snapped, "Don't bother getting comfortable, Flintchest; you'll be leaving soon enough."
The Smith ignored him, hanging his cloak on the hook that had presumably held the mage's robe. "Got a favor to ask," he said, but the old man was already shaking his head,
"More like a favor to cash in. That's the only reason you're in here and not smoking in a hole outside."
Nangran ignored the threat and motioned from Shon to the old man and back. "Archmage Ivelm." The mage looked Shon up and down again as Nangran made the introductions, “Squire Shon.”
"Not much longer, I'd say." Ivelm said to Nangran as he finished his second examination, "It's to the Guild with this one. Too much magic." he turned his head and spat in a brass can by the door. It rang out with a loud ‘ting!' and Ivelm sniffed, looking down at Nangran again, "What do you want, Flintchest?"
"Need a seal. So the boy doesn't freeze Hamerfoss more than it already is." the smith crossed his arms, watching the mage and somehow still seeming completely at ease.
"Eh?!" Ivelm exclaimed, leaning far forward. Shon had to try hard not to crinkle his nose as the old man brought his face close enough that Shon could smell Ivelm's breath. Garlic, the mage ate a lot of garlic…
"So… you don't want to be a mage, do you?" he demanded, glaring down his nose at him. Shon shook his head and would have answered with a 'no ser.' except the mage continued, "Rather swing around some hunk of metal like a brute?"
Shon blinked stupidly, and Nangran cleared his throat, "Watch what you say about my swords, old man."
Ivelm ignored the smith as soundly as Nangran had ignored the Archmage, and continued to Shon, "The powers of the universe are at your fingertips. Blood blessed with the strength of the elements, and you wanna throw it all away," he threw his arms into the air, still uncomfortably close, "And for what? Some illusion of an honorable death by the sword?"
Shon didn't know what to say. He looked past the affronted mage's face, only an inch from his own, to Nangran. But the smith gave no sign he was going to help. Shon’s future depended on convincing this strange old man, this Archmage, to help…
Shon wasn't the type to try and convince anyone of anything, but the least he could do was explain himself. Shon stepped back from the mage to address him from a more comfortable distance. "I chose to dedicate my life to perfecting my art, and my art is martial combat," he said. Ivelm wrinkled his nose, his mouth twisting as if he were going to spit again, but Shon continued, "magic would be better served in the hands of someone who wants it badly enough to work for it. Like I've worked for my martial skills."
Ivelm leaned away from Shon, his eyebrows lifted into his frizzled gray hair. Shon looked to Nangran, hoping for some sign that this was a good response. The smith smiled from behind the mage.
"Soooo…" Ivelm drew the word out, "You think only those who dedicate themselves to strict study and practice should wield the power of the universe?" he leaned forward again, turning his head and fixing one eye on Shon like a bird. As if trying to catch him in a lie.
Shon nodded, confused, then asked, "Isn't that what it takes to effectively wield magic? Focused study?"
Ivelm didn't answer the question, instead turning his face to examine Shon with the other eye, scanning him up and down yet again. The old man had looked him up and down so much Shon wouldn't be surprised if the next question were about his hair or boots.
But Ivelm didn't ask another question. Instead, he stood straight and spat into the brass can with another ringing 'ting!' "I like this one," he said, turning his back on Shon and facing Nangran, "But it's too much." he shook his head, lifting his hands in helpless surrender, "Too much power, and ice at that. Stubborn element that one. And it's so finicky to block just elemental magic..."
Ivelm continued talking but Shon heard very little of it. A hole had opened in his gut, and it felt like his heart was racing his stomach to fall into it. But Nangran just rolled his eyes at the mage, interrupting, "Used to be the name in new magic items... made shackles to hold Archmages." he squinted at Ivelm, who had frozen mid-head shake, "Must've gotten rusty out…"
Ivelm snapped his fingers under the Smith's nose to stop him talking, "The mind does not rust, Flintchest!" he huffed, one bare foot tapping under his robe, "Not like your swords and shriveling muscles." Nangran just stared stubbornly, his thick, muscled arms still crossed over his broad chest.
The mage continued to tap his foot, his nose in the air. But as the silence stretched, Ivelm looked down at the smith, who continued to say nothing. The silent battle of wills ended when Ivelm threw his arms up in disgust and shook a finger under Nangran's nose, nearly hitting it, declaring, "I'll show you. I'll make a gem especially for this lad, and you'll see the mind only continues to grow sharper!"
He spun on his heel back to Shon, who had just made out the smith's returned smile from behind the mage when the old man snapped his fingers in Shon's face, making him jump. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come here so I can take some measurements!" Ivelm swung around again and marched across the room to a large workbench with plants and gems scattered across it. Shon scrambled after him, praying his thanks to Hengist and suddenly feeling light enough to float. His anxieties dropping away and melting like snow in summer.
***
It was already noon, and no one had come to see Her. She jumped up to grab the bars of Her window, pulling Herself up to peak out but seeing nothing but new snow and tree trunks. She was full to bursting with nervous energy, amplifying every sound and sensation. Footsteps sounded outside Her door, and She dropped from the window, sprinting across the room and resting Her ear on the wood.
“Ran, recheck the lab. Brom, with me.” Archmage Morndancer spoke with his strange alternation between draconic and common as he passed Her door without stopping. She could easily make out the swish of their robes on the stone hall leading away. Three people, Brom, Ran, and Archmage Morndancer. And yet the scurrying of too many feet to be only the two apprentices and Archmage Shaloon, sounded from the floor above. There were strangers in her tower again. Many strangers. Something was happening, something big…
She ran to Her window again, just for something to do, seeking some way to burn off some of the anxiety of not knowing what was going on around her.
A roar from down the hall, a roar of pain, sent ice washing through her veins. She slammed into the door at full speed. Pounding on the wood, She called out, “Brom?! Ran?!” Nothing. Then a yip cut short, followed by barking and yowling.
She shook the handle with both hands, rattling the door on its hinges, “BROM! RAN!” Something was happening to Her treasures, something terrible… The door handle began to glow, the metal warping and sagging as it melted. The knowledge that She would be in more trouble than She had ever been in before was nothing compared to Her terror. She wrenched the handle back with all Her might, splashing molten metal across Her bed, lighting fires that flared in her panic, and sending smoke to curl up to the ceiling.
She didn’t care. She shouldered the door open and ran.
“Red?!” She passed the first open door but couldn’t stop as Ran called out to Her. Reaching Her treasures' room, She tried to stop but slipped, slamming into the ground with a sticky splash. A final whining bark started a buzzing in Her ears as She stared, transfixed, at Her hands. They were painted red. Warm and sticky. The overpowering stench of iron nearly made Her gag as She looked up to see Morndancer toss aside a glittering golden wolf pup, the body flopping limply over the corpse of its mother and siblings.
Her world went red.
***
The last sample was taken care of, but something roared with enough ferocity to shatter glass.
Morndancer's head snapped around in time for him to fall back, shielding his face with his hands as the Firewyrm exploded. White-hot fire engulfed Her and spread out to the stone floor and walls. His robes began to smoke, the new fire protection spells woven into them being overpowered by the sheer ferocity of the blaze.
Brom had no such spells, and he had only managed a single step towards the girl before he fell to the ground, writhing for only a moment before lying still. The Archmage heard Ran scream from the hall before the journeyman stumbled past the door, flailing wildly. Barely discernible as human inside the flames.
The Firewyrm moved towards him, stepping through Brom’s head, turned to ash, and blown up to dance in the air on the same heatwaves causing the girl's hair to wave wildly about Her. She didn't seem to notice, Her face was expressionless and her eyes glowed as red as the scales across Her cheek. Morndancer tried to snap his fingers, but the golden collar around Her neck melted, Her clothes burning off and leaving Her naked and terrible in the flames.
His robe was burning now, and only the pain of that could pull his eyes from the Firewyrm as he pointlessly tried to beat the fires off. He fell back, hitting the wall, which drooped, sagging and dripping molten stone onto his head and face. Then he fell further back, into a gate that opened behind him.
Shaloon pulled him through the portal and into the library three stories up. The Firewyrm roared again and the tower walls shook with the force of it. The gate closed, but Morndancer continued to burn. He could hear screaming. Was it him? Was he screaming? Fire burst up the spiral stairs in the middle of the room, and apprentices, both their own and many sent from the central and western Talon, scrambled about in a panic, some even leaping from the windows.
Shaloon cursed, holding out her hand and summoning her sword again. She had to draw the circle five times before a second gate finally formed, and she dove through it, pulling Morndancer along with her as it quickly closed. An apprentice reached through, and his arm fell at Morndancer’s feet, miles away in the sitting room of his manor back in Smildna.
He laughed. Shaloon slapped him, and he laughed. Ronni, his daughter, burst through the door, her own daughter, only a year old, perched on her hip, and still, he laughed. “What’s wrong?! What happened to him?!” he barely registered his daughter's words and continued to laugh, rolling around on the ground in mirthful madness.
“The Firewyrm She…” Shaloon started, but Morndancer yelled over her in draconic,
“She is true! She is pure! She is rage! The children will come and raise the grandchildren! We have only to await the coming of those Chosen!” the room faded around him, becoming washed out and gray then finally black as he continued to laugh and shout, “They take those who slew them and use them to raise themselves anew…”
He couldn’t feel his burns or the hands trying to settle him. He saw only darkness and stars. And the eyes of his Master boring into his soul from the outer planes.
***
Shon couldn't remember ever feeling so drained in his life. He'd been tired before, exhausted even, but it had never felt quite like this. The eccentric Archmage Ivelm had ordered him to 'empty his energy' into stone after stone. Measuring the weight, color, and temperature of each. Making notes in chalk directly on his table and talking to himself. Shon was shocked the first time he saw the smooth rock handed to him change from a translucent white to an onyx as black as his hair, but by the time they'd gone through the twentieth stone, Shon had decided to stop counting.
Ivelm, however, seemed to get more and more excited with each one. Giving Shon reason to suspect the mage may be taking the energy for himself. After what felt like hours, Ivelm finally stoppered the potion he'd mixed with the most recent jewel, glowing a soft pale blue, and stepped back from the workbench, bony hands on bony hips.
"It can be done." Ivelm swiveled to face Nangran, "He's strong, I don’t know how he managed not to manifest until now, but it's all focused in one elemental direction." he rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling, completely ignoring Shon's arched eyebrow. "It has a bit of divine flavor as well. But I suppose that shouldn't be surprising for a training Paladin." The mage stopped musing and glared down his nose at Nangran, who had made himself comfortable in the oversized wingback chair by the fire, "It will have to be a lot bigger than a piece of jewelry would allow."
The smith just hummed and sipped at his mug. When had he gotten a mug? Shon looked from one old man to the other. It was apparent Ivelm wanted Nangran to ask him for details, but the ever stoic smith said nothing.
Shon was tired. His limbs felt heavy, and the weight of his simple uniform felt more like platemail. He was just about to ask what the Archmage meant, to hurry them along, when Ivelm threw his hands in the air and said, "You'll need to find somewhere to put it. I would recommend that." he pointed at the hilt of Shon's sword over his shoulder, continuing, "If the lad is insisting on swinging a metal stick around instead of harnessing the ultimate powers of the universe then that same stick might as well sap the power literally as well as figuratively." Shon arched an incredulous eyebrow but Ivelm wasn't paying attention, finishing, "I can get it down to about an inch and a half orb. At the smallest. If you want something different, say so now."
Nangran set his mug on the ground and stood with a grunt and a groan. Shon just wanted to go home and sleep for a week, so when the smith reached for the hilt of his sword for a closer look Shon hardly noticed, until the squat smith jerked it down to eye level. Shon swung his arms like a drowning man and stepped wide to prevent himself from falling over.
"Quit wigglin'," Nangran grumbled, studying the sword's pommel with a professional eye. "One and a half'll do, preferably in a tear…"
The mage snorted and continued to ignore the struggling half crouched Shon, his voice dripping sarcasm as he addressed the smith, "Shall I wrap it in silk for you as well?"
"Na." Nangran let go of the sword, and Shon stood straight, lifting his leg to shake out the knee. "Drop it off when you’re done." the Mage snorted again but didn't counter.
None of them were interested in extending the visit, so Nangran grabbed his heavy cloak and shrugged it on while Shon waited by the door. "It will be at least a fortnight," Ivelm called from his position by the workbench, not about to walk them out.
Nangran grunted his confirmation and opened the battered and decrepit door, letting the wind and early autumn snow blow in on their way out. Shon followed numbly, his eyes unfocused as he walked, and ran right into the much shorter man. Nangran hardly moved as Shon bounced off of him. He was squinting into the distance, one large hand shading his eyes. Shon stared at Nangran for a moment before following the direction of his gaze over the tree line.
Smoke. A LOT of smoke. The black clouds billowed violently into the sky, occasionally lit from below by sparks shot high into the air.
"Elm!" Nangran shouted. Shon had never heard the man call so loudly. The Archmage must have also been shocked because the door to his hut swung open and he stuck his head out to look to either side, eyes wide.
"Flintchest, what?" but he soon saw what, "But, that's the old chemist's tower… What?" he stood in shocked confusion for a heartbeat before turning back into the hut. Shon looked from the shack to Nangran, but before he could say anything, the mage was back, struggling with two long rods, one blue with what looked like waves painted all around, the other black and studded with diamonds.
"Don't just stand there!" Ivelm snapped at the two as he finally managed to slip the blue rod into a sheath at his side. He then pointed the diamond rod at the space between two close-growing trees. Shon heard him say something unintelligible, and one of the diamonds shot out of the tip of the rod to hover between the trees before expanding into a portal.
Beyond the magical gate, Shon could hear the fire roar. It sounded how he imagined the burning hells might sound, but as he followed the two men through, he realized his imagination was tame by comparison.
The smell of burning flesh and hair choked him as they stepped clear of the gate's magic. The heat smashed into them like a wall, and all three brought their arms up to shield their faces. Around them were the charred remains of what looked like humans, their faces buried in the mud as if they'd been trying to run from the blaze. Shon had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat and focused instead on the fire Ivelm had said was a tower.
It was completely engulfed in bright flames of all colors. Squinting through the light, he could see the stone walls melting like wax. The arch of the doorway sagged in the middle, and Shon's eyes went wide. Someone was in there.
He would've had to shout over the roar of the flames, but it didn’t matter; Ivelm was already raising the blue wand, jerking his fingers in strange ways and mouthing words impossible to hear. Water shot out the tip of the wand with the force of a ballista and hissed against the glowing stones.
It wasn't possible. It must be a trick of the flickering flames. But the figure turned its face to them, long hair whipping about as it took steps in their direction.
"Don't just stand there, boy!" Ivelm screamed. "They must have a fire-resist spell; those things don't last forever!"
Nangran grabbed Shon’s upper arm, pulling him a step closer to the fire and down so he could shout in his ear, "Freeze a path."
Shon swallowed. He was so tired, literally drained. He didn't know what to do or how to do it. But the figure in the fire reached out to them only to pull away from a drop of molten rock. Shon fell to his knees, placing his hands on the ground and pleading silently to Hengist. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to control the power. He tried picturing a path of snow between himself and the tower base, concentrating on it until the mental image overlaid the real world, as he did when imagining phantom fighters during practice.
Ice snaked its way from Shon's fingers towards the burning tower along his mental path, powered by the fear that he wouldn't be fast enough to save the person inside. The water from Ivelm's wand helped carve the way, and Shon grunted physically as he struggled to push mentally. His breathing came heavy and ragged. He could feel the fire melting the edges of the ice as if it were a part of him. Still, he fought back and forced it to continue to form into solid sheets moving closer and closer to the figure still trapped in the tower.
Wherever the ice formed solid, it stayed. The fire drawing back from it until, finally, it reached the doorway. He urged the ice to climb up the doorframe, to hold it in place and keep it from falling, from moving at all.
Shon was seeing double. He struggled to focus on the figure and flinched as they stepped onto the frozen path. The ice hissed and melted under their bare unsteady feet, he could feel it... feel them, their heat, on his ice.
It was a young woman. Or an older girl. She was naked; her clothes burned away by the fire. Her long hair was being blown forward by the heat of the burning tower, obscuring her face. As she moved closer, Shon could make out strange red stripes snaking around her body, standing in stark relief against her pale skin.
Ivelm stepped in front of him then, throwing Nangran's cloak around her shoulders as she crumpled to the ground. Nangran himself knelt beside Shon, resting one massive hand on the Squire's back. "You can stop, lad…" his voice trailed off, and Shon felt an emptiness open in his chest. No one could have survived that, not if they hadn't already made it to the entrance like the girl. As if to punctuate the thought, Shon managed to focus his eyes only to see the tower's entrance wall fold and collapse in on itself, the stones flowing like soft wax.
--- Table of Contents ---
Sorry for the double post today. I wanted to keep Ch 14 & 15 together.
Thanks for making it this far, you are the real MVP

ROUND 8: Spain 🇪🇸

FORMULA 1 AWS GRAN PREMIO DE ESPAÑA 2023
Fri 2 Jun - Sun 4 Jun
Barcelona

Session	UTC
Free Practice 1	Fri 11:30
Free Practice 2	Fri 15:00
Free Practice 3	Sat 10:30
Qualifying	Sat 14:00
Race	Sun 13:00

Click here for start times in your area.

Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

Length: 4.655 km (2.892 mi)
Distance: 66 laps, 307.104 km (190.825 mi)
Lap record: 🇳🇱 Max Verstappen, Red Bull Racing-Honda, 2021, 1:18.149
2022 pole: 🇲🇨 Charles Leclerc, Ferrari, 1:18.750
2022 fastest lap: 🇲🇽 Sergio Perez, Red Bull Racing-Honda, 1:24.108
2022 winner: 🇳🇱 Max Verstappen, Red Bull Racing-RBPT

Qualifying results

Pos.	No.	Driver	Team	Q1	Q2	Q3	Laps
1	1	Max Verstappen	Red Bull Racing Honda RBPT	1:13.615	1:12.760	1:12.272	20
2	55	Carlos Sainz	Ferrari	1:13.411	1:12.790	1:12.734	22
3	4	Lando Norris	McLaren Mercedes	1:13.295	1:12.776	1:12.792	22
4	10	Pierre Gasly	Alpine Renault	1:13.471	1:13.186	1:12.816	21
5	44	Lewis Hamilton	Mercedes	1:12.937	1:12.999	1:12.818	23
6	18	Lance Stroll	Aston Martin Aramco Mercedes	1:13.766	1:13.082	1:12.994	23
7	31	Esteban Ocon	Alpine Renault	1:13.433	1:13.001	1:13.083	21
8	27	Nico Hulkenberg	Haas Ferrari	1:13.420	1:13.283	1:13.229	18
9	14	Fernando Alonso	Aston Martin Aramco Mercedes	1:13.747	1:13.098	1:13.507	18
10	81	Oscar Piastri	McLaren Mercedes	1:13.691	1:13.059	1:13.682	20
11	11	Sergio Perez	Red Bull Racing Honda RBPT	1:13.874	1:13.334		17
12	63	George Russell	Mercedes	1:13.326	1:13.447		18
13	24	Zhou Guanyu	Alfa Romeo Ferrari	1:13.677	1:13.521		16
14	21	Nyck De Vries	AlphaTauri Honda RBPT	1:13.581	1:14.083		16
15	22	Yuki Tsunoda	AlphaTauri Honda RBPT	1:13.862	1:14.477		19
16	77	Valtteri Bottas	Alfa Romeo Ferrari	1:13.977			10
17	20	Kevin Magnussen	Haas Ferrari	1:14.042			9
18	23	Alexander Albon	Williams Mercedes	1:14.063			8
19	16	Charles Leclerc	Ferrari	1:14.079			10
20	2	Logan Sargeant	Williams Mercedes	1:14.699			6

Useful links

• F1.com: Race
• Wiki: Race Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

Streaming & Downloads

This is not the appropriate place to request or share streams and downloads. Please do not post information about streams and downloads in this thread. Thank you.

Good causes

• 🇺🇦 Want to support Ukraine? Here's a list of charities.
• 🏳️‍🌈 Support Stonewall to help improve the lives of LGBTQ+ people.

Upcoming events in other racing series

• [Sun 4 Jun, 08:00 UTC]: 2023 Jakarta E-Prix

Good day!
I have a 2021 Jeep Gladiator Rubicon, Mopar raised 2.5", with 35" tires. While I use it to commute, I like to play some, and also tow a 2016 17' Viking Travel Trailer (17BH).
When my doors are off, I lose my mirrors, and honestly would love to lose the cabin rear view mirror too. There are kits to put mirrors on the side just in front of the where the doors are, but I want to do better - I like my electronics. My ultimate goal is to find a modular system, not unlike a home or business CCTV, but unfortunately, sometimes feel like I may need to go as far as a computer. It sounds more like a fleet thing though from my searches - I'm open to suggestions for just about anything.
Desires:

• One recording unit that all cameras and displays can hook to
• GPS is tracked either embedded in the file(s) or in it's own file.
• Each camera saves it's own time stamped (not necessarily visible) video/audio file, maintaining the video resolution
• Continuous recording, with sections saved when either told to, or an event is detected
• Parking mode when I'm not in the vehicle - battery backup?
• Each display can view 1 or multiple feeds
• High resolution cameras and displays
• Night capable cameras
• Glare adjusting cameras or software filters
• Mic on some or all cameras
• Weather proof displays (No roof or doors on the Jeep during the good months in Ontario - driving through mud, rain, etc).
• Start with 6 cameras:
  • Front facing on the roof
  • Rear facing on the roof
  • Left and Right sides of the hood facing backwards
  • Rear facing in tailgate (replace the existing)
  • Interior camera facing back
• Expand cameras (3) when towing:
  • Rear facing on the top rear of the travel trailer
  • Rear facing on the sides of the trailer, placed at the front
• Sprayer to clean some (like windshield - my front trail cam has it, but not the rear?!!!)

I know it's not asking for much 🤣, so I figured someone might have a few ideas. Realistically, I doubt I can have it all, so I will make concessions, but if I don't ask I won't get it for sure!
Thoughts?
Thanks for any input

The scene faded back in to a shot of some treetops, Sammy saying "Well, even though we didn't finish, I'm glad I didn't get targeted," as the camera panned down to the Rats walking through the woods. "It was bad enough watching Leshawna and DJ go through it."
"Girl, you can't let that stuff get to you," Leshawna told her, the two girls walking at the front of their team's pack. "Sure it's humiliating, but it'll pass in time. Besides, it's not like any of us would've held your secrets against you, not when my secret was revealed."
"I hadn't thought of that," Sammy said with a contemplative look.
"We can't let our fears control us. It'll just prevent us from achieving what we want to do," Sierra told her team while focusing on her phone. She tripped on a rock and landed on her face as a result.
Confessional: Sammy
"Back home, there's this girl who's basically the princess of my school," Sammy exclaimed. "She leaks out the students' personal secrets just to get even with them or simply be mean," she gulped, "and when one of my own secrets got posted, I was teased for a week."
"Thankfully, my friends didn't bother me about it and still continued to hang out with me."
Confessional Ends
The scene cut back to the Maggots, also walking through the woods together, and focused on Anne Maria and Katie at the middle of their pack.
"This is the longest I've ever gone without using an electronic," Katie droned. "How am I gonna talk to my viewers about my day and give them advice?"
"You don't need to be on a device 24/7," Anne Maria spoke to the girl.
"Easy for you to say," Katie said snottily. "You don't have to worry about vlogs since you focus on maintaining your hair."
"Ya think that's easy?" Anne Maria retorted calmly. "I have to work overtime at a diner just to buy all the hairspray that I can afford."
Confessional: Katie
"Maybe I could've been nicer there," Katie admitted, "but my subscribers can go down if I don't upload anything."
Confessional Ends
The shot cut ahead to Scarlett and Molly, the former looking like she's been listening to the conversation behind her. "Chris has created a disadvantage for us by taking away Katie's gadget right before the game!"
"True, but Chris thankfully had the decency to end the challenge before he could reveal any more of our embarrassments," Molly said.
"The host just thrives off our pain and suffering," Scarlett summarized.
"You can say that again," Molly told her. "Sociopathy is something that could be cured, but Chris is way long gone."
\
"Welcome, players!" Chris announced over the loudspeaker again, the camera cutting down to ground level to show the Rats meeting up with the Maggots again. "Now that you're all here, it's time for part two of today's challenge," the host continued, the shot zooming out to show all thirteen campers standing in some sort of wide field of mud with a wooden ramp leading up off-camera on the right.
"The 'Mad Skills Obstacle Course'," Chris announced, the shot cutting to him standing on some patch of grass.
"The relay race begins with a mad dash from the Kick Start," the shot cut to the wooden platform at the other end of the ramp, where an absurdly large rubber root was connected by wooden shaft and gear to a pole sticking up out of the platform. "Forget coffee," the host said as the boot swung squeakily back and forth in demonstration, "if this baby doesn't get you goin', nothin' will."
"Then it's off to the race against time that is the Cannonball Run," Chris said, the camera following his motion further onward to another stretch of wooden platform. Several cannons situated below suddenly blew gaping holes in it, and the shot zoomed out to show several more cannons hooked up to a scaffold over the platform and aimed downward.
"Over to my personal fave," the shot moved to the end of the platform where a log had been set up to rotate on its side, "Wrecking Ball Alley! Hurts so good," he said as the camera panned across and the titular wrecking ball swung down over the rolling log.
"And moving on," the shot cut next to a few higher, disconnected, and generally precarious platforms, "we head to the Gang Plank, complete with rabid mutant beavers." The shot cut to the mud pit at the bottom where two giant wooly beavers with boney spikes along their back were busily chewing through the poles the gang plank platforms were on.
"Followed by," the shot cut to a close-up of a large, red, butt-shaped apparatus that was moving up and down, "the bouncy agony of Double Trouble." The shot zoomed out to show four of the butt-shaped things moving up and down between two platforms.
"And finally," Chris said, "the Grand Slam," the shot cut to several giant baseball bats sticking up out of the mud surrounding an equally giant baseball mitt, "where you'll use ropes to swing into the giant baseball mitt, while avoiding those deadly bats." The shot zoomed in on the mitt, then panned over to one of the bats as a small red bird flew head-first into it, knocking it out with a clonk. "Piece of cake," Chris said with a chuckle as the shot cut back to the staring and nervous campers.
"Oh, and as you may remember," the host added, "I said that the winning team from part one would have a distinct advantage in part two?"
"But there was no winner!" Sierra reminded the host. "You canceled the first part!"
"Yeah, don't remind me," Chris answered in annoyance. "The losing team was gonna wear snazzy specs while competing," he explained with a chipper smile, "but since we never actually finished the competition," he became annoyed again, "I've decided that everybody has to wear them!" He laughed, and the campers looked behind them to see Chef Hatchet holding a cardboard box.
Dave was the first to step forward, taking out one of the pairs of glasses – thick, ugly things that almost seemed to have a greenish tint to them – and put them on. His brow shot up immediately. "Hey, what's with the old glasses?" he asked. "We won't be able to see anything wearing these!" The perspective shifted to demonstrate what he was seeing, which was little more than an incredibly blurry shot of the forest and some unknown body of water.
"Dorktacular goggles won't make part two easy," Chris said, "or attractive," he shrugged, "but it can be done. In theory."
The campers groaned.
"Since the Maggots have one more player than the Rats," Chris added on, "one of them has to sit this one out."
"It should be Katie," Scarlett suggested to her team, "She's still suffering from her tech withdrawal."
"Fine by me," Molly boldly said. "I don't want her losing for us."
"Competitors, take your positions!" he said, and the footage flashed forward to show Anne Maria and Geoff together near the edge of the first platform, the jersey shore reject waving her hands in front of her face in order to see. "First up at the Kick Start it's Anne Maria against Geoff," the host said before the shot moved on to the next pair. "Then, it's DJ versus Sammy," the brickhouse and nervous cheerleader looked about before the shot pulled back to show the cannons, "versus the Cannonballs."
"Molly faces Scott in Wrecking Ball Alley," the indie chick and devious stared at each other, the former more competitively. "B is up against Scarlett in the Gang Plank," the camera cut to the base of the ladder then panned all the way up to it to the strong, silent genius and the quiet brainiac on top, "Dave and Leshawna will battle Double Trouble," the normal guy looked warily at the butt-shaped apparatus in front of him while the sista just cracked her knuckles, "and, Sierra will fight Trent for the Grand Slam." The obsessive uberfan nervously looked around while the cool guy tried to maintain his balance, the shot moving out to show the baseball mitt.
"First team to finish wins the whoooole shebang," Chris explained. "And, the other team loses a member tonight! Since it's a relay race," he added, "you'll need something to pass: your mascots," he said with a grin. "Oh, intern~!"
A scrawny white boy with his long black hair flipped over his eyes walked up to Geoff and Anne Maria holding a pair of pet carriers; whatever was inside was snarling angrily enough for the two competitors to exchange a wary look. "Team Rat gets a mutant rat," Chris announced as the intern thrust a large, squealing, six-legged hairless rat into Geoff's arms. "And Team Maggot gets," the host continued, "a mutant maggot," a large, slimy green maggot was thrust into Anne Maria's arms.
"Ew. It's a what?" Anne Maria said in surprise.
"Aaaand," Chris said as he prepared an airhorn, "go!"
At the sound of the horn the giant boot swung down on the two campers. With a yelp Anne Maria managed to duck out of the way, but Geoff was not so lucky and got sent flying with a scream. He landed in the mud between platforms, but kept the rat held high. It burped as Chris said "And Geoff gets the boot!"
Anne Maria hopped across the gap between platforms with the maggot in her arms.
"Anne Maria takes the early lead," Chris continued, and the jersey girl ran up to DJ.
"Here!" Anne Maria held out their mascot.
"I'll take this cute critter from here," DJ took the maggot from her, then turned and ran off down the course.
"Yeah, I got it goin' on," Anne Maria walked back the opposite way...and blindly fell into the gap between platforms, landing with a squelch of mud.
The shot cut to DJ as he ran along his part of the platform. He slammed face-first into a post, then recoiled a few steps. He vigorously shook his head and sidestepped around the post. He only got another two steps before a sudden cannon volley through the floor in front of him forced him to a stop with a yelp.
Now covered in mud, Geoff ran along the first part of the platform with his rat held out in front of him. He jumped the gap, and soon reached Sammy. "We're already far behind! Go!" the party boy held out their team's mascot.
"Got it!" Sammy said, grabbing the rat and running off.
"The Rats take the lead!" Chris called out as Sammy caught up to DJ at the start of the cannonball run. Another cannon fired towards them, forcing both to dart and duck out of the way.
"Okay," Sammy assured herself, "I just have to dodge a bunch of cannons that are impossible to see!" She charged forward, leaving DJ to chase after her.
"Time to try again," DJ added in.
The scene moved to Scott and Molly waiting at the start of the next leg. Sammy ran up and thrust the rat into Scott's arms, panting after she did so.
"Wow. We're in the lead? Great," Scott realized and started to walk slowly. "Nice and slow, all the way to last place. Right, little guy?" He told the rat while walking along the rolling log, but the rat bit him in the chin. He howled painfully and missed the wrecking ball swinging down at him. It caught him and sent him flying, all the way into B.
"Faster, DJ!" Molly yelled as DJ ran up to her and handed over their maggot.
"Good luck," DJ supported Molly as she headed for the rolling logs.
Scott was lying on the floor and petting the rat with B watching as the shot cut back to them.
"Aww, who's my good freak? Who's my good little freak?" Scott faux affectionately talked to the rat in order to slow them down as B was signaling him to pass it to him. "There, there, little guy. Uncle Scotty kept you safe and sound." He saw B waiting. "Oh, do you want this? Why didn't you say so, Beverly?"
Having enough, B took the rat before putting it in his pocket and jumped on to the first precariously isolated platform. It immediately started to wobble and sink, and B quietly cried out in alarm as the camera quick-panned to the base revealing the two mutant beavers making quick work of the pole, causing him to fall down into the mud. He recovered and saw the two ferocious-looking beavers he had landed next to.
Molly was looking up and back just in time to see the wrecking ball swinging towards her. She jumped up, safely grabbing on to the ball and allowing it to carry her forward. She jumped off at the extent of its swing, and sailed further on through the air.
The camera quick-panned over to B as he hastily sculpted a female beaver out of mud. The two beavers looked past the muddy feel and fell in love with it. As they ran over to hug it, B sneakily slipped past.
"And in a surprisingly touching move, B extends the Rats' lead," Chris announced out loud.
Scott was watching from where he landed. "Oh, come on!" he whined in disappointment.
"Go now!" Molly told Scarlett as she handed the maggot over, Scarlett immediately turning.
The beavers stopped hugging the mud sculptured beaver when the head fell off. Realizing that they were tricked, they soon turned vengeful.
Scarlett hopped to the first platform. It immediately wobbled thanks to the beavers gnawing the leg, taking Scarlett down.
"Alright, my brotha!" Leshawna cheered and took the rat from the tired B. "Let me take it from here."
Leshawna threw herself on to the first butt-shaped thing, landed, and bounced off it without a word. She continued on in this way, bouncing from one to the next until eventually she reached the end. "Sierra, take it!" she yelled to her teammate, the fangirl waiting with her back turned at the edge of the next platform.
Despite stretching her rat-holding arms out towards him as she fell, Leshawna was unable to make the pass-off in time before falling completely past her and landing in the mud. "What?" Sierra said as she finally turned around. "Aww. I missed the catch."
The shot cut to Leshawna face down in the mud. The mutant rat scampered out of her grasp. With a growl, Leshawna scrambled to her feet and chased after it screaming "Get back here!"
"Here you go," Scarlett told her teammate as the shot cut back to her holding the muddy and slimy maggot out to him.
"Got it!" Dave said as he reached out for the mutated larva.
It promptly vomited onto his face.
"IT THREW UP ON ME!!!" Dave freaked out and ran while one of the beavers grabbed Scarlett's head and dragged her down.
The perspective briefly changed to show the blurry obstacle that Dave was approaching, then changed back to his head-on close-up as he became visibly determined.
"The quicker I finish this, the quicker I can clean up!" Dave told himself just as he jumped onto the first butt-shaped object; he landed on his chest with a pained yelp and bounced off, continuing on painfully from one bouncy apparatus to the next until eventually he landed on his chest on the far platform with a slam and a groan.
"And Dave takes back the lead for the Maggots!" Chris announced, the camera cutting to him and Chef on their chairs. "He really doesn't like to get messy."
"Alright, it's my turn!" Trent declared confidently, turning proudly towards the end of the course.
"Hurry up!" Dave told him impatiently.
The camera panned back to the left, passing Dave and reaching Sierra just as Leshawna forced their team's mascot into her arms. "Here!" she commanded.
"Sorry I didn't catch it in time," Sierra apologized.
"It's like they say on Blackcomb Mountain. "Best glimpse of heaven's on the way into-" Trent said before reaching the giant mitt and saw how far it was. "Hello."
Meanwhile, Scarlett was in danger courtesy of the two beavers.
"I would ask if you detach from me now," Scarlett begged while a beaver took out a bottle of ketchup and licked their teeth. "I warned you," Scarlett growled before kicking both of their groins, making them moan. "If you had simply not taken me, then I wouldn't have had to resort to kicking you two. I show no sympathy."
Sierra had finally caught up to Trent in the Grand Slam. "This is like the electric eel part of the trust challenge from season one," Sierra talked to herself before grabbing one of the ropes that had been loosely tied there and swung off.
She passed between the baseball bats, and planted her feet on the baseball mitt. Sierra slowly lost her standing and fell into the mud. "Being splattered by mud is better than being electrocuted I guess," she laughed a bit.
Back at the edge of the platform, Trent grabbed the end of the other rope. He unleashed his own terrified cry as he swung blindly through the Grand Slam, and almost made it to the mitt – but slammed into one of the last bats with his legs spread wide. He painfully groaned as he slid down into the mud.
The footage skipped ahead to show a muddy Sierra running up for her second go, the ropes once again tied to a post on the side of the platform. "This time, I should swing higher. Then I'll be on the mitt for sure," the blogger discussed with herself.
"C'mon Sierra!" Geoff called out to her, the shot cutting to show him and the other Rats standing on a nearby platform without the glasses that had been forced on them. "Swing!"
Sierra grabbed one of the ropes again and jumped off. She stuck her legs out in front of her and passed by each bat in turn. However, her muddy hands caused her to fall from the rope just before she reached the mitt and she fell into the mud.
The Rats all groaned.
The camera panned past them and on to Trent, who had grabbed his own rope again and was sizing up his next swing. "My team needs the win," he told himself, tucking the maggot under his arm as he used his fingers to frame his target.
The music turned triumphant as he ran forward and swung off. He hit all the bats, and the peak of his swing put him just about over the mitt. It was then that he let go of the rope and fell down towards the goal, landing on his head as the maggot landed on top of him.
"The Maggots win!" Chris announced, and the maggot mascot threw up on the musician.
The Maggots cheered, having also discarded their glasses, while the five nearby members of the Toxic Rats groaned once more.
"To the Maggots, the spoils," Chris announced as Chef walked over to the winning team holding some kind of gift basket. "McLean Brand Soap, Shampoo, and Conditioner. Guaranteed to wash off the stink!" the host listed over a close-up of the gift basket, showing off its contents against a radiant yellow background.
"I'll definitely keep those in handy!" Dave said with a smile.
"Make sure not to hog all of it," Katie reminded him.
Confessional: Katie
"If my team was up for elimination, I probably would have been the one eliminated, and I wouldn't have my tablet with me. I dodged a bullet there," Katie cheered.
Confessional Ends
"Rats, see you at the elimination ceremony!' Chris added with his usual smile.
The five members of the Rats groaned for a third time. "I could've used the reward to wash off the mess," Leshawna groaned.
Sierra moaned as she got off the muddy floor, coughing up mud in the process. "Losing two times in a row? That's not gonna go well for my blog."
\
The footage flashed ahead to all of the Toxic Rats except for B and Sierra assembled at the steps leading up to their cabin. The camera focused on Scott, who was standing on the ground in front of the others. "All right, guys. Sierra's gotta go. She lost the challenge for us, and she's more focused on using her phone than competing most of the time."
"Now hang on!" Geoff replied. "So she made a mistake and slipped up. We aren't robots. I'm thinking we should give her a second chance."
"Sierra is also a big fan of the show," Sammy said. "Voting her off this early wouldn't be fair to her."
"Fair, smhair," Leshawna muttered. "If eliminating her allows us to sleep without being disturbed by her constant texting to her friends, I'm all for it."
\
The footage flashed ahead again to show the Toxic Rats at the campfire pit, Chef and Chris standing before them with their respective marshmallows.
"Ready?" Chris asked. "Everyone gets a marshmallow, even the loser!" The shot cut to a close-up of the strongbox in Chef's mitted hands. "But that's one marshmallow you do not wanna eat," Chris added as his assistant flipped the lid up and revealed the bright glowing thing inside.
"To the votes! The following people are safe," the host said, picking up the first normal marshmallow off his tray. "Geoff." The party guy caught his prize with a smile.
"Leshawna." The sista sitting next to him was next, satisfied as she caught her marshmallow.
"Scott." The devious, slumped forward, raised his free left hand and caught his prize.
"And Sammy." The nervous cheerleader allowed her marshmallow to fall into her open hands.
"Which leaves, Sierra and Bev," Chris announced, earning a nervous look from both teens.
"What?" Sierra asked in shock.
"And the Marshmallow of Loserdom goes to," Chris said, trailing off as the camera slowly zoomed in on the faces of the bottom two nervous campers.
"Sierra," the host finished.
"Me? But why?" Sierra sputtered in shock while B caught his marshmallow with his mouth.
"Don't know and don't care," Chris said. "You're out."
Sierra dodged the toxic marshmallow thrown her way. "It is what it is, but one last thing!" She whipped out her phone and snapped a photo of her and her teammates, blinding their eyesight and making them audibly yelp. "#ToxicRatsForever!" she enthusiastically claimed and ran to the Hurl of Shame.
\
The footage cut over to the Dock of Shame, the camera zoomed in on Chris and Sierra in the catapult's bucket.
"Any last words before we give you the Hurl of Shame?" Chris asked.
"Of course. Can I have a self-" Sierra said before Chris unflinchingly launched her into the air. Sierra finished with a scream as she disappeared into the night.
Chris laughed. "It was a rhetorical question. Two hurls down, twelve to go! Who will be eliminated next?" he asked the camera. "Tune in, and find out, on Total! Drama! Revenge! Of! The Island!"
(Roll the Credits)

Hi all, first post here.
I have ordered a set of the new Mavic Ksyrium 30 disc wheels for general road use. Even though Mavic says they accept a max of 32mm tires, I am still planning to run 33mm CX tires on them and race once the season starts sometime in september! They have an internal diameter of 19mm. I am guessing it will be fine (?).
It would be my first tubeless tire install ever as I have formerly raced on tubulars on the old rim brake bikes and clinchers on the road. Tubulars would have been my first choice but I'm not sure if I can afford new tubular disc wheels before the cross season! (I am switching from an old rim brake bike)
First of all, does anyone have experiences on the Ksyrium 30 disc wheels for cyclocross? What would be a good fitting tubeless tire to get a reliable setup with these wheels? Are all tubeless tires fully compatible nowadays, as in will they all install without problems and with no likely burping issues? For tubulars I have used pressures like 20-24 PSI, do you think I should up the pressure a bit to avoid rim damage and/or tire burping just to be safe?
I am probably looking for mud tires like Grifo or the Terreno Wets since there have been rain or mud almost every race this past few seasons.
Performance is kinda secondary, enjoyment and finishing the races with a functioning bike is the top priority for me, especially with regards to this tubeless setup as I have no experience with it! Thanks.

2.26.0.25 -> 2.26.0.34 Part 5

• Functionalities : Battle Auto Start : Gaijin, Devs, Testers -> Everyone
• Number of French Bluewater to unlock rank 5 : 2 -> 1
• "Invincible Yak Pilot" challenge can now also be achieved with the Yak-9B, Yak-28B, Yak-38, Yak-38M and Yak-141

BR changes :

• R3 T 20 FA-HS : 4.7 / 5.0 / 5.0 -> 4.7 / 5.7 / 5.7
• BTR-80A : 5.7 -> 7.0
• Type 87 RCV (P) : 5.7 -> 7.3
• Vijayanta : 7.3 / 7.7 / 7.7 -> 8.0

Statcard and X-Ray changes :

• F-100A :
  • Engine model : J57P7 -> J57P21
  • Engine mass : 900 -> 2361 kg
  • Max Speed : 1370.16 -> 1458 km/h
  • Climb Speed : 121 -> 132 m/s
• F-100D (all) :
  • Engine mass : 900 -> 2361 kg
  • Max Speed : 1458 -> 1432.8 km/h
  • Climb Speed : 79.2 -> 105 m/s
• Object 435 :
  • Hull Thickness : [100.0, 80.0, 45.0] -> [120.0, 80.0, 40.0] mm
  • Turret Thickness : [200.0, 160.0, 66.0] -> [250.0, 160.0, 65.0] mm
• Vijayanta : Operator country : UK -> India
• Ise :
  • Citadel Thickness : [224.0, 299.0, 32.0] -> [200.0, 300.0, 32.0] mm
  • Anti-torpedo bulge = 250 mm
• Jeanne d'Arc : Max Speed : 50.04 -> 51.48 km/h

New vehicles:

• GL 832 HY (FR) :
  • Rank 1
  • BR : 1.3
  • Hidden
  • Non-researchable vehicle
  • Stock Repair Cost : 230 / 420 / 130 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 283 / 517 / 160 SL
• PBY-5A (late) (FR) :
  • Rank 1
  • BR : 1.7 / 1.7 / 2.0
  • 550 GE premium
  • Repair Cost : 180 / 230 / 180 SL
• Paris (FR) :
  • Rank 5
  • BR : 6.3
  • Located after the Colbert
  • Stock Repair Cost : 18220 / 24340 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 22884 / 30571 SL
• Lorraine (FR) :
  • Rank 5
  • BR : 6.7
  • Located after the Paris
  • Stock Repair Cost : 22910 / 32110 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 28774 / 40330 SL

Tech-tree changes:

• BTR-80A (USSR) :
  • Rank : 4 -> 5
  • Located after the PT-76B -> Located after the SU-100P
• ASU-85 (USSR) : Located after the BTR-80A -> Located after the PT-76B
• BMP-1 (USSR) : Located after the SU-100P -> Located after the BTR-80A
• Vijayanta (UK) :
  • Hidden for everyone -> Shown for everyone
  • 8200 GE premium -> 8560 GE premium
• Type 87 RCV (P) (JP) :
  • Rank : 4 -> 5
  • Located after the M4A3(76)W -> Located after the Type 60 APC (ATM-1)
• M41A1 (JP) : Located after the Type 87 RCV (P) -> Located after the M4A3(76)W
• Type 87 RCV (JP) : Located after the Type 60 APC (ATM-1) -> Located after the Type 87 RCV (P)
• VBCI 2 (MCT-30) (FR) : Hidden for everyone -> Shown for everyone

Economy changes :

• A-6E (TRAM) :
  • Number of modifications needed to unlock Tier 4 : 3 -> 4
  • Modification changes : Added NVD as Tier 3 modification
• Étendard IV M :
  • Stock Repair Cost : 3590 / 10810 / 19890 -> 4150 / 12510 / 23020 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 4878 / 14690 / 27030 -> 5639 / 17001 / 31284 SL
  • Modification changes :
    • Airframe :
      • Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : Fuselage repair
      • Added Category : Flight performance
    • New boosters : Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : Compressor
    • Wings repair : Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : Airframe
    • Engine : Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : New boosters
    • Cover :
      • Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : Wings repair
      • Added Category : Flight performance
    • G-suit : Added Category : Survivability
• F-14B :
  • Stock Repair Cost : 4560 / 9160 / 15250 -> 4160 / 8360 / 13920 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 7542 / 15150 / 25223 -> 7542 / 15156 / 25236 SL
  • Modification changes :
    • Added NVD as Tier 1 modification
    • 20 mm air targets belt : Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : G-suit
    • Compressor :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.045 -> 0.049
      • GE cost : 450 -> 460
    • Fuselage repair :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.008 -> 0.009
      • GE cost : 450 -> 460
    • LAU-10/A : GE cost : 450 -> 460
    • LANTIRN : GE cost : 450 -> 460
    • Flares/Chaff :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.136 -> 0.149
      • GE cost : 450 -> 460
    • Flares/Chaff BOL :
      • Added Required modification : Flares/Chaff
      • Tier : 1 -> 2
      • RP cost : 18000 -> 17000
      • GE cost : 450 -> 440
    • New boosters :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.025 -> 0.027
      • RP cost : 20000 -> 17000
      • GE cost : 490 -> 440
    • Airframe :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.056 -> 0.062
      • RP cost : 20000 -> 17000
      • GE cost : 490 -> 440
    • 20 mm belts :
      • Removed Previous modification (visually, not required) : Flares/Chaff
      • RP cost : 20000 -> 17000
      • GE cost : 490 -> 440
    • Mk82 :
      • RP cost : 20000 -> 17000
      • GE cost : 490 -> 440
    • GBU-12 :
      • RP cost : 20000 -> 17000
      • GE cost : 490 -> 440
    • AIM-7M :
      • RP cost : 20000 -> 17000
      • GE cost : 490 -> 440
    • Wings repair :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.064 -> 0.071
      • GE cost : 470 -> 490
    • G-suit :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.063 -> 0.069
      • GE cost : 470 -> 490
    • New 20 mm cannons/MGs :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.018 -> 0.02
      • GE cost : 470 -> 490
    • Mk83 : GE cost : 470 -> 490
    • GBU-16 : GE cost : 470 -> 490
    • AIM-9L : GE cost : 470 -> 490
    • AIM-54A : GE cost : 470 -> 490
    • Engine :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.096 -> 0.105
      • GE cost : 720 -> 750
    • Cover :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.055 -> 0.06
      • GE cost : 720 -> 750
    • EFS :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.088 -> 0.096
      • GE cost : 720 -> 750
    • Mk84 : GE cost : 720 -> 750
    • GBU-10 : GE cost : 720 -> 750
    • AIM-54C : GE cost : 720 -> 750
• F-100A : Modification changes :
  • Added Mk82 as Tier 1 modification
  • Fuselage repair : GE cost : 320 -> 340
  • Compressor : GE cost : 320 -> 340
  • M116A2 : GE cost : 320 -> 340
  • M117 :
    • Added Required modification : Mk82
    • Tier : 1 -> 2
    • RP cost : 10000 -> 9100
    • GE cost : 320 -> 310
  • Airframe :
    • RP cost : 11000 -> 9100
    • GE cost : 350 -> 310
  • New boosters :
    • RP cost : 11000 -> 9100
    • GE cost : 350 -> 310
  • 20 mm belts :
    • RP cost : 11000 -> 9100
    • GE cost : 350 -> 310
  • AGM-12B Bullpup :
    • RP cost : 11000 -> 9100
    • GE cost : 350 -> 310
  • Wings repair : GE cost : 550 -> 580
  • M65 : GE cost : 550 -> 580
  • AIM-9B : GE cost : 550 -> 580
  • Cover : GE cost : 420 -> 440
  • Engine : GE cost : 420 -> 440
  • G-suit : GE cost : 420 -> 440
  • New 20 mm cannons/MGs : GE cost : 420 -> 440
  • AIM-9E : GE cost : 420 -> 440
• J8F : Modification changes :
  • Removed PL11 modification
  • Compressor : GE cost : 350 -> 330
  • Fuselage repair : GE cost : 350 -> 330
  • Flares/Chaff : GE cost : 350 -> 330
  • 23 mm belts : GE cost : 350 -> 330
  • PL5B : GE cost : 350 -> 330
  • New boosters :
    • RP cost : 24000 -> 30000
    • GE cost : 400 -> 470
  • Airframe :
    • RP cost : 24000 -> 30000
    • GE cost : 400 -> 470
  • G-suit :
    • RP cost : 24000 -> 30000
    • GE cost : 400 -> 470
  • HF-6 :
    • RP cost : 24000 -> 30000
    • GE cost : 400 -> 470
  • PL8 :
    • Tier : 2 -> 3
    • RP cost : 24000 -> 44000
    • GE cost : 400 -> 690
  • Wings repair : GE cost : 730 -> 690
  • New 23 mm cannons/MGs : GE cost : 730 -> 690
  • Engine : GE cost : 710 -> 670
  • Cover : GE cost : 710 -> 670
  • EFS : GE cost : 710 -> 670
  • Type 250 : GE cost : 710 -> 670
• MiG-23MF :
  • Stock Repair Cost : 3340 / 7720 / 11900 -> 3790 / 8770 / 13510 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 5524 / 12768 / 19682 -> 5510 / 12751 / 19643 SL
  • Modification changes :
    • Compressor : Repair cost coefficient : 0.045 -> 0.039
    • Fuselage repair : Repair cost coefficient : 0.008 -> 0.007
    • Flares/Chaff : Removed Repair cost coefficient : 0.136
    • New boosters : Repair cost coefficient : 0.025 -> 0.022
    • Airframe : Repair cost coefficient : 0.056 -> 0.049
    • Wings repair : Repair cost coefficient : 0.064 -> 0.057
    • G-suit : Repair cost coefficient : 0.063 -> 0.055
    • New 23 mm cannons/MGs : Repair cost coefficient : 0.018 -> 0.016
    • Engine : Repair cost coefficient : 0.096 -> 0.084
    • Cover : Repair cost coefficient : 0.055 -> 0.048
    • EFS : Repair cost coefficient : 0.088 -> 0.077
• MiG-23M :
  • Stock Repair Cost : 3410 / 8560 / 13770 -> 3870 / 9720 / 15640 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 5640 / 14158 / 22775 -> 5626 / 14132 / 22740 SL
  • Modification changes :
    • Compressor : Repair cost coefficient : 0.045 -> 0.039
    • Fuselage repair : Repair cost coefficient : 0.008 -> 0.007
    • Flares/Chaff : Removed Repair cost coefficient : 0.136
    • New boosters : Repair cost coefficient : 0.025 -> 0.022
    • Airframe : Repair cost coefficient : 0.056 -> 0.049
    • Wings repair : Repair cost coefficient : 0.064 -> 0.057
    • G-suit : Repair cost coefficient : 0.063 -> 0.055
    • New 23 mm cannons/MGs : Repair cost coefficient : 0.018 -> 0.016
    • Engine : Repair cost coefficient : 0.096 -> 0.084
    • Cover : Repair cost coefficient : 0.055 -> 0.048
    • EFS : Repair cost coefficient : 0.088 -> 0.077
• Mirage 2000 C S5 :
  • Stock Repair Cost : 4980 / 9550 / 15740 -> 4550 / 8720 / 14360 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 8187 / 15700 / 25876 -> 8190 / 15696 / 25848 SL
  • Modification changes :
    • Added NVD as Tier 3 modification
    • Compressor :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.044 -> 0.049
      • GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • Fuselage repair :
      • Added Category : Flight performance
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.008 -> 0.009
      • GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • Flares/Chaff :
      • Added Category : Survivability
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.135 -> 0.148
      • GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • 30 mm belts : GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • New boosters :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.013 -> 0.014
      • RP cost : 18000 -> 14000
      • GE cost : 500 -> 410
    • Airframe :
      • Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : Fuselage repair
      • Added Category : Flight performance
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.056 -> 0.061
      • RP cost : 18000 -> 14000
      • GE cost : 500 -> 410
    • Type 25C :
      • RP cost : 18000 -> 14000
      • GE cost : 500 -> 410
    • Matra 530F :
    • Removed Previous modification (visually, not required) : Flares/Chaff
      • RP cost : 18000 -> 14000
      • GE cost : 500 -> 410
    • Wings repair :
      • Previous modification (visually, not required) : New boosters -> Airframe
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.064 -> 0.07
      • GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • G-suit :
      • Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : Flares/Chaff
      • Tier : 3 -> 2
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.063 -> 0.068
      • RP cost : 16000 -> 14000
      • GE cost : 440 -> 410
    • New 30 mm cannons/MGs :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.025 -> 0.027
      • GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • Matra JL-100R : GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • Matra 530D : GE cost : 440 -> 470
    • Engine :
      • Previous modification (visually, not required) : Wings repair -> New boosters
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.095 -> 0.105
      • GE cost : 720 -> 760
    • Cover :
      • Added Previous modification (visually, not required) : Wings repair
      • Added Category : Flight performance
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.054 -> 0.059
      • GE cost : 720 -> 760
    • EFS :
      • Previous modification (visually, not required) : New 30 mm cannons/MGs -> NVD
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.087 -> 0.095
      • GE cost : 720 -> 760
    • Matra R550 Magic 2 : GE cost : 720 -> 760
• Mirage 2000 D R1 :
  • Stock Repair Cost : 5100 / 9790 / 16120 -> 4670 / 8950 / 14750 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 8190 / 15722 / 25888 -> 8195 / 15707 / 25886 SL
  • Modification changes :
    • Added NVD as Tier 3 modification
    • Compressor :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.043 -> 0.047
      • GE cost : 290 -> 310
    • Fuselage repair :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.008 -> 0.009
      • GE cost : 290 -> 310
    • Flares/Chaff :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.132 -> 0.144
      • GE cost : 290 -> 310
    • Gun pod CC-630 : GE cost : 290 -> 310
    • Type 25C : GE cost : 290 -> 310
    • CLDP : GE cost : 290 -> 310
    • AS30L : GE cost : 290 -> 310
    • New boosters :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.013 -> 0.014
      • GE cost : 580 -> 610
    • Airframe :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.055 -> 0.06
      • GE cost : 580 -> 610
    • G-suit :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.061 -> 0.067
      • GE cost : 580 -> 610
    • GBU-12 : GE cost : 580 -> 610
    • Wings repair :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.063 -> 0.068
      • RP cost : 26000 -> 22000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 450
    • Cover :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.053 -> 0.058
      • RP cost : 26000 -> 22000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 450
    • 30 mm belts :
      • RP cost : 26000 -> 22000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 450
    • Matra JL-100R :
      • RP cost : 26000 -> 22000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 450
    • GBU-16 :
      • RP cost : 26000 -> 22000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 450
    • Engine :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.093 -> 0.102
      • GE cost : 840 -> 880
    • EFS :
      • Previous modification (visually, not required) : G-suit -> NVD
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.085 -> 0.093
      • GE cost : 840 -> 880
    • BGL-1000 : GE cost : 840 -> 880
    • GBU-24 : GE cost : 840 -> 880
• Tornado G.R. Mk. 1 :
  • Number of modifications needed to unlock Tier 4 : 2 -> 3
  • Modification changes :
    • Added PGM 500 as Tier 3 modification
    • Added PGM 2000 as Tier 4 modification
    • Compressor : GE cost : 330 -> 370
    • Fuselage repair : GE cost : 330 -> 370
    • Flares/Chaff : GE cost : 330 -> 370
    • 27 mm belts : GE cost : 330 -> 370
    • 1000 LB : GE cost : 330 -> 370
    • New boosters : GE cost : 470 -> 530
    • Airframe : GE cost : 470 -> 530
    • G-suit : GE cost : 470 -> 530
    • GR.1B TIALD : GE cost : 470 -> 530
    • Wings repair :
      • RP cost : 33000 -> 26000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 460
    • Cover :
      • RP cost : 33000 -> 26000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 460
    • New 27 mm cannons/MGs :
      • RP cost : 33000 -> 26000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 460
    • Mk.13/18 :
      • RP cost : 33000 -> 26000
      • GE cost : 510 -> 460
    • Engine :
      • RP cost : 57000 -> 43000
      • GE cost : 890 -> 750
    • EFS :
      • RP cost : 57000 -> 43000
      • GE cost : 890 -> 750
    • GBU-24 :
      • RP cost : 57000 -> 43000
      • GE cost : 890 -> 750
• BTR-80A :
  • RP Cost : 46000 -> 95000 RP
  • SL Cost : 170000 -> 270000 SL
  • Crew Cost : 48000 -> 78000 SL
  • Expert Crew Cost : 170000 -> 270000 SL
  • Ace Crew Cost : 440000 / 630 -> 670000 RP / 1100 GE
  • Stock Repair Cost : 1480 / 1520 / 2180 -> 3190 / 3280 / 4610 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 2326 / 2389 / 3426 -> 5014 / 5156 / 7246 SL
  • SL multiplier : 0.71 / 0.84 / 1.1 -> 0.95 / 1.13 / 1.48
  • RP multiplier : 1.6 -> 1.9
  • Modification changes :
    • Added 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm UOR6 HEF-T
    • Added 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm APDS APDS / 30 mm UOR6 HEF-T (modification) as Tier 4 modification
    • Parts :
      • RP cost : 2000 -> 2100
      • GE cost : 150 -> 170
    • Tires :
      • RP cost : 2000 -> 3300
      • GE cost : 150 -> 170
    • Horizontal Drive :
      • RP cost : 2000 -> 3300
      • GE cost : 150 -> 170
    • 30 mm HE HEF-I / 30 mm HE HEF-I / 30 mm HE HEF-I / 30 mm APT AP-T (modification) :
      • RP cost : 2000 -> 3300
      • GE cost : 150 -> 170
    • FPE :
      • RP cost : 1500 -> 2000
      • GE cost : 120 -> 160
    • Suspension :
      • RP cost : 1500 -> 3100
      • GE cost : 120 -> 160
    • Brake System :
      • RP cost : 1500 -> 3100
      • GE cost : 120 -> 160
    • Adjustment of Fire :
      • RP cost : 1500 -> 3100
      • GE cost : 120 -> 160
    • Airstrike :
      • RP cost : 1500 -> 3100
      • GE cost : 120 -> 160
    • NVD :
      • RP cost : 1500 -> 3100
      • GE cost : 120 -> 160
    • Filters :
      • RP cost : 2500 -> 6900
      • GE cost : 190 -> 360
    • Elevation Mechanism :
      • RP cost : 2500 -> 6900
      • GE cost : 190 -> 360
    • Crew Replenishment :
      • RP cost : 2500 -> 6900
      • GE cost : 190 -> 360
    • 30 mm APT AP-T / 30 mm APT AP-T / 30 mm APT AP-T / 30 mm UOR6 HEF-T (modification) :
      • Tier : 3 -> 1
      • RP cost : 2500 -> 3300
      • GE cost : 190 -> 170
    • Transmission :
      • RP cost : 2600 -> 4500
      • GE cost : 200 -> 240
    • Engine :
      • RP cost : 2600 -> 4500
      • GE cost : 200 -> 240
    • Artillery Support :
      • RP cost : 2600 -> 4500
      • GE cost : 200 -> 240
    • Improved optics :
      • RP cost : 2600 -> 4500
      • GE cost : 200 -> 240
    • Smoke grenade :
      • RP cost : 2600 -> 4500
      • GE cost : 200 -> 240
  • Talisman : 1400 -> 2000 GE
• Object 435 :
  • Stock Repair Cost : 6280 / 7150 / 7120 -> 5510 / 6280 / 6250 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 7768 / 8844 / 8807 -> 7603 / 8666 / 8625 SL
  • Modification changes :
    • Added Artillery Support as Tier 4 modification
    • Added NVD as Tier 4 modification
    • Parts :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.009 -> 0.01
      • GE cost : 360 -> 410
    • Tracks :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.012 -> 0.014
      • GE cost : 360 -> 410
    • Horizontal Drive :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.012 -> 0.014
      • GE cost : 360 -> 410
    • FPE :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.009 -> 0.01
      • GE cost : 230 -> 270
    • Suspension :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.01 -> 0.011
      • GE cost : 230 -> 270
    • Brake System : Repair cost coefficient : 0.016 -> 0.018
    • GE cost : 230 -> 270
      • Adjustment of Fire :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.02 -> 0.022
      • GE cost : 230 -> 270
    • 3BM3 APFSDS (modification) : GE cost : 230 -> 270
    • Filters :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.031 -> 0.034
      • GE cost : 440 -> 500
    • Elevation Mechanism :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.028 -> 0.032
      • GE cost : 440 -> 500
    • Crew Replenishment : GE cost : 440 -> 500
    • Transmission :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.042 -> 0.047
      • RP cost : 22000 -> 13000
      • GE cost : 560 -> 380
    • Engine :
      • Repair cost coefficient : 0.048 -> 0.054
      • RP cost : 22000 -> 13000
      • GE cost : 560 -> 380
    • 3BK4 HEATFS (modification) :
      • RP cost : 22000 -> 13000
      • GE cost : 560 -> 380
• Vijayanta :
  • GE Cost : 8200 -> 8560 GE
  • Expert Crew Cost : 510000 -> 680000 SL
  • Ace Crew Cost : 1440000 / 1200 -> 1660000 RP / 1400 GE
  • Repair Cost : 2420 / 2420 / 3390 -> 2810 / 2810 / 2950 SL
  • SL multiplier : 1.84 / 3.0 / 3.3 -> 2.0 / 3.0 / 2.49
  • RP multiplier : 1.96 -> 2.08
  • Modification changes :
    • Added Shell L35 HESH
    • Added M456 HEATFS
    • Added M456 HEATFS (modification) as Tier 3 modification
    • Mark of distinction : RP cost : 130000 -> 140000
    • Smoke grenade :
      • Added Category : Protection
      • Tier : 3 -> 4
  • Backup : 160 -> 140 GE
• Type 87 RCV (P) :
  • RP Cost : 54000 -> 110000 RP
  • SL Cost : 180000 -> 310000 SL
  • Crew Cost : 52000 -> 90000 SL
  • Expert Crew Cost : 180000 -> 310000 SL
  • Ace Crew Cost : 480000 / 710 -> 720000 RP / 1200 GE
  • Stock Repair Cost : 2280 / 2760 / 3380 -> 4210 / 5020 / 6100 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 3584 / 4338 / 5313 -> 6618 / 7891 / 9589 SL
  • SL multiplier : 1.01 / 1.5 / 1.49 -> 1.25 / 1.84 / 1.83
  • RP multiplier : 1.66 -> 1.96
  • Modification changes :
    • Added DM63 APDS / DM63 APDS / DM63 APDS / DM51A1 HEFI-T
    • Added DM63 APDS / DM63 APDS / DM63 APDS / DM51A1 HEFI-T (modification) as Tier 4 modification
    • Parts :
      • RP cost : 2400 -> 3200
      • GE cost : 160 -> 220
    • Tires :
      • RP cost : 2400 -> 4900
      • GE cost : 160 -> 220
    • Horizontal Drive :
      • RP cost : 2400 -> 4900
      • GE cost : 160 -> 220
    • DM43 HVAP-T / DM43 HVAP-T / DM43 HVAP-T / DM51A1 HEFI-T (modification) :
      • RP cost : 2400 -> 4900
      • GE cost : 160 -> 220
    • FPE :
      • RP cost : 1800 -> 2400
      • GE cost : 120 -> 170
    • Suspension :
      • RP cost : 1800 -> 3700
      • GE cost : 120 -> 170
    • Brake System :
      • RP cost : 1800 -> 3700
      • GE cost : 120 -> 170
    • Adjustment of Fire :
      • RP cost : 1800 -> 3700
      • GE cost : 120 -> 170
    • Airstrike :
      • RP cost : 1800 -> 3700
      • GE cost : 120 -> 170
    • NVD :
      • RP cost : 1800 -> 3700
      • GE cost : 120 -> 170
    • Filters :
      • RP cost : 3900 -> 8200
      • GE cost : 260 -> 370
    • Elevation Mechanism :
      • RP cost : 3900 -> 8200
      • GE cost : 260 -> 370
    • Crew Replenishment :
      • RP cost : 3900 -> 8200
      • GE cost : 260 -> 370
    • Transmission :
      • RP cost : 3100 -> 5300
      • GE cost : 210 -> 240
    • Engine :
      • RP cost : 3100 -> 5300
      • GE cost : 210 -> 240
    • Artillery Support :
      • RP cost : 3100 -> 5300
      • GE cost : 210 -> 240
    • Improved optics :
      • RP cost : 3100 -> 5300
      • GE cost : 210 -> 240
    • Smoke grenade :
      • RP cost : 3100 -> 5300
      • GE cost : 210 -> 240
  • Talisman : 1500 -> 2100 GE
• Bravy :
  • RP Cost : 220000 -> 120000 RP
  • SL Cost : 610000 -> 360000 SL
  • Crew Cost : 180000 -> 100000 SL
  • Expert Crew Cost : 610000 -> 360000 SL
  • Ace Crew Cost : 670000 / 1500 -> 620000 RP / 1400 GE
  • Stock Repair Cost : 9960 / 15470 -> 9080 / 14230 SL
  • Spaded Repair Cost : 12918 / 20064 -> 11776 / 18456 SL
  • SL multiplier : 2.81 / 6.0 / 1.0 -> 2.72 / 6.0 / 1.0
  • RP multiplier : 1.9 -> 1.84
  • Modification changes :
    • Tool Set :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Dry-Docking :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • 130 mm PB-42 SAP SAPCBC (modification) :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Anti-Air Armament Targeting :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Fire Protection System : RP cost : 11000 -> 9400
    • Rudder Replacement : RP cost : 11000 -> 9400
    • Smokescreen : RP cost : 11000 -> 9400
    • Auxiliary Armament Targeting : RP cost : 11000 -> 9400
    • Propeller Replacement :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Shrapnel Protection :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Ventilation :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Primary Armament Targeting :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Improved Rangefinder :
      • RP cost : 10000 -> 8300
      • GE cost : 280 -> 260
    • Engine Maintenance :
      • RP cost : 13000 -> 11000
      • GE cost : 360 -> 350
    • New Pumps :
      • RP cost : 13000 -> 11000
      • GE cost : 360 -> 350
    • Ammo Wetting :
      • RP cost : 13000 -> 11000
      • GE cost : 360 -> 350
    • 130 mm ZS-42R HE-VT HE-VT (modification) :
      • RP cost : 13000 -> 11000
      • GE cost : 360 -> 350
    • Bomb mortar :
      • RP cost : 13000 -> 11000
      • GE cost : 360 -> 350
  • Talisman : 2000 -> 1900 GE

Current Dev version : 2.26.0.40
Current Dev-Stable version : 2.25.1.135
Current Live version : 2.25.1.135

I'm looking for 26" × 2.0"-2.1" tires that are fast and comfortable on pavement for riding around town, but I also like riding some gravel on the weekends so they need to have half decent durability and grip off road.
I'm also trying to keep the build cheap so stuff like René Herse, Sim Works and Ultradynamico are out of the question.
I've narrowed it down to 6 choices for now:
Schwalbe Big Apple + Super comfy - Not sure how well they'll hold up off road
Schwalbe Marathon + Proven durability - Ridiculously heavy
Schwalbe Hurricane + Exactly the kinda versatility I was looking for - Probably not as comfy as the Big Apples
Kenda K-Rad K905 + A wild card option I'm throwing in because I found a seller near me selling these for dirt cheap - Can't find much info on how they perform
Kenda Small Block 8 + Proper off road capability - Probably not the best for paved surfaces
Maxxis Pace + Similar to the Kenda Small Block 8s, but even cheaper - From personal experience, one of the worst tires in mud ever
Which of these should I pick? Or is there another tire I should consider? I'd love to hear your suggestions.
View Poll

Any good calculators or opinions on tyre pressure?
I know this one and it pointed me to 40-42PSI on 40mm and 94kgs for dry conditions. https://axs.sram.com/guides/tire/pressure
It is fine on road and some off road, but I lower it "more" when I really plan to go via fields or forest. My tyre is rather for road or nice dry even gravel (tufo speedero coming to premature end, will be changing to cinturato gravel H with a very similar thread pattern).
Only bit I am really unsure about is the puncture resistance vs sharp gravel I can find recently on forest roads used by the local authority to cover mud. It takes months for people to crush it if there is not much tree cutting machinery moving around. Every time I go through it I think of stan sealant in my wheels if its going to stay there or not ;). I've learned hard way to slow down even if there is a visible crushed path as there can be always some sharp one there.
If I know I will enter forest for long or I will be cycling via long older more firm but bulky gravel - i stop and reduce pressure "a bit". On the other hand if I am making a shortcut via forest for fun, but I know I will be doing a lot more of road ride I would stay on my target ~40PSI.
However I keep thinking how is that low/high pressure affecting puncture resistance especially with sharp gravel used often in Poland. e.g. https://www.pless.pl/wiadomosci/78926-zdjecia-trasa-spacerowa-zmienila-sie-w-wyczynowa-kamienie-w-lesie-laka-pszczyna
https://i.imgur.com/sfWQcS4.png Its probably due to mass tree cutting by Lasy Państwowe in recent years, where govt body destroys forest roads with heavy machinery, then some times it get fixed using stones instead of proper crushed gravel.

This part got a little bit away from me. I only intended to have a brief moment between David and Ruk'sa, but it grew a bit more than I planned. It seemed like the right time for David to tell a little bit about his side of things. I hope you enjoy, and once again let me know what you think.
First / Prev / Next (At some point)
CW: Suicidal thoughts/actions
----------
David was all-too familiar with the ceiling of his bedroom. He’d spent many nights staring up at it praying for sleep to take him. Of course, then he had to deal with the nightmares. Tonight, was no different. Well, there were the two fik sleeping on either side of him, but the insomnia still had a firm grasp of him. The following afternoon he was supposed to catch a chartered shuttle out to the boonies for the funeral of a man he didn’t know. He could probably catch some sleep on the red eye, but if he couldn’t even sleep in his own bed…
He decided to stretch his legs. Thanks to a bit of luck, he wasn’t pinned down like last time, so he tried his best to stealthily shuffle off the foot of the bed. He padded silently to the bathroom, closed the door, then flicked on the light. Blinded for a moment, he blinked his eyes a couple times in the mirror until his vision cleared. Between the dark circles under his eyes and how gaunt his cheeks had become; his face took on an almost skull-like appearance.
He stared into his eyes, watching them dilate ever so slightly. Come on, man. You gotta get some sleep. Something. Anything. He ran his fingers through his mop, contemplating whether he should try and find some kind of barber. Perhaps one that could do something about his beard too. Knowing his luck, the aliens probably just grow perfect hair and have no concept of a hairstylist.
Resting his elbows on the counter, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw spots. Just let exhaustion take you. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He flicked off the light and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark once again. Once he could see, he padded back out of the bathroom and into the living room. The fik had overrun the small abode. Half a dozen bodies strewn about peacefully asleep on the floor, the room full of gentle breathing and the occasional snore. Chief Sulta had claimed the couch after being denied the bed by David. She made it clear he could also use the bed, but he didn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger into it. This of course didn’t stop the other two who were with him the previous night. Apparently, they thought they got a pass. He was too frustrated to object. Plus…They were warm…
David carefully stepped over the sleeping forms making his way to his kitchen. The chief seemed alright after a couple conversations. His guardians disapproved vehemently of course, but she seemed honest. A bit too honest. She really intended to do everything she could to keep David safe, but…Well, she wasn’t the sharpest bulb in the box.
Clearing the threshold, he made his way to the fridge for something to drink. As he sipped, he checked the time. It was still a few hours till morning. It was hard to tell on station. This one orbited a moon that orbited a gas giant that orbited another gas giant that all orbited a distant star. There was some kind of galactic standard time, but David could never get his head around it.
“Why are you awake?”
He looked up at Rus’ka leaning against the doorway. She was rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t. I have insomnia.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where I can’t sleep.”
She crossed the room to stand beside him as he turned to lean back against the counter.
“Sleeping is easy. Just close eyes and relax. Sleep come to you. You try too hard, maybe?”
He sighed and reminded himself that they were a relatively young species that didn’t come with countless medical journals or psychology papers. Lucky them.
“If only it were that easy. No. I broke whatever I had that let me sleep.”
“How can you fix?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Well…How did you break?”
He closed his eyes and set his glass aside, “I don’t know…Well, I have some ideas, but I don’t know.”
“What ideas?”
He couldn’t tell if she knew what she was doing or was just stubbornly persistent. Probably a mix of both. “Probably what happened to me.”
“What happened to you?”
He took a deep breath and slid down the counter to sit on the floor. She joined him there. “I told you: a lot.” He looked her in the eyes. She didn’t look away. He didn’t want to talk about this. He’d do anything besides talk about this, but… If she wanted to live here. Live with him, then she should probably know. She’d find out one way or another. When did I accept that?
Looking down between his knees he sighed and began, “I was kidnapped. I don’t remember much of what happened. One minute I’m trying to figure out why my Honda died again, the next I’m strapped to a table.” He shuddered. “I was groggy, but I could still feel them-“ He swallowed, “cutting into me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. I just felt and watched. They were out of a nightmare. They couldn’t be real. But I felt it. It was real. It hurt. Oh God, it hurt.”
He screwed his eyes shut trying to force the memory down. To think of anything else. Ruk’sa put her arm around his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “Then I could hear them. I could understand the snakes.” He fingered the scar behind his ear, “They put a translator in me. Then threw me in a cell. I was a slave.”
*****
As soon as he could move his arms, he began hammering on the metal cage around him. “Let me out! Don’t do this! Let me out!”
In a flash a blade whizzed past his temple scoring a shallow cut. “Silence! You will not speak. You have nothing to say anyway.”
His crimson captor ignored him and returned to the console before them. David took stock of his situation to find any possible way out. He was prone on his back in a metal coffin with a grate by his head, apparently there for easy stabbing access. He took a minute to control his breathing when the guard slithered out the door.
The box wasn’t tiny. It seemed to be made for larger creatures, but it was still a challenge for David to sit up. He grabbed onto the bars and pulled himself up to the hatch. A quick scan revealed the handle just outside. He thrust his hands through the bars, but he couldn’t reach the latch. It was so close. It looked like it turned toward him. All he had to do was pull it.
He sat for a moment contemplating what he had available. All he had on him was his rental tux. He regretted not going for the cummerbund, so the bow tie would have to suffice. He pulled it off his neck and stuck his hands out of the cage. It took a few tries, but he eventually managed to toss one end of the tie around the handle and caught it in his other hand. He didn’t have a lot of leverage, but with a steady pull he managed to pop the latch.
It was awkward twisting and dropping to the floor, but he was free…Free-ish. Now he just had to get out of the room. Glancing back to the wall of cells he realized he was the only one there. That made things simple. He stalked to the iris door and peeked out after it hissed open. The halls were empty, so he ducked outside. The place was massive, which made sense given its inhabitants. He noticed the halls had a slight bow in them. Must have made slithering easier.
He picked a direction and padded away as quietly as his dress shoes allowed. He’d stop at every intersection and listen. He chose the path with the least sound up until some kind of alarm sounded.
“Cell breach. Alert. Cell breach.”
He needed to hide, and fast. Looking around the circular hallway he noticed pipes and vents above him. Using the rounded walls to his advantage, he got a running start and ran up the side of the warped wall. It took a couple tries, but he eventually made his primate ancestors proud and caught a pipe above him. He hauled himself up and began shuffling awkwardly above the hallway.
Below him pandemonium broke out. He saw dozens of snake monsters slithering this way or that, looking for him. Each armed.
David channeled his inner John McClain and pulled a vent off the ceiling and climbed inside. As he crawled, he thought about what he was even looking for. There had to be some kind of escape pod, or shuttle he could steal. Maybe hide out on the next shuttle headed down to abduct some other poor dumb bastard. All he knew was he needed to get home. After scuttling around for a while his luck ran out. He crawled over a vent that couldn’t hold his weight and he fell into a hallway. Hauling himself upright with a groan he stopped dead at what he saw.
He could see Earth through the window. David never believed he could be an astronaut. He thought this view would forever be a dream, but there it was. Earth was beautiful.
Then he felt a sharp stinging pain across his back as a monster slashed him. He convulsed and collapsed, losing consciousness as he was dragged back to Hell.
*****
“I don’t know how long I was there…But that was the last time I saw home…I tried escaping. Many times. I saw home and damn it I was going to get back…Each time they punished me. Each time I ‘lost value’.” He looked over his scared arm then squeezed his eyes shut. Forcing the memories away. He didn’t want to be taken again, but they pulled. He could feel the cuts. The burns.
Ruk’sa rubbed his shoulders and leaned into him. Trying to keep him there with her.
With a shuddering breath, David continued, “Then one day, I was ‘rescued’. I don’t know if they were with the Community or just pretending, but some of those big bastards raided the ship. It got loud and violent. They hauled us off and took us to a little waystation. Refueling, I guess. They kept telling us we were safe. Then one of them…I think he was one of them, told us we needed a medical examination.”
*****
David and a couple of other escapees stared out the window at the strange planet. It was a pale-yellow rock drifting around some distant star. They were let off the ship to stretch their legs while it refueled for the next leg of the journey. David didn’t know where it was supposed to go. He just wanted to go home. He didn’t know or care how he’d explain what happened to him. There were plenty of crazy whack-jobs who claimed to be abducted. He could just roll with them. Or just pretend the whole thing never happened.
One of those big bastards who ripped him out of his cell and tossed him bodily off the ship appeared in the doorway.
“You there. You need a medic to look you over. Come on over here and let’s take a look at you.”
Seemed fair enough. David wasn’t sure how much blood was too much to lose, but the snakes flirted with that line all too often. He and the others shuffled over to the giant and where he directed. David entered the room and was soon pulled up by his arm. It felt like it might pop out of its socket. He struggled and thrashed before a giant fist sent the world to spin.
He woke up in another cell with another man. All he could do was weep.
*****
David didn’t notice when Ruk’sa drew him into her lap. He clutched at her arm to stay where he was. In the here and now. He could still see Sammuel’s face.
“The big bastards didn’t cut. They just hit you. Or starved you. All I could do was hold on. I tried to help Sammuel. Tried to keep him strong. If he was strong then I would be strong. We’d come so far. I held out. I did it once, I could do it again. And I was right. We were liberated once again after God only knows how long. We were free.” He swallowed and wiped away the tears forming in hie eyes.
“I can still remember the blinding light. I was numb when they hauled us off. They took us to some big station and asked where we wanted to go. I told them I just wanted to go home.” He let the tears fall now, “they told me it was gone. ‘What do you mean it’s gone?’ ‘It’s been destroyed. A terrible tragedy.’ I thought they were lying. It had to be another trick to keep me enslaved. I never escaped. They just refuse to send me home…Then they showed me…”
He clutched at her shoulders and buried his face in the nape of her neck, “That was all I had! I just wanted to go home! And they fucking stole that too!”
He wept and shuddered in her grasp. She stroked the back of his head while he collected himself.
“They tried to fix me. I broke down. I had nothing left. So, they sent me away to the loony bin. I just wanted to die. Is that too much to ask? Just bury me with the rest of my kind. But they had to try and fix me. They barely knew me or mine! How can you fix that!?”
*****
He was trapped once again. The fucking snake sat there asking questions like they didn’t destroy his life.
“David. Please talk to me. I’m trying to help you. If you just talk to me, we can help you.”
What fresh Hell was this? Making his tormentors try and fix him? David closed his eyes and refused to speak. If he looked at her, he could only relive what they did.
“I know what you went through was stressful…”
She didn’t know shit! How could she? He wouldn’t give her anything. Never again. He wasn’t a slave. He’d die first. Why didn’t he die? He should be with all the others. What’s left?
“David, please. I’m trying to help you. I just want what’s best for you.”
He knew what was best for him. He was tired of everyone trying to control him. This was no different. Well, no more. He’d seize the last bit of control he had. His hands were bound, but his mouth was still free. He bit down on his wrist. Maybe he could bleed out before someone stopped him.
“Nurse! Nurse! I need you in here!”
*****
David didn’t know how long it had been. Ruk’sa was rocking him back and forth. He felt tired. But he still couldn’t sleep.
“I was trapped there for a while…I couldn’t take it…Once they realized I wouldn’t talk to a snake, I started saying the magic words. ‘Oh, I feel better. I’m moving on. I’ll be fine I promise.’ They didn’t know the first thing about humans. I lied. They let me go thinking they’d done good… When they let me free, I tried taking all the pills they gave me. I tried ending it all a couple more times…They’re too damn good at stopping me.”
Ruk’sa couldn’t stop herself. She clutched David tightly to herself. “Saaaa, no! David, no! You can’t mean that! David must…David must….Saa!” She was ashamed for not having the words. She couldn’t fix him.
“I’m sorry…You just found a broken human…Just let me be broken.”
“No!...We fix you!...We must!” She held him tight as if he’d slip away. She didn’t know what to say. But she’d figure it out. She had to.
They stayed like that for a while before David asked, “Can…Can you hold me? Just like this? Please?”
She nodded, “Forever, if I must.”
David buried his face in her chest while she clutched him tightly. She tried to stop the tears from falling. To stay strong. To hold him and show him he was safe.
She tried her best, all the while a certain albino listened from around the corner, out of sight.

Chapter 4: The Dew
We have a new cast member for this chapter! Her name is Molly, and let’s just say she’s the MVP.
It was almost noon when I woke up. Faaaaack! I scrambled to get dressed, slap on a little makeup, put my hair in purple pigtails, ask myself whether I was dolling myself up for FPB or for Axton... Yeah, that was a no-brainer. I engaged in basic some humaning (brushing teeth, applying deodorant, etc.), spritzed on some men’s cologne called Spicebomb (FPB really was kind of right about that), put on my new shoes, and dashed out the door. I looked at my phone to see if I had a missed call or an angry text from FPB. Nope. Good! He must have still been passed out.
I Ubered to FPB’s place to get my car, then I drove back to Sage’s house and parked on the side of the street. There were four Molly Maid vehicles in the driveway. I checked the door. It was unlocked. Was it possible that my absence might have gone unnoticed? As I entered the house, I could hear one of the professional cleaners yelling at Sage. I’ll call her Molly.
Molly: I’m charging you TRIPLE! I had to call in SIX extra girls. We clean up vomit, pee pee, poo poo, and your house smells like a distillery! You are nasty, nasty people!
I was damn near pissing myself laughing. One of the professional cleaners swooped past me, and I felt embarrassed to even be associated with these nasty, nasty people (even though all of them except for FPB had been super nice to me).
I found my way into the kitchen and accidentally interrupted Sage and Athena arguing over who was going to pay the cleaning bill. Sage was in favor of splitting it between the chummers, and Athena was in favor of sticking Mori with the bill since his nasty, nasty rules caused the nasty, nasty mess.
I cleared my throat so it didn’t seem like I was eavesdropping.
Athena: OP! Hey! Where have you been all morning?
Me: I ran home to get some sleep. The snoring was pretty loud...
Athena: I hear ya. We sleep in Sage’s bedroom, but Mori makes all the others sleep in the War Room or on the porch. You might be able to convince him to let you sleep in the guest room tonight?
Me: Isn’t it your house, Sage? I’ll play by your rules.
Sage: Yeah, but Mori’s in charge during Shadowrun weekends.
Damn, this really was starting to feel like a fucking cult. But I still found Mori hella amusing despite all his absurdities.
Me: Hey, guys? How much hell am I about to catch from FPB?
Sage: That would be... none. He’s still passed out in the backyard.
I made my way to the porch. I guess the cleaning crew hadn’t gotten there yet. There were toppled cups, empty liquor bottles, and several piles of puke on the porch; and the distinct scent of boozy pee clashed in an act of olfactory violence with the scent of stale vomit. I didn’t even want to take a single step outside. I was wearing my brand new shoes, after all! But the rest of my outfit was blissfully casual.
FPB’s absurdly formal clothes were draped over the hammock, and he was sprawled across a lawn chair in nothing but his black boxer briefs, snoring like a freight train.
Axton was sitting on a dry patch of the steps that led down to the yard, smoking a cigarette, and drinking what I hoped was coffee. Snorlax was passed out in the inflatable kiddie pool. And Mori was nowhere to be seen. Axton turned around and noticed me. Surely he didn’t remember trying to kiss me the night before. I mean, I kind of hoped that he did... but it would make my life a whole lot easier if he didn’t.
Axton: OP! Where did you run off to after you put us to bed?
Me: I went to sleep.
Axton: Where?
Me: Ummmm...
Axton: I won’t say anything to FPB, don’t worry.
I wanted to believe him. “I went home. I wanted to sleep in my own bed, and I wanted to have my car in case I get tired again. I seriously can’t keep up with you guys.”
Axton: That’s probably not anything to be ashamed of. Wanna come sit? Have a smoke?
I scanned the porch. “I’m not sure where it’s safe to step.”
Axton put his cig in the ashtray and stood up. “Combat boots to the rescue.”
He crossed the porch, picked me up, and carried me to the puke/pee/booze-free step. As he was putting me down his hand very deliberately grazed the length of my spine. Guess he remembered... I couldn’t seem to pull my hand off his shoulder, nor could I seem to take my eyes off his lips. But just then, FPB stirred. And he roared, “UNHAND MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
He tried to stand, but his tall, hungover ass just withered to the ground.
Me: Good morning! Don’t worry. He was just helping me protect my new shoes.
FPB: So help me, Pretty Boy. If you touch my girlfriend again, I WILL END YOU.
Axton: Just trying to be gentlemanly, buddy. You want some coffee?
FPB grunted.
Axton turned to me. “You want some, too?”
FPB: DO NOT SPEAK TO HER, YOU FUCKING SKIDMARK.
Me: I’m good. I’ll hit Mori up for some coke later on.
Axton laughed and headed to the kitchen.
FPB: YOU WILL NOT GET COKE FROM MORI. I WILL LITERALLY KILL HIS (expletive slur deleted) ASS IF HE GIVES YOU COKE.
Snorlax was stirring in the kiddie pool.
Snorlax: FPB... Chill, bro. Seriously. God damn. You’re gonna pop a vein in your forehead.
Okay, it’s finally time to pause and give you guys some background on my relationship with FPB. It might be mildly triggering for some, so apologies in advance.
He repulsed me at first. I thought he was a snob, I hated his beard, and his circus freak height intimidated me a little. But he managed to humanize himself. He feigned vulnerability. He was attentive and affectionate (at first). And when we finally went on a proper date, it was actually pretty romantic. Plus, he had cool Bioshock tattoos! I wouldn’t find out about his Shadowrun tramp stamp until a bit later.
And I felt like I was gaining some maturity by looking past the unsightly beard, the constantly furrowed brow, and the shocking amount of time he spent standing on the most random soapboxes one could possibly imagine. I’ll also shoehorn in the fact that he had been “dating” a possessive, obsessive legbeard and I found myself feeling like a white knight for helping him out of that annoying situationship.
FPB’s triumphant, and probably fabricated, stories of his past facilitated empathy. He had dropped out of college to join the Peace Corps. He once pulled over to save a child from a burning vehicle. He had been bullied in middle school for being the only boy in the Color Guard. Blah, blah, blah. It was mostly a load of bollocks, and I’ll save the ridiculous details for another story. But his displays of affection in the early stages of our cursed courtship seemed sincere, and I believed him when he said that my “being there for him” was helping him grow as a person. What a rube I was.
The emotional connection gradually ran deeper as a result of FPB’s exceptionally well-rehearsed vulnerability act, but it was hardly a romance novel. After several relatively normal “getting to know each other” months, I discovered that FPB had been notoriously promiscuous in the past. A lothario, through and through. Many women apparently knew all about the “ladies’ man maître D” in midtown Wellsprings who would go home with absolutely ANYONE.
And I soon figured out that he had not left his promiscuous past behind him... at all. But even if I hadn’t become aware of his reputation, I could often smell his sexual escapades once he felt confident enough to interact with me immediately after he’d gone muff diving. His beard stank like a turtle tank, with heavy top notes of body odor and microwaved fish, and undertones of stale urine, dingleberries, and sometimes a gentle waft of rotting tampon.
He’d also had to treat his foul flavor-saver for pubic lice on a few occasions. I know I mentioned his beard crabs earlier, but it bears repeating (if only for the cringe). I can’t even begin to explain how humiliating the state of his beard was for me. I take care of all manner of personal hygiene, and I’ve certainly never had CRABS. To be known as the girlfriend of such a nasty beardo must have caused at least a few people to reasonably assume that I had a crab-infested crotch and a serious case of junk funk. #notmyjunk
Hindsight tells me that I didn’t care about his philandering because I wasn’t in love with him. His company wasn’t particularly enjoyable since he spent most of our time together complaining about “losers” on the internet and lambasting the insufferable management at the restaurant where he worked. But he could carry on lengthy conversations about luxury fragrance, which was... harmless. Plus, I enjoyed the idea of having a “boyfriend” since I was approaching 30.
And FPB could convincing behave like the *perfect gentleman* on the rare occasions when we attended respectable social events together. So all of my friends thought I’d won the dating lottery by landing myself a quirky, intelligent, polite, and visually striking boyfriend. This dreadful dating experience tempts me to spout some unsolicited advice along the lines of, “Wait for the right *connection* with a person who makes your life more enjoyable, and don’t get hung up on your relationship status... YOU are enough.” But perhaps that’s something we all have to realize for ourselves.
Aside from the philandering, things ran pretty smoothly back when FPB was still keeping “the crazy” under wraps. His goblinization unfolded in tiny, almost imperceptible increments. And by the time he had become a full-blown possessive lunatic, every attempt to end things with him resulted in death threats, slander, vandalism, bomb threats, or false police reports. I could easily write an entire lengthy story about every disastrous breakup attempt. But they wouldn’t be amusing stories. At least this current story has moments that I can try to frame as humorous, largely thanks to the Shadowrun crew.
I suppose the most honest answer as to why I had given FPB chance after chance is that I had absolutely NO prior experience being emotionally close to severely mentally unstable people. I’m one of the lucky ones who has never suffered from mental illness aside from occasional situational depression and some mild body images issues when I was a teenage girl on the high school drill team. I grew up in a loving family. And the only other serious romantic relationship I’d had prior to FPB fell apart because we were just in different stages of life (he was quite a bit older), and we eventually found ourselves unable to relate to one another. Nothing horrifying.
FPB was much closer to my age, we had common interests, and he was a (seemingly) genuine gentleman at first. Our relationship was like Beauty and the Beast... in reverse. I’m not so much comparing myself to Belle as I’m comparing FPB to a kind-hearted prince who gradually transformed into a stomping, snarling, tantrum-throwing BEAST.
Any desire that I’d ever felt for him died from poon fume inhalation. And FPB was pitifully butt-hurt when I closed the cookie to him. And despite displaying no interest in showing affection towards me, despite having countless randos at whom he could wiggle his whisky wang, despite griping incessantly about my terrible personality, my wretched taste in music, and my annoying sense of humor, he refused to end the relationship.
But if I so much as spoke to another man, FPB would call the police and report him as a TCAP Story, vandalize his property (usually with poop and/or semen), stalk him relentlessly, or make a slanderous website, crudely photoshopping the poor guy’s face onto obscene images that he got off the deepest, dingiest, most dumpster-fiery recesses of the dark web. This “retaliation technique” would eventually get his ass incarcerated, but not until many, many unfortunate girlfriends later.
Everyone had always told me that, “Relationships are HARD.” Guys, gals, non-binary pals... if you ever feel the need to cough out this fetid tonsil stone of “wisdom,” please operationally define the word “HARD.” If a relationship feels like a prison sentence and you find yourself fearing for your safety or for the safety of your loved ones, that isn’t “hard.” That is coercive control. RUN. But never forget that running is often much, mucheasier said than done. There’s no shame in getting help from friends, family, and law enforcement.
​
So, where were we? Snorlax was telling FPB to chill out, Axton was going to get some coffee for the lanky, bearded ball of rage, and I was standing on the one clean step, hoping the cleaning crew would come outside and save us all.
FPB was flailing about, trying to achieve a sitting position. Snorlax seemed to have gone back to sleep. And Axton returned to the porch with a cup of coffee and a bottle of water. He made his way down to FPB.
FPB: You’d better stay far, FAR away from her for the remainder of the weekend.
Me: Funky, he’s helping your hungover ass. And he hasn’t been inappropriate towards me in any way.
(That was kind of a lie. But I suppose it all depends on what you consider “inappropriate.”)
FPB harumphed.
Me: I promise you that I’ll punch him in the face if he makes me uncomfortable. Otherwise, please let me get to know your friends. You said that was an important part of the weekend.
Axton sat down the hangover remedies next to FPB’s lawn chair.
Axton: You want some Advil?
FPB nodded, and Axton took the pills out of his pocket and handed them over. FPB washed the pills down, took a few sips of lukewarm coffee, and leaned back in the chair, groaning miserably.
I sat down on the clean step and lit up a cigarette. Axton left FPB to his own devices and approached me cautiously. I gestured for him to come sit next to me. Axton grinned sheepishly, took his cig out of the ashtray, and sat down on the step. I wanted to keep FPB under control, so I said under my breath, “We’d better sit about two feet apart.”
Axton and I both scooched away from one another, the ashtray serving as a buffer, and we continued to speak quietly so that FPB’s hungover groans would drown out our conversation.
Axton: Are you really gonna punch me?
Me: Are you gonna make me uncomfortable?
His grin faded a bit, “Have I made you uncomfortable? If I did, I’m so sorr...”
I made eye contact with him and held it for about 3 seconds longer than I would have held friendly eye contact and replied with my own sheepish grin, “Not at all.”
​
Snorlax was sitting up by that time and he seemed to be in a world of hurt as well.
Axton: Yo, Snor! You need some hangover helper, too?
Snorlax (groaning): Pleeeeeeease.
Axton got up to fetch Snorlax some coffee, water, and pills. Those combat boots were going to need to get hosed down before he went back inside. Especially with Molly and her pissed off crew still at the house.
In fact, I could hear Molly screeching at Sage again.
Molly: There’s more mess on the porch? What sort of mess? More poo poo? A lake of liquor? You people are ANIMALS. I’m never cleaning your house again!!!
Sage: Ummm... I think it’s just booze and pee. You should be able to just power wash it.
Axton: There’s a ton of puke out there, too.
Molly: Jesus, save us all.
Axton ran to Snorlax and delivered the hangover helper.
Axton: Dude! The maids are on their way, and they’re pissed off. We gotta disappear.
I put my cigarette out, stood up, and dashed over to FPB, who was still reclining in the lawn chair with a pained expression on his face.
Me: Funky? The maids are coming. We need to get out of here.
FPB: And go where?
Me: I don’t know! I’ve never done this before. I think Axton knows, but I’m afraid to talk to him.
FPB: HEY, FUCK-FACE. Where are we running off to?
Axton: Garage! Go around the side of the house.
Axton helped Snorlax stagger around to the garage, and FPB managed to wobble to his feet. As he was standing up, I noticed a whisky wee aroma and an extra dark patch of fabric near the crotch of his black underpants. While I guided him to the garage, I tried my darndest to keep his wet boxer briefs away from my clean shirt. His crotch was level with my mid-section, so I curved my body away from him and let him basically use my shoulders and arms as a walker. In the end, we all managed to enter the garage though the side door. It was dusty, musty and stuffy, but it was blissfully devoid of puke and pee. Well, aside from FPB’s underpants.
Sage must have anticipated that we’d take shelter from the angry maids in the garage because he came out from the house and opened the garage doors for us, letting in a nice breeze.
Sage: You guys good?
We all indicated the affirmative.
Sage: Excellent. Mori should be back from the liquor store pretty soon. And he’s picking up hangover food, too.
Snorlax: What’s he getting?
Sage: Taco Bell.
Seriously? Not only were they having to restock the booze, but they were also planning to chow down on Taco Bell to help with the hangovers? There was no way in hell that was going to help.
At any rate, FPB and Snorlax were chugging the remainder of their hangover helper and seemed to be gradually getting their sea legs back. Axton had apparently been awake a little longer than they had, so his hangover seemed to have passed. I’m just assuming this since I was forbidden to speak to him. And with the only two non-hungover people there forbidden to speak to one another, the garage was eerily silent.
We were all sitting on the dusty floor and FPB, still wearing nothing but wet boxer briefs, tried to pull me into his lap.
Me (getting up and crossing the room): HELL NO. You peed yourself. I’m not sitting in your lap until you go wash up and put on some clean underpants.
FPB: It’s not pee. It’s dew.
Axton: It’s piss, bro. I can smell it.
FPB (snarling): You shut your fuck-nugget mouth, Asshat.
Wow, Axton’s ability to exhibit no reaction at all to FPB’s venom was impressive. I might have to try that and see if it would work for me.
Snorlax: He’s right. It’s definitely pee. No shame, though. I wet my pants, too. I had to get up and change at like... 6 in the morning. It sucked.
FPB: OP, please get over yourself and come sit by me.
Me: No lap sitting.
FPB: Fine.
Me: Do you want me to go get your backpack so you can change?
“Chill out, Miss Uptight! We all wet our pants every weekend. It’s tradition,” he said as he wound his long arms around me from the side.
I felt like I was in a cage. I rolled my eyes, and I think Axton noticed my exasperated expression because I could see him snickering.
FPB: What’s funny, you DICK?
Axton composed himself, and Snorlax gallantly stepped up to save us.
Snorlax: He’s laughing cause I farted. Sorry.
Always a sucker for bathroom humor, I burst out laughing. Axton started laughing again, Snorlax started laughing, lifted a cheek and really did rip one this time. The butt wind even kicked up a little dust from the garage floor. That made all the reasonable people in the garage laugh even harder. But not FPB. No, he was fuming.
FPB: What the hell is really so fucking FUNNY? Someone fess up to me or I’m gonna start flaying you bitches.
Axton: Dude. For real. We’re laughing at a fart. (more laughter)
Snorlax (also laughing): Yeah, just the thought of Taco Bell gave me gas.
FPB’s fury just made it even funnier, and all of us were in stitches.
FPB: I know you’re all laughing at ME.
Yeah, I guess it did kind of start off that way. But by the time his rage was hitting the boiling point, we really were just behaving like overgrown children and laughing hysterically at a fart. And everything was ten times funnier because we had this “stick in the mud” sitting there getting outrageously offended by the laughter. You know the feeling, right? When you’re not supposed to laugh at something, it becomes even harder not to laugh? Or is that just me?
FPB: I’m getting dressed now. OP, come help me. You two jabronis can stay in here and laugh at each other’s farts.
Instead of heading to the hammock in the back yard where FPB’s clothes presumably remained, he entered the house through the garage door and headed straight for the guest room to retrieve his backpack. Good. Maybe he was at least going to put on some clean underpants.
But, no. He wasn’t. That would have taken away from the repulsive debauchery that his whizzy boxer briefs allowed him to revel in. He really needed to settle on a story. Was he such a wild, crazy party boy that he was too cool to care that he’d wet his pants? Or was he a pathetic drunk who’d passed out and managed to collect afternoon dew in the crotch of his boxer briefs (and nowhere else on his body)? We’ll never know. His Shadowrun tramp stamp was in full view as he bent down and grabbed his wallet from his black leather backpack. He then marched into the kitchen and told Sage, “Bring me a maid.”
Sage: Ummm... they’ve got their hands pretty full at the moment.
FPB produced a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. “I want my clothes steam cleaned. And I’ll need them spritzed with perfume. Athena’s got some here, doesn’t she?”
Sage: Yeah... But you’re gonna have to ask HER if you want to use her perfume. And you’re gonna have to ask the cleaning crew to steam your clothes. They’re all pretty annoyed with me over the condition of the house. There’s a new head maid. I’m having to pay TRIPLE the normal cleaning fee, dude.
In my mind, the considerate action would have been to forego the steaming and offer the cash to Sage, since FPB’s sparkle vomit and spilled liquor definitely contributed to the mess. Instead, FPB exited through the front door, made his way around to the backyard, and began removing his clothes from the hammock. The maids shrieked. FPB ignored the shrieks, gathered his clothes, and sauntered back into the house. Once we were back indoors, we could hear Molly going over the bill with Sage.
FPB: AHEM. Madam, I need these clothes steam cleaned.
He thrust his suit and the hundred-dollar bill in her direction.
Molly: Excuse me??? We were hired to clean this disgusting house. You want your clothes steamed, go to the drycleaners.
She sniffed the air.
Molly: And go take a shower. You smell like a diaper.
I stepped in. “Hey. Sage? Do you mind if I steam FPB’s clothes in the guest bathroom?”
Sage: Fine by me.
I pulled FPB aside. “Give me your clothes. You peed in your sleep after you took you suit off right?”
FPB: IT’S DEW.
Me: It doesn’t matter. Your underwear’s wet and you need to put on a dry pair. In the meantime, I’ll go in the bathroom, hang your clothes up, get the room steamy from the shower, and then they’ll at least be a little less wrinkled. We used to do it all the time in college.
FPB: But those bitches have professional equipment. If they can steam carpet, they can steam a suit.
Me: I think it’s a different type of steamer.
FPB: Oh, you’re an expert on steamers?
Me: Not the Cleveland kind.
Damn it, Mori would have appreciated my attempt at an obvious dirty joke.
FPB harumphed, and I put the plan into action. I turned the shower on as hot as it would go, sifted through FPB’s suit components carefully to make sure his pants were dry. Fortunately, they were. I hung the clothes as close to the shower curtain as I could without getting them wet and sat down to try and enjoy the steam room and the solitude. Maybe it would make me feel refreshed? But the sweetness of the solitude wouldn’t last, as I could hear a conversation taking place just outside the door.
Sage: What the hell, man? Why are you guarding the bathroom door?
FPB: I don’t want any of you pervs trying to walk in on my girlfriend while she showers.
Sage: Okay... I think she’s just in there steaming your fancy clothes.
FPB: She might be taking a shower, too. NAKED. I have to protect her from the male gaze.
Sage: Well... I’ve got a girlfriend. Mori’s not here, and Snorlax and Axton are both stand-up dudes.
FPB: I don’t trust Axton. I caught him picking her up on the porch, and then he tried to TALK TO HER.
Sage: “Picking her up” as in the crap you pull at work all the time? Or literally “picking her up” so she didn’t step in puke?
FPB: Uh... he made some lame excuse.
Sage: So... Picking her up so she didn’t step in puke. What a jerk.
FPB: Right?!
Sage: Listen, man. The door locks. And she’s a grown woman. Leave her alone for five minutes, for fuck’s sake. And put on some clean underwear.
FPB: IT’S DEW.
When I couldn’t take the steam anymore, I turned off the shower, retrieved FPB clothes, which did look spiffier, and opened the door to inhale the fresh, cool air. Ahhh! And the lovely cleaning crew had managed to get rid of the “poopy-pee-puke-pizza” pungency.
Apparently, being lightly mocked by the “vice principal” had embarrassed FPB enough to make him go find something better to do. No one was outside the door at that moment. I gathered FPB’s clothes, carried them to the guest room, and laid them out on the bed.
Now to find my seething anger ball of a boyfriend. Best guess? He was back in the garage, yelling at Axton and Snorlax. So that’s where I checked first.
I entered the garage from the house, and found Sage, Athena, Axton, Snorlax, and Mori all sitting around enjoying some Taco Bell and drinking beer. No FPB.
Me: Hey, guys! Have any of you seen a tall, angry guy in wet boxer briefs?
Mori: He’s on the back porch. Said he had to call his work.
Ah, yes. “Work.” That meant he was texting one of his randos. Probably the one who showed up at Sage’s house late last night.
Me: Beer me?
They all answered with a validating chorus of “Hell yeah,” and, “Go girl!”
I grabbed a beer from the cooler and scanned the room for a place to sit. Axton stood up and led me over to his spot.
Axton: Hey, guys! Who am I?
And then he pulled me onto his lap, wrapped his arms around me and started shouting in a caveman voice, “MY GIRLFRIEND. MINE. NO TALKING TO HER. DON’T EVEN LOOK OR I’LL STAB YOU IN THE EYEBALL.”
Everyone, including me, found this incredibly funny. And I was pleased to see that the whole team was acknowledging FPB’s absurdly possessive behavior. Maybe if the people he respected most in this world called him out on his insane possessiveness, he would reflect? Yeah, let’s see how that goes...
I stayed in this far too comfortable position for a minute or so. Axton was more muscular than FPB and he wasn’t “circus-freak tall,” so his lap was a much better fit. But I knew that if FPB rounded the corner and caught me sitting in another guy’s lap, he’d flip. Especially since my position in Axton’s lap had happened purely to make a mockery out of FPB. I leaned into him for a few more seconds, then slid over into my own cold, hard, lonely space.
Guess I needed to do some reflecting, too... Not because I was finding myself attracted to a guy who wasn’t my boyfriend. My boyfriend was a psycho and I needed to reflect on why I hadn’t been able to find an exit strategy that didn’t lead to terroristic threats or stalking.
Mori: I think I’ll add a new punishment tonight. But only for FPB. If he glitches, he has to sit in my lap and let me paw all over him. See how he likes it.
Me: Be sure to get a raging boner and jab him in the hip with it.
I couldn’t tell if the laughing that ensued was because I’d made a crude joke to the perfect audience or because I had unintentionally “called” the inevitable.
Mori (in a deliberately creepy tone): Oh, that won’t be a problem.
We laughed again.
And then, all the fun was sucked from the garage. FPB entered from the driveway and demanded to know what was funny.
Sage: Mori’s cooking up new punishments.
FPB: That’s... terrifying.
Me: Hey, I put your clothes in the guest room if you want to get dressed.
FPB: M’kay. I’m getting a beer first.
He cracked open a beer and headed inside. As he towered in the doorway, he turned to me.
FPB: You coming?
Mori: You need your girlfriend to help you put your clothes on? Are you in kindergarten?
FPB: Eat a dick, Mori.
Mori: Sounds delicious.
FPB shuddered and trudged inside. He hadn’t made any more demands that I accompany him, so I let him go put on his big boy pants all by himself.
*end of Chapter 4
As always, thank you so, so much for reading!
Hope to see you back for The Lap of Luxury!

With summer heat raging already, living in a car can s#ck. Ive lived in my car a few times, and may be again next week. Anywhoo.. here are some things Ive learned that I hope will help anyone in that situation. Feel free to add more.
--- Keep a pee bottle. Nothing is worse than having to hold it or get up and find a bathroom in the middle of the night. Often times its not possible to park where you can 'use the bushes'. I use a plastic water bottle like for atheletes, cheap at thrift stores, and they seal well. Also the opening is large enough to..
----Always park in the shade when you can. The cooler you keep your car the faster it cools off at night. Sleeping in a hot car is all but impossible.
---Look for places to park that are on grass or dirt. Parking on concrete / pavement is like parking on a frying pan. The heat radiates all night. This is a hard one but not impossible, and the difference is life changing.
---Walmart, Lowes, Home Depot and others do not mind if you park there overnight. Certain stores do not allow it, but most of them do. I park in the employee area, but also away from other cars so as not to be noticed. Cracker Barrel also is cool with car campers but it can be hard to 'blend in' there. I have slept at them but its a last resort.
---Use black cloth or w/e you can to block the windows,especially the back ones. You do not want to be seen. You are doing nothing wrong but you do not want to be caught sleeping in your car anywhere in this day and age. Its a safety issue, not just criminals but cops. the cops will harass you and in some places arrest you for vagrancy.
---Spend as much as you can afford to keep your car in shape. Tires, oil changes, basic maintenance. Used tire stores can be a god send. If your car breaks down ( as my honda odyssey van recently did) it can be a terrible situation.
---charge your devices every chance you get. Even if your car has a plug, it is a bad idea to rely on that to power your phone all the time.
--If you can, get a piece of plywood for the back seat ( for non-van car dwellers). Car seats are hard to sleep on. You can get around that by having a piece of plywood cut at Lowe's that will fit on top of the back seat. Measure the width and length that is the biggest you can fit in there. You will probly have to have a couple pieces of wood or w/e to level it out, secure it, but it doesnt have to be a major construction job. as long as its flat and doesnt tip, now you have a better place to sleep. A foam pad on top and your quality of sleep and life just increased.
--If you are in a secure area ( as much as possible) leave the windows cracked slightly. In the winter this helps reduce condensation on the windows. Cops and Criminals both know that fogged up windows mean someone is inside.
--Multi story Parking decks are great places to park. They stay cooler as the sun doesnt heat the pavement. Casinos and hospitals can be good for this. Municipal/private parking garages can be a cheap alternative to having to rent a motel to get out of the heat. Even in downtown Atlanta, you can find 24 hour parking for less than 15 bucks.
---Baby Wipes. Unscented. Enough said.
--Truck stops can be dicey, but you can always sleep there and shower if you have an extra 15-20 bux to spend. if not see above.
Sorry for writing a book. Please add your own ideas, I would love to hear them.

Update: rather than get better it’s getting SIGNIFICANTLY worse. He has completely shut down. He has said some really hurtful things to me today that contradict future plans we have discussed, and we are literally just two humans sharing a roof at this point. He doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t hold my hand or show me any type of affection. He rarely converses anything of any meaning.
I’m so sad I’ve been crying for hours now. He refuses counseling. He says he will but he’s not ready to now. Instead, he wants a 2nd job … to not think about this anymore (AKA avoiding it all). This is taking a HUGE toll on me mentally. I do not feel loved, or even considered. I feel like he doesn’t even love me anymore.
What do I do next? Do I just hang around with this person who isn’t putting in any effort to our relationship anymore? Do I keep showing up even though he is pushing me out? Where do I draw the line if it’s been 6 straight months of this with no end in sight?
I have tried my best to be supportive, but at what point am I cheating myself? His behavior makes me feel like he’s angry with me/doesn’t love me. 🥹 I know it’s still fresh but I am being dragged through the mud in this process.
Did anyone treat their spouse this way through their grief?
Help! -Lost, sad, and confused
———————————————————————
Grieving partner
My partner is in the process of grieving his mother’s sudden death over the holidays. I have been there for him through it all. I feel deeply for him and his pain. But also, I am so tired … and I feel like I’m losing him. He’s not the same (and I understand why), we don’t laugh much anymore, he’s not as affectionate, he totally withdraws into his own world and I know it’s how he copes but GOSH. I am so tired. And I want my partner back. Is he gone forever? How long before we can have our lives back?
How do I get through this and show up for my partner but honor my own feelings at the same time … because this is also affecting me a lot. 😞 I am mentally on zero.
Any feedback/words of encouragement/advise is deeply appreciated.

Hi! I’m looking to buy a new to me car. I currently have a 2015 ford fusion se that I bought when it was 1 year old. I don’t wish to get a car that new again lol. And I don’t want another ford.
I am considering 2 different routes:
1) an old small coupe/suv. Ideally something 1990-1998 in the $2000-$8000 range. Easy to build out how I like as I replace the engine and transmission. Good bones, cheap easy to find parts, customizable. I’ve looked at Lexus sc 300/400, Toyota rav4, and crv picnic table model. If it’s a small car I’d like rwd and if it’s a suv I’d like awd. And sunroof!! Lol
2) something newerish sedan/hatchback/suv. 2005-2012 $5000-$12000. Reliable and won’t need to do work for awhile. Like will last me til 2035 without maaajor work so long as I care for it. Hybrid is cool but not necessary. Cheap parts, tires, good gas mileage. Honda fit or civic maybe? Idk
Do you have any recommendations besides what I’ve mentioned? Would you recommend any that I’ve mentioned over the others? I appreciate all input! Thank you!!