Daily life in Etharia

Welcome to the second official role play of Etharia! This is a role playing thread depicting the daily life of the citizens of nations that make up Etharia. When we learn more about each other we will be able to coordinate our stories into more complex plots, but for now, this shall suffice. So don't be afraid to write about anything and everything happening within your nation.

Volya Voloshin
Kingdom of Usatovo, Empire of Treko
Voloshin Farms, Grain Producer

I watched as the military transport vehicle came down the single dirt road that led to our farm; A dust cloud followed in its wake. As it grew closer I could hear its loud diesel engine hum incessantly. It wasn’t really a bother considering I was around farming equipment most of the time but it certainly frightened my little sister, Ludmila, who gripped her stuffed bear tightly as well as my pant leg. I merely placed my hand on her head and gave her a friendly smile. It didn’t seem to do much as she buried her face into the back of the stuffed bear's head. When the truck neared the driveway I picked up Ludmila and carried her down the stairs to the front door which my father was already answering. I didn’t catch the conversation but father seemed to have a disgruntled look on his face.

“What’s the matter?” I asked with Ludmila clutching my shoulder along with her stuffed bear.

“We’re temporarily being moved due to the impending eruption of Mt. Kallioinen. Pack a bag of clothes and do so for Ludmila,” He ordered, I opened my mouth to say something but quickly stopped and carried Ludmila back up the stairs to gather our things. As I neared the top of the stairs I placed Ludmila down and walked over to her room and quickly packed her bag before doing the same in my room. Upon finishing packing I threw my sister's pink bag over my shoulder then carried her downstairs. Father was already outside and when we stepped out he quickly locked the door. Before making our way to the transport vehicle I guided Ludmila to the nearby grave.

“Give your love to Mama, Ludmila. We don’t know when we’ll be back,” I said as I proceeded to give a little prayer. Upon finishing I led Ludmila over to the transport truck which I put her in before embarking myself. Father was the last to enter the truck for he took the longest to say goodbye to mama.

George Russell
Age 15, Mayor of Midham

Today, has been the busiest day of the city, it isn't like any other day before. My assistants are running left and right of the office corridor, carrying letters and documents and proposals that need some signing before going to the Provincial Government to be ratified there. For me, i have to sign off 2,234 letters from the Central Government and the Office of the Governor, 32 Documents and 12 Proposals. Just then did something happen, everyone started to gather near the entrance, and if it isn't His Majesty himself, King Philip III coming to visit the office, i never met the person face to face and certainly never shook his hands. So meeting him was a whole another different experience.

Workers from Cabrya are ready

The Ninhundish Government after hearing about the opening borders of Cabrya, has allowed citizens from that country to be “temporary workers”. These people have never seen the outside world before and are likely to gain many new experiences and are to be picked up shortly.

Junior Sergeant Artem Maslow
District Police
Kurakchevsk, Kingdom Of Oopona, Empire Of Treko
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The capital city of Kurakchevsk was alive and roaring with the sounds of city life. Honking was incessant, people moved like water along the sidewalks, and construction was always in progress. However, despite being a modern city there was one thing that was still traditional and persistent, the District Police. Throughout the decades the District Police force still wore the traditional black uniform that was complemented by a red peaked cap, brown leather webbing, white trim around the cuffs, and the always polished black boots. It was this traditionalism that attracted me towards the idea of serving with the District Police. Growing up I always heard tales of the District Police bringing law into the lawless steppes of Treko. Risking life and limb to bring order to the Tsar’s Empire. Though the time of steppe bandits plaguing the countryside has long since passed there is still a need for law and order in Treko. Despite the role being diminished to more of a State Police role I enjoy my job.

“Artem, stop staring off into the distance! You keep that up and someone will steal the elk right from under you,” jested Vitalij as he rode up beside me, his taser lance standing upright in his stirrup which was supported by his hand.

“Sorry, Vitalij, got lost in my mind,” I replied with a grin, “Also, you’re one to talk. A thief could easily steal your papakha right off your head and you wouldn’t even notice!”

Vitalij let out a boisterous laugh that seemed to grab the attention of every passerby on the sidewalk. If I was still a recruit I would have been embarrassed by Vitalij’s boisterous laugh and probably would have become red in the face but I joined in and let out a boisterous laugh as well. Our enjoyment of the joke came to a quick end when both of our radios came to life, “...K-211 and K-212 we have a 10-71 at Imperskiy & 5th, how copy?...”

I quickly grabbed my shoulder mic and responded, “This is K-211 and K-212. We are 10-49 to Imperskiy & 5th!”

Vitalij and I quickly spurred our elks and took off down the road in the direction of Imperskiy & 5th. The sight of our galloping elks brought nearby traffic to a standstill and allowed us to cut across traffic. If the sight of elks moving at full gallop didn’t stop traffic our taser lances could be used to slow and halt traffic by extending it in front of moving vehicles. As we continued to gallop towards our intended scene we saw several citizens running away from the area or pointing in the direction of the crime in progress. With the distance becoming ever closer I turned on my taser lance and prepared myself for what was to come.

Turning the corner onto Imperskiy & 5th we were met by gunfire from the perpetrator who was already making a run for it. Vitalij and I continued forward and couched our taser lances and pursued the gunmen down the sidewalk. Despite his attempts at running it was no match for our elks which easily closed the distance. As we neared the perpetrator turned and fired in desperation to halt our advance but it was useless. I slammed my taser lance into the perpetrator’s jacketed chest which knocked him to the ground and Vitalij followed up by using his taser lance to keep the man down. With haste I dismounted and stomped by black leather boot onto the man's hand which was holding the gun. The perpetrator let out an agonizing scream which I ignored as I flipped him over and handcuffed him before letting Vitalij taze him again

“HQ, this is K-211 and K-212, we have the perpetrator in custody,” I said with a smile as I planted my knee on the man’s back.

At the age of fourteen, Gisara Jae-Sun, Mascot of Jae-Syu attempted suicide. Beforehand, though, he wrote a letter addressed to his dear sister.

Elma,

I don't know if you can recognize me anymore, after everything that happened — I'm sure if you saw your little brother now, you'd have to laugh a little, because I'm barely the boy I was three or for years ago. I mean, everyone's been trying to help me but it hasn't been enough, and now, I don't know what I want anymore. I used to want you and mom and dad back, but that'll never happen, and even if it did, I don't think these memories would go away, memories of seeing you three burn away in the car, memories of feeling your blood splatter on me...

Remember that night? I still do... the two of us in the car together. "Marigold." You singing, me playing guitar. Mom smiling, dad driving. A dark jungle road after a little trip in Suzurai.
I played guitar two other times that day, Elma. The man that killed you, David Jumeau, he was that serial killer, Elma. Do you remember those parents from Din Thi Di a while back? Apparently, he killed them too because of his puppets, and the police eventually found that he killed a number of people. Including mom, dad, and you, they're saying around twelve.

Elma, David was insane. Remember how I used to say that I could play guitar for anyone, anywhere? I hate that I had to be proven true there, playing in front of him, holding back my tears, pretending to be happy to sing "Marigold," playing guitar — our guitar — for a madman. And he and his puppets loved it, they clapped for me, but deep inside, I was terrified Elma, terrified that he was going to kill me.

He almost did. You three dying that night wasn't the worst part, as impossible as that sounds, but I... I don't think you should hear. Even if I live forever, I can't forget what he did to me, and it's why I can't get into a car now without having a panic attack. Buses and planes are a little better, but I know, it's embarrassing, right? I remember when you told me that, once you graduated, you'd take me on tour over summer, me as your little guitarist, but even if you were still here, I don't know if I could do that. I know it'd be for you, but still...

But speaking of your guitar, I still have it. I haven't let it go. I won't. it's all I have left from you, Elma — the accident took everything else. My happiness, my innocence, you, mom, dad. I'm still alive, but even that doesn't feel like enough, because what point is living if I can't be happy? I know that sounds silly, but I honestly don't feel happy, I don't feel anything anymore. I don't even feel sad or angry or scared.

Elma, I got diagnosed a year after the accident with depression. I started taking medicine, but a few days later, I started shaking and my mouth got dry. I was told that those were just side effects, so I figured I could endure it. But... looking at the bottle on the counter, I keep getting weird thoughts of opening it and downing the entire thing, Plus, I keep having this weird dream that you survived and were standing in a field of marigolds and sunflowers, but every time I got close to you, I fell into a sound hole.

Honestly, a part of me wishes that were real. I feel like I'm lost, like... like I'm trying to play a song on my guitar when my hands are shaking. By some sick coincidence, the side effects always start acting up whenever I'm trying to play music for anyone, but I've kept it under control enough. At least that's been under control. At least I can make someone happy with my music, even if I've had to end a few streams because I got... I don't know. I just said goodbye, stopped the stream, and sat there, not feeling anything in particular. My fans have been getting worried for me, but I've told them I'm fine.

But Elma, I haven't been doing so well in school. I know I used to be great and all, that I used to want to learn so much, but that's not me anymore. I just want summer to come, but even these past summers have been so bland without you. Remember when you used to lead me out on the beach with a sparkler, or when we'd watch the fireflies there as part of the festival? I tried celebrating without you and with just Chin-Mae, but... it didn't work.

I've been falling behind on everything school-related. My teachers and grandparents and doctor and therapist are all trying to work out something, but I think... I don't know why they want to try so hard. I feel like I'm barely alive anymore, and they still want to try to do something like it's still worth it. It's not that they shouldn't care, it's more that I just don't think there's anything more that we can do, Elma. Both Chin-Mae and Mrs. Skylar, your old Literature teacher, have been trying so hard, but...

Actually, that reminds me. I don't know what happened last year, but I had an argument with him, he left, and I passed out in the sand watching the stars and fireflies. When grandma and grandpa found me, my clothes were soaked because I fell asleep during a tide. I think I'd have rather had the ocean sweep me out, though, so I could just forget about everything that's happened, everything that I've screwed up.

I just want this pain to end, Elma.
That's why I did it. Elma, I'll be seeing you soon. I'm going to be cremated with your guitar, so I can play it for you while you sing. I'm just waiting for it to take effect, so I can meet you. I have a new song for you, too. I think you'll like it. If you're wondering what it's about... remember when I was ten, when we were up all night on the beach catching fireflies? It's about them.

See you soon,
Your younger brother, Gisara

Magnús Bjørnsson (ᛙᛆᚵᚿᚢᛌ ᛒᚤᚯᚱᚿᛌᚮᚿ)
Age 20
City of  Furustrønd
65 miles north of Kónkordia, Brautarhólmur
Northwestern María Helga Island
Kópastrønd County, Halfjord, Hvidovia, Kanadorika
May 20, 2020

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City of Furustrønd (Pine Beach):

2015 Ljón Landkønnuður:

Furustrønd Beach:

"See? I told you we should have taken the train. Look at that mess!" Annika frowned as she pointed out the traffic just ahead. Our 80 mph speed on northbound Highway 5 was no more as we slowed down to match traffic.

"Well, we can't bang on the train," I teased Annika, grasping her hand in mine.

She gave me a wink. "I mean we can."

"And soil the good name of the Metropolitan Transit Authority? Hmph I think not."

"Is this the same Metropolitan Transit Authority whose subway tracks constantly catch on fire?" Annika asked

I quickly took a right turn onto the off ramp, exiting the freeway. Waiting in that mess of a traffic jam was the last thing I wanted. "Yes. The very same MTA subway with so many rats that they are going to start charging the little bastards ticket fares." Once off the freeway, we found ourselves in a charming Viktorian era neighborhood, complete with numerous buildings from the 1800s. A street sign confirmed that we were now within the city of Furustrønd (Pine Beach), though we still had some driving to do to get to the beach itself.

Back in the day, before all land between here and Brautarhólmur was swallowed by dozens upon dozens of miles of endless development, Furustrønd was something of a central city. Today, it has been essentially reduced to a wealthy suburb, although it still is perhaps among the most distinctive communities on María Helga Island. Among the most attractive qualities of Furustrønd was the beach. While beaches in Eyjan were rather... unique (aka cold) compared to the rest of the world, we still actually had beaches. We just only swim in them during the month of August, and even then its often still just bearably cold. Furustrønd Beach, while just as cold as the others, was my favorite in the entire canton. It was not overly crowded like the beaches in Prinsinn, Brautarhólmur are. Because of this, actual wildlife existed on the far stretches of sand, wildlife that was respected by the beachgoers and not harassed as they would be elsewhere. On the downside, the wildlife would periodically harass the beach goers.

It was ᚠ10 to pay for parking at the beach. Not bad, especially considering that for a day in May, the beach was rather empty. It was a warm day, at 59°F. Warm enough, that Annika and I both wore shorts and tank tops.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked her, opening the door of the car and getting blasted by the salt water scented wind. This was her first time at Furustrønd Beach, and so long as she was my girlfriend, it wouldn't be her last.

"It's certainly clean, I'll give it that. Down south in Gotha ^{(local vernacular for Brautarhólmur)}, the wind would have blown trash into the car the second you opened the door." Annika stepped out of the vehicle with me, and we took in the scenery surrounding us. "Now shut up Magnús, I'll race you to the shore!"

Her sudden spontaneousness caught me off guard. "Wait what? But who's gonna get our bags out of the car- ah shit..."

Annika took off like a greyhound, running with hilariously bad form but with good speed. I chased after her, closing the gap between us, but not wanting to pass her for the fact that back here I could admire her curvaceous body. But as soon as the beach came into view, Annika suddenly stopped.

"What the absolute fuck? Those fat fucks stole our beach!" She cried out in frustration.

I was still focusing my attention on her unusually large (by foreign standards at least) breasts. "Ninhundish tourists? Yeah they do that at this time of the year.

"No... it's those goddamn seals! They strut around like they own the place!" She stared down at the beach, where the blobs of resting elephant seals on the shore took up a good chunk of the sand. "Magnús you're a tough guy right? can you convince those blubbery twats to get off the beach? Please?"

"Uh no."

Annika chuckled at my response. "What's the matter? You scared?"

"Yes, I am! I won't do it, but if you want to wrestle with a 3 ton beast then go right ahead."

Of course, she changed her tune. "On second thought, why don't we just walk a little bit down the beach and leave them alone."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." I grabbed Annika by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss. As stubborn as she could be, she enthusiastically accepted it. With her hand in mine, we began our stroll happily down the walkway to the other side of the beach, away from the local wildlife. Eventually, we reached the sand. clumps of washed up kelp dotted the shore, though they were certainly preferable to the beasts just north of us.

"You know someone is going to have to go back to the car and grab the bags, right?" I said, remembering that without sunscreen my pale skin would fry in the sun.

Annika just ignored me, meaning it was going to be me who had to go back, though I would do everything in my power to make her walk her lazy ass back with me.

Suzurai, Ezhara
A temple, at summer dusk

"I'll be happy to see you next time, miss." I bowed to the businesswoman, watching as she left. In my hands, I gently balanced my lacquerware cup, and the fringe of my tea-green robes, bangs, and ponytail blew in the gentle wind like Suzuraigan hills bountiful with tea. I grinned as I got up, and she returned the gesture. "Eiko, maybe one of these days, you really should learn to sing. I think it'd fit you well."
"Ah, really now?" I covered my face with my cup, hiding a smile as a matcha aroma poured out. "Sounds you're getting awfully greedy, miss. Am I not already everything wonderful?"
"It can always be better." She took out a lighter, and I shook my head before she could light a cigarette. "What? No need to be so judgmental."
I lowered my cup, my smile becoming a blank stare as the wind blew at the gingko leaves, and as I sat on the temple's stairs. "Perhaps I will learn to sing, then. Only... it seems that there is always more to be done." I raised it again, hiding my mouth.
"That's the Eiko I know."

Down. "Always will be." Up.
My cup moved like an automaton, like the rhythm of a tea ceremony, where guests come in, dine, leave, come back in, as I prepare each and every stage in a delicate formality. I smelled my delicate matcha again, thinking back to Darius Basho and his osmanthus; he must be painting, right around this hour, or perhaps he'd be eating dinner. Perhaps he's teaching my sister, who I left behind at his house while I left for the temple. "Say," the businesswoman said, "have you eaten yet? I can take you out, then take you back home."
I paused in smelling my matcha to examine her expression. She seemed pleased to make her offer. Too pleased. She had other plans, like all the other adults.  "No, but thank you for the offer." My cup covered my mouth.
"What, not interested? It's a fancy place. I know you'll like it better than whatever your cooks can make."
Had she seriously fallen for that lie? "Ne... nah, no thanks."
"Hmph. I wouldn't have minded supporting you as a Talent."

"I'm not a Talent." My cup stayed down. "I'm not. And I never will be. For me to become one, with this history, would be an insult to all things Ezharan. I'm flattered that you think otherwise, bu—"
"I'd think it would expand your profits." She smiled. "You're really one of the best boys I've ever met."
"No." I lifted my cup for another whiff of matcha to soothe my emotions, then returned it to my fingertips. "I know Yoshikuma wanted me as a Talent, before Darius. Thank the gods he was born, so that I wouldn't have to get myself together."
"I thought your family was richer than that?"
"Money can only make things easier, miss, but I wouldn't think a businesswoman like you would get that." I raise my cup.

She giggled. "You know, I like your sass a lot more than the others." I didn't respond, and listened to the wind rustling the leaves. I wondered if she noticed my blank stare, but then she turned around to leave. "Anyway, nice time with you. I'll be back tomorrow, if there's room. I know how booked your schedule can get."
"Oh, no worries. You're one of the better adults in my life." I smiled, then covered my mouth with my cup and watched as she relaxed.
It was hardly a compliment, considering what I did for my family, but she relaxed at it.
"Well, that's a wonderful thing to hear from you." She beamed, but I was still blankly staring at her, pushing the agony of hypocrisy down and out of me with another smell of matcha. "Anyway, I best be going now."
"I'll still be here, then."
"Of course." She left.

I sat there, staring at the wind blowing through the trees, the sun setting on the opposite street. Nothing came to my mind specifically as I breathed in, breathed out and meditated on the stairs, purging my anger, my shame, my guilt amidst the freshness of nature and the subtle aroma of matcha from the cup balanced in my hands. In. Out. In. Out. The gentle sunlight, the gentle breeze, the trickle of the little fountain at my side, the birds chirping, the end of my ponytail swaying... It was liberating for someone like me, even as I was trapped by my family. Sometimes, I wanted to run from it all so I could finally, finally face Darius. But what good would that do?
And besides it'd leave my sister alone. All alone.
Having thought that so many times over, it no longer felt like any news, and nothing came up within me, unlike every other time before. If my cup was more reflective, I'm sure I would have seen my dead eyes. Unwilling to let these thoughts pile up on me, I returned to meditating, ignoring the steps of the old monk behind me, even when he patted my head.

A few minutes later, I got up, looked down at my empty cup, and decided to make some more, passing by the monk again and not looking back at him. I entered the main chamber, turned left, and opened the hidden door to my tea chamber, setting down my cup on the lacquered table as the clock ticked behind me. "Ugh, I still need to clean this place out..." I grabbed my tea-stained futon and opened the window, tossing it outside for me to clean it later — for now, I only wanted a clean space for an orderly tea ceremony. All for myself.
Alongside my hair, my sister, and my meditation, it was one of the few things that I found solace in. How I wished it could just be those four thing, in addition to a new life, without having to worry about my parents, who pushed me to this horror that I was now in, that had snuffed out what little youth I had.

I opened my cabinet, taking out a piece of agarwood incense, whose gently sweet, woody aroma wafted forth alongside a fragment of a memory that I pushed down. I took out a shining lighter with a carved dragon and a bronze incense holder that flared out like a flower, bringing them to my table, where I kneeled on a little matcha-green pillow. Flick. A little fire danced out on the lighter, and I stared at it for a moment as dreams of fire blurred past me.
I extracted my phone, and put on one of Gisara's songs. One, two... I breathed in sync with him, letting the dreams dissolve, returning me. I set my phone down, continuing to breathe in and out as my shaking hand drifted towards the incense holder, waiting for the fire to strike. Half a minute passed before I realized I never set the incense sticks in the holder. I put them in and lit them, breathing in the uplifting scent as I put out the lighter with my finger.

Then, it choked me. "Gods..." My steady breathing turned rapid, shallow, and I closed my eyes as my head swirled like a lake in a storm. My panting drowned out Gisara's words as my head crashed towards the incense, but I turned to the floor just in time, turning onto my back as I overheated, drowning out the rough tatami and my smooth robes. One of my hands fumbled with my clothes, but I couldn't feel the folds of sweat-soaked fabric to tear them off, not in my feverish state. My vision flickered as my other hand stifled my moans of pain and as I kicked and thrashed.
And in between it all, I could see the dark socks of my father as he watched me.

My hand stopped covering my mouth, and it plodded towards him. "What... what are you doing here?" My panting constantly interrupted me; if only he had come at a better time.
"Checking on you." I could sense his smile, his evil eyes even in my current state. "Another delight corrupted again, I see. Wouldn't it just be easier to escape?" A glimmer of metal appeared in his hands. "Wouldn't it be easier to kill them? To one day, lead them right into a fire, to act and pretend that it was all an accident?"
"I can't... I can't. She's not free yet." I rose on my arms to face him, my sister's smile the only thought I had. "She's all that matters."
"What, no justice for you, then? Or are you, as my son, so delud—"
I slammed my fist. "You're... you're the delusional one to think that there will be any sort of justice for me." My arms went numb, and I collapsed onto the floor, still staring at his socks. "There's nothing left, nothing, nothing."

"Of course there is no justice. You never pursue it, and never see it. Do you think that someday you will be whisked away to salvation? Are you not interested in struggling?"
The incense continued to choke me, and I struggled to speak. "Who would save someone like me? Who saves... the boy who cursed himself to this?"
"Anyone would, if only they knew, but you might definitely." He crouched down to face me, his black-and-white harlequin outfit like a cursed sketch in the dull browns of the wooden room. "You insist on not taking your revenge, and that only agonizes you more and more."
"And if... if I did, I would choke on the smoke of my arson."
"You would be sheltered. Safe, at last. So would your sister from your 'parents.'"

"You don't understand... what these people would do to keep me."
"Hmph, you must be more delusional than me to think that they'd do everything they can. You don't seem to recognize how disposable you are. You're just one of many."
"Disposable? Explain... everything I'm wearing, all these gifts, then thing than. How disposable am I to get all of this?"
"You've said it yourself: it's all fake. And besides, do you really think this would cost all that much?" I heard the soft ruffle of clothes as he lifted his arms; I was beginning to fade. "The room is the monk's, the wood the painter's, the incense the gardener's... all bits and pieces, amounting to maybe a thousand, but in the end costing no more than a hundred for folks already making millions. What's your point?"
"No... they love me more, I swear, they do."

"You're willing to allow the continuation of these abuses for something like that?"
I gasped as I plodded towards him, my body still feverishly warm. "No, no. That's not... what I meant at all. It's horrible, but if they leave—"
"You'd be free."
"No. I would be a fraud, and my family, my sister..."
"So you'd sacrifice yourself for parents who hardly care for what's apparent? You'd sacrifice yourself for a sister that's not even your real sister? You'd willingly become what Ezhara despises, you'd willingly allow the continuation of this horrible crime for three people you hardly even know or thank you? Tell me, is that what you plan to do?"
"Yes. Yes, I don't care about me anymore. I'm too deep in now—"

"Oi, Eiko!" It was Darius, but why was he at the temple? "Eiko, snap outta it, mate. There isn't anything 'ere."
"Well, I'll be taking my leave then." My father smiled. "Good luck telling them what's wrong with you."
"There's nothing wrong with me." I blinked a few times, and my vision snapped back to the temple room where Gisara's song was playing, to Darius over me dressed in his usual, pure, school uniform. I still felt feverishly hot, but at least I wasn't getting any hotter.
"Wot are you going on abou'?"
"Nothing, Darius."

"Awfy loud nothin' you've got, then." He reached his pale hand out to mine, and helped me up. "Yer sista was asking to see you."
"Sister?" I turned around, trying to see if she was in the room. "Where is she? Darius, you didn't—"
"S-She's with Menos outside, in the ga'dens. I heard you talkin' and figured that mebbe..." He vaguely gestured. "You should get it treated."
"Get what treated? I'm perfectly normal, Darius. My doctor says so." He stayed silent for a moment. "Now then, do you want some matcha tea?"
"OI... sure." He sat down at the table as I picked up my tea utensils from the back of the room, and I heard him turn on the teapot to heat our water. When I returned, I noticed the extinguished incense. "Why'd you put it out?"

He stared at it. I could sense a hint of anger in him, but I didn't know why. "Ah, i jus'... felt like it was a good oidea to put it out, 's all. By the way, what's with all these weird decorations 'round the room? They aren't very, um, tea ceremony. Smells pretty bad, too."
"I just realized... how did you get in here?"
"As'ed the monk. He said tha' he figured you must be ready for me in your room, and that maybe you'd teach—"
I turned my head, and I stopped cleaning his tea bowl. "Pardon?"
Darius shrugged, and I started cleaning the tea scoop. "He said wot he said. Dunno what more he could mean."

I shook my head. "Just... don't trust any of the adults I know."
"Whoi do you trus' them then?"
I exhaled. "Darius Basho, the world can become a peculiar place when you're put in an awkward situation. You're lucky to be born in wealth. All of these clothes of mine, all of my eloquence, all of my talent... it's all fake, all just a survival trick to charm someone else into giving my poor family at least a small source of income, even if it turns me into someone's plaything." I set down the tea bowl and began cleaning my cup. "Why else do you think I rejected becoming a Talent? Nobody would want a Talent like me — not even I want me. Now you... you've got a real bright future ahead of you, and I'll be looking out for you, Darius."
He sat there, stunned. "Wot?"
"I'm serious, Darius. Given the chance, I'd probably sell off my memories, too. Who wouldn't want a faux-Talent's?"

"No, I'm talking 'bout... ah, nevermind." He looked around the room. "But still, what's with all this... decor? These aren't normal flowers, like the coriander, the roses... eugh, who decorated this entire place? It's no' very calming at all, 'speciialy that 'sakura' calligraphy."
"Wasn't me. Don't remember who it was, anyway. Doesn't matter. I just want some tea." With that, I fell on my back. "Tired."
"Long day?" I nodded. "Aight, I get i'. I'll wait for the wo'ta to warm up and pour it for both of us, aight?"
"Mmm, go ahead. I'm gonna take a nap."
"Hah-ah-ah-ah." A slight grin formed on my face at hearing that youthful staccato laugh. "I' won't take that long, Eiko."
"Sure, sure."

Soon enough, Darius was standing over me with my cup, smiling. "Matcha for Eiko." I got up and took it from him, staring at the hot steam rising up. "Oh, you go' any wagashi? Koinda bland, havin' matcha without anything else 'fore."
"Lemme see." I strode over to the cabinets behind me. "I got osmanthus flavor." I picked it out and tossed it towards him, smiling as he unpeeled it. "Your favorite." Standing there, my cup in my hand, him eating a small square of osmanthus, I felt like I could forget everything. I trusted Menos enough to take care of my sister based on my few encounters with him in his city, and I allowed myself to meditate to the aroma of the matcha.
The door in opened, and Menos came in with a tea tray; he was dressed in his usual gentle blue sweater with a white collar peeking out of it, all juxtaposed against a soft tan. A fake blue morpho butterfly was pinned to his breast, and he had a dreamy look to his eyes as he gave a slight bow to me. "Nice to see you again, Eiko."

"Same here." I strode towards the table, and saw a mauve dress peeking out from behind him. "Oh, and tell my sister to get out from behind you. I can see her. She's not as short as she thinks." Setting down my cup, I dashed to Menos's side, planting my feet solid. "Come out, come out, Ayame."
"Rah!" She dove towards me, but I instead caught her in my arms, rubbing her head as I twirled her around, her feet flying in the air. "Hey, no fair."
"Yes, fair. What do you expect doing the same— woah." I buckled backwards as I felt her foot kick back; thankfully, she made contact just above. "H-hey, it's three guys here."
"What's wrong with that?" She sprang out of my arms and pirouetted to face me.
"Well, it's not nearly as funny since Darius and Menos aren't female."

"I think I'd laugh a little," Menos said as he walked towards the table, silver clattering as he set down his tray. "Ah, sorry, Eiko." I turned to Darius.
"I dunno wot I'd do. Mebbe she should try."
"Yes!"
"Hey, hold on, now." I sidestepped her first charge, planted myself, and grabbed her hand as she propelled past me, leaving her to dangle in front of Menos's tea tray. "You're really going to challenge me, Ayame? Why don't we take it outside?"
"Oi, no need tae have a brawl 'ere," Darius said. "Almost crashed into Menos's tea. It's good stuff."

"Oh, tea?" I looked at Ayame, and her free arm swung towards me. I caught it, then pulled her in for a tight, but brief hug. I needed it after everything that had happened earlier.
"Yeah. Msdal-nahr mint tea. I figured you'd want some for your birthday."
"It's my birthday?"
"I's your birthday?"
"Big brother, you have a birthday?" A beat passed. My eyes darted from Darius, to my sister, to Menos, who was staring back at me with his usual dreaminess. He nodded. "Er, how do you know?"
"How do you not remember?" Menos sauntered towards the table, setting his tray next to it. "I'd have thought that all your adults would pamper you over it. You sure know a ton."

"No, I just... don't draw much attention to my birthday. Why should I?" Really, I was waiting for it — once I was older, I knew that they would finally leave me alone. But if nobody wanted me... would that leave my family alone?
Maybe it wouldn't be so great to grow up, then.
"Big brother, are you okay? You look..."
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just thinking of something sad, Ayame."
"Well, don't." She hugged me. "It's your birthday." She let go.
"Right... it is." I swallowed, trying to block out the memories of so long ago, back when I was with my real mother, when she had dumped me at the doorsteps of this very temple with dry eyes, and when I slept in this hidden tea room that first time. That was her birthday gift to me: realizing that she wasn't enough, and resigning herself to her death alone when I found her.

Darius stood up. "Oi, I dinnae mean to be rude, but the mood's awfy bad now, Eiko. Are you... really okay?"
"Yes... I just need a breath of fresh air." From that night so long ago, the somber melody of the monk from the other room came back to me as I strode out of the room, turned right out of the main hall, and walked to the porch. There was the garden where my mother had walked me through, where I had played with the koi fish, where Ayame played moments before, where Menos no doubt blushed pink against his gentle brown.
I want to be... forever young.
The muffled song echoed in my ears, drawing me out of the temple gate. Stone slabs gave way to cement, then asphalt. A medley of trumpets blasted in my ear.
"Eiko, the car!" Darius yelled. Without thinking, I dove forward.

Do you really want to live forever?
Forever, and ever...
I was staring at the night sky that birthday, so long ago; I could see so many of the constellations she had taught me. An aroma of matcha wafted towards me.
"I'll be happy to see you next time... mom..."

"Dude, you could've at least disconnected me before you did all that," Nebang Chuk-Moo said. "Like, seriously, I think my parents heard it even with the rain."
Dolgae Hyun-Ki huffed, pushing his headset mic up with his shoulder as he washed his hands. "Sorry, but I needed the focus, like, right then and there. It couldn't have been that bad."
"It was that loud, Dokkie."
"Maybe it's your volume that's the problem," Dolgae said, wringing his hands on a towel and walking back to his computer.
"Eugh, at least you didn't have facecam up. I would not have wanted to see you eat—"
"I can boot it up if you want."

"Absolutely not."
"Too bad!"
"Nope—"
Nebang disconnected, leaving Dolgae in the muffled silence of the rain, the wind rustling the bushes outside his house. Sure is nice out there, he thought. He slipped off his headphones and listened to the outside serenity. Rising, he opened the balcony door.
And was met with a surge of cool, wet wind on his bare arms and legs. He slammed the door shut and hurried back to his computer.

Dolgae wrote:bruh im stupid

Dolgae wrote:i opened the door to listen to the rain

Dolgae wrote:but all im wearing are a tanktop and shorts

Nebang wrote:least youre wearing something xd

Dolgae wrote:

Nebang wrote:youre so lazy you cant even type it out

Dolgae wrote:

Ping.
Someone wanted him. He clicked on the source server — his personal one.

ModderUser wrote:your parents are not home

Weird. He turned on his phone.
Thud thud thud.

Dolgae wrote:im ezharan they usually arent

Dolgae wrote:point

He texted his parents, glancing behind him at the open door into the hallway. He could see his lanky shadow stretching out in front of him, from the singular lamp at his desk.
Something outside grabbed at his shadow.

He yelped, hopping out of his seat, and he yelled a slew of expletives in an attempt to scare it off. But nothing came, and all was silent, except for the falling rain. He hurried towards the door, looking into both hallways, but saw nothing. Up. Still nothing. Down. Nothing. Left, right. Nothing, except for the dining table fan that seemed to move for a moment, but when he focused on it, he realized that he was just imagining it. "Hello?" Silence.
He went back inside, shut his door, and locked it, and did the same with his balcony door. Then, he hurried to his phone and called his neighbor — an old nun at his local temple.
"Hey, Nun Gyeonghye?"
"Yes, Dokkie?" Her voice was like an old crone's, but she was by no means similar to one.

"Could you... um, come to my house? I think someone's..."
Dolgae trailed off as he heard furious clattering in the background; he figured that the nun was arming herself. "All right, dear."
He went back to his computer.

Dolgae wrote:weird guy in server

Nebang wrote:ban

Dolgae wrote:not that bad xd

Dolgae wrote:just creeped out

Dolgae wrote:come here

Nebang wrote:in this weather

Dolgae wrote:vc

Nebang wrote:turn off cam db

Dolgae wrote:bruh i have clothes on though

He adjusted his headset and did as his friend said.
"I'm not taking that chance with you, Dokkie."
"Whaddya mean? I— look, I just want someone to talk to, remind me that I'm not alone, o-okay? Actually, now that I mention it, maybe if I turn on the camera, you can watch out for me, mmk?"
"... good idea." With that, Dolgae turned on his webcam. "See? I'm—"
"Thank. God. Now then, how's... actually, did you do your homework?"
"Wuh?"

"Bruh."
"I'll get to it..."
"Do it now, before you forget."
"My backpack's in the living room," Dolgae said as he put down his headset. "Guess I'll... wait no." He sat back down and shrugged. "Guess that's not happening."
"Of course the monster's on your side..."
"There's no monster here. This is the real world, Neb. The only people we need to fear are the ones who can't control themselves."

"You sound pretty proud for the guy who literally jumped onto me when we were watching—"
"Hey, hey, I'm just scared of spiders." He booted up his music software, and adjusted his volumes so that he'd hear Nebang more than the music. "Now then, let's get to business."
"Who are you using for this song?"
"Blossom, of course." Thunder roared, and Dolgae realized that the silence outside had long been shattered. Rustling grass, tapping branches, and pouring rain, all manner of noise, pierced beyond his soundproofing walls via the balcony doors.

And inside — behind and to his left — was the complete silence of his house.
"You're always using Blossom, aren't you?"
"Matcha's providing backing this time, at least."
"The most popular 'loid, just a back vocal," Nebang teased.
"I work better with Blossom is all." Dolgae played his current bit, frowning as he listened to the shrill sound of Blossom and Matcha over the trap beat. "No, no, not like that..."
"Something wrong?"
"Yeah." He played it over again, but this time, it sounded different, sounded better. "Weird. Could've sworn the background had something wrong with it."

"You sure it was the music?"
"It sounded just like—"
His phone rang again. It was Nun Gyeonghye. He set down his headset and looked behind him as he picked up the call.
His door opened.
He could see a piece of light fabric trailing along, moving deeper into the hallway as gentle steps echoed in the silence of his house.
Nun Gyeonghye spoke from his phone. "Dokkie, dear..."

He silenced the call, praying that whoever was there wouldn't notice him. Surely, they already had, but maybe they wouldn't consider him a threat if it didn't seem like he was calling anyone.
He waited, a nervous sweat collecting at his forehead, but still the fabric outside stayed just barely visible. Behind him, he could tell that Nebang was watching too.
Silence, interrupted only by the crack of thunder and ambience of rain, drowned out everything.

If I die here... He swallowed, still not taking his eyes off of the hallway.
He stood up. The fabric was dragged ahead. He took a step forward.
A pair of spiraling horns appeared in front, followed by the long claw of a robed hand.
Then, that someone crawled forward.
Dolgae squeaked as he stepped back. The figure didn't move. It left its head and one of its hands visible in his hallway, and that was it.
He grabbed his phone and snuck forward.

The figure did not notice.
Another step.
Silence.
He looked at his balcony door. If I can just open it, I should be able to jump out...
Step.
This time, the figure released some sort of noise like a drowning frog's croak. They brought more of their body forward, and Dolgae could see more of their lithe, fabric-covered form. What is that?

He sidestepped towards his balcony door.
No response.
Another.
Step.
The figure rushed ahead into the hallway, and now Dolgae could see more of it, alongside a glimmer of serrated metal, now in their hands.
They turned their head, one veiled like a bride's.

And broke into a mad crawl.
Dolgae screamed, opened his balcony door, and without thinking, threw himself into the cold night, looking back at his room and figure.
With their head wrapped behind that veil, Dolgae could not see their face.
"Oof!" He landed in a bush, mud and water soaking into his tanktop and shorts. Leaping to his feet, he scrambled over his garden, opened his gate to his front yard, and ran to his front door, where Nun Gyeonghye was still standing with a gun at her hip, staff behind her, and umbrella in her hand. As he ran up to her, she turned to face him with a knowing bounce of her head.

"You best come to my place, at least, until your parents and police get here." She examined him, then handed him her umbrella. "Did... you jump off of something?"
"Y-yeah." She gave a slight smile as they walked towards her home, one of amusement at his youthful brashness. "I mean... I did always kind of want to do that one day."
They entered her house — a small, one-story building with a living room, a kitchen, and a hallway leading to a bedroom and bathroom.

"I think you best get cleaned up," she said.
"I-I don't know if I should. Nun... I don't think that was a robber."
She paused. "What makes you say that?"
"They... I think they were toying with me. They were waiting outside my room when you called me."
"Really?" She took out her phone, and Dolgae could tell she was calling the police. "No good..."  
His phone chirped, and he prayed that the water or the fall hadn't damaged it.
As he booted it up, he came back to several missed notifications.

Senzi wrote:Hi Dokkie! Just wanted to know, when's your next concert?

It was that weird girl, but now was not the time to respond.

Nebang wrote:dude are you okay

Dolgae wrote:yeah

Dolgae wrote:had to call nwag* though

Nebang wrote:did she kill someone

Dolgae wrote:bruh

*Nun with a gun

"They're on the way." He glanced at Nun Gyeonghe, who had put her phone down. "Now then, you really ought to go take a bath, get yourself cleaned up."
"A-are you sure?"
A beat. "Yes." She dragged a chair in front of the door, then closed and locked the window, setting bars behind it. "Thankfully, I still have some leftover... junk from time elsewhere."
"Junk?"
The Nun gave him an enigmatic smile. "Stories for another day."
"Oh, that sounds so cool."
"Perhaps, perhaps." Her smirk turned to a slight frown, which barely hid her delight. "Now go get yourself cleaned up before I whoop you for trailing mud all over here, young man."

"Y-yes, Nun." She may have been well within her twilight years, but she was still a force to be reckoned with — especially for the kids she chased with her broom, of which Dolgae was on the receiving end of one too many times.
That is, once. She had a way with her crone-like voice and broom that could make any child behave.
He shuddered as he recalled being hit with a broom. It wasn't anything much, but the emotional damage and shame from being hit by an old witch, as the kids called her, would've been enough to kill him if he hadn't already walked into the temple pond that same day. When he got hit, it became just a bad day overall.

Not as bad as this one, though.
He opened the bedroom door with a creak, expecting the figure to leak out and capture him in a wild flurry of fabric.
But nobody came.
He turned on the lights.
A window. A small bed. A closet.
He opened the closet.
Silence.

The thunder cracked and the storm continued to rage as he picked out his old T-shirt and pants from a pile on the floor, which his parents had given to Nun Gyeonghe just in case something were to happen and he needed to sleep over.
With them in his hand, he headed for the bathroom, turning on the faucet and waiting for it to fill.

Dolgae wrote:still here <3 no homo

Nebang wrote:this is so weird

Nebang wrote:it's like i'm with you, but not really

Dolgae wrote:wonders of tech amrite

He sat on the bathroom floor, chatting with Nebang, until his bathtub was nearly full.
Clomp. Clomp.
Something was on the roof.
Squish.

He looked up at the tiny bathroom window, but he only saw the black void, maybe a bit of the screening on it. That was the screen, right?
He grabbed his phone, opened the bathroom door, and peeked out. Silence.
A step forward, and then Nun Gyeonghye rounded the corner. A vague gesture into the bathroom. "Window," he whispered. A creak of the door, a shine of the flashlight.
There was a wild ruffle of cloth as a clawed hand came up, then retreated.
"Persistent." She took his hand. "We're running."

He shut off the water, and the two of them walked to the front door, Dolgae trembling as he hid behind the nun's imposing figure. "Everything will be fine, Dolgae," she said. "I'll make sure of it."
The door creaked open, and she grabbed his hand as they ran onto the porch.
Suddenly, she was still.
Dolgae stepped back as she fell, and he screamed, scrambling into the house. He looked around for an escape. The windows! No, I don't think I can remove those bars... He jumped towards one and pulled, but only ended up stumbling backwards. The bedroom! He leapt to his feet, sprinting into the bedroom. Somehow, amidst the rain, he could hear the soft steps of the figure just outside, and he lied down, crawling towards the bed so that he would not be seen.

Breath abated, he stayed silent as he crept towards the closet.
The mud-steps sounded steadily more distant, and soon they were on wood. Now's my chance! He pushed open the window, and the silence of the house was shattered by the frantic, pursuing steps of the figure. As he jumped through, he looked back at their veil.
For a moment, he swore he could see a strange smirk.
He spun around to face the ground.
"Agh!" A sharp pain bit into his leg, and he turned back to see that a bear trap had been triggered. He tried to slink forward, but it was weighted firmly to the ground.

The figure strode through the window one leg at a time, then picked him up, bear trap and all, carrying him on their shoulder. "L-let me go!" He battered its shoulders, but it remained stalwart as it closed the window and headed to the front door, shutting that.
Soon enough, he was brought to the bathroom, where the full tub awaited him. "Y-you're not planning on b-bathing me, ar— ah!" The figure, having grabbed his waist, slammed him into the bathtub, and he could feel hot blood ooze from the back of his head.
"Please..."

Their claws slithered up towards his throat, and he squeaked in terror as they grasped around it, then lifted him into the air like some ungodly prize. "P-please..." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
As though the figure wanted it, he was slammed into the bathtub water, his shattered head spilling blood, coming out in plumes of red as his hands punched at the figure's fabric arms, as his legs kicked in a desperate struggle.
He could feel his lungs tense in his chest, his throat burning as his panic grew more and more, but still the figure did not let go. The burn grew, like his throat wanted to tear itself apart.

He needed to breathe. He could feel the desperation, rising, rising, rising, his punches turning to frenzied, hooked clawing and his kicks into savage thrashing, all useless against the figure. His body felt like it was about to burst, his head primed to explode as it pleaded for a breath, something to end the terrible silence of air. If he did not take a breath now, a breath of anything...

It hurts!
He couldn't hold it in any longer.
He could feel his mouth pry itself open in a ravenous hunger, and he took a breath.
And water rushed in. He clawed and kicked one last time, feeling his body drift away.
And Dolgae sank.
Into the Stygian.
Silence.

Salvador Suárez
Age: 25
Capital: Tenochtitlán, Aztlán

---

Tenochtitlán, Aztlán:

I walked down the street. I could see some Government Soldiers march through the Capital. I shrugged, "Ah, the soldiers back at it. Hopefully, they can prevent more violence in Aztlán. The Cartels seem to be seeping back into Aztlán once more. Hell there was a murder just a week ago. When will this end?". I continued to walk towards the local convenience store. I put my hands in my pockets. It was nighttime & tonight was hella chilly. I opened my phone screen & checked out social media. "Huh? The Strokes are playing in Tenochtitlán? Nice, I should check them out" I thought as I smiled. The Strokes were one of my favorite bands. I had all of their albums & I was definitely going to attend there upcoming concert. I began to hymm one of their songs, a personal favorite 'Machu Picchu'. My sister liked them as well. She was in her teens but eh I was fine with her listening to them. Besides, not like this world was accomodating to the virtuous. Maybe I should plan out a date there with her? All of these thoughts zoomed about in my head as I got to the store.

I went inside & proceeded to bought what I needed. Some simple snacks & stuff. Nothing too important. I paid for it & left quickly. I needed to hurry back home. My parents had travelled to a nearby area to visit our relatives so I was in charge of watching my sister for the night. Just as I finished this thought, my phone buzzed with a notification. I opened it to see,

Sister: Hey Big Brother, hurry up! I'm hungry for some snacks! Plus, you know I get scared when i'm left alone! Hurry up you big meanie or i'm telling Mom & Dad on you!

I chuckled, she was a great little sister & she always knew how to make me laugh. I texted back,

Brother: Haha don't worry! I'll be home soon!

I put my phone away once I hit the send button & paid attention to the streets. I always had to cross this one street that barely had any cars on it. For some reason, cars just never passed by here. Maybe it was the road design? Who knows but it was usually deserted of human activity. I never felt safe here. The soldiers should've been put to guard here but apparently they weren't big enough to do so & the cops were too busy. I began to quicken my pace as I wished for this stretch to end. But just as I saw the corner to turn on to rejoin human civilization. I saw my worst nightmare. A group of men turned that corner, the corner which was to be my saving grace, & began to walk in my direction. I came to a halt as I began to sweat bullets. These men in particular didn't look like savory types. In fact... they reminded me of what my father once told me a Cartel Sicario looked like. I began to panic as I realized the gravity of my situation. My head began to race with thoughts, "Do I run? Do I hide? Where would I even hide?! What do I do?!" I began to look around as the men continued to get closer. My heart racing. I decided to just begin walking back. I would wait for them to disappear before I continued. So I turned around & began to walk back.

Just as I did this, I heard one of them shout, "Hey! Sorry but we're a bit lost. We wanted to ask for some directions?". The voice sounded coarse. Nonetheless, I scowled internally, "Directions? In the damn Capital of all places? Do these morons think I was born yesterday?". I turned my head & was about to say no when I noticed the men were a lot closer than before, I felt my eyes bulge as I gasped internally, "How the hell did they cover that so quickly? Am I going deaf?" amidst my panic I accidentally tripped. I felt my body hit the concrete as I scrambled to defend my face so as to not be knocked out if I hit the ground. Thankfully, I was able to minimize the damage but my body still hurt from the trip. Just then, I heard the men begin to quicken there pace. I looked towards the street I had originally come from. I began to get up & started running towards it but just then I heard a shout, "If you run any further we'll pull it!". I stopped immediately. Anyone who lived in Aztlán, hell anyone with a brain knew what he meant. The street was only a couple feet from me. But those men sounded awfully close & I didn't know what kind of gun they had. I grimaced as I stopped & simply waited for them to catch up. I couldn't risk dying here. Just as I heard the footsteps close the distance between us, I felt a large force tackle me to the ground. I, once more, felt the ground hit me as I fell. Although this time felt a lot more painful & I definitely broke my nose thanks to whatever jackass pummeled me. As I began to bleed I heard a cocking noise as I felt cold metal be put to my head.

I heard the same coarse voice earlier say, "Empty out your pockets. If you do anything. We will pull it. You look like a smart man. Surely, you know what will happen if we pull it". I began to empty my pockets of all there contents as I felt tears rush to my eyes. I began to think of my sister & my parents. Regret pervaded my body as I thought of my foolish decision to get these worthless snacks. I began to sob as I finished. The voice spitted on me before saying, "Grab it". I heard some movement grab my snacks & contents. Seconds later, I could hear my wallet being searched. The coins jiggling to make it obvious. Then I heard the man fail to whisper, "What do we do with this kid?" but before anyone could respond I broke out into a large bawl as I pleaded for my life, "Please! Spare me. Don't kill me! I have a sister back home! She's still a kid. Please let me go. Take whatever you want. Just please let me see my sister again! I'm supposed to take her to a concert soon. We were going to have some fun & I was going to have her forget about this miserable world. Pleas-" I was interrupted as I felt someone kick me in the ribs. I coughed as I instinctively grabbed my side.

The voice started, "Shut the hell up!" it shouted before continuing to whisper. It sounded more regretful now. Just then I heard the voice sigh, "Get up kid. Walk forward & don't look back. If you even tilt your head slightly. You'll be tasting hard steel". I nodded as I began to slowly get up. I heard the footsteps behind me as they walked in the opposite direction. I smiled as the tears drenched my face. My thoughts began to slow down as I focused on the street in front of me. I began to thank God for letting me go home, "I thought I was going to lose my family. But i'm coming home. I'll see my sister again & the first thing i'm going to do is hug her. I thought I almost lost the opportunity to see my only sibling ag-" just as I was about to finish this thought I heard a loud noise behind me. Almost instantly after, I felt a painful, searing sensation rip through my body. I frowned as I heard the noise again & felt another painful sensation rip through me. I fell to the floor as I felt my tears drip down. I couldn't help but feel that this was some big joke. Was life really this cruel? Just as I felt my eyes began to close I felt my phone buzz with the sound it does when I get a text. I felt sadness ring through my head, "My sister..." is all I could think before I felt my eyes close.

(Switching to POV of one of the Men described earlier) I smelled the smoke rise through the air as I holstered my pistol. I looked at Roberto, "You were always too soft you idiot. Do you think it's smart to let some moron like that live? He could've seen our faces earlier. I'm not risking that. I have a family to get home to. Last thing I need is those damn foreigners barking up my house!" Roberto snarled, "You didn't have to kill him! We scared him straight!" I shook my head & began to walk towards where our gang came from, "It doesn't matter. I'm not a betting man, fool". I didn't care what Roberto thought, I wouldn't risk getting into any trouble over a couple dollars & a credit card. Besides, my life is far more valuable than some stranger. Maybe he shouldn't have came down this street like a moron. Maybe he wouldn't be dead then. As I finished this thought, I put away my pistol. Hopefully I wouldn't need to use it again tonight.

Nebang wrote:dude did you hear about Eiko

Nebang wrote:he's down at the docks where Moon Jongmin died

Dolgae wrote:by himself

Nebang wrote:yeah

Dolgae wrote:why

Nebang wrote:dunno, just a rumor

Nebang wrote:i'm not gonna bike down there though

Nebang wrote:don't tell him i said this but i think something's wrong with him

Nebang wrote:he's been acting really weird

Dolgae wrote::/

Jae-Syu, Ezhara
Jongmin Dockyard, at night

Eiko watched the fireflies flicker on the distant sand in front of him, his legs dangling over the broken cement into the waters below as the chill night air broke on the hibiscus Rose-of-Sharon bushes. Behind him, an old broken boat, overtaken and choked by those flowers, lied in wait, its plant crew a vibrant green and mauve against the chipped white paint of a broken dream, abandoned. Indeed, the entire dockyard was disheveled, shattered, and pieces of work were strewn about and left to decay, as though the workers fled in the midst of some project. There were rumors about this site, but Eiko found nothing for certain beyond murmurs of a young man who had once worked there and had left quite a mark. For that matter, the murmurs weren't stopping, but Eiko preferred the parroted sounds of aimless part-truths over the others.

He sipped from his matcha green tea, contained in his usual lacquerwood cup. It was blissful, this seaside silence, punctuated only by the distant waves lapping at that beach of fireflies, where they remained undisturbed by the usual hordes of Jae-Syu children. They seemed to much prefer the other beaches, though he couldn't see why. This little dockyard, with its overgrown bushes and collapsing wooden piers, seemed rather ideal for the excitable innocence that he always saw of them. The broken breakwater-slopes — he could imagine some Jae-Syu boy trying to clamber over it, threatening his friends as some sort of undersea creature there to claim them for tattling on their friends or some other childhood trite like that.

Yet, in all the times that he had visited Jae-Syu, he had never seen anyone else at this broken dockyard. Certainly, the empty stalls with their tattered cloth once manned by local fishermen were a little ominous and still carried that aroma of fish, and some pieces of the pier wood were starting to splinter, but things like that rarely stopped the average Jae-Syu child, if the incidents with fireworks those years back were any demonstration. If anything, he figured that it should've incited their imagination, for the dock's old wood was practically an ancient ruin for some explorer, or a broken castle's battlements.

Eiko looked up at the night sky, and a band of fireflies fluttered into view as he stared at Sirius. With his index, he traced the outlines of Canis Major and Orion; he could feel his mother squeezing him tight against her ragged dress, telling him of each constellation. Had she said some cliche line back then, about being in the stars, about how he'd remember her as long as they burned? He couldn't recall, but memories of scripted lines of poetic dialogue, of interstellar love, mixed in with his memories, and he couldn't recall.
"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
He heard a young man speak in Gugtonese, and he turned around. Whoever spoke stood in front of him, dressed in a white shirt over a black long-sleeve with tough dockyard trousers. His greyish-aqua hair was kept within a bandana, tied so that its two ends resembled downward ears in the wind, and he wore a serious expression. He asked again, but when Eiko tilted his head, he switched to Hvidovian.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Nobody comes here anymore. Especially not tourists."
Eiko rose, bowing slightly with his cup of matcha in his hands. "Sorry, I just... needed to rest, sir."
"Strange spot to rest." The man smiled, looking at the firefly cloud that had now embraced the docks. "Stranger spot for coastal fireflies — have you ever caught them before, kid?"
"A few times, when I came here. I mean, it's not festival time, is it?"
"No." He turned towards the sky. "Else, there'd be fireworks." Eiko looked aimlessly around, his thoughts distracting him, and the man's smile shifted to a serious sort of expression, the sort that looked back at you and impatiently asked if you were coming or not.

"You remind me of a friend of mine." The man put a hand on the wood mooring, which still had its old hemp rope tied to it. "He was always lost in thought over someone he had lost. Must be doing fabulously now. Guy could tear a woman's heart in half as fast as he could get her to fall in love with him with his singing voice." He stuck a finger into the air, watching as a firefly roosted there, flickered, and took off. "Loved these lil' bugs, too."
"A singer?"
"Yeah. Kid, are you... all there in the head? I said it pretty clearly. Maybe you should get some sl—"
"Yes." Eiko began his usual rehearsed speech. "My parents say that I'm fine, and I know they love me. I don't think they'd lie."

The young man stepped forward, looking Eiko up and down as the boy sipped from his matcha. "Parents can lie to their kids, sometimes. And plus, if you don't feel ok—"
"I do feel fine, though," Eiko said, giving a confused tilt of his head. The man stepped back, eyes darting to the side. "Chances are, a guy who says he's fine isn't fine. I learned that a long time ago." A pause, and a grimness to his expression recalled death. "Wish I could've acted sooner."
"Same here." Another sip from his tea, and a bemused smile from the other.
"His name was Gisara. Fantastic singer and guitarist, and I can't help but wond—"

"Jae-Sun Gisara?"
The man paused. "Yup, that's the guy. I don't know if I should go on abou—"
"His sister's dead, and then he... Is that what this is about?" The young man was silent, and gave a confused nod, though Eiko didn't see what the problem was.
"Well, what's your story?" the other asked. "Most folks don't drop by here, unless..."
"Unimportant." Eiko smiled. "My story is unimportant." The only good that ever came out of him was Ayame's happiness.

"Come on, if you know Gisara, I'd think you'd know—"
"No. My parents told me not to share too much with strangers." His partner touched two fingers to his own forehead, frustrated. "You're one weird kid. First you go to these docks that nobody ever goes to, and now... ah, whatever. I don't suppose..." The young man crouched down, staring at Eiko. "Do you know who I am?"
"No, I'm afraid. I've never seen you before."

"Really?" The man slid forward, letting his dark trousers dangle over the water. "Then I suppose, to each other, we're just two lost wanderers, aren't we?"
"Mhm." Eiko nodded and sipped from his cup, and a quiet murmur began in his head, while the reflected moon was covered by a dark shadow, like some sort of oceanic beast had risen from the depths.
The young man took a rock and threw it at the moon' s reflection, and Eiko observed as it faded through the shadow.

The young man glared at Eiko. "You wander elsewhere though, don't you?"
"I'm fine," Eiko said. "I don't know what problem you think there is."
"Don't lie to me." The boy stared back at the man, and the two were locked in a silent struggle interrupted only by the distant cicadas and the growing din in Eiko's mind blurring his consciousness.
The boy pointed behind the man. "Sir, there's something behind you."

He turned around. His glare turned to a furious scowl. "Nothing."
"No, there was som—" The man gave a dismissive wave of his hand that Eiko felt obliged to obey. The Suzuraigan stood there, breathless, and the din turned to a violent metal thrashing mixed with familiar voices, all clamoring for him to defend himself from the strange man. His father's voice spoke to him.
He knows.
"Your father's right," the man said. "I do know. And— what, it's not so bad for me to know, Eiko." He paused, his baleful gaze daring to rend apart Eiko's world. "You accept your lies. Don't you understand what your parents do to you?"

"What... what do you mean?" Eiko's hands shuddered as they gripped his teacup. "My parents tell me that they love me. They tell me that. They tell me that, every day. What do you mean lies?"
"Given the right chance, you know they'd throw you out." The young man stood over him now. "All they see from you is the money that you get from your acting. There's no love — you know that they wanted to kick you out the moment they picked you up from the police station after you found your mother's corpse. And yet, you still deny it."
"They love me. They have to. They're my parents, they wouldn't lie to me." The murmur in him grew, becoming a raging storm of words, a losing battle for him, clamoring with doubts and demanding retribution for even thinking that Eiko's parents didn't love him.

"Who says a parent has to never lie?"
"They do." Eiko tried to get up, but his leg slipped under him, and he collapsed at the man's feet, soaked in an anxious sweat.
"And you'll just take them at face value?" The young man stepped back from the groveling Eiko, and as his shoe collided with the wooden boardwalk, the discussion in the boy's head grew to a violent cacophony, and he gazed downward, trying to look away from the thousand eyes judging him.  "Please, stop. Stop, I don't want to—"

"Nobody wants to, not at these docks, Eiko."
Do something. | Silence him at once. | You shameful child, have you no love for me? | What more love do you want, Eiko? Isn't being clothed and fed enough? | You can't seriously be thinking of rejecting them, are you? | Don't you dare think that they don't love you. | You should be punished for this.
The young man stepped in front of him, and Eiko could see his delirious expression within the shine of his shoes as he spoke. "Moon Jongmin," the man said. "I'll tell you the truth; that's how the urban legend goes. So... you know they don't love you. Not one bit, Eiko. They see you as nothing more than the worthless drug baby of an impulsive brat who ran away from home to feed her addiction. The only thing they care for is how much money you can make them as an actor."

The boy was silent; the losing battle within his mind demanded his entire body, and he felt as though he were suffocating.
"And you know you want to run from them," Jongmin continued, now crouching in front of him. "But you kept telling yourself no, you kept yourself in the delusion that what they wanted was what you wanted. And look where that's ended, even before your mind started to deteriorate." He paused. Eiko looked up. There was only terrible resentment in his face.

"You've lived and denied your depression for months now, and look where you've ended up, haunted by the voices of the past. So what'll it be? Will you keep this delusion going? Or are you going to keep denying it, and continue going along with what all the 'trusted' adults in your life say?" With that, he faded into mist, leaving Eiko on the docks.
He couldn't be sick. He couldn't be — there was no way that his parents were lying to him, they loved him, they had to. And yet, the germ of the idea was in his head, corrupting him — how awful.

Hit his head on the dock? He agreed, watching as the blood pooled beneath him, but he was still unsatisfied. An indignant child such as him didn't deserve such mercy.
He crawled towards the dock, his limbs disconnected from reality, as though he were inching forward on air. When he came to the water's edge, a maddened smile came over him.
To the rising crescendo-demands of sacrifice, Eiko gave it his all, and he plunged into the salt water.


Just away from the dock, watching Eiko's breakdown, were three boys: Nebang, Dolgae, and the student-council president of their elementary, Choe Yeong-Sil. At the sight of Eiko diving into the water, Choe immediately slipped off his windbreaker. "Nebang, Dokkie, cover me!" He threw back his jacket, which Nebang caught with his head, and dove into the water after Eiko, followed shortly by Dolgae. Meanwhile, Nebang stumbled forward as he fumbled the jacket off of him, managing to stop just short of the water's edge.
"W-woah!" He backed off, and watched as his two friends rose from the depths, one under each of Eiko's arms. They landed on the broken breakwaters before them, and from there, Nebang ran over to help them carry up the Suzuraigan, who they set flat on the wooden pier.
"What the heck do you think got into him?" Dolgae asked, stepping aside as Choe began CPR over Eiko's chest.
"Who knows, who cares?" he said. "Whatever it bloody is, we really ought to ca—"

The teen sprang to life, bashing Choe's head. "Ah, sorry!" Eiko paused, looking around at the Jae-Syu boys who had just saved him. "What... where did you—"
"Sorry, Eiko." Dolgae turned his head away. "I just... I saw you walking to the docks here and I didn't... it didn't feel right, Eiko. I thought you were in danger, and..." The Suzuraigan looked at him, silent; his eyes were glossed over, probably from his near-drowning. A smile came over his mouth, but not the rest of his face as he muttered a thanks.
"Well, whatever it was, bloody good news we were here," Choe said, putting his jacket back on over his soaked clothes. "Can ya walk?" He stretched out his hand, and Eiko took it, rising. "Good. Now then, Eiko, we gotta get ya home. Who're staying with?"

He seemed to be paying attention to something else, some other unheard conversation, but the Jae-syu boys heard nothing else except them. "I'll be fine. I can walk back home—"
"Ah, well, if that's the case, I'll accompany you, mate." Choe grabbed his hand, yanking him forward. "Come on, let's—"
"Hey, careful."
"Ah, sorry, 'bout that, Eiko." Choe turned to the other two. "Oi, thanks for your help, Nebang, Dokkie. You two best head home. I think your parents ought to be worried sick." They nodded. "Oh, and Eiko... why the devils did you throw yourself in the water for?"

The Suzuraigan looked aside, and remained silent. "Ey, you can trust me." Still nothing.
"Guess not," Dolgae said, rubbing the sleep in his eyes.
"Well, promise me this, Eiko: if you got a problem that's makin' you want to throw yourself into the ocean, you better tell someone 'bout it, you got it? You better not die."
"Yeah... of course... of course..." They left, Choe following Eiko's erratic gait.

Nebang and Dolgae looked at each other.
Something was definitely wrong with Eiko.

Deleted

Nebang wrote:dude

Nebang wrote:that was not your song

Dolgae wrote:that wasn't

Nebang wrote:vc?

Dolgae wrote:yeah

Choe wrote:You two have any idea what that was about

Dolgae wrote:nope

Nebang wrote:prez go sleep

The living room of the Siopo twins,
A Canzurbinan night

"Get... right in there." Carlo jammed the servo into the beginnings of the small robot, as the old radio behind him echoed with ballroom ballads, the style of a time long gone for most other cities, yet still favored in the antiquities of Canzurbina.
The song faded as it came to its end, and the low, nasally voice of Cabaret, the radio host, spoke. "Here's hoping that you're not up this late because of this heat wave," he said. Carlo huffed; he was sure that Cabaret was far luckier, in his air-conditioned office, while Carlo was here, kneeling down in front of a little robot with a broken AC because the repairman was supposed to come yesterday.
"Now, before we continue onto our next ballad, let's see who our late-night caller..."
Carlo tuned them out as he started linking wires in a flurry of movement. This one for the arm goes here... no, wait, that's... ugh, no, hold on.
After half of a minute of furious connecting, he fell onto the floor, wiping his sweaty forehead on his forearm as he looked back at his little robot, seeing his sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts, alongside the robot's smirk staring back at him and the fragments of hardware.

"For such a little bot, you sure are a problem." He rubbed his eyes, his right hand patting the ground around him until he eventually found his phone. When he eventually grabbed it, he struggled to sit up, groaning as his sore torso cried out. As much as he wanted a swim in the pool to cool off, yesterday's conditioning hadn't gone quite so smoothly, and he wasn't sure if he could endure it all that well. It hadn't been his fault this time, at least, inasmuch as the team bullied him for being the varsity freshman and whatnot, but the captains had still made it seriously intense: how long were those v-sits? Ten minutes? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? He closed his eyes and sighed as he rubbed his face again. How could his friends be so bad at following simple directions?

He looked at the window. It was already open, but there was no hint of a night breeze to alleviate the humid heat that was suffocating him. "How frustrating..." he muttered as he pulled off his shirt, using it as a towel to dab away at the sweat that had gathered all over him, though it hardly helped how he was steaming alive. Once he threw it down, he grabbed his phone again, then tapped his way to his texts with his brother.

Carlo wrote:Where are you

Carlo wrote:I am having a bad time with our bot and I am real close to just throwing it in the pool

Jude wrote:I'll be there in like thirty minutes

He turned off his phone and let his arm drop, then the rest of his body followed as he stared at the ceiling. Stupid Jude always thought his pagan rituals would work the first time. Surely he'd have learned by now that it never did when he was gone for a hang-out with his guys, just like the robotics never worked when Carlo went out for a swim, and it was always even worse whenever one or the other had to wake up earlier or stay up later, as Carlo was now.
2 AM projects were such a pain.
He sighed as he turned his phone back on, his other hand tapping lazily at his torso, one built up over a decade of swimming that earned him the infatuation of many in his high school, as it turned out, though it was love that he frequently rejected in the name of his undying faith. Was he too prudish? Maybe. It wasn't a sin to date, but it seemed hormonal desires had dominated most of his friends; really, he just wanted someone who would support him, someone who could help him be the best person that he could be, something beyond just the simple physicality that his peers were enamored with.

What would she be like?
He couldn't imagine her physically, that unknown girl next to him — he didn't care much for appearance, as long as she wasn't an abomination, though he was sure that God would guide him rightly in such a case, help him see past the blemishes to the way she'd be able to guide him to be the best faithful he could. She didn't have to be pretty, though he was sure that he'd trust her to make the right choices if someone more sinful came to her. A smile came to him as he thought of that some girlfriend, unsure if he would ever meet someone that amazing, some gift from the heavens, but he could imagine her, in front of him. He rolled over, still feeling like she was there, even if she didn't exist.
A pressure crushed his chest, static rose in his ears, and his mind wandered away from the girl of his dreams lying beside him as loneliness descended upon him. Ugh, not again... Whispers of his breath, cries for help, rose in his throat, but could proceed no further as he lay there, watching as a vague, dark cloud wandered towards him, then coalesced into the girl of his dreams, her mouth moving but making no sound, as though she herself were powerless against her own infinite despair. Carlo could not imagine rejecting Him, but here she stood, someone who had become corrupted by some pride of humanity, who had abandoned His light, and by extension, someone that Carlo had failed to help.

She smiled as a horse's head slithered around her legs, her abdomen, her arms, and his breath surged against that invisible barrier holding within his throat, denying him of some prayer to God, and the air within him echoed around his ears, as though reminding him that, in this dark realm, nobody could hear him. Nor could he move, weighed down by the sins hidden within the recesses of his mind, now made manifest as though to remind him of his own mortality. As she approached him, she became audible, yet her voice became a poison as she ensnared him in a false rapture, as the horse drifted from her neck, down, down onto his chest, panting as poison oozed from its maw, burning his skin until it came to his throat.
The dulled edges of horse teeth crushed his throat, silencing him as its master's lithe feet slid towards him. Only now had Carlo noticed how inhuman they were, the way they ended in three webbed toes, linked together with pale, pinkish skin.
Ho, God, please save me... No, save us both...

He was trapped in the nightmare.

The old radio whirred with static, and he jolted awake; his body burned as though he had just humiliated himself. "Ah..." He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, looking around to make sure that the apparition had truly vanished. When he was secure, he checked his phone. 2 AM. How long was he asleep for? How long was he in sleep paralysis for? Shaking his head, he looked back at the robot.
The low voice of Cabaret was drowned by static, and he turned to his radio, "That shouldn't be happening." He crawled towards it and shifted the dial. Still just static, with only the slightest hints of the slow trumpets and elegant strings piercing through.
Another voice spoke; this he could recognize as something like the language of Din Thi Di. Was it Lan Na? Whatever it was, he couldn't really understand it, nor glean any fragment of meaning from the monotonous speaker.

Yet, how did he hear something so familiar in its unintelligible demands? There was something, he could not comprehend anything out of that foreign language, but still, he could hear something about God, something about falling before His embrace, succumbing totally to His light. He kneeled on the floor, enraptured by the unknown broadcast even as his phone buzzed incessantly with the familiar notification sound of a trowel hitting the ground, of Tansacha Chonburi from Din Thi Di, the strange gardener who would understand this message in all it glory — surely he would too, Carlo thought.
The hot night scorched him ever more, as though God's radiance was burning him while His uncertain clarity, one divine yet so close to humanity, radiated forth from the radio. He no longer heard the trumpets and violins, only the victorious screeches heralding His new coming, metallic-screech sounds of angels descending, and he clasped his hands, praying with a maddened smile, expecting triumph even despite the monotony of the man's voice; somehow, he crafted meaning from it.

The door clacked open. "Ah, Carlo!" Distantly, his brother Jude ran forward and turned right. "Carlo!" He was silent, still captivated by the heavenly claims of the radio voice, smiling madly to himself as he turned, then fell, to face Jude. As Carlo turned his head up, he saw the single lilac strand, that single reminder of his brother's heresy, and the angelic screeching, the despairing triumph that heralded the victorious climax of something horrid, they all erupted, the rising crescendo like a fulmination that felt like Carlo was watching His kingdom turn black and sinful as it was swallowed by Abaddon's locust-like maw, welcoming it back into the pits where their retribution awaited them. Who won? Carlo didn't know, but he knew that, watching it crumble, no matter who it was that crumbled, he knew that He would be vic—

Slap.
"Snap out of it, Carlo."
"N-no, I heard... the radio, Jude. He's coming." Carlo stumbled forward, grabbing his brother's leg, only for him to slide off. "Ho God, He's coming, and-and we mus—"
Slap.
"Carlo!" Jude reached down and yanked his brother's hair forward. "It's just a radio. God's not going to tell us about the rapture over the radio, let alone in a language we don't know that's spoken by Muslims, Carlo."
"No." His body struggled upward; the woman from earlier must have stolen his strength. "No, you're just a pagan as alwa—"
Slap.

"Carlo, listen to me—"
"Listen... to Him, Jude!"
"Oh by... Ugh, Carlo." Jude grabbed his brother by the arm and swung him in a half-circle, and then hopped towards the radio, his hand gliding across the knobs and back as the static was dispelled and Cabaret's voice returned.
"Ah, my sincerest apologies," the radio host said. "Here's hoping that that didn't wake you up with a shock; I know that would have for me. Rest assured, though, that was by no means an official message. Now, here's hoping that our night together won't be interrupted again, wouldn't you agree?"
Carlo listened, his mouth agape. Those messages from the radio, that voice, it all had to have been intentional. Jude was just—

Slap.
The aged songs of the ballroom came back from the radio, and Carlo turned his head towards his brother, who was leering back at him in his shorts and basketball jersey. Jude shifted. "Carlo, if God really intended to tell you something, I don't think it'd be through a crackling radio in a language we don't understand. Look." He took his phone from his pocket, putting it down in front of Carlo's face. "Tansacha got it translated while you were exploding. It's nothing special. May as well just be a weird sermon or something." He remained silent as his brother read the message.

Tansacha wrote:If you're listening to the radio please ignore it

Tansacha wrote:I'm pretty sure it's just some leaked message

Tansacha wrote:Mainly addressing this to the Odonans and Canzurbinans if they're awake

Tansacha wrote:I can't say much, but it's familiar to me, and not in a divine way

Tansacha wrote:By the way I got it translated

Tansacha wrote:For I have heard the Lord’s call. The beckoning of the God of Abraham. For in one voice he called, for he is one voice, the Lord is one. The singing of the angels lured me to the origin. For as if we were made in a factory and by design we were made to be a mistake, as if we are being recalled I returned back to be fixed in his eternal grace as he, our God, has called a end to our test, now in the Court of the Lord I prostrate myself before the Lord before being allowed to enter the endless serene gardens. For it was here, at our Genesis, where we were thrown from the heavens. The gate is now open. Oh God, it’s so beautiful. Behold and knock as if Heaven and Earth were to be one. The fruit has already been bitten, waiting for you. The Lord has reigned, he reigns, and he shall reign forever as we rejoin him in spender and serenity. As long as you keep it in your heart that. The Lord is God and the Lord, our God, is one.

Carlo stared at the screen. Words were there, he saw sentences form, but he couldn't process it, he couldn't reconcile the magic of moments before with the mundane now. In front of him, Jude sighed. "Carlo?" A beat. "Carlo. God save us— Carlo!" He strode forward and stomped his brother's rear, jolting him upward. This time, the words on that blank page made more sense. So it had just been fake, then? He sighed, letting his head drop as he rolled over. Meanwhile, Jude walked over to the robot, looking quickly through the code within it. "Wow, I'm stupid..." he muttered as he typed something. "There, that should fix it."
"You and your pagan scripts," Carlo said as he got up. "We really shouldn't save these proje—"
"Yeah, sorry." Jude turned his head, looking him over. "Jeez, you look like you took a swim. The heck kind of trouble did this bot give you?"
"The AC's broken." A beat as Jude looked at the vent, as though that would be assessment enough when the house had already become a sauna.

"Hm. So it is."
"Why else do you think I was sweating like a sinner in church?" Carlo said as Jude smirked. "Hey-hey, what are you thinking?"
"Nothing, nothing. It's just..." His brother cleared his throat, trying to gain some semblance of seriousness. "But anyway, when did dad say it'd get fixed?"
"Yesterday." Carlo turned towards the backyard, where the AC was.
"Well, we can either fix it ourselves, or we can go to my friend's place." Jude looked him over again. "But first, you should really get some new clothes on before someone else gets a shirtless pic of you. Wouldn't want that around school now. Who knows how everyone would react..."

Snap. He took off.
"Jude!" Carlo grabbed his own phone, encased within its hard cover, and threw it at his brother, striking him on the back and sending him forward. "Remove that picture now!" He sprinted forward, only for his brother to open the door into the backyard, slip through it, and slam it into Carlo's nose, sending him stumbling back. "For the light... Jude!"
"What?" Even through the door, his brother's smirk was apparent.
"I— hmmm..." Carlo stood there, silent, inhaling, exhaling, steadying his breath. "James 1:20. Human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires..."
Clack. The door opened, and Jude tilted his head in disappointment. "Carlo, you are impossible."
"Well through God, anything is possible so wri—"

"Yes, yes." Jude walked forward, and a couple swipes and taps later, he showed his brother the embarrassing picture on the screen, then deleted it. "There. Enjoy. And go change."
"Why even bother with me if you're—"
"Call it a test of God."
"From you, a pagan? Heuh!"
"Look, maybe I don't enjoy His light the way you do, but I still care for you, Carlo. And besides... I'd prefer to keep you the good twin. Can't have something to hide if I get it all out, you know?"
Carlo squinted. "What kind of crazy logic is that?"
"Mine. Call it 'ecneics.'"

"You wouldn't dare threaten me with that, Jude. I know how your pagan rituals will go."
His brother merely passed him by, Jude pushing aside his brother with the mere contact of his arm. "I wouldn't threaten you," he said, striding towards the front door, then turning back to the room where the robots were. "We are done, right?"
"Yeah, I thi— Hey, don't distract me. I swear I'll put my fear of God in you someh—"
Jude looked inside the room, then turned back to Carlo. "Soon, soon, someday, whatever... Now, do you want to stay here and simulate my fate in the underworld, or do you want to go to my friend's?"
"Guess your friend's." He yawned and stretched, then strode froward.
"Wait, wait, not yet," Jude said. "Go get changed first."
"What? Why?" His brother held out his arms at his side, his eyes wandering over himself. "What are you talking... oh." A beat. "Yeah, I guess I should."

Brynjúlfur Mildinbergsson
50 miles east of Drøstrand
Deildara County, Kópahólmur
Hvidovia, Kanadorika

Spoiler:

Rarely would anything bother me when I was home. Nestled cozily within the Kappaskjul Mountains, I was dozens of miles away from the nearest civilization, the city of Drøstrand. Yet despite feeling lonely, I was comforted by the serene beauty of nature. The trees grew around my cabin, concealing it from the local road while perhaps being a bit of a fire danger in upon itself. I wasn´t a complete recluse however, as I was also involved with amateur radio, meaning I could chat up someone on the other side of the world. We would engage in small talk that usually involved the words "so where are you broadcasting from?" and "can you hear me loud and clear?" Once the contact was over I would jot down their callsign and location in a notebook I keep my contacts in.

From time to time however I would encounter some inexplicable and sometimes mysterious radio transmissions. Whether it be the distress signal transmitted by a lost hiker, or Ministry of Forestry communications that were for some odd reason encrypted, these transmissions were certainly intriguing. Among the most interesting broadcasts I received today. I sat at my desk within my cabin operating my radio. I tuned into 6150kHz, hoping to listen in on distant broadcasts originating from the canton of Vesturland, within the Medietas.

The frequency was open, filled with nothing but static. I reached to the knob to tune into another frequency, however I quickly stopped when I heard the faintest of noises. What sounded like several beeps prompted me to boot up my computer so that I could record whatever I came across on this frequency. I wasn't quite sure what I was hearing, though it was not a standard broadcast. In fact, I have never heard anything like this anywhere near this frequency, which caused me to believe that I had come across some new numbers station of sort. After about a minute of various tones, a voice began calling out. It was distorted as the ionosphere was not currently in the best condition to allow for flawless shortwave radio waves, however it was clear enough to make out that the voice was a man. Yet he was speaking a foreign language. I did my best to listen to the intricacies of the language to attempt to identify it. I was no linguist, however my experience with amateur radio has put me into contact with a multitude of languages. As for the one I was currently tuned into, it had a few Eyjanic characteristics, yet other aspects of the language were entirely foreign to me.

It was Khawsian. I was able to deduce the language's identity by identifying the eastern traits of a vaguely Venesic language. Yet the purpose of the broadcast was still mysterious. The man, despite being modulated, did not sound like he was attempting to converse with anyone. Instead he was making a declaration, as if he were making a statement to the entire world on shortwave radio. I was perplexed by this and stopped the recording once the broadcast had commenced. On my computer, I opened up a translation software and uploaded the audio file of the Khawsian transmission, hoping the software would be able to accurately translate the voice through the distortion and modulation.

After several seconds, the application provided a text box, indicating that the voice transmission was indeed able to be translated.

Code:

“For I have heard the Lord’s call. The beckoning of the God of Abraham. For in one voice he called, for he is one voice, the Lord is one. The singing of the angels lured me to the origin. For as if we were made in a factory and by design we were made to be a mistake, as if we are being recalled I returned back to be fixed in his eternal grace as he, our God, has called a end to our test, now in the Court of the Lord I prostate myself before the Lord before being allowed to enter the endless serene gardens. For it was here, at our Genesis, where we were thrown from the heavens. The gate is now open. Oh God, it’s so beautiful. Behold and knock as if Heaven and Earth were to be one. The fruit has already been bitten, waiting for you. The Lord has reigned, he reigns, and he shall reign forever as we rejoin him in spender and serenity. As long as you keep it in your heart that. The Lord is God and the Lord, our God, is one.”

Was this some sort of religious broadcast? While I could not pinpoint the origin of the transmission, I was certain it came from nowhere near Khaw or Keea. Assuming the translation was indeed accurate, I questioned why broadcast was so eerily dark. This was no declaration of faith, but a declaration of an act. An act that the broadcaster was hoping would bring him to God.

Of course I easily could have been overthinking the entire thing. It probably was just an innocent broadcast that I happened to intercept, yet at the same time my brain couldn't shake away that this was some sort of warning.

Hello there i am the Basilius of the Imperial Confederation of Dixie

Ever since I started acting, I was always being taken out to eat at luxury restaurants by my directors and the other cast members — I figured they must’ve pitied me, the poor boy who preferred sleeping in his dressing room than going to a rundown home. I guess back then I must’ve rejected my parents’ love. I can’t imagine doing that now, not going back there.
But there was one restaurant that I didn’t get to visit until a few years back, when I must’ve been eleven or so, though even back then, I was drawn to green teas: green matcha from Suzurai, smooth, sweet, with a slight nutty taste, always calmed me down, especially in the lacquerwood cup that the makeup artist of my first film gave me as a parting gift.

That matcha, the brand Gingko Rikyū, tasted like the garden at the temple from that night where I last saw my mom, with that pond where the wind drew up whiffs of water and lotus, where a few bushes of tea grew in the shade of an old gingko. Somehow, I never smelled the gingko odor even in autumn. All I smelled was a refreshing pond-full of tea, telling me that it was okay, that I’d be fine eventually, that everything would pass, and that a tea ceremony where I could lose myself in that ritual would come soon. 
Sometimes, I wonder if my mother could come back, even for a moment, if I just did it enough times. I hardly remember anything from back when we were together, but I do remember seeing her talking with the monk, saying that she’d be right back, saying that, just this once, wouldn’t he give me a little bit?

She must’ve left after that. I remember staring at an old lacquerwood cup next to a stick of burning agarwood incense that smelled like a blooming orchard, while I was lying in an old, moth-eaten blanket. I remember raising the cup, fumbling with it a little bit, and when the hot aroma of matcha reached my nose, I remembered my mom, how she had left me that night, and I remember drinking the entire cup, setting it down, and staring at the empty inside while the agarwood burned and the monk’s music played in the next room over.
The matcha wasn’t nearly as good as Gingko Rikyū, now that I compare them, but I still loved it. It was much more bitter, much lower quality, much less aromatic, and I could even taste the acrid powder that still hadn’t fully dissolved. But even so, it was the last thing my mother gave to me. It didn’t need to be good for me to love it. It just had to be hers.

She didn’t need to be good for me to love her. She did her best for me, and I still love her for that. I just wish that we didn’t have to leave without me saying goodbye, but I guess that’s just like my tea, isn’t it? I drink it, and before I know it, it’s gone before I say anything. 
Even when I have my usual ceremony, it’s always going to disappear — when is the last drop or the last cup or the last layer or the last milliliters of tea? I’ve never heard of someone celebrating the moment of parting or caring for those exact measurements, when the tea’s only just out. 
It’s drunken, it’s cleaned, and the tea is forgotten. I remember Darius saying something like that, except he was complaining about his parents’ habit of buying traditional premium ultra-expensive tea or something like that because he can’t taste the difference.

I could tell the difference, but I guess he was right, in a way. I’ve never drunk that bitter tea after my mom left, but even so, it’s still in my memory. I still think about how I almost had to spit it out, but that, thinking of my mother, I decided not to waste it.
And for Gingko Rikyū, I’m always carrying it. All the tea ceremonies, all the memories of drinking it, they’ve all blurred together, they’ve all tasted and smelled the same.
But that bitter one, that night long ago, I still remember, because of her.

Name: José Alsarêlo
Age: 18
Date: October 14 2020
Today im Going To Claim My First Home, i turned 18 some weeks ago and im going the Goverment house thats Just some minutes away i already got my CIN
(Carta Do Identificação Nacional) Or the Nacional identification card so i can claim My house i think ill choose The closest one to My school, i really like that The goverment Gives the poeple homes. Im Finnaly gonna get My own home and Be independent

Name: Achagoti (Young Chief Red Bear)
Age: 12
Location: Northwest of the top of Lake Chiroc

It was a balmy Autumn night, the stars coruscated in the sky and the moon glistened brilliantly down upon our yearly ceremonies, her smile supposedly filling us with the whispers of our Ancestors. The wrinkled faces of the few elders left in our village smiled with wet, tear-streaked cheeks, a gentle wistful look in their eyes as they twirled around the huge bonfire, tassels flying as if they were dragonflies in the heat of the Summer. I sat next to my Sister, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed as she struck the ceremonial drum, the Old Spruce shivering behind the circle of dancers. As the music and dancing escalated, the dancers entered a sort of trance, as did my Sister and all the other drummers, but I just sat here filled with curiosity and boredom.

I was only young myself, only 12, and I had never seen why we had always done these celebrations or ceremonies as my Sister called it. My parents had died a while ago fighting for the freedom of both myself and my Sister when the 'Neen-hoontich' people came to invade us. I don't remember what they were called, I was just a baby when they arrived. We had to grow up fast with no parents to care for us, the village holding onto the small scraps of a family they had left themselves. My Sister, Anapohata, had become my carer, working her days and nights away trying to provide for us. She was only 19 years old and her skin wrinkled like the elders', and her face had become sunken and bony. 

I got up from the grass that I sat upon, and while everyone danced, sung and drummed away in their little trance, I tip-toed over to the Old Spruce, it's 8 trunks all growing out and upwards away from a centre point. There was some weird, red, black and cream mass in the middle with a cloying, pungent scent piercing through the smell of burning herbs and bonfire. I wander closer, the music and singing carrying along with the breeze in the background. As I approached, icy shards travelled down my spine, a loud ringing noise drilled into my brain, and my skin bunched together to look like a skinned chicken. Twisted hands and arms reached down to almost to grab me, and all light except for the moon was gone. I was alone. In the grasp of the Old Spruce lay a man, spread-eagle with a cloth over his body and pelvis, and a sticky red liquid oozed. I couldn't stop walking forward, and as if someone had grabbed my ankle, I tripped forward almost directly onto the bleeding corpse, panic clenched at my chest and opened my eyes wide. The man's hand flew straight up, holding me at my very jaw, squishing my face tight. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to scream. 

His creamy, glazed-over eyes stared into me, straight into my very being, into my past, into my future, as his broken, breathy voiced scraped out words.

"Give haven to those who need, break the mountains holding those apart to protect what we have built for so long."

His hand gripped tighter at my face until something grabbed me from behind and pulled me back. I was turned around to face an Elder, his face bright red from fury. 

"What did you see, boy"

More tears streamed down my face and shakingly I replied "There- there was a man, he was bleeding, and- and he- and he said 'give haven to those who need' and- and 'break mountains to protect what we-' '-we built'"

The man took off his feathered headwear and let me go. He turned back to face the others, nodded with concern, with the others nodding back. While he was talking to the others, I turned to look back at the tree, which now looked completely normal. No bleeding man, no grasping hands, just a plain, old, normal tree. My Sister sauntered up to me with a tired and worried look on her face.

Quietly, she whispered to me "It's time to come home now. We have to go."

I slept that night, dreaming of the moment over and over. That will never leave my mind again.

Name: Lin Wuying
Age: 38
Location: Housing district outside Suceng University

It was a bright and sunny day, yesterday’s rain made today’s morning extremely cooling. It was a great day to be outside. But no one is outside, at least for the wives and children of the professors of the nearby University. “Lingling, wake up! It’s 8 o’clock!” I shouted from downstairs. The echo travelled through the house and reached Lingling’s room. I did not leave until I heard her soft inaudible voice, “Errrrrr…. Fine.”

Breakfast was already on the table. As usual, it was bread, butter, eggs and milk and also a math exam practise paper. Lingling walked downstairs to the dining table and saw the food prepared and also the practise paper.

“You have to finish this up before going to tuition later today,” I said while preparing to sip some milk.

“My math is so good already, why do you keep giving me these papers to do, it’s harmful to the environment you know?” As always, Lingling said, seeming annoyed.

“Last semester, you got first class for math, now you dropped to second losing to that boy who used to be the tenth place, don’t you want to go to the National University…” I was interrupted by Lingling who said, “no I do not want to go there…” Angered, I stood up and raised my voice and said, “You have to do well in math whatever school you want to go to in the future.”

Lingling did not reply. She started chewing on the bread and chugging in some milk. The test paper is very easy for her due to the many test paper I gave her and I know it but it’s all for her own good and future isn’t it? Hopefully, she gets to be a professor at this university just like my husband so I can continue living in this house. I love this beautiful hilltop villa and my two luxurious cars. I can see the entire campus from up here and all the other villas in this community below us.

After finishing her breakfast and test paper, I sent her off to her Hvidonian tuition course right across town. I got to be on the move as well, it was time for my usual meetings with all the other parents from the same high school as Lingling. We went to Mrs Franzdóttir’s house down the road. Mrs Zhou is the mother of the top of the class, Wang Yao, who aced all the subjects last semester. I can remember it vividly.

The other parents and I arrived just on time for lunch at her house. Just like mine, it was a beautiful looking villa. The other parents are Mrs Zhi and Mrs Fang whose children are third and fourth in class respectively. And just like me, we are here to find out the secret of acing math and getting the best tuition teachers in town.

“Hello everyone, welcome!” Mrs Zhou greeted us cheerfully fully knowing what we are asking for. Mrs Zhi, Mrs Fang and I walked in with gifts and a smile. “Congratulations on your son getting top in class in the last exam,” said Mrs Zhi in a happy tone. “Thank you so much, just put it next the sofa please and take a seat,” Replied Mrs Zhou. We sat down after Mrs Zhou had taken her seat.

Mrs Zhou was of course the center of the conversation as well as her son. We were all trying our best to make us look good by complimenting her good looks and her effort to get her son to the top of the class.

Then, Mrs Fang made a bold statement, “Umm… Mrs Zhou, just curious, how did you get your son to the top of the class so quickly?” The entire room went dead silent for a second or so. To our surprise, Mrs Zhou replied, “Just curious Mrs Fang, what banking card do you use?”

All three of us flipped through our wallet for our credit cards before Mrs Fang replied, “I got a Suceng Bank’s card.”

“Well I’m sorry, I would only talk to people with a Sujin Bankcard,” said Mrs Zhou still keeping that smile on her face. Mrs Zhi had given up finding her bank card. Then, I found my Sujin Bankcard and showed Mrs Zhou. “Come with me,” said Mrs Zhou before he brought me to the study room. The other two parents watched in awe as we walked away from the dining table.

Once in the studies, Mrs Zhou closed the door clearly and does not want the other two parents to hear our conversation. I was quite excited to find out how a bank card relates to how well a person does in school. Mrs Zhou gave me a ticket with the words ‘SUJIN BANK’ printed on it not revealing anything of importance. She then said in a soft voice, “this ticket is only exclusive to Sujin Bank cardholders, you can go there tomorrow at 5 pm and they would introduce you to some of the best teachers you can find in all of Jindou.” I was shocked to hear that Mrs Zhou would give me such an offer, at least now my daughter can retake the top of the class in the next exam.

After this conversation, the other two parents came and asked me almost immediately about what Mrs Zhou said. Of course, I was not stupid and tell them what she had said and quickly left off anticipating for tomorrow.

Thanks Michu for helping to point out grammar errors

Severin Tischer
Age: 21
Sonno Forum Venue
Der Voidz Performance

Sonno Forum:

Der Voidz:

I rocked my head back & forth, as though I were a zombie. Everything felt right in this moment. The air thick & heavy as though it were a dense mist coursing with electricity. The sweat pouring down my forehead as I moved constantly & aggressively. The music zapping through your body like a bolt of lightning as the sound fills your eardrums. The sensation of people all around me as I rocked away in my own little space. It was all very surreal.

I had done it. I had scored tickets to see Der Voidz in Tenochtitlán. I had to put in several weeks of overtime to save up, but I was able to score some front row seats thanks to some smooth negotiating on my part. Anyways, I had only been to a few concerts before. Mostly with friends. But this time, I got to see DER VOIDZ! To say I was excited is an understatement. This music got me pumping every day. Going to work, the gym, school, it didn’t matter. I always blasted Der Voidz. Especially their song Blinded & Divided. When I would drive, I would blast their music as I flew through the highway. Even after a breakup, when I was feeling terrible. I put them on & felt as though my battery was being charged with pure, raw energy.

Now, I was actually here. Sure, was it a bit aggressive & rough? Not to mention all that sweat did rack up a stench… but to be part of the experience was worth it. Plus, KONRAD Casablancas was performing here. The legend himself. I hoped to be a lead singer one day myself. Getting all the cute groupies, starring on interviews & podcasts. Dressing like a total badass & getting to do whatever I wanted! Man, that would be the life. One day i’ll be there.

Anyways, as I felt the music. I heard the sound begin to die down. That’s when I heard it, the next song beginning to come on. I grinned widely as I heard the intro to Blinded & Divided coming on. The guitar riff came on heavy & fast. The drums beating hard. Pure melodic bliss. I started moshing even more aggressively. Making my way to what is called “the pit”. As Konrad began to sing through the song, I felt myself draw closer & closer to the pit. The moshing became even more aggressive & rough. Then I heard the chorus begin to come on,

“I can’t get along with all your friends… Don’t know how to act, that’s all there is…”

It was then that I was pushed into the center of the pit. I felt it before I could even get my bearings straight. Suddenly a punch here, a shove there. I felt like a ragdoll almost until I straightened myself out. I began to push, shove, & punch as I lost myself in it all. It were as though I was a drunk indulging in the sweet taste of alcohol. My senses focused entirely on keeping my body at full speed as I experienced it all. I even almost got close enough to put my hands up near the stage.

What was happening in the world didn’t matter. All my troubles & stresses melted away. Even if I got a bit roughed up, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was just an average guy getting to relax & destress...

Right then, Konrad began doing a guitar solo on the stage! After this Blinded & Divided came to an end & the next song ‘Oblivion’ started playing. Another banger that I enjoyed. I just felt myself get engulfed by the environment as I continued to rock out & mosh all night long…

The night was silent, the streets were empty, people were asleep. The silence of the streets was frightening when compared to that of the day where cars roam the area and the shops wide open.

Lee Jiang walks down the streets trying to keep that silence, the deadness of the night. As he walks, he avoids the puddles of water created by the rain earlier that day. As he walks, he stops and sticks onto the wall and looks around the corner of the building to see whether there was anyone around. Of course, there were none. He turned to walk into another alleyway. This one was a dead end but he continued to walk in that direction. He has been here before and he knew there would be no one there until several minutes later.

When he arrived at the end of the alleyway, he loitered as he waited for the man to arrive. He took out his phone, and said to himself, “nine-fifty-nine right now, he is arriving soon”. Lee Jiang was excited, just like every other time he meets the man. But he cannot express it out since it would startle all the people around him.

He walked round and round. At ten o’clock sharp, a relatively tall figure who was hooded with a black jacket appeared around the corner. He approached Lee Jiang, but Lee wasn’t afraid, it was the man he was meeting and he met him before.

Lee gestured for what he wanted while the tall hooded man gestured for money. Lee gave him in cash, 500 Nanhan krona while the hooded man gave him several bags of lemon-yellow powdery substance and an injection needle. Right after that, he went away while Lee looked down at the bags.

He sat down on the wet floor at the end of that dark, dead-end alleyway where all the trash were. He put the powders into the needles and injected them into the shoulder. His hand trembled as he did this but it wasn’t the tremble of fear as he had done this many times. Once he finished, he pulled the needles out and wanted to leave the area.

His heart rate starts to slow down, and his breathing becomes heavier and heavier. He stood up and walked a step. His bags of lemon yellow powder and needles fell on to the floor. He too, in a second, fell on the floor with his body cushioned by the bags of trash. His heart stopped and he stopped breathing.

Alansson's Travel Blog: Explore the Hidden Beauty of War torn Rekof

By: Krisof Alansson | 6 April 2021 | 0 comments



Is Rekof one of the destinations for your next vacation? I doubt so. But my adventurous self cannot control myself to visit the war-torn capital of Tryanistan especially after the war was over there.

Before the war, Rekof was well-known among the upper-class communities across the world for its warm climate and grand, luxurious hotels. Since the civil war of 2013 to 2018, the city was transformed into a war zone and the city is still recovering from the war. It has been two years since the war was over much of the downtown areas were rebuilt to fit a much more modern aesthetic. After all, all the other travel blogs I read all claims that Rekof is awesome. Now, we shall see how true that is.

Quick tips

Money - In terms of money, it uses the Tryanistani Pound. However, Kanadorikan Krona is also allowed due to the high inflation rate in the country. In most hotels, cafes and shops, both currencies are used. 1 Tryanistani Pound = 1,500 Kanadorikan Krona.

Language - In Tryanistan, it speaks a variety of languages. Although Joufian is the official language of the country, Hvidovian are also a common language in the city as most of it's residents are quite educated.

Internet - The internet in Tryanistan is relatively slow and need Wi-fi for faster internet speed. Most high end restaurant, hotels and cafes have fast wi-fis. There is no censorship in the country and considered one of the freest in the region.

Safety - As terrorist attacks is not a rare occurrence in the city, soldiers can be seen at where the tourists are located and where crime rates and terrorist attacks occur. Most of the attacks is located in the city's far-southern district where the Allahstan Movement controls. In downtown Rekof, it is extremely safe and there is no worries travelling there as a woman at night.

Cultural Blend

One of the must visit destination in Rekof would be Martyr's Square. Home to the Martyr's Statue, St. John Cathedral and the Mohammad Al-Amin Mosque. The two religious buildings are one of the most important in Rekof showing the religious harmony the city have experienced throughout the centuries having only being defaced and looted during the civil war.

The Martyr's Statue is yet another monument to commemorate those who have died during the late Osmanli rule of the country. The statue also shows the scar of the civil war with several bullet holes in the statue.

Abandoned Hotels

Other than the rich mix of culture, Rekof is also known for its abandoned hotels. Two of the most famous is the Costa Hotel and Saint John Hotel which sat abandoned since the Civil War had begun.

Prior to the civil war, both hotels are some of the most top-end of hotels which lavish rooms and expensive diner. Now, the Costa Hotel is a hollow shell that was fenced off to the public while the Saint John's pool remained open under the private ownership of the yacht club.

Both hotels have plans to be renovated back to their former glory. However, the public believed that they should remain as a reminder of the civil war.

Pigeon Rocks

Just off the coast in Southern Rekof is the iconic Pigeon Rocks. This place makes you forget that you live in a big city. The area is very touristy even when the city is rebuilding itself. Great place to take photos with families and friends.



All in all, my experience here in Rekof is fantastic. It's a city full of rich culture and history despite the evident scar of war that still remains in the city.

Huailing County, Shaotai, Meijie Ling, 2015

Mother had been very pessimistic regarding my intention to travel to Liaojiang Theatre, she remained fearful of Peikangers, or ‘capital people’. She was worried that the capital was full of thieves living in the shadow of rich apartments and hotels. Sleazy streets full of thrifters and perverts, but I begged and begged for father’s approval, and he relented, pressuring mother to accept so long as I could finish all my chores and fulfill my academic targets for the semester. I was resolved to do so, and prayed to my ancestors for fortune in the test. Thanks to my great fortune, that I no doubt acquired through rigorous study and faith, I was selected by Jiangren’s fan website to win two tickets to their concert in Peikang, Liaojiang District, and I intended to take Aijie, my best friend, and fellow Jiangren fan with me. The day of the exam came, and I studied so hard my head began to ache on several days. The lines were full of my classmates who timidly attempted to coordinate for holes in their revision, or just socialise. I would do none of that, and simply met with Aijie, and we made travel plans.

I remember the great fear I felt as the examination invigilator’s breath over my neck, scanning my modest handwriting as he collected our answers. The exam was easier than expected, no doubt due to my study, and the boons granted to me by the ancestors. I ran home in joy when I received my Zhaungyuan (Principle Graduate for the one with the highest result in examinations) honours, and presented the certificate to mother, jumping up and down in excitement. My mother sighed, and agreed to pay to see Jiangren, which made me jump for joy. They were not performing for very long, only on the third of October, in the western calendar, which the band used out of a desire to appeal more to an international audience. Aijie had failed to study and thus been forced to resit the test by her parents, not even acquiring a Renkuai Graduate (The Lowest passing grade). While I mocked her for several minutes in laughter and joy, I was forced to conceal this from parents, lest they find out I was intending to travel to the heart of Peikang alone, on trains. There persists the issue of lechers harassing women on trains, that apparently exists all across Hezrana, though is very common in Peikang, due to the size and wealth of the city. It’s truly repulsive, so the Peikang travel advice website suggests that women travel in groups, and if possible, with a male chaperone. I don’t have a boyfriend, and taking father with me would be a drag, so I was forced to go alone. To get to Liaojiang, I would first need to take the Tranquility train to Peikang Zhongjin District, then a trip through the dangerous underground in the next few hours to Liaojiang, where I would hopefully encounter fell Jiangren fans, who could escort me. Traveling to the Huailing Train Station, from which I could embark on a three hour trip to Peikang, Zhongjin was a wonderful experience. I waved the certificate of my grades in my mother's face, and celebrated for several days that I’d be permitted to take the onerous journey. Hualing was a nice place, though it was fairly rural, and so there was very little to do after a while, especially after I grew up so close to the internet, and everyone thinks that when you speak to a Shaotai native, you are speaking to a Peikanger. I’ve never visited the capital itself before in my life, so before the concert begins, I want to see at least a small section of the city itself. See if the common stereotypes are true, like the infamous Peikang accent, ending their words with an unnecessary R sound. The internet says it’s true, and I’ve heard comedians speak, but they always exaggerate for dramatic effect, so I want to hear it for myself.

My family was fairly low income, by Shaotai standards at least. We always bought our clothes locally, and never very complicated ones, I wore the same grey jumpers almost every day in the winter, which concealed the occasional tattered shirts. I didn’t ever stand out in a crowd, which I liked, in a way. Though, pretty much everyone in Hualing had the same situation, I’m sure at least half my class has started working part time in the newly opened shopping mall, we all have fairly similar financial circumstances. As I took the bus to the station, I waved goodbye to the elderly couple Mai and Xi Guiling, who frequently visited their grandchildren weekly, they smiled back at me, and I reached the shopping mall, where I was attempting to purchase some food for the trip and the way back, as well as for a new camera, so I could get some mementos. Jiangren’s music and rugged looks made me squeal loudly, with great joy since I was young, and my mind was dominated by thoughts of hearing them in person, perhaps even getting a picture! The mall always took my breath away as I entered, with such variety, it seemed as though one could buy anything in our world in these very halls. Though I am a semi frequent visitor of the mall, I still love seeing each store, trying to find gifts for Autumn Festival, and ran into several faces from school, who I exchanged some short words with. I can only imagine how awkward it must be to serve someone you knew, the conversations would be over as quickly as they started, and I left. I found an inexpensive camera, and some candy that would satisfy my tastes, and started walking towards the station, one of the oldest in Shaotai. Hualing station is the most famous part of the town, with Hualing proper seeing few visitors. From Hualing, people from Zhongzhou province are able to reach Peikang. The station was dirty, with cleaning crews operating constantly, but the overflow of people made hygiene difficult to maintain. The train was packed, and I barely managed to get a seat before the cascade of businessmen, who spoke of inflation rates, the situation in Osmanli, and oil prices. I didn’t care at all for these things, politics was just so incredibly boring! I simply put my earphones on and listened to Jiangren until I drifted off to sleep, which I was unable to do. I murmured the lyrics to their songs, as I stared out the window at the rapidly speeding Shaotai countryside, which whizzed past me so fast I couldn’t concentrate on much. Eventually, as I was attempting to look at the beautiful scenery passing me, a businessman took the seat next to me, and spoke in a south Michise accent. (The Osmanli situation is Kanadorika invading Osmanli in 2015)

“Hey, girl.”
I turned to face him, he was wearing a suit, and was far older than most of the other men here. I lazily looked towards him and took my earphones out. He smiled at me, like I was some zoo animal.

“Are you traveling to Zhijing on your own? Isn’t that rather dangerous?”
He smiled wider as he said this, and his use of Zhijing confused me. The term was anarchic, no one called Peikang that anymore. I responded without thinking, in a blunt way.

“Zhijing? Are you from a period drama?”
At this, the old man, who looked around sixty or seventy, burst out laughing.

“Real life is far more intriguing, and complex than period dramas, young lady. Miss, your voice is truly amusing, I have never heard a local Hualinger before!”
At his snide comments, I became flustered and irritated, responding in a hostile manner.

“I have never met a Southerner before either, but I’m not impressed!”
I almost yelled, which caught the attention of many businessmen, I must have looked like a child arguing with her grandpa.

“I thought my Imperial basic was mastered, but it seems you have successfully been able to determine that I am indeed a southerner. I am Xiaoling Wei, member of the Celestial Parliament for Kuailong, Meijiang Province. I’m on a train bound for Peikang for an emergency Parliamentary session to discuss the situation in Osmanli.”
He rattled off this title and his purpose for coming like I was on a speed date with the man, though he lacked class, and could easily be my grandfather.

“Well, your lordship, I am sure Parliament is best served by its members harassing schoolgirls.”
My use of titles was mocking, but he took it in stride, and my anger was rising swiftly.

“Such a fierce attitude! You are clearly Zheng, but you have the fiery heart of the Bazhu. Why are you coming to the Imperial city?”

“If you really must know, your everlasting lordship with extended grace, I’m here to see a concert hosted by my favourite band. What even is a Bazhu?” (Bazhu is an archaic slur meaning Weishun)
My confusion would never be answered, as Xiaoliang rose from his seat, while the train ground to a halt outside Jinhua Station, Peikang, where businesses and politicians worked.

“Jiangren, eh? I’m well acquainted with their manager. I do hope you enjoy their performance.”
My heart sank a little, I attempted to stop him from leaving, so I could ask him about meeting Jiangren more, but he had already left. I attempted to follow him, as we shared the same stop, Zhongjin. Leaving the train, I saw him enter an Imperial sanctioned transport vehicle, a black, large car with the logo of the Minzhu Party emblazoned on the side. He had already left by the time I got a look, so not much could be done. Instead, I started heading towards the Peikang Gardens, as I had several hours before the concert would begin, and Jiangren would arrive. Peikang Gardens is a botanical garden, containing specimens of hundreds of different types of fauna from around Michu, second only to the Imperial Gardens, contained within the walls of Shaozi Palace. The Palace itself cannot be entered by commoners, of course. However, I would like to see the Imperial gate, which would be about a twenty minute walk from the Peikang Gardens. I explored the vast beauties of the Gardens, looking through sections. The Gardens have been arranged so plants from each of the provinces were together, to advertise the natural culture of Michu to visitors. There were hundreds of other visitors, who clambered over famous plants that I could not recognise. I looked for any native Hualing plants, to see if I could recognise anything, with no luck. Shaotai was dominated by Peikangese fauna, as I expected. I noticed a girl of radiant beauty, with a perfectly defined face, without even a single blemish or spot. If I were a boy, I’d have fallen in love at first sight. She dropped a small pendant, and seemed obvious, without much of a care in the world. I picked it up instinctively, after calling for her as she walked away

“Miss! Miss, you dropped your pendant!”
I ran after her, and managed to catch up with some ease.

“Oh, thank youer - my dader would be so lost without thiser!”
I burst out laughing hearing her accent, it sounded exactly like how comedians described, but without any hint of irony and sarcasm! I handed her the pendant, but she was confused, my laughter couldn’t subside, whenever she would speak, I tried to contain myself.

“Is something wronger?” (From here, I’ll have Lingwei talk normally, though in lore, she continues with the accent)


“Your voice is so perfect, the accent too! It’s so adorable and funny! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m Meijie Ling, I’m from Hualing, so I don’t get to hear the Pekang accent very often.”

“Oh. I am Lingwei. Ling as in spirit, and I’m from Peikang! My accent isn’t too distracting is it? I have lived here my whole life, so I’m not at all sure. Are you enjoying our city?”
She asked very courteously, there was a huge charm, a combination of Imperial modesty and a normal, outgoing girl. It was deeply refreshing, rarely was a balance struck in Michu.

“Very much so, though I have only been here an hour, maybe too. I’m on my way to see Jiangren.”
Lingwei lifted an eye in confusion upon the utterance of Jiangren’s name.

“Jiangren?”

“The music band? Everyone in Michu has heard of Jiangren!”
My enthusiasm accelerated, and I lifted my hand into the air, as if celebrating. My public awareness really needs work, but Lingwei did not seem to mind, she smiled and giggled upon seeing my overreaction.

“Forgive me, but I do not recognise them. Are they indeed that popular?”
My confusion continued to dominate my thoughts, and I continued to flail my arms around like a madwoman in excitement. Lingwei, by contrast, maintained an extremely cautious and still posture.

“So much! Especially with girls about young women, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them, they are playing in this very city in a concert. I wanted to bring my friend, but she failed her National Examination so she had to cancel.”

“The strongest gust of wind may end in a flash, the mountain remains unfazed. That’s what dad always said!” (No matter what troubles come upon you or the country, the strong shall remain and endure. Though in this case, she means the gust of wind as a fad, something that will fade into irrelevance with time while the mountain, being herself, pays no heed.)
I was remarkably confused, and twisted my head. I could not think of a response to this strange comment.

“Well, I suppose I have time. Would you mind if I accompany you? If it were no bother, I’d love to see something new.”
This girl was peculiar, I appreciated her upbeat nature, and her smiling could warm the coldest of hearts. Her face seemed far lighter, more angelic than any other girl I’ve ever met. Yet I detected very little, if any signs of makeup, besides Imperial sanctioned lipstick. The symmetry of her face was extraordinary too, it was as if she were handcrafted by the Great Dragons, perfectly ordained with completely black hair that, if not tied up, could probably reach her back. It’s texture was idyllic, just from seeing it, one could tell it was soft and pleasurable just to run one’s fingers over. It was not crusty or greasy like everyone else's, it was beyond perfect. She wore clothing that looked tailored to be boring, the materials looked too perfect for an ordinary girl, too well ordered and well complimenting her figure. Yet despite this, the perfect figure was wrapped up in deeply modest clothing, a grey jumper, almost like my own, and a matching grey dress that reached her shins. The grey dress looked immaculate, almost like it was from a Kanime, or was photoshopped, but it was completely real. They concealed an hourglass figure that was fairly slim, if I had to guess, her sizes would be slightly above the Imperial National Standard, with her bust and hips being on the line, though that may have been an illusion created by the dress. Her true proportions were difficult to tell underneath the dress’ immense modesty. My envious side flared up heavily, I had tried to achieve such a figure for months, but I couldn’t even get close! She wore black, opaque tights and shoes, exposing virtually none of her body to the sun. I continued staring at her in a daze for a few moments, ignoring her question for longer than is generally considered socially acceptable. I finally got back to her, snapping out of my trance like state, after tearing myself away from her perfect, dark eyes. (The Imperial National Standard is a metric by which the Empire describes what the ‘ideal’ woman should look like, and describes looks, sizes, and manner of acting.)

“Oh… I have two tickets, but you haven’t ever heard their music before?”
I inquired further, because I genuinely did not know a woman who did not at least know Jiangren.

“Not at all. I haven’t seen or heard any concerts either. Is that okay?”
I raised an eyebrow at this, surely she has at least heard of a concert, but I wasn’t sure how to breach this topic.

“Of course! I’d be happy to have you come with me! If you could show me some of Peikang before we get going?”
Lingwei hesitated for a second, before responding in a strange manner.

“I’m not too familiar with Peikang myself, outside of Zhongjin District, but I do know about these flowers, if you are interested, I’d be happy to tell you about them? You seemed fairly oblivious to them, yet entranced by their beauty.”
I was slightly relieved she misread me checking out her body and fashion as being entranced by the flowers, and while I didn’t particularly know or have much interest in flowers, Lingwei seemed fairly kind, and more protection on the train would be wonderful.

“Sure! We have about three hours before the concert starts, so we should start heading towards the train in about thirty minutes.”
Lingwei nodded adorably, and she escorted me throughout the Peikang Gardens, and we began chatting earnestly about flowers.

“The Empire is blessed with hundreds of different species of flowers, though these Gardens prominently display Chrysanthemums, because they have many poetic qualities. The North East, which includes Shaotai, produces variations of the informally known Huanghuang Orchid, (Play on words. Emperor and Yellow are pronounced the same way, as a national flower, it was designated property of the Emperor. It is yellow, hence it’s informal name, in real life they are called Cymbidium goeringii), which was particularly favoured by the Huanzhou Emperor.”
I once again spoke without thinking, in a particularly rude way that I regretted immediately.

“Huanghuang is such an adorable name! It suits you a lot! You know, I once heard that the Imperial Palace holds an entire garden that’s reserved for poisonous plants, where the Emperor would throw his wives that had grown too old or had displeased him! Spooky right?”
Lingwei’s eyes narrowed, and her face contorted and twitched slightly, as if something inside her snapped a little. She leaned a little closer, and spoke with a slightly more firm voice, though it was still extremely kind and courteous.

“The Anxian Gardens are no ghost story! They are a botanical paradise! So many different species that have been cast aside by the rest of society out of fear. The Emperors have protected them, and such stories do much to disgrace not only the reigning Emperor’s honour, but the honour of all their ancestors!”
There was a slight tinge of anger in her voice, and she grasped my arm, with her soft and perfect hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend at all, it’s just a story my father told me back home!”
I put my hands up in defense a little, but Lingwei retreated a little after her slight outburst, and smiled again.

“Don’t worry, I’m sorry for that. I am very passionate about my hobbies.”

The following is two short stories that take place on the second day of hostilities between Galavaria and Stazawaka during the 2021 war.

PFC. Jake Weber
2nd Platoon, C Company, 1st Battalion
88th Jager Regiment
H-Hour -00:30

“Alright listen up you buncha apes! We got the order to go, so we’re gonna start loading up the birds. Get your shit and let's get going!”

An NCO was yelling from the top of some wooden crate. For PFC Jake Weber that meant his stomach, which was already in knots, began to turn over. When he enlisted in the army it was peacetime, and even when he passed selection for the 88th, he assumed he would spend his contract in peacetime. Now, he was loaded down with gear, preparing to go on his second jump with the regiment, and it was a combat jump. He hadn’t heard of a combat jump undertaken by the military in years, let alone one conducted by the 88th. As far as he knew it, they would be some of the first ground units into Stazawaka, and their drop zone was dozens of kilometers from the nearest friendly unit. To say he was scared was an understatement. Thoughts raced through his mind as he settled into his seat.


What if the air force missed an anti air site? What if their fighter screen missed one of the enemy air force's birds? What if the drop zone wasn’t as clear as intel suggested? What if the SDF stopped the initial army push and they were stranded for longer than planned?

PFC Weber would be left to dwell on these thoughts during the flight to the drop zone. To his surprise, the drop would go off without a hitch, and he would find himself soon linking up with his unit. Their push for the airfield would even happen faster than he expected. It would be a surreal experience to sit on the airfield and listen to the aircraft fly across the country. He lost count of how many distant explosions he had heard after just one day. He would go on to describe it as “a never ending thunderstorm”.

By the second day, Weber found himself in a fighting position in what was a residential building. not a few days ago. It was late in the evening, and it was his turn to be on watch. They hadn’t seen much action since they took the airfield. A few scattered convoys had made their way down the road during the first night, and all day they had seen nothing. Word was the 25th saw some light fighting around the city, but nothing organized. He was told by his team leader (who was on watch with him) to watch the road north. His team leader lazily sat in a reclining chair, and idly fiddled with a switchblade he found on a dead policeman. That ment it was up to Weber to vigilantly watch the road, the same road, for hours on end through his night vision goggles. It was beyond tedium. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, he saw what he thought were floating globules of light far off into the distance. He saw at least 6 pairs of two lights, and from the briefings he was given earlier in the day, that ment vehicles.

“Hey Sergeant, do you see that?”

He said nervously.

With a heavy sigh, his sergeant thrust the blade into the chair's fabric, and moved over to Weber.

“Goddamnit Weber, you better not be fucking with me. Too tired for this shit.”

He grumbled. And he was right, they had been going non stop for almost two days. The most sleep anyone got was the 4 hours between watches allotted to platoons. Consistent false positives on enemy activity had severely interrupted those sleeping times. After spotting the same lights, which now were definitively identified as headlights, he excitedly keyed his comms

“Jackal-2 actual this is Jackal 2-2.”

After a moment his radio crackled to life with the tired voice of their platoon leader.

“Jackal 2-2 this is 2 actual, send your traffic”

“2 this is 2-2, I’ve got 4 vics coming down the MSR”

The sergeant responded. After a long pause, the radio came to life again.

“2-2, this is 2 actual, PID on those vics. Wait for my signal then engage.”

The sergeant responded a final time with.

“2, 2-2 copy all. Out.”

With that, the sergeant gave Weber’s helmet a good slap, and said “good find Weber”. Then he moved out of the room to alert his sleeping squad mates. He could faintly hear him rousing them with a kick of a boot here, and a hissed command there. Not long after he could hear muffled swearing and the scrambling of men to fighting positions. The trucks were almost upon them now, and he could see that it looked to be a supply convoy, no doubt lost and confused. Weber was shaking, and he hoped no one that had entered the room with him had noticed. While he had taken part in the previous days fighting, he didn’t do anything. This would be his first real time in combat, he hadn’t even had the chance to fire his weapon yet. He didn’t have to wait long, as he was dragged out of his anxiety by the WHOOSH of an anti tank rocket being fired above him. It impacted the front of the lead truck with a loud BOOM. Immediately, it ground to a halt, now just a burning wreck. In the next instant gunfire filled the night, with Weber too firing wildly at the remaining trucks in the column. In the dancing light of the fire, he saw one man run out of a truck and make a break for the relative safety of a building. Weber was quicker, and fired once, twice, three times before the man collapsed mid run as if he was a puppet with his strings abruptly cut. Not long after this he could hear above the din a ceasefire order. The next morning, with the trucks still smoldering from the slaughter the night before, Weber would walk the street until he found the man he had shot the night before. He had hit him twice, once in the small of his back, and once near the top of his spine. Weber would stand there, transfixed by the man for several minutes. His trance was only broken by a squamate of his shaking him out of it, and offering him a cigarette. He would absent-mindedly take it, not breaking eye contact with the corpse, and make sure to take a long drag from it. He would then turn and walk back towards his fighting position down the street.


Lieutenant John Adamić  
A Company, 6th Battalion, 2nd Armored Brigade Combat Team
10th Armored Division
H-Hour +2:00

As his tank rumbled across the Stazawakan countryside, Lieutenant Adamić could help but marvel at its beauty. The rolling hills that dominated the central part of the country made for some beautiful picturesque scenes. The mid afternoon sun blazed overhead, causing him to sweat profusely. While it wasn’t unbearably hot out, being in a tank made the temperature feel much warmer than it was. His situation was only made slightly better being turned out, and allowing the wind to rush past his face. He knew it was against regulations, as they could expect contact with the enemy at any moment, but he didn’t care. He was too busy admiring the lands around him, which was only sometimes interrupted by a jet screaming by. His idle gazing was interrupted when his gunner called out.

“Enemy tank left!”

Snapping out of his confusion, he quickly adjusted his gaze to the front of the tank and immediately saw it, a pair of T-55s dug in along the road they were paralleling. Panicking, he dropped back into the tank slamming the commander’s hatch shut as he did so.

“Fire, Fire Sabot!"

He screamed. They had engaged field fortifications when they crossed the line, so they had a HE round loaded. His order told the gunner and loader to fire the HE round that was loaded, then load a Sabot round after it. Sabot rounds were a powerful kind of anti-armor round that would tear through even the most modern tanks. It would make short work of the ancient T-55s. It almost wasn’t needed, the first round slammed into the lower left side of the enemy tank, and soon it was engulfed in vicious secondary explosions.

“Gun loaded!”

His loader called.

Without responding, the gunner fired, causing the tank to rumble a second time. Adamić watched as the second round pierced the turret of the second tank, and smoke began to trail up from it. They were soon passing the pair of flaming wrecks, and as they did he heard his radio through his headset.

“Rhino 3-1 this is Fox 6, what's your status?”

In his panic, Adamić hadn’t even heard his platoon call out the contact for him. His company commander was now trying to get a hold of him. How long had the firefight gone on for? It felt like eternity, but it was more than likely in a few minutes.

“Fox this is Rhino 3-1, times 2 enemy tanks destroyed.”

He said rather loudly into his mic. He didn’t intend to be that loud, but he clearly hadn’t fully come down from the adrenaline rush yet either.

“Solid copy 3-1, good work. Fox out.”

Sitting back in his seat, he took a moment to steady his breathing. He heard his driver's voice over the intercom.

“Shit lieutenant, you ain't gonna need a change of skivvies are ya?

There's was general laughter in the tank, and his gunner added

“Aw hell, don’t tell me I got shit on by an officer”

After more laughter, and allowing himself to smile, Adamić responded to the gunner first

“You wouldn’t be so lucky Meyers, and Fischer, watch the damn road would you?”

A little more focused after their first tangle with enemy tanks, the crew continued to rumble across the Stazawakan countryside.

The Command Room was silent with anticipation and anxiety as all personnel on deck watched the submarine emerge just a couple kilometers from the harbor of Din Thi Di. A sigh of relief came from the Commander of the Commonwealth Garrison. Just a day before, the Commander ordered the Military Police components of the local Commonwealth Corps to mobilize. In addition to this maneuver all combat elements of the local KPPR garrison were activated and moved into position, a segment of Din Thi Di’s international airport being commandeered by several Air Wings, both fixed wing and rotor wing.

As each Minute passed destroyers, frigates, and even an Amphibious Assault Ship surrounded the submarine. The submarine only moved for the waves of the unending seas. Its black hull soaking in the heat from the sun as it was subsequently cooled by the winter waters of the coast.

The scene developed further as Fighter Jets took off from the International Airport, sending screeching roars throughout the downtown of Din Thi Di as their afterburners were engaged. In a mere handful of minutes the jets made low altitude flights over the submarine and the encircling fleet, buzzing the nuclear submarine.

For over a year the Apparatus of Serene Seas and the captain of the submarine had been playing a very expensive game of cat and mouse, which was admittedly only somewhat intentional, but now it was clear that the game was to come to a decisive and hopefully peaceful ending.

From the high quality camera of an overhead drone one could observe a trio of black stealth helicopters steaming towards the submarine, the helicopters flying only a dozen feet or so above the crashing waves. A voice broke over an open comms channel, relaying to the Command center “This is Naga Platoon Eleven, rotor wing insertion imminent, ETA fourteen seconds.” After the estimated time the Helicopters came to an elegant hover over the submarine, three dozen men jumping out through the open doors where they once hung their feet, one of them having to commit to a roll to break his fall. A crew chief in the lead helicopter threw a black duffel bag to a group of the disembarked men.

No time was wasted as the group of eleven men each dashed to an entry point each. Two of the groups did not make for a breach, but rather took aim at each respective entrance, acting as a blocking detachment. The last team made their way to the middle entry point, throwing down the duffel bag and ripping it open, revealing several blocks of moldable plastic explosives made and shaped for this specific operation. The squad slapped the explosives on the entrance before detonating it after a few seconds. A point man then moved to enter through the smoke, holding a fully automatic machine pistol in one hand while he climbed down the latter into the womb of the submarine.

Live footage was aired to the Command Center directly from a small camera attached onto the operative’s ballistic high cut helmet. After a couple seconds the rest of his squad followed as the smoke cleared. Through the helmet camera footage we see as the pointman reaches the bottom of the ladder, seeing several crew members huddled in a corner screaming in fear as he turned his weapon towards them, yelling at them for them to get on the ground. The crew members compiled, despite being terrified.

The rest of the squad reached the bottom of the ladder, moving to secure the crewmembers with zip ties as the pointman was tapped on the shoulder by one of his comrades, signaling it was time to continue advancing. The two moved down the claustrophobic corridors as red emergency lights flashed with a rate that would cause great despair to those with epilepsy. Eventually they reached the Submarine’s ‘Deck’. Throwing open the door they saw the Captain in a standoff between himself and one of the Command Duty Officers.

The Captain, startled, turned his weapon towards the two operatives and moved to squeeze the trigger, ready to cast the judgment of the God of Abraham onto the two intruders. The pointman let out a burst of automatic fire from a high ready position, striking the Captain in the right shoulder first, with the other three hitting him in the thorax. The spent cartridge casings flew several feet in the Deck, striking the wall until falling to the metal flooring. Despite the machine pistol being suppressed it still was loud, bouncing off continuously off the walls of the cramped room, piercing the ears of the Command Duty Officer who dropped his gun due to the pain of his hearing orifices.

With no time to waste the pointman ran up to the incapacitated Captain and put a two round burst of pistol caliber fire into his head, neutralizing him before using his left hand to press down on the paddle of his PTT, “Duke pacified, I repeat, the Duke has been pacified. Moving to secure all pax on the boat.”

A wave of relief overcame everyone in the Command Room, with several Operational Specialists and Command Officers letting out shouts of joy. Everyone celebrated, except for a select number of key personnel from the Apparatus of Serene Seas, the premier intelligence agency in the entirety of the KPPR. They individuals made their way out of the room and into the glowing lights of a hallway, the marble flowering and white colored walls contrasting with the damp lighting and dark blue coloring of the command center. One of them spoke up “So. . . How do we explain this one to Mös?”

Without a second passing by, the most youthful answered, “Same as we always do, hand her the full report and hope we don’t get fired.” The one who had imposed the question once again let out an inquiry, asking, “What about the Indigs (Indigenous Governments)? Activating the Colonial Corp only for them to temporarily shut down the harbor and pier will look rather strange to say the least.” The individual who had restrained himself to silence finally spoke up “We’ll get there when we get there. Now, c’mon, I know a good Aztlani Place only a few blocks away.”