Gym Class Heroes Fighter

I'm an Underground Fighter, Weird things Happen Around Halloween- Part 4

2020.12.02 02:40 HughEhhoule I'm an Underground Fighter, Weird things Happen Around Halloween- Part 4

For anyone that hasn't had the experience, long term insomnia is an almost indescribable state. In media they always describe it as a total lack of sleep, that's bullshit. After about 2 weeks of no sleep you are dead.
But that isn't really the horror of insomnia. That's , relatively speaking, a quick bullet in the back of the head. The true scary shit, is the slow torture and mental devolution of a few weeks with 1 or 3 hours sleep.
Strangely, your brain adapts better than your body. Sure , you are not firing on all cylinders , but you make the best of the ones you have.
The toll on your body though, you wind up with everything from chronic colds to symptoms of diabetes. See, your brain is being selfish, it makes sure it's grey wrinkled self is taken care of first and foremost. Your other bodily systems left to fend for themselves.
And that is where I'm at. At the start of the newest chapter of my journey through surprisingly polite hell.
30,000 deposited that night. More money than I see some years. And no one tried to eat me, no soul removal or being turned into a doll or anything, but I couldn't shake the feeling of dread and anxiety I found myself with.
For a month and a half I blacked out my apartment windows, doubled back on every trip out of the house. And made eye contact with every stranger on the street.
Was I worried about some militia, or a group of hellspawn that could find out I'm under said group of assholes thumb? Take your pick , for 45 days I was staring down every guy over 6 foot and taking a hilarious amount of cliche anti supernatural measures.
But 45 days of relative peace started to make me think neither of these groups had much more use for me. I almost lowered my mental guard , but then I got the phone call.
"A slap fight? Seriously? You ghost me for 2 months and offer a slap fight?" I say to Harold with a sarcastic laugh.
"Not a slap fight like that, do you not watch YouTube? I'm talking a brutal offense only match. And sorry for not calling, did 30 grand not provide you with a comfortable living standard? You are not our only fighter. " Harold chides me.
"No I don't watch YouTube actually. " I say opening my ancient laptop and searching the term.
I ignore Harry's further gripes and watch a few professional slapping matches while he rants.
He was not kidding, two big bastards throwing giant open handed haymayers into each other's face. Knockouts are common and don't nessecarily end the fight,and the injuries look brutal, everything from dislodged eyes to friction burn.
"I completely understand, you couldn't be more right." I interject trying to calm his tirade. "So just gave a browse, if the pay is as good as last time, I'm in."
In truth I want to say no regardless of the pay, problem being turning down a figure like that is sure to raise suspicion. Not to mention, if those militia assholes are bugging my phone or anything they may not take too kindly to me turning down an opportunity.
"You didn't hear a word I said did you? Whatever, meet me at Gym's and we will work out the details.
I walked to Gym's, wanting to give myself some time to clear my head. By the time I walk in the door and get greeted by a few regulars I'm fairly certain I'm not acting suspicious.
Harold comes out of his office, and while he doesn't say anything the look he gives my blown out looking self tells me all I need to know.
"Rough night kid?" He says casually.
"Rough few actually." I say with a grin I force to make it to my eyes.
"Well hope you like hitting faces as much as the bottle. " Harold leads me back to his office as he begins to explain.
"Don't you think Syz is at a bit of an advantage in a slap fight?" I say taking a seat at his desk. On it sits a computer that looks old enough to legally buy alcohol, and a few files with pictures attached.
"I do, but you ain't fighting Syz this time. Another human…mostly is going to be your opponent. We are making this a team based match, America versus Russia. One human, one wildcard and one champion each side, first team down 3 loses. Pay will be double if your interested." Harold smiles as he sees my eyes widen.
"I am, depending on what you mean by 'mostly'. " I say trying to give myself a reasonable out.
"Nothing to worry about, they call themselves 'Heroes' we tend to call them a lot less complimentary things. The vast majority are genocidal pricks who come from families who have been given 'a little something' and think that makes it their goal in life to kill folks like us. But this guy, he's one of the good ones.And his 'little something' won't come into play. He's got a few pounds on you, but that's about it." Harold starts flipping through the files as I try to keep the fear and shock out off of my face.
I'm expecting to see the Australian guy from the diner, but the picture us of a very stout , 6 foot is, pale guy, 30s , huge beard, and a gut that seems to demand your attention.
I can't find a way to argue I'm out classed. I panic and agree "No problem" I say cursing myself silently.
"You have 2 weeks to get back in shape, looks like you are going to need it. Another 10 grand if you train up Syz a bit, your other teammate, you'll maybe meet him before the match. But I wouldn't hold my breath." Harold starts bringing up something on his computer " You can go now.".
My mind and heart are in a competition to see which can give out first as I leave the office. I nearly fall over as Syz , seemingly out of no where bounds up to me with an extremely off putting look of glee on his face.
"We stand as one,easel going, to hold up that display of impeccable construction!" He screams , full volume.
"Calm down. Literally every word of that flew straight over my head. Let's try that again." I say leading him over to the corner that is obviously his and his alone.
He takes in a few deep breaths and speaks a bit more calmly "Our unneeded assistance is given to those above our station." .
"You are a fan of the other guy on our side?" I say taking a stab at the meaning. Syz nods enthusiastically.
"Can't wait to meet him. Till then, you think you can deal with my unimpressive self?" I say with a smirk.
"A friendly face, and indelible ink, I should think so!" He says patting me on the shoulder.
"I love our little talks Syz. " I say as we try to come up with a training plan for a match format neither of us has experience with.
After watching more matches than were strictly nessecary, we realised that us sparring against each other is going to be doing no one any favors.
So I found someone more or less human shaped (a rotting vaguely canine guy who was a lot less obnoxious than his smell. ) to spar with, while Syz picked something that looked like a living breathing stick person.
From there it was simply a matter of undoing some habits. Dodging a blow being one of them. A technical foul and cause for a do over of the opponent's slap.
I split my time between Gym's and home this time, though the workout actually lead to some nights with sleep, my precarious situation was always in the back of my mind while training.
Four days before the fight I got my second bowel loosening phone call.
"Listen closely , I will only be telling you this once …" the Australian says.
I did know what came over me. Wish I could say it was the opposite but I'd been getting general information about the heroes under the guise of research for the fight. And from the perspective of anyone I could talk to, they amounted to the paranormal equivalent of skinheads (Though there was plenty of 'not all heroes' moments.), not some kind of all powerful cabal. I was angry and felt in control.
"No, you listen, you and the ghost busters can take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. You are going to kill my family? When you spend your life pissing off things that could tear you apart? I don't think so, in fact I think your resources are stretched so thin, your best plan is to try and use a low end fighter to somehow screw with an abnormal fight promotion. That, mate, is a stupid fucking plan.
If I catch a whiff of your folks around me again, I'm going to bring my friends into it. And from what I've seen they are a lot scarier than yours." I say building ire and vitriol through my monologue.
"Looks like we go with plan b then." He says cryptically as he ends the call.
The conversation shook me a bit but I had confidence in what I was saying. Sometimes I can be such a moron.
We never ended up meeting up with our third member till fight night. Syz and myself were getting ready in the locker room as Harold and the mysterious 3rd member of our team came in.
He was a short guy, about 5 foot six, dressed in an upscale suit that looked about 80 years out of date. His pitch black hair was slicked back and he was wearing a somehow dapper ,small,flat straw looking hat.
"Buster, meet Terry. " Harold says as the man takes off his suit jacket and offers his hand. I shake it and feel a grip like a vise.
Syz is literally shaking with glee as he produces a piece of aged,stained paper and a pencil that is little more than a stub.
With a confidant grace he takes the paper and autographs it. Syz puts it inside his black fog like jacket and I choose to not ask how exactly that works.
We watch our opponents enter the ring to assorted cheers and boos from the crowd. I recognise mine from the photo, looking intimidating in a blue and white stripped wife beater and track pants but the other 2 are both shocking for different reasons.
"Mine" Syz says pointing to a creature that looks like an anorexic human suspended in a rotting placenta. The thing stretches the sack surrounding it's emaciated form into whiplike tendrils cracking them to the delight of the crowd.
The third though, it isn't some horror, it's a small wobbly looking old Russian grandmother. Wrapped in layers of shawls and blankets. The applause as she simply waves to the crowd can be heard in the locker room.
"Her and buster got quite the rivalry. They had some clashes over territory back in the day." Harold says as we get ready to make our entrance.
Buster waves Syz and I to go first. I thank him as we walk out and start to go through a well rehearsed introduction where we pit aside our differences to defeat the other team.
No one was watching us though.
The second Buster entered the applause drowned out anything we were saying and no one's eyes were anywhere but on him. We went through the motions of our introduction as we made our way into the ring, but it was obvious people were there for the spectacle and the big names, not our gimmicks.
In the ring were three waist high tables, a stool was provided for the old lady to bring her level with Buster. We stood across from our respective opponents and grabbed the stout bars potruding from the tables with our left hands.
There were 3 refs, all absolutely identical looking ( to me anyway) tall bald men, each had a twisted evil looking face on the back of their skull in addition to a more standard one where I've always assumed faces always went.
The rules were explained by all three in unison to the crowd. The cheers began to rise then subside as they announced the first round.
They were saving the best for last obviously , and started with me and my rotund opponent.
No handshake, just a Russian phrase that could just as easily have been "Good luck" or "fuck you." As he chalks his hand and lines up his first slap.
The blow comes in quick,and I hear it long before the burning pain sets in. I clench the support pole for a moment as I push the pain down. I nod to the ref and line up my own strike.
I hit hard, my strike is launched from the hip and hits squarely , raising a red welt on the Russians face. But he reacts as much as if I attacked him with harsh language.
He says something to me in an aggressive tone and draws his finger across his throat. Chuckling deeply as the spotlight on us cuts off, and one on Syz and the placenta thing sparks to life.
Syz rotates his shoulder and lines up his shot. The slap has the momentum of a freight train, but the jelly like skin of the thing in front of Syz absorbs a lot of the shock. And while it makes a noise like a snapping broom handle there are no visible signs of injury.
The creature does nothing for a moment and in a flash whips a thick tapered tentacle toward Syz, it hits like a whip, opening a severe gash on his face. He stumbles backward but doesn't fall.
Then the spotlight hits the A squad.
The crowd goes wild, Buster wastes no time and winds back a strike that only barely brushes the face of the old lady. There is no way this was anything other than showmanship, I assume.
The old lady throws a quick backhand slap in response that tears open Buster's face, a dripping flap of skin hangs for a moment before starting to knit back together.
The next 4 rounds are much of the same , unfortunately for Syz this meant fighting an extremely uphill battle. Buster and I were mostly remaining on even ground with our opponents, but by the sixth round Syz looked like he had been through a blender. I had no idea if he could even see, as both eyes had a large furrow of tissue removed.
My answer came with him throwing a slap that hit his opponent solidly on the arm. Before the return strike he backs away from the platform waving his hands, metaphorically throwing in the towel.
"First point to Russia " the announcer screams as the crowd cheers and boos.
The Russian man says some more indecipherable taunts and winds back, his shot is off target though and instead of hitting my face, slams directly into my ear.
I hit the ground, holding the side of my head. I'm disoriented, and feel like there is a knitting needle driven through my head.
One of the refs comes over and inspects my ear, it is judged an unintentional foul, granting me an extra strike , but not disqualifying him.
I throw the first slap, and finally I see a little flicker in the bastards dead blue eyes, the next blow comes before his head gets aligned again and he goes to both knees, grabbing the table to keep from crumpling to the ground. But he holds on, wiping a thin trickle of blood from his mouth.
"About time to get this show on the road anyway." He says just loud enough for me to hear. I never questioned if he knew English, but my heart starts to race. Something is up.
Both the old lady and buster are looking like they got a cement mixer facial. Neither being able to keep up the rapid healing pace of the earlier rounds.
Buster is done messing around it seems, he leans backward,using only his ankles almost becoming parallel to the floor . With a spin that uses every muscle in his body he launches a slap that builds up from the floor. The sound it made wasn't sharp, it was a wet thud that accompanied his hand caving in half of the old lady's face. There was no call it by the refs, her cut man dragged her, twitching body from the ring.
Buster was leaning against his podium, obviously broken and winded to some extent himself. He looks over to me, one eye missing, bottom half of his face fleshless, as if to say " it's up to you now.".
As the spotlight hits me and my opponent I see something, pointed and metal in his right hand. With a movement that only I can see he stabs the placenta beast and I hear a pressurised whine.
"Should have just went with plan A " he says with a smile.
The placenta wrapped thing makes a shrieking noise and rips it's podium from the ring , throwing it into the audience with an audible crunch.
I back up as fast as I can, the Russian on the other hand looks serene , not breaking eye contact with me as the creature turns it's sudden rage on him.
The tentacles start to lash him non stop. Unlike their impact on Syz , each blow shatters bone and pulps organs the man deform and breaks before my eyes, becoming little more than a leaking sack of meat as the creature slams a tentacle one last time,spraying the ring with gore.
"Cut the lights, cut the cameras and get everyone out of here!" I hear Harold scream as we are plunged into darkness.
As my eyes adjust I see that the thin human form in the sack glows subtly green. Thankfully I can see the thing that will certainly kill me.
I can barely make Buster out, but he still looks hurting. Regardless he charges the thing, moving faster than I could on my best day. Unrestrained, his blows hit like battering rams. The form in the sack being tossed around as it is struck.
I feel like I should try and help, I rush in and get hit a few times, light , glancing blows I don't see. When I get close enough to make out the creatures limbs, I grab a tentacle and begin to yank, trying to get it off balance , I feel many more slapping against my stomach and chest, but the don't seem to be connecting well, I grab tighter, twisting the limb around my body.
My muscles burn, but buster seems to be winning the fight. The form inside has limbs floating unattached, a deformed skull and ribs that look like a crushed pile of matchsticks.
Buster starts to rip and tear, burrowing through the creature like a mole. It screams and thrashes , but as the lithe deadpan guy jams his upper half into the ragged hole he has made the creature discorporates into reeking liquid and clattering bone.
I fall to the ground suddenly unimpeded. The lights turn back on and the first thing I see is a nearly empty arena.
The second is Buster, looking like a skinned hare.
The third is just how wrong I was about those glancing hits.
My stomach is nothing more than torn sinew , white and grey bulges I hope are not organs showing through.
There is a deep puncture mark under my left lung, leaking blood at an alarming rate.
Shock wears off, and I lose consciousness.
I awake with a deep burning pain in my stomach, and a man in a surgical garb (that appears to also be wearing clown makeup.) Stitching up my stomach.
"Easy there, I didn't go to 12 years of medical school to hurt you." He says annoyed.
I'm about three quarters stitched up, and still looking at parts that should be left unseen.
The doctor turns behind him , and begins to talk to someone I can't see.
"He's fine, gonna have one hell of a scar though. But why on earth have you been…" the doctor is interrupted by a voice , Harold's voice.
"He's fine now though? Besides the stitch job?" Harold says.
"He could probably do it himself at this…" the doctor is interupted again. Harold grabs his head and turns it 180 degrees. As the body drops he yanks again, removing the clown's head. He drops it, walking over to the table I'm on and tossing me a spool of thick black thread and a thick needle.
"We have a lot to talk about kid." He says in a tone that barely surprises his rage.
Link to part 3
https://www.reddit.com/DrCreepensVault/comments/j48r4z/im_an_underground_fighter_weird_things_happen/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
submitted by HughEhhoule to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.11.18 04:53 Azrael_Ze [Major Update Details] Major Update 24 - November 19th

[Major Update Details] Major Update 24 - November 19th
The all-new [Harbingers of Elysium] major update details are here!
Langrisser Mobile will undergo a maintenance at November 19th. The duration of maintenance process is expected to last for 4 hours, during which, commanders will not be able log into the game. We're sorry for any inconvenience this may cause! After the maintenance is completed, you'll be able to enter the game and continue your glorious adventure!

[Maintenance Time] 01:30 - 05:30 (GMT-6)
[Affected Servers] All Servers
[Maintenance Compensation]
When the maintenance is over, you can claim Trinity Vouchers x 5 on the Info page as compensation. Please remember to claim them in time! You can find your maintenance compensation in the INFO page after maintenance!

[Maintenance Contents]
[New Heroes - Florentia & Tsubame]
SSR Hero - Florentia: Hailing from a reputable family and excelling as the Empire's most influential politician, Florentia is a peerless official and a rational strategist, unlike her warrior sister. After becoming Imperial Prime Minister, Florentia is occasionally forced to make ruthless decisions for the sake of protecting her country. She may not be the best fighter, but she exerts excellent command over her soldiers and is a master of strategy. — [Factions]: Empire's Honor, Strategic Masters, Langrisser Reincarnation. — [Final Class]: Tactician/Imperial Chancellor
SSR Hero - Tsubame: A young kunoichi born in the Eastern "Land of Ninjas", she possesses a keen mastery of mysterious ninjutsu and powerful assassination techniques. To repay Florentia for saving her life in the war, Tsubame vows to protect and follow her for life and is bestowed the title of "Right Hand to the Chancellor". — [Factions]: Meteor Strike, Langrisser Reincarnation. — [Final Class]: Shadow/Ranger
https://preview.redd.it/ruj6g6144xz51.jpg?width=2208&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e32dee6dce38ab1512d013405ba21fef8e0fa015

[New Limited-time Summon - Harbingers of Elysium]
Event Time: November 19th 06:00 - December 2nd 23:59 (GMT -6)
A calculating hand grips the rudder, with a trusty sword close by one's side... Set sail and get ready to explore a new world!
During the limited-time [Harbingers of Elysium] summoning event, you'll have an increased chance of summoning SSR heroes Florentia and Tsubame!
https://preview.redd.it/iauk6ok24xz51.png?width=1459&format=png&auto=webp&s=ea9b2da89e63621684210f0ae61073716c018aec

[New Main Story Chapters]
After the update, the pages of Chapters 21 to 25 of main story part two will finally open!
Complete Main Story stages to obtain Melania Shards and loads more awesome rewards!

[New Time Rift Stages - Langrisser Ⅳ Final Chapter]
As the tale of a distant land across the ocean reaches its final chapter, the legends of its heroes still echo in our ears.
With Jessica's help, Landius and his party rescue the Princess and return to Caconsis. However, he learns that his sister Rachel has been imprisoned by Gizarof, and he decides to march toward the union's capital. Meanwhile, Lanford decides to sneak in and kill Gizarof himself...
After the update, the Time Rift's Langrisser IV Final Chapter will be ready for you to explore. Complete this chapter's stages to obtain amazing rewards!

[Secret Realm Revival]
Event Time: After the November 19th Maintenance - November 25th 23:59 (GMT -6)
During the event period, when challenging the Secret Realm's [Goddess Trial], [Aniki's Gym], [Bonding Realm], and [Angelica's Special Training School], all Commanders will enjoy 1 extra daily reward chance each day!

[The Legendary Gate]
Event Time: After the November 19th Maintenance - November 25th 23:59 (GMT -6)
During the event period, daily challenge chances for the [Gate of Fate] will double (increasing from 9 to 18)! Challenge chances for each hero will remain unchanged.
https://preview.redd.it/hexp635f4xz51.jpg?width=1440&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=21066a6eb75c952c5a9d21bced9f78e6180656e5

[Limited-Time Event - Echo of Light]
Event Time: After the November 19th Maintenance - December 16th 23:59 (GMT -6)
Once more, darkness covers the continent of El Sallia, and only faith in the Goddess of Light can bring hope to the world. Commander, let the song of Langrisser sound once more! Let the angels of Langrisser spread their wings again! Let the world... tremble at the sound of heroes to come!
During the event period, if your total recharge amount reaches the specified goals, you can obtain the corresponding rewards. Florentia's limited-edition [Ace Bunny] skin and SSR hero Tsubame's limited-edition [Kitty Agent] skins are up for grabs!
https://preview.redd.it/m9fm2pem4xz51.jpg?width=2208&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0d7e81c1037a51c4972afc7c74593f3e35cb48d0
https://preview.redd.it/6zc9k4tl4xz51.jpg?width=2208&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=fdd97cf787cc32252f286c2c1f4f3b854425ddbe

[New Gate of Fate Stages]
Explore the hidden stories of Langrisser's mighty heroes and help them regain their former glory!
After this maintenance, the Gates of Fate for Florentia and Tsubame will open. After successfully challenging these stages, you can gain their Hero Shards and unlock their Bond Powers to push their ability to its full potential!

[Other Optimizations and Adjustments]
New Content:
  1. Level 2 Awakening Skills will be available for the following heroes: Florentia, Tsubame, Alustriel, Lanford, and Deedlit.
  2. Love Confessions will be unlocked for the following heroes: Ilucia
  3. Heart Bonds will be unlocked for the following heroes: Florentia , Tsubame and Melania.
  4. Secret Realm Store: New exclusive equipment for Brenda (Armor) and Oliver (Headwear)!
  5. A new Continuous Battle function has been added to the game, allowing you to automatically and continuously repeat stages in Auto-Battle mode. This function can be used in Angelica's Special Training School, Aniki's Gym, the Goddess Trial, the Bonding Realm, and limited-time Secret Realm challenges, in both solo and team modes. You can use Continuous Battle up to 20 times per day.
6. The Path of Light event will be replaced with the Heroic Adventure event. Players who already have active Path of Light data will not be affected. The Heroic Adventure event will begin for players with newly-created accounts after entering the game.
  1. A range of new gift packs have been added for new players, which can only be purchased on new accounts made within 45 days after the update is completed.
8. Added the new Newcomer Oathsworn Summon, which is only available to new accounts made within 45 days after the update is completed. Players can choose two from 8 specified heroes to add to their wishlist. When summoning an SSR hero, the chance of obtaining a wishlist hero will be greatly increased. In addition, the first SSR hero obtained is guaranteed to be a wishlist hero. When obtaining 3 SSR heroes, 2 are guaranteed to be wishlist heroes. These 8 SSR heroes are the only ones that will appear when summoning from this banner.

Stage and Battle Optimizations:
  1. In the battle preparation phase, soldier info will now display the HP of all soldiers, including Command effect bonuses, instead of the HP for just a single soldier.
  2. Fixed an issue where Gospel's immunity effect could exist at the same time as Chivalry's immunity effect.
  3. Fixed an issue where Emerald Crusher's post-battle damage boost effect and Chain Lightning's Crit effect were not immune to the "cannot be buffed" effect.
  4. Fixed an issue where Constructs with a "Deterring Component" incorrectly applied a debuff effect after dealing damage.
  5. Fixed an issue where, when Ballista and Catapult soldiers HP was at 0, the unit's normal attack range +1 bonus would not be effective.
  6. Fixed an issue where, after Renata used her awakening skill Thunderous Flash and triggered the Unflinching effect, the Unflinching status icon would not disappear.
  7. The effects of Command skills will now be judged as buffs or debuffs according to their actual effects.
  8. When Rozalia's Faith effect reaches 3 stacks, Faith will not be repeatedly triggered before entering battle.
  9. Adjusted the special effect of the Sage of the Trees' talent Guardian of the World when hero dies and dispel is triggered.
  10. Fixed an issue where, when two heroes had the Unflinching effect and a "triggers on death" effect trigger at the same time, the former hero would not be affected by the latter hero's buff effect.
  11. Modified the description of Gospel, adding INT to its list of buffs.

Other Adjustments:
  1. Fixed an issue where likes would be displayed incompletely when your number of likes exceeded a certain amount on the Hero Card interface.
submitted by Azrael_Ze to langrisser [link] [comments]


2020.11.16 04:36 Azrael_Ze [Major Update Preview] Major Update 24 - Nov 19th

[Major Update Preview] Major Update 24 - Nov 19th
The preview of all-new [Harbingers of Elysium] content update is here! Imperial Chancellor Florentia and Eastern Ninja Tsubame make their glorious debut!

[Content Preview]
[New Heroes - Florentia & Tsubame]
SSR Hero - Florentia: Hailing from a reputable family and excelling as the Empire's most influential politician, Florentia is a peerless official and a rational strategist, unlike her warrior sister. After becoming Imperial Prime Minister, Florentia is occasionally forced to make ruthless decisions for the sake of protecting her country. She may not be the best fighter, but she exerts excellent command over her soldiers and is a master of strategy.— [Factions]: Empire's Honor, Strategic Masters, Langrisser Reincarnation.— [Final Class]: Tactician/Imperial Chancellor
SSR Hero - Tsubame: A young kunoichi born in the Eastern "Land of Ninjas", she possesses a keen mastery of mysterious ninjutsu and powerful assassination techniques. To repay Florentia for saving her life in the war, Tsubame vows to protect and follow her for life and is bestowed the title of "Right Hand to the Chancellor".— [Factions]: Meteor Strike, Langrisser Reincarnation.— [Final Class]: Shadow/Ranger
https://preview.redd.it/mn4ucpu2viz51.jpg?width=2208&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=536ebf0f7f94d10a6c08bd2ced2c78f05eee60ae
[New Main Story Chapters]
After the update, the pages of Chapters 21 to 25 of main story part two will finally open! Complete Main Story stages to obtain Melania Shards and loads more awesome rewards!

[New Time Rift Stages - Langrisser Ⅳ Final Chapter]
As the tale of a distant land across the ocean reaches its final chapter, the legends of its heroes still echo in our ears. With Jessica's help, Landius and his party rescue the Princess and return to Caconsis. However, he learns that his sister Rachel has been imprisoned by Gizarof, and he decides to march toward the union's capital. Meanwhile, Lanford decides to sneak in and kill Gizarof himself...
After the update, the Time Rift's Langrisser IV Final Chapter will be ready for you to explore.

[Secret Realm Revival]
Event Time: After the November 19th Maintenance - November 25th 23:59 (GMT -6)
During the event period, when challenging the Secret Realm's [Goddess Trial], [Aniki's Gym], [Bonding Realm], and [Angelica's Special Training School], all Commanders will enjoy 1 extra daily reward chance each day!

[The Legendary Gate]
Event Time: After the November 19th Maintenance - November 25th 23:59 (GMT -6)
During the event period, daily challenge chances for the [Gate of Fate] will double (increasing from 9 to 18)! Challenge chances for each hero will remain unchanged.

[New Gate of Fate Stages]
Explore the hidden stories of Langrisser's mighty heroes and help them regain their former glory!
After this maintenance, the Gates of Fate for Florentia and Tsubame will open. After successfully challenging these stages, you can gain their Hero Shards and unlock their Bond Powers to push their ability to its full potential!

[Other Optimizations and Adjustments]
New Content:
  1. Level 2 Awakening Skills will be available for the following heroes: Florentia, Tsubame, Alustriel, Lanford, and Deedlit.
  2. Love Confessions will be unlocked for the following heroes: Ilucia
  3. Heart Bonds will be unlocked for the following heroes: Florentia , Tsubame and Melania.
  4. Secret Realm Store: New exclusive equipment for Brenda (Armor) and Oliver (Headwear)!
  5. A new Continuous Battle function has been added to the game, allowing you to automatically and continuously repeat stages in Auto-Battle mode. This function can be used in Angelica's Special Training School, Aniki's Gym, the Goddess Trial, the Bonding Realm, and limited-time Secret Realm challenges, in both solo and team modes. You can use Continuous Battle up to 20 times per day.
  6. The Path of Light event will be replaced with the Heroic Adventure event. Players who already have active Path of Light data will not be affected. The Heroic Adventure event will begin for players with newly-created accounts after entering the game.
  7. A range of new gift packs have been added for new players, which can only be purchased on new accounts made within 45 days after the update is completed.
  8. Added the new Newcomer Oathsworn Summon, which is only available to new accounts made within 45 days after the update is completed. Players can choose two from 8 specified heroes to add to their wishlist. When summoning an SSR hero, the chance of obtaining a wishlist hero will be greatly increased. In addition, the first SSR hero obtained is guaranteed to be a wishlist hero. When obtaining 3 SSR heroes, 2 are guaranteed to be wishlist heroes. These 8 SSR heroes are the only ones that will appear when summoning from this banner.
submitted by Azrael_Ze to langrisser [link] [comments]


2020.11.06 19:15 DirtDisrespector "Oh you like JoJo? Name every JoJo character." (+stands)

Part 1

Jonathan Joestar
Will A. Zeppeli
Robert E. O. Speedwagon
Erina Pendleton
Poco
George Joestar I
Tonpetty
Straizo
Dire
Dio Brando
Bruford
Tarkus
Wang Chan
Dario Brando
Danny
Tattoo
Kempo Fighter
Inspector
Poco's Sister
Jack the Ripper
Adams
Doobie
Page/Jones/Plant/Bornnam
Mary Joestar
Will's Father
Elizabeth I
Mary Stuart
Aztec Chief
Mark Watkin
Darnley
Harry
Jeff Back and Dan Hamar
The 77 Rings Challenge Winners
Father Styx
Maiden
Dio Brando's Mother
Woman from Bar
Brats
Ring Announcer
Jonathan's Former Friends
Joestar Mansion Butler
George's Doctors
Ogre Street Criminals
Vagrants
Police Zombie
Speedwagon's Friend
Jack the Ripper's Date
Fisherman
Zombie Knights
Executioner
Poco's Bullies
Oriental Doctor
Ceiling Zombies
Zombie Mother
Chimera Zombies
Poco's Dad
Executed Zombies
London Bartender
Coffin Transporters
Ship Zombies
Elizabeth's Mother

Part 2

Joseph Joestar
Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli
Lisa Lisa
Rudol von Stroheim
Messina
Loggins
Erina Joestar
Smokey Brown
Suzi Q
Kars
Esidisi
Wamuu
Santana
Donovan
Wired Beck
Mark
Mario Zeppeli
George Joestar II
Bruto
Adolf Hitler
Straizo's Disciples
Mummy
SPW Excavators
Coco Cola Seller
New York Police Officers
SPW Plane Hijackers
SPW Plane Pilot
Impatient Driver
Brass Knuckles Gangster
Mafioso
Bruto's Girlfriend
Female Reporter
Stroheim's Servants
Nazi Doctors
Stroheim's Prisoners
Courageous Mexican Child
Mexican Thugs
Vampire Prisoner
Nazi Gatekeepers
Santana's Body Host
Santana's Nazi Victims
SPW Researchers
Rome Hotel Waiter
Caesar's Date
Hypnotized Girl
Nazi Officer
Wamuu's Nazi Victims
Ripple Clan
Mark's Girlfriend
Joseph's Doctor
Nazi Spy
Postmaster
Puppy Saved By Kars
Drunk Drivers
Kars's Nazi Victims
Luxury Cat
Caesar's Siblings
Caesar's Distant Relative
Italian Hoodlum
Kars's Vampires
Skeleton Heel Stone Warriors
Bad Breath Vampire
Vampire Horses
Kars's Double
SPW Special Technology Fighting Team
Stroheim's Ultraviolet Army
Superior Officer Zombie
Kars's Squirrel
Pillar Men Clan
Funeral Directors
Hollywood Screenwriter
Japanese Tourist

Part 3

Jotaro Kujo
Muhammad Avdol
Noriaki Kakyoin
Jean Pierre Polnareff
Iggy
Holy Kujo
Anne
Roses
Enya the Hag
Vanilla Ice
Hol Horse
Nukesaku
Daniel J. D'Arby
Pet Shop
N'Doul
Mariah
Alessi
Oingo
Boingo
Anubis
Telence T. D'Arby
Kenny G.
Gray Fly
Impostor Captain Tennille
Forever
Devo the Cursed
Rubber Soul
J. Geil
Nena
ZZ
Steely Dan
Arabia Fats
Mannish Boy
Cameo
Midler
Chaka
Khan
Malèna
Wilson Phillips
Sherry Polnareff
Sadao Kujo
Captain Tennille
Pocky
Prince, Michael and Lionel
Caravan Serai
Moor Family
Christian Vander
Shozo Mayama
Chibi and Buchi
Sonia
Dr. Elliot
Tatsuhiko
Treasure Hunters
Japanese Police Officers
Jotaro's Groupies
School Nurse
Mr. and Mrs. Kakyoin
Speedwagon Foundation Sailors
Singapore Hotel Valet
Singapore Thief
Cable Car Tourists
Calcutta Waiter
Little Calcuttan Boy
Calcutta Drifter
Calcutta Beggars
Varanasi Doctor and Nurse
Cafe Marhaba Denizens
Karachi Jewelry Store Guards
Arab Cessna Pilot
Arab Villager Lady
Speedwagon Foundation Pilots
Japanese Manga Artist
Chaka's Father
Friends of Chaka's Father
Papyrus Seller
Four Mice
Young Anubis Wielder
Luxor Old Woman
D'Arby's Cat
Dealer Boy
Cairo Airport Punks
Cairo Informant
Dog-loving Boy
Speedwagon Foundation Doctors

Part 4

Josuke Higashikata
Okuyasu Nijimura
Koichi Hirose
Rohan Kishibe
Hayato Kawajiri
Reimi Sugimoto
Shigekiyo Yangu
Mikitaka Hazekura
Yukako Yamagishi
Yuya Fungami
Tamami Kobayashi
Toshikazu Hazamada
Tonio Trussardi
Aya Tsuji
Shizuka Joestar
Arnold
Tomoko Higashikata
Ryohei Higashikata
Yoshikage Kira
Yoshihiro Kira
Tama
Keicho Nijimura
Akira Otoishi
Anjuro Katagiri
Ken Oyanagi
Toyohiro Kanedaichi
Terunosuke Miyamoto
Masazo Kinoto
Bug-Eaten
Not Bug-Eaten
Shinobu Kawajiri
Nijimura's Father
Koichi Hirose's Mother
Ayana Hirose
Kosaku Kawajiri
Josuke's Savior
Police
Junko
Masaji
Sachiko
Lady Murakami
Ghost Alley's Residents
Takashi and Kazuko Sugimoto
Gonta
Ichiro Morishita
Yoshioka
Akira
Minayo
Yuya's Fangirls
Kimura
Minako Okura
Satoru Nakae
Mika
Hiroshi Yoshimura
Rio
Kai Harada
Sakai
Asuka
Rika Tachikawa
Yamashita
Masaya Yoshizawa
Hirata
Delinquents
Josuke's Groupies
Robber
Nijimura's Mother
Mr. Hirose
Bikers
Class President
Speedwagon Foundation Agent
Speedwagon Foundation Ship Captain
Old Monk
Banker
Kira's Coworkers
Centipede Shoes Store Owner
Kawajiri Family Cat
Morioh Tourist
Mikitaka's Mother
Rude Nurse
Rio's Neighbor
Paramedic

Part 5

Giorno Giovanna

Bruno Bucciarati
Leone Abbacchio
Guido Mista
Narancia Ghirga
Pannacotta Fugo
Trish Una
Coco Jumbo
Pericolo
Diavolo
Vinegar Doppio
Squalo
Tiziano
Carne
Cioccolata
Secco
Polpo
Mario Zucchero
Sale
Risotto Nero
Formaggio
Illuso
Prosciutto
Pesci
Melone
Ghiaccio
Scolippi
Luca
Sorbet and Gelato
Donatella Una
Man X
Paolo Bucciarati
Abbacchio's Partner
Anita
Diavolo's Mother
Antonio Rossi
Mrs. Menini
Mela Ghirga
Monica Ultello
Airport Security
Giorno's Admirers
Giorno's Mother
Giorno's Stepfather
Female Prison Officer
Old Janitor
Truck Driver
Narancia's Father
Narancia's 'Friends'Elderly Victim
Teacher
Blackmailing Criminal
Woman Saved By Mista
Thugs Killed By Mista
Bruno's Mother
Drug Dealers
Copy of Coco Jumbo
Venetian Suit Man
Hotel Maid
Bug-Catching Boy
Sardinian Fortune Teller
Sardinian Taxi Driver
Soccer Kids
Natural Resources Workers
The Arrows' Creator
Drunkards
Diavolo's Foster Father
Victims of SCR
Flower Shop Owner
Scolippi's Girlfriend
Female Tourists
Unlicensed Taxi Driver
Yacht Renter
Assassination Target
Assassinated Woman
Fugo's Parents
Shady Engineer

Part 6

Jolyne Cujoh
Ermes Costello
Emporio Alnino
Foo Fighters
Narciso Anasui
Weather Report
Gwess
Irene
Anakiss
Enrico Pucci
Donatello Versus
Rikiel
Ungalo
The Green Baby
Johngalli A.
Sports Maxx
Miuccia Miuller
Thunder McQueen
Miraschon
Lang Rangler
Viviano Westwood
Kenzou
Guccio
D an G
Romeo Jisso
Perla Pucci
Loccobarocco
Gloria Costello
Charlotte
Atroe
Savage Garden
Sonny Likir
David
Ron the Viper
Mickey
Pinocchio
Snow White and the Seven Dwarves
Astro Boy, Mazinger Z and Tetsujin 28-go
Little Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf
Spider-Man
Kenshiro and Raoh
Mother Goat and Seven Young Goats
Prince Charming
Vincent van Gogh
Venus
Peter Pan and Tinkerbell
Put Back Hero
Sergeant McCoy
Wes Bluemarine
MIH Bystanders
'Tom Cruise'
Jolyne and Ermes' Co-Prisoner
Hitchhiker
Jolyne's Mother
Jolyne's Lawyer
Judge in Jolyne's Trial
Strip Search Staff
Prison Doctor
Prison Hairdresser
Female Ward Security Staff
Pi-chan
Caterer
Blonde Bully
Bullied Prisoner
Prison Visit Guard
Search Party Guard
Male Prisoners Killed by Foo Fighters
Female Prisoners Killed by Foo Fighters
Foo Fighters' Would-be Bully
Courtyard Guard
Surveillance Technician
Prison Backyard Guard N#1
Prison Backyard Guard N#2
Prostitute Prisoner
Maximum Security Ward Prisoners
Anasui's Former Girlfriend
Little Prisoner
Speedwagon Foundation Doctors #2
Swamp Searching Party
Shoplifter
Bohemian Rhapsody Victims
Versus's Family
Judge In Versus's Trial
Juvenile Detention Inmate
Racist Detective
Nice Tourist
MIH Victims
Alternate Jolyne
Alternate Jotaro

Part 7

Johnny Joestar
Gyro Zeppeli
Lucy Steel
Steven Steel
Hot Pants
Mountain Tim
Diego Brando
Pocoloco
Sandman
Norisuke Higashikata I
Funny Valentine
Oyecomova
Pork Pie Hat Kid
Dr. Ferdinand
Ringo Roadagain
Blackmore
Eleven Men
Mike O.
Wekapipo
Magent Magent
Axl RO
D-I-S-C-O
Alternate Diego Brando
Benjamin Boomboom
Andre Boomboom
L.A. Boomboom
Mrs. Robinson
Sugar Mountain
Scarlet Valentine
Jesus
Gregorio Zeppeli
George Joestar I (Steel Ball Run)
Nicholas Joestar
Diego Brando's Mother
Marco
Captain Valentine
Urmd Avdul
Dot Han
Baron Roocatugo
Gaucho
Mark Becker
David Hagen
Paul Lukather
Dixie Chicken
Zenyatta Mondatta
Caravan Serai (SBR)
Baba Yaga
Nellyville
Sloop John B
Billy White
Iglesias
Fritz von Stroheim
Mack the Knife
Rotters Club
Nightfly
Kanye
Shigechi
Tarkus (SBR)
Mister.
Georgie Porgie
Dario (SBR)
Anne Joestar
Danny (Mouse)
Adam Pendleton
Silas and Mary Pendleton
Alice Pendleton
Pendleton Children
Sandman's Sister
Steel Ball Run Staff
Thief
Pocoloco's Fortune Teller
Sheriff
Gyro's Mother
Gyro's Siblings
Neapolitan Noble
Beautiful Prisoner
President's Aides
Diego's Wife
Farm Worker
Ringo's Father
Ringo's Mother
Ringo's Sisters
Potato Killer
Gyro's Hospital Patient
Milwaukee Gangsters
Wekapipo's Younger Sister
Wekapipo's Brother-in-law
Hot Pants' Brother
Shooting Witnesses
Coach Driver
Railroad Worker
Victims of Love Train
Funny's Father
Diego's Fans
Slow Dancer
Valkyrie
Silver Bullet
Gets Up
Ghost Rider in the Sky
Hey! Ya!
Hono
Foxy Lady
Little Wing
Crosstown Traffic
El Condor Pasa
Europe Express
#1
Peg
Ramblin' Man
Roxanne
Moon Flower
Nut Rocker
Country Grammar
Catch a Wave
Love Unlimited
Natalie
Black Rose

Part 8

Josuke Higashikata (JoJolion)
Yasuho Hirose
Rai Mamezuku
Norisuke Higashikata IV
Jobin Higashikata
Mitsuba Higashikata
Tsurugi Higashikata
Joshu Higashikata
Hato Higashikata
Daiya Higashikata
Kaato Higashikata
Kyo Nijimura
Yoshikage Kira (JoJolion)
Josefumi Kujo
Karera Sakunami
Holy Joestar-Kira
Tamaki Damo
Yotsuyu Yagiyama
Aisho Dainenjiyama
A. Phex Brothers
Dolomite
Tooru
Satoru Akefu
Urban Guerrilla
Doremifasolati Do
Poor Tom
Wu Tomoki
Dododo De Dadada
Ojiro Sasame
Maako Kitani
Suzuyo Hirose
Iwasuke
Hair Clip
Kiyomi Kujo
Rina Higashikata
George Joestar II (JoJolion)
Josuke (Dog)
Elizabeth Joestar (JoJolion)
Joseph Joestar (JoJolion)
Suzi Q (JoJolion)
Yoshiteru Kira
Teru
Norisuke Higashikata II
Toyoko
Norisuke Higashikata III
Tomoko Higashikata (JoJolion)
Sadafumi Kujo
Atsunori Iwakiri
Zaihei Nigatake
Rena Nanami
Mina
Taoka
Hospital Security Guard
SBR Hat Shop Owner
Kidnapped Girl
The Man from Josuke's Memories
Ojiro's Friend
Johnny's Daughter
Oblivious Grandmother
Crying Little Boy
Hospital Taxi Driver
Extortive Mother and Child
Shakedown Road Veteran
Three Drug Dealer Thugs
Carrier Girl
Shakedown Road Cops
Mysterious Baby
The Old Man in the Wheelchair
Aisho's Girlfriend
Yakitori Shop Owner
Bald Salaryman
Tourists
Muneyuki
Morioh Police Officers
Bar Owner
Milagro Man's User
Cab Driver #2
Courier Boy
Mature Woman
Female Delinquent
Jogger
Bicycle Boy
Cab Driver #3
Baby
Boy-scout Bully
Yasuho's Dad
Angry Patient
Woman in bed
Maako's Daughter
Bus Stop Murderer
Rock Human Mother
Mamezuku's Father
Mamezuku's Mother

One-Shots

Jolyne Cujoh (GUCCI)
Minoru Kaigamori
Kyoka Izumi
Nanase Kishibe
Rohan Kishibe's Grandmother
Noguchi
Pierre
Gaucher
Ikkyu
Naoko Osato
Gunpei Kamafusa
Mutsukabezaka
Shuichi
Mai Katahira
Mao Katahira
Obanazawa
Tomoya
Yoma Hashimoto
Mika Hayamura
Mochizuki Family
Moon Rabbit
Virgina
Dolce
Masago Ayashi
Dolce and His Master
Masago Ayashi
Bruno Bucciarati (GUCCI)
Leone Abbacchio (GUCCI)
Polpo (GUCCI)
Unicorn
Nizaemon Yamamura
Female Monk
Yamaoka
Interpreter
Leather Goods Artisan
Frida Giannini
Rocky
Yoshiki
Wanted Man
Confessor
Servant
Asian Man
Corn Market Workers
Daughter
Obese Man
Model Scout
Fitness Trainer
Deliveryman Sawaki
Gym Patron
Gym Manager

Light Novels

Michal
Absalom
The Scribe Ani
Takuma Hasumi
Chiho Futaba
Teruhiko Futaba
Akari Hirai
Hanae Orikasa
Trinita
Crybaby Boy
Coniglio
Sogliola Lopez
Rigatoni
Sheila E
Cannolo Murolo
Massimo Volpe
Vladimir Kocaqi
Vittorio Cataldi
Angelica Attanasio
Gianluca Pericolo
George Joestar II (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Lisa Lisa (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Tsukumojuku Kato
Penelope de la Rosa
Erina Joestar (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Steven Motorize
John Moore-Brabazon
Kenton Motorize
Darlington Motorize
Jonathan Joestar (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Joseph Joestar (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Straizo (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Ngapoi Ngawang Tonpetty (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Robert E. O. Speedwagon (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Dio Brando (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Antonio Torres
William Cardinal
Alejandro Torres
Maria Torres
Javier Cortes
Funny Valentine (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Messina (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Jim Graham
Ben Motorize
Faraday
Julio Gonzales
Edvard Noriega
Charles Rolls
Scarlet Valentine (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Mr. Fernandes (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
George Joestar I (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Danny (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Will Anthonio Zeppeli (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Poco (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Poco's Sister (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe)
Leonora Cortes
Juan Rovira Cortes
Isabella
Prunella
Graham Pendleton
Harriet Motorize
Frank Dimarest
Peter Fraser
Royal Aero Club Members
Vincent Lecoeur
Kars (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe: Future Timeline)
Jotaro Kujo (Jorge Joestar 1st Universe: Future Timeline)
Funny Valentine (Jorge Joestar 2nd Universe)
Lucy Steel (Jorge Joestar 2nd Universe)
Alternate Diego Brando (Jorge Joestar 2nd Universe)
Jorge Joestar (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Narancia Ghirga (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Rohan Kishibe (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Reimi Sugimoto (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Koji Hirose
Muryotaisu Nijimura
Fukashigi Nijimura
Bruno Bucciarati (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Leone Abbacchio (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Guido Mista (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Pannacotta Fugo (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Pocoloco Tripleseven (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Goyathlay Soundman (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Trish Una (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Vinegar Doppio (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Shigekiyo Yangu (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Aya Tsuji (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Enrico Pucci (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Yoshikage Kira (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Funny Valentine (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Funnier Valentine
The Funniest Valentine
Dolcio Cioccolata (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Secco Rottario (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Jonathan Joestar (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Dio Brando (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Jonda Joestar (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Jodoh Joestar (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Joseph Joestar (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
George Joestar I (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Joeko Joestar
Denta Shishimaru
Kosaku Kawajiri (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Shinobu Kawajiri (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Hayato Kawajiri (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Chien Kunimido
Prosciutto Cappano (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Pesci (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Ghiaccio (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Melone (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Johnny Joestar (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Hisao and Yohei
Guruguru Majin
Nail Peeler
Shirai Masami
Serika/Satoshi/Seshiru Kato
Namahage Detective
Takumi Kumoi
Sachiari Hakkyoku
Nekoneko Nyan Nyan Nyan
Chomaru Bariya & Others
Daibakusho Curry & Runbaba 12
Yukako Yamagishi (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Wilhelm Beer & Johann Mädler
Maria Urias Zeppeli
Giorno Giovanna (Jorge Joestar Unknown Universe)
Diavolo (Jorge Joestar Unknown Universe)

Other

Stand User
Old Man Stand User
Heaven Ascension DIO
Dija Maker
Scatola

Stands

Part 3

Star Platinum
Magician's Red
Hermit Purple
Hierophant Green
Silver Chariot
The Fool
The World
Tower of Gray
Dark Blue Moon
Strength
Ebony Devil
Yellow Temperance
Hanged Man
Emperor
Empress
Wheel of Fortune
Justice
Lovers
Sun
Death Thirteen
Judgement
High Priestess
Geb
Khnum
Tohth
Anubis
Bastet
Sethan
Osiris
Horus
Atum
Tenore Sax
Cream
Holy's Stand
Joestar Stand

Part 4

Crazy Diamond
The Hand
Echoes
Heaven's Door
Love Deluxe
Harvest
Killer Queen
Sheer Heart Attack
Bites the Dust
Aqua Necklace
Bad Company
Red Hot Chili Pepper
The Lock
Surface
Pearl Jam
Achtung Baby
Ratt
Cinderella
Atom Heart Father
Boy II Man
Earth Wind and Fire
Highway Star
Stray Cat
Super Fly
Enigma
Cheap Trick
Nijimura's Father's Stand

Part 5

Gold Experience
Sticky Fingers
Moody Blues
Sex Pistols
Aerosmith
Purple Haze
Spice Girl
Chariot Requiem
Gold Experience Requiem
King Crimson
Black Sabbath
Soft Machine
Kraft Work
Little Feet
Man in the Mirror
Mr.President
Beach Boy
The Grateful Dead
Baby Face
White Album
Clash
Talking Head
Notorious B.I.G
Metallica
Green Day
Oasis
Rolling Stones
Sorbet & Gelato's Stands
Resource Worker's Stand

Part 6

Stone Free
Kiss
Burning Down the House
Foo Fighters
Diver Down
Weather Report
Whitesnake
C-Moon
Made in Heaven
Goo Goo Dolls
Manhattan Transfer
Highway to Hell
Marilyn Manson
Jumpin' Jack Flash
Limp Bizkit
Survivor
Planet Waves (FKA Earth, Wind, and Fire)
Dragon's Dream
Yo-Yo Ma
Green, Green Grass of Home
Jail House Lock
Bohemian Rhapsody
Sky High
Under World
Boiling Water Stand
Emporio's Mother's Stand
Stand Collection

Part 7

Tusk
Ball Breaker
Oh! Lonesome Me
Scary Monsters
Cream Starter
Ticket to Ride
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
D4C Love Train
In a Silent Way
Hey Ya!
Tomb of the Boom 1 2 3
Boku no Rhythm wo Kiitekure
Wired
Mandom
Catch the Rainbow
Sugar Mountain
Tatoo You!
Tubular Bells
20th Century Boy
Civil War
Chocolate Disco
THE WORLD
Emerald Searcher's Stand

Part 8

Soft & Wet
Paisley Park
Nut King Call
Paper Moon King
King Nothing
Speed King
Killer Queen (JoJolion)
Fun Fun Fun
California King Bed
Born This Way (FKA Going Underground)
Les Feuilles
I Am a Rock
Doobie Wah!
Love Love Deluxe
Schott Key No.1
Schott Key No.2
Vitamin C
Walking Heart
Milagro Man
Blue Hawaii
Doggy Style
Brain Storm
Ozon Baby
Doctor Wu
Awaking III Leaves
Wonder of U
Kaato's Stand

Light Novels

Dark Mirage
Satanic Coupler
Ptah
The Book
Memory of Jet
The Cure
Public Image Limited
Joy Division
Purple Haze Distortion
Voodoo Child
All Along Watchtower
Manic Depression
Rainy Day Dream Away
Dolly Dagger
Night Bird Flying
U-Boat
Heaven's Door (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Grand Blue
NYPD Blue
Blue Thunder
Killer Queen (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
The Passion
Cube House
Arrow Cross House
Videodrome
The Iron Ladies
Stepmom
The World (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Gold Experience (Jorge Joestar Unknown Universe)
Gold Experience Requiem (Jorge Joestar Unknown Universe)
King Crimson (Jorge Joestar Unknown Universe)
Whitesnake (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
C-Moon (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Made in Heaven (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (Jorge Joestar 37th Universe)
Rear Window
Singing in the Rain
Stray Dog
Face/Off
Right Stuff
Blob
Evil Dead
Twister
Fugo's Stand
Doppio's Stand
The World Ultimate
Ultimate D4CU-Boat Ultimate
Whitesnake Ultimate
C-Moon Ultimate Requiem
Made in Heaven Ultimate Requiem
Molting
Coulrophobia
Dream Manipulation
Wings
Dune
Dune Ultimate
The Trinity

Other

Stand User's Stand
Strange Relation
Gucci Bag Stand
Remote Romance
The World Over Heaven
House of Holy
JoJosapiens
The Shelter
submitted by DirtDisrespector to copypasta [link] [comments]


2020.10.24 23:37 Joejoejo344 All Oculus Quest Multiplayer/Co-Op Games: Oculus Store and SideQuest

Wanderer: Google maps VR with friends
Bigscreen: Watch films with friends
Cook-out: akin to Overcooked
Epic Rollercoaster: Rollercoaster shooter game
Raccoon Lagoon: akin to Animal Crossing
Drunkn Bar Fight: Co-Op, Bar fighting with silly weapons
Path of the Warrior: Co-op, like streets of rage/Gorn
Star Trek Bridge Crew: 4-player, Command your own ship and complete missions in space
Spaceteam VR: 4-player, yell comands at each other to complete tasks
Tsuro The Game of the Path: Asian spiritual themed board game
Kingspray Graffiti: Grafitti with friends
SculptrVR: Multiplayer art and 3D sculpting
Orbus VR: MMORPG
SWORDS of GARGANTUA: co-op, multiplayer, similar to fighting up the tower on SAO
Ironlights: Sword Dueling PVP
Skyworld: Kingdom Brawl, akin to TABS but PVP
Sairento VR Untethered: Tron Ninja Battle arena with co-op
Elven Assassin: 4-player tower defense, bow and arrow with powers and abilities to unlock
Wands: PvP Magic duels
Immersed: Productivity, co-working
vSpatial: Productivity, co-working
Spatial: Productivity, co-working; take a picture of face, impose it onto your VR face

Zombie games

Arizona Sunshine: co-op zombie campaign; 4 player horde mode
Death Horizon Reloaded: co-op zombie campaign; horde mode coming soon
Drop Dead Dual Strike Edition: co-op horde mode

Sports games

Blaston: Face to face PVP shooting dual
Cloudlands 2: Golf VR, pass and play co-op and online co-op
Echo VR: 3D Rocket league with frisbies
Sports Scramble: essentially Wii sports VR
Eleven Table Tennis VR: PVP or PVE Table tennis
Racket Fury Table Tennis VR: PVP or PVE Table tennis
RUSH: Skydive Race In a Wing Suit with friends, good adrenaline rush, but not for the queasy
Creed Rise to Glory: Boxing multiplayer, though there may not be many on the servers, so bring a friend
Poker VR: emphasis on Poker
PokerStars VR: emphasis on Casino games
Racket Nx: Raquetball VR
Pro Putt (by Topgolf): 4-player golf multiplayer
Walkabout Mini Golf: 5-player golf multiplayer
Premium Bowling: Single, Local, and Online multiplayer

Racing games

Mini Motor Racing X: Multiplayer, Single User, Co-op, it's like PS1 Micro Machines
Death Lap, pvp destruction derby/twisted metal type racing game
Void Racer Extreme: Essentially Tron bike racing
VR Karts: Sprint: Kart racing
Dash Dash World: essentially Mario Kart in VR

First Person Shooters

Onward: Compared to Rainbow Six Siege, co-op, multiplayer
Solaris Offworld Combat
Dead And Buried II: Co-op and competitive modes
Population One: 18-player Battle Royale

Social hub

Half+Half
Dance Central
Oculus Venues: VR TV with friends
TribeXR DJ School: learn how to use a DJ deck and screw around with friends
Rec Room
Multiverse: free, multiplayer and educational, flat earthers wouldnt appreciate this one
Alcove: Family oriented social hub
VRChat
AltspaceVR
Engage: communication platform designed for educators, companies, and event planners

Non-Conventional Multiplayer

Penn & Teller VR: One person in headset, one person pranks playing irl
Puppet Fever: 1 Quest and mobile devices, use puppets to play shrades
Acron: Attack of the Squirrels!: played between 1 rift and multiple mobile devices
Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes: One person in headset, 1-4 people read the bomb defusing manual, work together to defuse bombs
Synth Riders: Rhythm game, can see your friend's scores, but that's all
Beat saber: Rhythm game, can see simple avatars of your friends/strangers playing
The Under Presents: Minimal social interactions
The Climb: You can see your friend's ghost data from their past climbs
FitXR: You can see your friend's ghost data from their past workouts

Sidequest

Pavlov: FPS
Contractors: FPS
Crisis VRigade: Co-op, similar to TimeCrisis
Cybercade: Arcade shooter
War Yards: PVP dual
Hyper Dash: 5v5 online multiplayer VR shooter
Pokémon VR: The more I mention this game, the more I fear it'll get hit with a cease and desist
HiBow: Bow and Arrow-based Battle Royale
Triton VR: Shared-space multiplayer FPS
MissionX: Shared Space multiplayer FPS
Colonicle: 4v4 FPS, A class based competitive parkour-shooter
Song Beater: Quite My Tempo! Beatsaber but you can use multiple weapons like fists, guns, tonfa's and so on
Range Day VR: Gun range emulator, its updated frequently, many guns and many things and ways to shoot, guns and the mechanics of the guns are emulated closely
Air Brigade: Fighter jet emulatodog fighter
Reflex Unit 2: 3rd Person Tank Fighting
VR TANKZ!: Tank battle simulator, realy simplistic graphics
Dead Shot Heroes: Attack the tower game, kill, lvl up, get powers. full crossplay. its pretty fleshed out
PocketRacer: Make your own crazy tracks and then race on them
Pick-up League Hockey: Skill based hockey
Dino Encounters: a multiplayer dinosaur zoo with mini games and feeding
Art gate: A marketplace for Post-War and Contemporary Art in virtual reality, art is also sold and bought here in rooms with over 100 people apparently
OctoRaid: Asymmetric game, evil giant octopus vs 5 others
Fugitive 3D: VR vs PC/andriod phone Cop vs Robber
Laser Storm Arena: 4 player space pirate shooter, needs a pc to be used for a server and a server client
The Blood Eclipse: 6-player zombie game; two zombie players and four human players, similar to left 4 dead 2 multiplayer
Ghost League Pre-Alpha Demo: High speed locomotion jumping and flying obstacle course
Neos VR: Social versatile world maker
Battle Area VR: FPS like halo
SlashMates: mob killer
Secret Of Harrow Manor: feels like resident evil, horror searcher and shooter. look for health bullets and other loot to survive
VR Club: Become a club DJ or join the dance floor, full body avatars
VRZone: Multiplayer room builder
Snow Fortress: Build a snow fort, then have a snow fight, more fun than i make it sound
NES SPACE: Play nes games, even multiplayer, also you are able to make a retro style room to play the game in
Pétanque: Play Bocce Ball with a roommate
Abu Dabi: Catapult projectiles into another players targets while he defends them and trys to shoot yours down
Mawashi: A GTA V: Sumo-Remix mini game remake
MRTK Online: Basic intractable physics blocks can mess about with friends
KitchenIslandVR: Cookout but slightly different
CineVR: Big Screen but slightly different
Gym Class: VR basketball with pals

Coming soon

Tetris Effect- multiplayer up to 3-players coming summer 2021
Contractors- multiplayer, co-op missions FPS coming Dec. 3
Warhammer 40,000: Battle Sister- December 8
Zenith- MMORPG coming late 2021
Ilysia- MMORPG coming late 2021
NXY- MMORPG coming late 2022
Axegend: offline demo available now; online game in development (?) (Dungeon crawler mob killer with end boss, many skills and weapons, also traps)
Oathbreakers VR: Spellcasting PVP and PVE
Expanded from this post by u/Captain_caveman1
Comment if I missed anything! I'll do my best to keep it updated
submitted by Joejoejo344 to OculusQuest [link] [comments]


2020.10.09 03:29 HughEhhoule I'm an Underground Fighter and Weird Things Happen Around Halloween- Part 4

For anyone that hasn't had the experience, long term insomnia is an almost indescribable state. In media they always describe it as a total lack of sleep, that's bullshit. After about 2 weeks of no sleep you are dead.
But that isn't really the horror of insomnia. That's , relatively speaking, a quick bullet in the back of the head. The true scary shit, is the slow torture and mental devolution of a few weeks with 1 or 3 hours sleep.
Strangely, your brain adapts better than your body. Sure , you are not firing on all cylinders , but you make the best of the ones you have.
The toll on your body though, you wind up with everything from chronic colds to symptoms of diabetes. See, your brain is being selfish, it makes sure it's grey wrinkled self is taken care of first and foremost. Your other bodily systems left to fend for themselves.
And that is where I'm at. At the start of the newest chapter of my journey through surprisingly polite hell.
30,000 deposited that night. More money than I see some years. And no one tried to eat me, no soul removal or being turned into a doll or anything, but I couldn't shake the feeling of dread and anxiety I found myself with.
For a month and a half I blacked out my apartment windows, doubled back on every trip out of the house. And made eye contact with every stranger on the street.
Was I worried about some militia, or a group of hellspawn that could find out I'm under said group of assholes thumb? Take your pick , for 45 days I was staring down every guy over 6 foot and taking a hilarious amount of cliche anti supernatural measures.
But 45 days of relative peace started to make me think neither of these groups had much more use for me. I almost lowered my mental guard , but then I got the phone call.
"A slap fight? Seriously? You ghost me for 2 months and offer a slap fight?" I say to Harold with a sarcastic laugh.
"Not a slap fight like that, do you not watch YouTube? I'm talking a brutal offense only match. And sorry for not calling, did 30 grand not provide you with a comfortable living standard? You are not our only fighter. " Harold chides me.
"No I don't watch YouTube actually. " I say opening my ancient laptop and searching the term.
I ignore Harry's further gripes and watch a few professional slapping matches while he rants.
He was not kidding, two big bastards throwing giant open handed haymayers into each other's face. Knockouts are common and don't nessecarily end the fight,and the injuries look brutal, everything from dislodged eyes to friction burn.
"I completely understand, you couldn't be more right." I interject trying to calm his tirade. "So just gave a browse, if the pay is as good as last time, I'm in."
In truth I want to say no regardless of the pay, problem being turning down a figure like that is sure to raise suspicion. Not to mention, if those militia assholes are bugging my phone or anything they may not take too kindly to me turning down an opportunity.
"You didn't hear a word I said did you? Whatever, meet me at Gym's and we will work out the details.
I walked to Gym's, wanting to give myself some time to clear my head. By the time I walk in the door and get greeted by a few regulars I'm fairly certain I'm not acting suspicious.
Harold comes out of his office, and while he doesn't say anything the look he gives my blown out looking self tells me all I need to know.
"Rough night kid?" He says casually.
"Rough few actually." I say with a grin I force to make it to my eyes.
"Well hope you like hitting faces as much as the bottle. " Harold leads me back to his office as he begins to explain.
"Don't you think Syz is at a bit of an advantage in a slap fight?" I say taking a seat at his desk. On it sits a computer that looks old enough to legally buy alcohol, and a few files with pictures attached.
"I do, but you ain't fighting Syz this time. Another human…mostly is going to be your opponent. We are making this a team based match, America versus Russia. One human, one wildcard and one champion each side, first team down 3 loses. Pay will be double if your interested." Harold smiles as he sees my eyes widen.
"I am, depending on what you mean by 'mostly'. " I say trying to give myself a reasonable out.
"Nothing to worry about, they call themselves 'Heroes' we tend to call them a lot less complimentary things. The vast majority are genocidal pricks who come from families who have been given 'a little something' and think that makes it their goal in life to kill folks like us. But this guy, he's one of the good ones.And his 'little something' won't come into play. He's got a few pounds on you, but that's about it." Harold starts flipping through the files as I try to keep the fear and shock out off of my face.
I'm expecting to see the Australian guy from the diner, but the picture us of a very stout , 6 foot is, pale guy, 30s , huge beard, and a gut that seems to demand your attention.
I can't find a way to argue I'm out classed. I panic and agree "No problem" I say cursing myself silently.
"You have 2 weeks to get back in shape, looks like you are going to need it. Another 10 grand if you train up Syz a bit, your other teammate, you'll maybe meet him before the match. But I wouldn't hold my breath." Harold starts bringing up something on his computer " You can go now.".
My mind and heart are in a competition to see which can give out first as I leave the office. I nearly fall over as Syz , seemingly out of no where bounds up to me with an extremely off putting look of glee on his face.
"We stand as one,easel going, to hold up that display of impeccable construction!" He screams , full volume.
"Calm down. Literally every word of that flew straight over my head. Let's try that again." I say leading him over to the corner that is obviously his and his alone.
He takes in a few deep breaths and speaks a bit more calmly "Our unneeded assistance is given to those above our station." .
"You are a fan of the other guy on our side?" I say taking a stab at the meaning. Syz nods enthusiastically.
"Can't wait to meet him. Till then, you think you can deal with my unimpressive self?" I say with a smirk.
"A friendly face, and indelible ink, I should think so!" He says patting me on the shoulder.
"I love our little talks Syz. " I say as we try to come up with a training plan for a match format neither of us has experience with.
After watching more matches than were strictly nessecary, we realised that us sparring against each other is going to be doing no one any favors.
So I found someone more or less human shaped (a rotting vaguely canine guy who was a lot less obnoxious than his smell. ) to spar with, while Syz picked something that looked like a living breathing stick person.
From there it was simply a matter of undoing some habits. Dodging a blow being one of them. A technical foul and cause for a do over of the opponent's slap.
I split my time between Gym's and home this time, though the workout actually lead to some nights with sleep, my precarious situation was always in the back of my mind while training.
Four days before the fight I got my second bowel loosening phone call.
"Listen closely , I will only be telling you this once …" the Australian says.
I did know what came over me. Wish I could say it was the opposite but I'd been getting general information about the heroes under the guise of research for the fight. And from the perspective of anyone I could talk to, they amounted to the paranormal equivalent of skinheads (Though there was plenty of 'not all heroes' moments.), not some kind of all powerful cabal. I was angry and felt in control.
"No, you listen, you and the ghost busters can take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. You are going to kill my family? When you spend your life pissing off things that could tear you apart? I don't think so, in fact I think your resources are stretched so thin, your best plan is to try and use a low end fighter to somehow screw with an abnormal fight promotion. That, mate, is a stupid fucking plan.
If I catch a whiff of your folks around me again, I'm going to bring my friends into it. And from what I've seen they are a lot scarier than yours." I say building ire and vitriol through my monologue.
"Looks like we go with plan b then." He says cryptically as he ends the call.
The conversation shook me a bit but I had confidence in what I was saying. Sometimes I can be such a moron.
We never ended up meeting up with our third member till fight night. Syz and myself were getting ready in the locker room as Harold and the mysterious 3rd member of our team came in.
He was a short guy, about 5 foot six, dressed in an upscale suit that looked about 80 years out of date. His pitch black hair was slicked back and he was wearing a somehow dapper ,small,flat straw looking hat.
"Buster, meet Terry. " Harold says as the man takes off his suit jacket and offers his hand. I shake it and feel a grip like a vise.
Syz is literally shaking with glee as he produces a piece of aged,stained paper and a pencil that is little more than a stub.
With a confidant grace he takes the paper and autographs it. Syz puts it inside his black fog like jacket and I choose to not ask how exactly that works.
We watch our opponents enter the ring to assorted cheers and boos from the crowd. I recognise mine from the photo, looking intimidating in a blue and white stripped wife beater and track pants but the other 2 are both shocking for different reasons.
"Mine" Syz says pointing to a creature that looks like an anorexic human suspended in a rotting placenta. The thing stretches the sack surrounding it's emaciated form into whiplike tendrils cracking them to the delight of the crowd.
The third though, it isn't some horror, it's a small wobbly looking old Russian grandmother. Wrapped in layers of shawls and blankets. The applause as she simply waves to the crowd can be heard in the locker room.
"Her and buster got quite the rivalry. They had some clashes over territory back in the day." Harold says as we get ready to make our entrance.
Buster waves Syz and I to go first. I thank him as we walk out and start to go through a well rehearsed introduction where we pit aside our differences to defeat the other team.
No one was watching us though.
The second Buster entered the applause drowned out anything we were saying and no one's eyes were anywhere but on him. We went through the motions of our introduction as we made our way into the ring, but it was obvious people were there for the spectacle and the big names, not our gimmicks.
In the ring were three waist high tables, a stool was provided for the old lady to bring her level with Buster. We stood across from our respective opponents and grabbed the stout bars potruding from the tables with our left hands.
There were 3 refs, all absolutely identical looking ( to me anyway) tall bald men, each had a twisted evil looking face on the back of their skull in addition to a more standard one where I've always assumed faces always went.
The rules were explained by all three in unison to the crowd. The cheers began to rise then subside as they announced the first round.
They were saving the best for last obviously , and started with me and my rotund opponent.
No handshake, just a Russian phrase that could just as easily have been "Good luck" or "fuck you." As he chalks his hand and lines up his first slap.
The blow comes in quick,and I hear it long before the burning pain sets in. I clench the support pole for a moment as I push the pain down. I nod to the ref and line up my own strike.
I hit hard, my strike is launched from the hip and hits squarely , raising a red welt on the Russians face. But he reacts as much as if I attacked him with harsh language.
He says something to me in an aggressive tone and draws his finger across his throat. Chuckling deeply as the spotlight on us cuts off, and one on Syz and the placenta thing sparks to life.
Syz rotates his shoulder and lines up his shot. The slap has the momentum of a freight train, but the jelly like skin of the thing in front of Syz absorbs a lot of the shock. And while it makes a noise like a snapping broom handle there are no visible signs of injury.
The creature does nothing for a moment and in a flash whips a thick tapered tentacle toward Syz, it hits like a whip, opening a severe gash on his face. He stumbles backward but doesn't fall.
Then the spotlight hits the A squad.
The crowd goes wild, Buster wastes no time and winds back a strike that only barely brushes the face of the old lady. There is no way this was anything other than showmanship, I assume.
The old lady throws a quick backhand slap in response that tears open Buster's face, a dripping flap of skin hangs for a moment before starting to knit back together.
The next 4 rounds are much of the same , unfortunately for Syz this meant fighting an extremely uphill battle. Buster and I were mostly remaining on even ground with our opponents, but by the sixth round Syz looked like he had been through a blender. I had no idea if he could even see, as both eyes had a large furrow of tissue removed.
My answer came with him throwing a slap that hit his opponent solidly on the arm. Before the return strike he backs away from the platform waving his hands, metaphorically throwing in the towel.
"First point to Russia " the announcer screams as the crowd cheers and boos.
The Russian man says some more indecipherable taunts and winds back, his shot is off target though and instead of hitting my face, slams directly into my ear.
I hit the ground, holding the side of my head. I'm disoriented, and feel like there is a knitting needle driven through my head.
One of the refs comes over and inspects my ear, it is judged an unintentional foul, granting me an extra strike , but not disqualifying him.
I throw the first slap, and finally I see a little flicker in the bastards dead blue eyes, the next blow comes before his head gets aligned again and he goes to both knees, grabbing the table to keep from crumpling to the ground. But he holds on, wiping a thin trickle of blood from his mouth.
"About time to get this show on the road anyway." He says just loud enough for me to hear. I never questioned if he knew English, but my heart starts to race. Something is up.
Both the old lady and buster are looking like they got a cement mixer facial. Neither being able to keep up the rapid healing pace of the earlier rounds.
Buster is done messing around it seems, he leans backward,using only his ankles almost becoming parallel to the floor . With a spin that uses every muscle in his body he launches a slap that builds up from the floor. The sound it made wasn't sharp, it was a wet thud that accompanied his hand caving in half of the old lady's face. There was no call it by the refs, her cut man dragged her, twitching body from the ring.
Buster was leaning against his podium, obviously broken and winded to some extent himself. He looks over to me, one eye missing, bottom half of his face fleshless, as if to say " it's up to you now.".
As the spotlight hits me and my opponent I see something, pointed and metal in his right hand. With a movement that only I can see he stabs the placenta beast and I hear a pressurised whine.
"Should have just went with plan A " he says with a smile.
The placenta wrapped thing makes a shrieking noise and rips it's podium from the ring , throwing it into the audience with an audible crunch.
I back up as fast as I can, the Russian on the other hand looks serene , not breaking eye contact with me as the creature turns it's sudden rage on him.
The tentacles start to lash him non stop. Unlike their impact on Syz , each blow shatters bone and pulps organs the man deform and breaks before my eyes, becoming little more than a leaking sack of meat as the creature slams a tentacle one last time,spraying the ring with gore.
"Cut the lights, cut the cameras and get everyone out of here!" I hear Harold scream as we are plunged into darkness.
As my eyes adjust I see that the thin human form in the sack glows subtly green. Thankfully I can see the thing that will certainly kill me.
I can barely make Buster out, but he still looks hurting. Regardless he charges the thing, moving faster than I could on my best day. Unrestrained, his blows hit like battering rams. The form in the sack being tossed around as it is struck.
I feel like I should try and help, I rush in and get hit a few times, light , glancing blows I don't see. When I get close enough to make out the creatures limbs, I grab a tentacle and begin to yank, trying to get it off balance , I feel many more slapping against my stomach and chest, but the don't seem to be connecting well, I grab tighter, twisting the limb around my body.
My muscles burn, but buster seems to be winning the fight. The form inside has limbs floating unattached, a deformed skull and ribs that look like a crushed pile of matchsticks.
Buster starts to rip and tear, burrowing through the creature like a mole. It screams and thrashes , but as the lithe deadpan guy jams his upper half into the ragged hole he has made the creature discorporates into reeking liquid and clattering bone.
I fall to the ground suddenly unimpeded. The lights turn back on and the first thing I see is a nearly empty arena.
The second is Buster, looking like a skinned hare.
The third is just how wrong I was about those glancing hits.
My stomach is nothing more than torn sinew , white and grey bulges I hope are not organs showing through.
There is a deep puncture mark under my left lung, leaking blood at an alarming rate.
Shock wears off, and I lose consciousness.
I awake with a deep burning pain in my stomach, and a man in a surgical garb (that appears to also be wearing clown makeup.) Stitching up my stomach.
"Easy there, I didn't go to 12 years of medical school to hurt you." He says annoyed.
I'm about three quarters stitched up, and still looking at parts that should be left unseen.
The doctor turns behind him , and begins to talk to someone I can't see.
"He's fine, gonna have one hell of a scar though. But why on earth have you been…" the doctor is interrupted by a voice , Harold's voice.
"He's fine now though? Besides the stitch job?" Harold says.
"He could probably do it himself at this…" the doctor is interupted again. Harold grabs his head and turns it 180 degrees. As the body drops he yanks again, removing the clown's head. He drops it, walking over to the table I'm on and tossing me a spool of thick black thread and a thick needle.
"We have a lot to talk about kid." He says in a tone that barely surpresses his rage.
submitted by HughEhhoule to DrCreepensVault [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 14:20 lnombredelarosa If the students had other careers

I had this fun idea of thinking about alternate careers for characters.
Class 1 a
other students

Heroes
Villains
Please share any ideas you'd feel would feet any character.
submitted by lnombredelarosa to BokuNoHeroAcademia [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 20:55 RogueMisanthrope That time I was taken hostage at work

Posted this on LetsNotMeet but they took FIVE DAYS to approve it so it got buried and almost no one read it, which it was pretty anticlimactic after disclosing one of the most traumatic events I’d ever lived through, so crossposting it here.
I worked at a boxing/MMA gym almost 20 years back, basically as an receptionist. We were deep in the ghetto.
I almost didn’t take the job because of the neighborhood’s reputation but the friend who recommended the place said it was the most fulfilling office work I’d ever find, so I gave it a try, and he was right.
Before working there I thought I’d grown up lower middle class and that I had become pretty broke at that point in my life. Compared to the quality of life of our community, I was Bill Gates.
The school to prison pipeline was the standard around there and we accepted it was bigger than all of us, so were just trying to divert as many kids away from it as we could.
As a result, our biggest program was a teen MMA class that met every night except Sundays to keep our kids off the streets.
We had one kid from that program who was a total wildcard. Cisco had been coming since he was four years old and in our after school fitness program, then risen through the ranks to actually become one of our trainers and even a semi-pro fighter.
But as professional and disciplined as he was inside the gym, he could be as wild and unhinged outside. There was just too much going on at home. At the time of this incident, he had just turned 16.
We had one fitness instructor, Shandra, who knew everything there was to know about physiology, nutrition, and all things exercise, but was as dumb as a brick when it came to common sense. She was always getting roped into MLM type stuff back when they were still called pyramid schemes.
We poached her from a fancy franchise gym on the other side of town. The owner found out she’d grown up around here and guilt tripped her into coming home. Whenever we had rich looking prospective clients, we always sent her to pitch them instead of our usual outreach people.
Finally, there was Alsace. Alsace was the golden child of our beat the streets program. Growing up in one of the roughest parts of town, one sibling murdered and two in prison, but she was still in school getting straight A’s and applying to colleges for that next year.
She came in every day when we opened and stayed every night until we closed. She never spoke a word and couldn’t make eye contact with anyone she hadn’t already known for years. But it was fine. We just let her work in the office.
I’m only telling you all this so you can understand why everyone reacted the way they did when the day came.
I was just settling in for a lunch break. It was the middle of the day on a Sunday. The neighborhood was super Christian, so we weren’t “officially” open on Sundays. We kept the facilities running, but we didn’t have any classes or anything. We just unlocked the place in case anyone wanted to come by or needed a place to go.
Cisco was there, which was a relief because if he wasn’t he was usually somewhere he shouldn’t be. And Shandra had just had a personal training client in the gym who’d left, so she was getting ready to leave too. Alsace was repainting our bathroom that didn’t really need repainting to make some extra money she really did need.
Cisco didn’t have a reason to be there other than to not be somewhere else, but we always tried to give the kids a sense of purpose, so he was our door guy that day.
Usually we really do always have someone watching the door, because sometimes randos walked in. Mostly pickpockets or homeless people looking for money. Skeevey guys casing the place out. Whatever. Every business on the block had someone posted by the door to turn them around at the threshold and make sure the place had a reputation as vigilantly watched so not worth the effort to hassle.
Most of us hated guarding the door, but the young guys loved it, because it made them feel tough in a way that was productive. So, we had Cisco posted up. He wasn’t really paying attention. But it was a Sunday afternoon. No reason he should actually need to.
Cisco crumpling up pieces of paper and trying to hit Shandra in the head with them (in a playful way) while she did some exercises. I was eating my lunch, filing invoices. Couldn’t have been a more average afternoon at that point.
Then the door chimed. We had a convenience store style buzzer on it so whoever was in charge could be on notice if someone new entered.
A guy shuffled in who looked average at first glance, but I could feel his energy was off. I usually greeted new clients from behind the desk, but without even thinking, I stood right away and asked “Can I help you?” In a sharp tone and taking a step out from behind the desk. My spine was tingling.
The man looked me up and down, eyes flashing a little. He had kind of a limp, but it was his only distinct feature. Other than that he was just wearing a normal t-shirt and jeans. I kept looking at him, hard, to try and figure out what it was about him that made me so uncomfortable.
He didn’t say anything at first, so I repeated again, a little louder and more firmly, “Yo, can I help you with something?” And he just stood there, kind of staring past me.
Cisco finally tuned in and stood up, drawing his shoulders back and telling the guy, “Alright man, look, we’re closed.” And gesturing out the door.
I knew he must have sensed something too, because even on his worst days, he was usually friendly when public-facing unless given an overt reason not to be.
The guy’s face got all twisted up and he asked, “Where’s Paolo?” Fuck if I knew. I told him, “We don’t have a Paolo, you’ve got the wrong place.” But he wasn’t buying it. He clenched his fists and started saying, breathing kind of heavy, “I. Want. To. Talk. To. Paolo.”
It kind of clicked for Cisco at that point because he’d been there longer than me, so he realized, “Ohhh, look man. Paolo hasn’t worked here in, like, five years. We can’t help you.” But the guy still didn’t seem to process it. I wasn’t here that far back, so I still didn’t know what they were talking about.
He looked at Cisco dead in the eye and screamed, “DON’T FUCK WITH ME. PAOLO KNOWS WHAT I’M OWED AND I’M NOT LEAVING TIL I GET IT, SO WHAT’S UP?”
Shandra must’ve heard that through her headphones because she stopped her cool down and came over from across the room to see what was going on.
Cisco didn’t take too kindly to the shouting, and would never admit this, but was definitely rattled by any unexpected loud noises or yelling. I think something to do with his family life. Anyways, he was pissed from being screamed at, and immediately went to physically escort this guy out.
He wasn’t the best at deescalation off the cuff, but I also can’t entirely blame him, because often just throwing these guys asses on the curb and locking the door was the most efficient way to deal with them.
I couldn’t put it out of my head that something about the situation was off though. We bounced two or three people a week, and I’d never gotten a full body visceral reaction like this one. My mind was trying to tell me something.
This guy had some nervous ticks. Like, he kept kind of resting his hand on his hip a lot. But I thought it was just because his pants were baggy, like a lot of guys around here.
You may be wondering why I, the adult, was letting the teenage kid do our bouncing for us. The answer is simple. I know nothing about fighting at all. I was working there doing administrative stuff, I’d never thrown a punch in my life.
So Cisco approached the guy going, “Where the fuck you think you are right now? Better check yourself the next time you come through those doors. We. Are. Closed.” And went to physically throw him out.
But that’s when I saw it. The guy was grabbing for a bulge... Has a limp, touching his hip a lot, distinct bulge on the same side? They trained us for these signs—this guy was armed.
“Cisco, step back, step back—“ I tried to warn him, but it was too late. He wasn’t listening to me because he phased everything else out when he felt disrespected. I’d seen him do it in the ring a hundred times. I’d heard stories of it getting him into trouble outside a hundred times. But now was he about to get us all killed? Even in the ring, he never won the fights where he did that.
“Think what? Think what? Think what?” The guy asked as he pulled the gun out and started waving it around. “Nobody leaves. Nobody leaves until Paolo pays up.” He announced, almost laughing as he said it.
Thankfully, whether it was instinct, common sense, or a miraculous combination of the two, Cisco put his hands up and stepped back.
I was more worried about what Cisco would or won’t do than I was about what the guy with the gun would or wouldn’t. We almost lost Cisco when he tried to bring a knife to a gun fight just earlier that year. This guy here was clearly unstable, not trying to prove he was the biggest toughest guy on the street, but I didn’t know if Cisco was mature enough to differentiate between movie style bad guys and reality style mentally ill crackheads.
Shandra wasn’t even approaching cool or collected. I wasn’t worried about her trying a hero play, but what she did instead wasn’t a whole lot better.
She saw the gun and lost her fucking mind. She started screaming at the top of her lungs, just shrieking, flipping out, literally just, “AAAAHHH, AAAAAHHHHHHH AAHH AAHHHHHH.”
Of course, I.... did nothing. I mean nothing, nothing. I didn’t put my hands up, didn’t step back, didn’t go help the kid, didn’t tell Shandra to shut up. Nothing. I was frozen in shock.
To make matters worse, her yelling was stressing the guy out. Cisco saw that and very evenly and calmly started saying, “Shandra, Shandra, hey, excuse me. Shandra. Uh-uh. No. Not helping. Breathe. I need you to breathe hun.”
But there was a plus side to Shandra’s screams. It got Alsace’s attention from back in the bathroom. I caught her ever so gently shutting the door from the corner of my eye. Thankfully, he didn’t.
I was trying to think of something to say or do. I’m embarrassed to admit it even now, but honestly, I was trying to remember hostage scenes from movies. I drew a complete blank.
All I could think about was how I’d always wanted to take my dad to a Broncos Super Bowl and that I might die before I got the chance. For some reason that clouded all my thinking about how to potentially not die and kept me from assessing reality. Even now, it’s my clearest memory of the ordeal.
At least I knew exactly what not to do. It wasn’t because of any special expertise or presence of mind. Raw survival instinct just kicked in. If I felt myself going to do or say something that could set the gunman off, my body physically overrode my mind and wouldn’t allow me to. I was paralyzed with fear, but, healthy fear.
Cisco and his fucking man bun, realizing how totally ineffectual I was being, stepped up to the plate again. He spoke so slowly and calmly from the start. But, like I said, Cisco was a wildcard. I was petrified to have him running this, not knowing if he’d be sweet talking one minute and lunging for the gun or saying something to antagonize the guy another minute.
That fear and uncertainty just made it even harder for me to take the lead. On top of that, Shandra looked like she might faint at any second.
“You wanted to talk to Paolo? Let me go get him, ok?” Cisco offered. The guy thought about it for a second and agreed. “Alright. I’m going to go and call him for you, ok?” Cisco asked, not moving a muscle before the guy with the gun said it was acceptable.
“No phones. No, no, no, no...” The guy started muttering. I realized that, with it being Sunday, it could realistically be 24 hours before anyone came into the building or started actionably wondering where any of us were. I was too scared to fully dismay at that additional layer of chaos.
I think Cisco had planned to call someone other than Paolo, because I could see the disappointment on his face. “Hey man?” He asked, really evenly and soothingly, “How can I get in touch with Paolo for you if you won’t let me call him?”
“SHUT UP! I’M THINKING!” The guy shouted, kicking over a display stand in a burst of rage. This started Shandra crying. “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” He started pacing back and forth. Cisco visibly flinched at the screaming, but soldiered forward.
“Hey, I’m Cisco.” He said, really calmly. “Do you have something I can call you?” The guy paused for a second, obviously considering his answer. “Just call me Troy. But don’t talk to me. Where’s Paolo?”
He’d just told Cisco not to talk to him and also asked him a direct question. That was too much, even for him. That survival instinct forced me to start forming some sentences.
My voice cracked and was barely audible. But it was coherent enough. “So, uh, Troy, was it? He, Paolo, uh... sounds like he, uh, well, he doesn’t work here. But what do you need from him? Maybe, uh, maybe I can help instead?” I asked, telling myself over and over in my head to just treat him like any other disgruntled client and rely on that script. That was muscle memory by this point. I could literally recite it with a gun to my head.
“Paolo knows what he owes me.” Troy said. I had no clue how to respond to that, but hey, at least he wasn’t shouting anymore. “Can you tell us what Paolo knows he owes you?” Cisco asked, evenly. “No. No, no, no, no, no. I want to deal with him directly. Where is he?” Cisco told him again that we could help him if he just explained what he wanted.
And it continued like that in a circle for thirty or forty minutes more, with some long silences in between where Troy both cried, and tried to punch through our wall. Unsuccessfully.
Then the phone rang. He didn’t like that. “What is that?” He asked, as though we’d made it ring. “The phone.” I explained, each word taking my breath away.
“Make. It. Stop.” He commanded. By this point he’d become comfortable enough with Cisco that he was letting him move around a little. They were chatting about baseball and some neighborhood convenience store. He’d actually remained pretty level headed as long as Shandra stopped asking him to just let her go or audibly sobbing.
So, Cisco slowly went over, picked up the phone, and hung it back up.
Within seconds it was ringing again. “MAKE IT STOP.” Troy bellowed, kicking at another stand. This one was weighted down with concrete, so he hurt his foot, which just made him angrier.
He started waving the gun around again and chattering some incoherent stuff, rather than holding it at his side like he had been.
Needless to say, we were all very anxious to shut that phone off. We assumed it was just some ornery parent calling to complain about their child’s tuition charge coming through. We couldn’t have guessed who it actually was.
So, Cisco picked it up again and hissed “Stop calling, we’re closed. Stop calling.” Into the receiver, before slamming it down again.
It immediately rang a third time. Troy pointed the gun in my general direction and put his finger on the trigger, screaming something with “I SAID CUT IT OFF.” Mixed in. Cisco ripped the phone cord out of the wall. “It stopped, it stopped. You don’t have to do anything. Ok? You don’t have to do anything.” He reassured, more frantic than he’d been through the whole ordeal, eyes locked on the barrel of the gun.
That whole sequence, of having a gun pointed at me only to be saved by a teenager’s drastic action, felt as though I was watching it happen to someone else more than something that was happening to me. It does even still, looking back.
For whatever reason, Shandra thought the heels of this phone saga was the appropriate moment to try, for the third or fourth time, to talk her way out of the situation. That got him to move the gun away from me at least. But it didn’t help matters overall, either.
She kept saying, chattering so quickly you’d think she were a tape on fast forward, “So this really isn’t working, right? So you should probably just let all of us go. Or maybe just leave one of us here, right? Because it’s really the same effect. Or just leave. I mean, no one will know you were ever here and you can go look for Paolo and everything will be fine. Because this isn’t working, and so you should probably just let us go then we can all leave and move on and I have a daughter and, oh my God, I love her so much. If you have kids, you understand, right? I have to, I have to get... I have to leave. I have to get out of here right now, I’m sorry, I just do, please let me leave. You don’t need me for this.”
Eventually he started getting agitated and Cisco had to shout over her to shut her up until she was hyperventilating in silence again.
Troy hadn’t tied us up or even forced us to lie down anything, so Shandra was still just sitting at the edge of the mats, and I was still beside the desk. Like I said, he actually let Cisco move around some, if he wasn’t sudden about it.
Cisco’s overall goal was to keep the guy calm, but every so often he kept trying to bring the conversation back to what he wanted from Paolo, so we could start working on convincing him to let us go. The most specific he got was variations of “If Paolo gives it up we’ll be fine, it’ll be fine. But it’s time for me to be a man right now, because I’m done waiting.”
If we pressed him on what exactly he was wanted, it would only trigger a rage, because he’d interpret it as us questioning whether or not he should have it. Along the lines of “I WANT WHAT I’M OWED. DON’T TRY TO ACT LIKE I DON’T HAVE THIS FUCKING COMING, YOU KNOW HE’S BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME.”
We tried to get across that it was in his best interest to be specific in his demands because if it was money, we’d pay him. If it was drugs, Cisco probably had a hook up. If it was about a woman, Shandra would replace her. If it was something else, we’d figure out something else. Whatever it was, we were hoping once we knew we could start appealing to the molecule of rationale that was buried behind his decision making to begin negotiating a release.
But trying to figure it out just made it worse, because he was frustrated that we didn’t already know. I had a sneaking that suspicion that, with the stress, pressure, and sudden burst of new information, he wasn’t even sure anymore, and that’s what was frustrating him.
I tried to help where I could, but it was really all I could do to not curl up on the ground and hyperventilate along with Shandra.
Worse, it turned out that was what Shandra did when she was relatively composed. Eventually, she spontaneously cracked under the pressure. She decided to see what would happen if she just tried to get up and sprint out. She very nearly got shot.
Three things prevented her from being shot. First of all, when Troy pointed the weapon at her, she sat her ass back down on the ground where she stood. Second, Cisco instantly put himself between her and Troy when he realized the colossal mistake she was making. Third—
“FREEZE, POLICE. EVERYBODY DOWN. GET DOWN, GET DOWN, GET DOWN.”
Those three calls earlier were not a complaining parent or telemarketer. It was the cops trying to make contact. When they couldn’t, they knew so little about the situation, that they eventually just decided to go in.
To my knowledge, Cisco didn’t have any official record whatsoever. But I will say he knew exactly what would happen when the police came in with a specificity none of us did. He laid down exactly how they wanted him to. Was a step ahead of all of their directions. Maybe the only lighthearted part of this for me was holding that over his head after the dust settled.
They cuffed all of us at first until they could determine who was perpetrating a crime and who was a victim of one. They subdued Troy with nothing more then pepper spray. (He dropped the gun when ordered but was still pretty worked up and resistant to being taken into custody.)
Oh, LPT, if you think someone is going to be pepper sprayed, get the fuck away from them. That shit travels all through the air, even if it’s not directed anywhere near your face. And I was handcuffed when they sprayed him, so I couldn’t even cover my eyes with my shirt or anything.
But, anyways, one of their tactical looking guys was helping us get uncuffed as they realized Troy was the only criminal and said, “Hold it, hold it, I only count three. Where’s the fourth? The caller reported a minimum of four victims, right?”
I was stupid enough to just say, in my peppery post-hostage haze, “There was another girl...” They heard was and immediately went to the worst case scenario.
They’d deduced who the bad guy was by this point so were cross checking their notes and getting in Troy’s face going “WHERE IS SHE? DAMN IT, WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER? YOU TELL US RIGHT NOW OR GOD HELP ME—“ I composed myself enough to point towards the bathroom as it all came snapping back to me, because Troy couldn’t help them. He didn’t know even know what they were talking about.
The police kicked the door down, and there was Alsace, huddled in a corner, just hysterical. It took everything she’d had to stay silent through the whole thing, not knowing if everyone was ok or what was going on.
Alsace saved us. She’d painted “911” on the window. That’s why the cops came. One of our owners spotted the “911” right away when he pulled up (he lived almost directly across the street) and called the police, giving them all the pertinent information about who was likely to be there that day.
The neighborhood had so much crime more sinister, targeted, and tragic than this that our ordeal didn’t get a whole lot of attention.
Later that night three kids younger than Cisco were shot nearby in some gang thing and the one or two people who wanted to report on what happened over here dropped our story to cover that instead.
But one of the responding police officers was so touched by Alsace’s quick thinking that he got his department to team up with his brother’s small business to give her a pretty healthy college scholarship (within the context of the neighborhood’s socioeconomic means) to commend her for her bravery.
It was the final straw for Shandra though. She went back to teaching on the other side of town within a couple weeks of this happening. Out of courtesy, she’d still do a few personal training sessions here and there, but even that stopped after while longer. I don’t blame her whatsoever, I don’t think anyone who was here for it does.
Troy never clearly articulated exactly what he wanted from Paolo. We were never able to track Paolo down to ask if he even knew he owed Troy something or could lend any context.
No one at work really talked about it much besides that. I mean, it was all anyone talked about for like, two days, but then everyone just moved on with their lives.
I don’t know how they did, because it was the single most petrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. Cisco was even able to look back and laugh about it just a couple weeks later. But even though it’s been years now, I still can’t laugh about it.
Not too long afterwards, I had to move, so left the job. I miss the kids, but I don’t miss the reality they were facing. Troy, let’s not meet.
submitted by RogueMisanthrope to self [link] [comments]


2020.09.20 17:46 360Entertainment Jerome, the World’s Greatest... Bada***

Jerome, the World’s Greatest... Bad A**!
I had a friend in the Army between 2008-2011 (same time as Karen the Sergeant) that I’ll dub Jerome. He was one of the most hilarious guys I’d ever met, problem was he wasn’t hilarious on purpose! The guy was constantly self deluded as he truly believed he was a physical specimen of unprecedented knowledge and charisma. He was not! At best Jerome was slightly chubby, usually had bad B.O., and rarely knew what he was talking about.
Jerome fancied himself some kind of kickboxer. He’d go on about his various accomplishments in the sport on a regular basis. I don’t want to call him a liar outright but the only “proof”, if you can call it that, was his proficiency in toe punching people in the shin, then claim it was a distraction technique. Only other “skills” I’ve seen him display was landing several high combos in a Street Fighter II tournament!
A few stories of Jerome’s “combat prowess” and “weapons knowledge” come to mind. The first one doesn’t even really start out as a confrontation but definitely ended with one. A group of us had decided to go to the opening of a new Sports bar in Killeen called Pluckers. There was a little something for everyone there: family dining, bar area for mingling, pool table and darts, and guitar hero set up on a large screen for competitions.
Our usual crew consisted of me, Jerome, Jerome’s Roomate Downlow (me and him actually wrestled professionally together in a minor league around that time, Downlow was his Ringname), and my roommate Bayou Bill (he was from Louisiana, we’ll call him BB for short).
A little backstory, Downlow and Jerome did not get along. Jerome actually had a bad habit of creeping on Downlow’s many dates. It eventually got to the point that when BB moved out of the barracks (the room was still technically his, he just got an apartment with his Girlfriend) and Downlow moved into my room. I kept my space and didn’t bug him when he had a date and we’d game on my Xbox when we had nothing better to do!
Back to the story. Downlow and I were playing pool when this obviously underage girl came up and started flirting with him. Downlow knew what I knew and just ignored her, but wasn’t rude. Classy guy! Meanwhile I was on my third Jameson and Coke and was picking on her. I insinuating she was underage (“so how old are you? 15? 16?...12?) and eventually left. I didn’t think we’d see Short Girl again.
Fast forward to next week. We decided on a sit down meal and went to Bennigans. Our usual group, plus a few more, end up there. Jerome spoke up and said,” oh by the way, I invited someone!” We didn’t think anything of it but I’m sure you’ve probably figured it out. As we’re ordering drinks we hear a young woman’s voice ask “hey guys, remember me?” We turn around and there’s the Short Girl from Pluckers.
Jerome pulled out the chair next to him with a big ol grin on his face. She walked past him and squeezed herself between me and Downlow. As she is trying to warm herself up to Downlow, I went right back to clowning on her. It didn’t take long before she admitted she was only 16!
Downlow then stood up, causing Short Girl to fall on me because she was practically sitting on him and proclaim he was done. Downlow and I then left the restaurant. We proceeded to stop at the Class 6 to buy some bottom shelf vodka (payday was next week), some soda, and ordered a pizza. We then went to Downlow’s room, this was before he moved into my room, and we intended to watch Kung fu movies and get drunk.
About 30 minutes into Seven Swords in comes Jerome with Short Girl. He began to demand that we leave so he could “get lucky”. In Texas the legal age is 16, but Fort Hood falls under federal guidelines and the age of consent is 18. On top of this anytime Downlow brought a date over Jerome would constantly bug them, even trying to steal Downlow’s dates. Jerome demanding we leave was kind of ironic in this aspect.
Jerome argued with us until I proceeded to take Short Girl downstairs to our Charge of Quarters (barracks guards, CQ for short). I explained the situation and they immediately called a cab. After I gave the cab driver enough cash to get her home I stay downstairs and BS with the CQ for a bit, we were friends. Then we heard a crash come from upstairs!
Myself and one of the CQ guys rush up to the third floor and find Jerome in a Guillotine headlock, courtesy of Downlow. Downlow kept it slightly loose so Jerome wouldn’t choke but that didn’t stop Jerome from trying to kick and scream like a madman to get out. Apparently Jerome tried rushing Downlow. Big mistake, Downlow had been practicing Gracie Jiu Jitsu for about 5 years at that point and could get a hold anywhere. We get the two separated and Jerome starts talking about calling our supervisors but the CQ guy then says “do you really want to explain why you brought a high school girl to your room?” Jerome is adamant that he was in the right but is outnumbered three to one. His leadership is notified and they literally called him an idiot. Jerome then sulked the rest of the night, we gave him some pizza and booze to calm him down, he didn’t stay bitter for too long.
Some time later we’re all hanging out again. Myself, Downlow, Jerome, and BB get out of Downlow’s car and head up to the barracks. As we’re heading in Jerome says “there’s that son of a b****” and beckons us to follow him to the second floor. BB follows him but myself and Downlow don’t know what the heck Jerome is talking about and head back to our floor. As we’re heading to the rooms we hear Jerome getting heated downstairs. Not wanting to explain how Jerome ended up in the hospital we head down to the second floor, except we take another way.
We end up behind the guys Jerome is talking to. As Jerome is getting on this guy and his friends he stops mid way through telling them he was going to kick his a**. Apparently Jerome thought me and Downlow we’re behind him and had been talking crap to this group of four. The guy then calmly explains that he wasn’t gonna let Jerome creep on a female friend of his after she’d told him no already. The guy obviously did not want to fight but was willing to throw down if necessary.
One of other guy’s buddies noticed me and Downlow behind them and jumped a bit. We gave a sarcastic howdy and learn their side of the story. Apparently Jerome met one of their friends at Club Tatu some time ago and began to aggressively flirt (“Hey, I have a mustang”). She wasn’t feeling it and left. Jerome found out she lived in the same barracks we did and had been low key stalking her. He did this with every female he met in the Brigade, but this guy had stepped in. Dude turned out to be pretty cool once we got to talking. When our Platoon Security Detail guys moved into the second floor of our barracks, most of us ended up at the same parties!
Jerome fancied himself a weapons guy. He’d always go on about his “exotic weapons”collection. In reality he bought cheap crap from BudK and other sites like studded leather knuckle guards with blades cheaply attached. One weekend he had me accompany him because he desperately wanted a sword cane. We checked all of the pawn shops around Killeen, Temple, and Copperas Cove and found several. He was picky and wanted one with a long blade. He finally ordered one online and started walking around with it. After a few days of showing it off around the barracks he was finally told he couldn’t walk carry a weapon like that on post. He ended up taking it home eventually.
Fast Forward to our deployment. We’re waiting to leave Kuwait and Jerome is going on about his extensive win/loss record in kickboxing. His Squad leader, despite knowing Jerome can be a bit full of it, asks if there’s any professional records he could look up. He was a bit of a fight connoisseur. Jerome said all the records had been destroyed in a fire. When asked if Jerome’s coach might have another copy he responded,” Coach Van Damme didn’t believe in records!” We start busting up after he’s pressed into saying his coach was “a guy named Jean Claude Van Damme”! His squad leader is dying and starts referring to the guy as “Jacques Van Damme”! We rag him for about ten minutes before we get bored and go to the gym!
We’re about six months in and the Motorpool guys have located some sheet metal. One of the guys fashions himself some home made hunting knives. He was a freelance blacksmith back in Texas and made some really nice blades. He shows Jerome how to do it and thinks he must want to make himself a knife. Nope!!!
Jerome proceeds to make himself a sword! He’s under the impression that since we had to do the occasional security sweep through our camp that he’s going to get to show off his non existent sword skills. Our particular camp was a prison complex for captured insurgents. They rioted every so often and on a few occasions nearly broke out. The blade itself was a crude short saber with a lot of weight near the point. As he was doing some “martial artsy” whirls with it he attempted to chop into a thick wooden pole. The blade broke in half and we all laughed our butts off. He tried to take it back stateside but he lacked the paperwork and it ended up confiscated. He wasn’t happy.
After we returned from Iraq, my roommate (Rockstar from Karen The Sergeant) and I bought some wooden katanas at the Suncoast in the mall. They were cheap but we had a blast messing around with them. Jerome also bought a wooden sword from there, but he purchased one of their Spartan sword replicas. He came out and started swinging it wildly, almost smacking me upside the head a few times. I wanted to teach him a lesson but Rockstar, like some kind of Anime hero, offered to instead. Rockstar actually had some sword training, unlike Jerome, and managed to hurt his pride pretty badly. Jerome received several light taps up and down his arms and once in his belly, but he never landed a single hit on Rockstar. Jerome eventually gave up and threw his wooden sword in his room, where it broke in half like his Iraq sword.
That was the last of Jerome’s Bad A** Moments. I’ll post more Jerome stories later!
submitted by 360Entertainment to StoriesAboutKevin [link] [comments]


2020.09.08 12:06 NickDaHobo Legacy of the USF Galaxia

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LOG IN DETAILS......... ACCEPTED // WELCOME USER
14 FILES ARE AVAILABLE.... (FILE SELECTED) // USF GALAXIA DETAILS
READOUT SUCCESSFULLY PRINTED.... FILE READS AS FOLLOWS
--USF Galaxia Legacy--
History - - - Construction Process
The USF Galaxia was originally constructed in an expansive shipyard to lead the war effort for the United Space Federation during the Convention Wars. It was built under a span of 2 years, and had to suffer several setbacks due to the rising cost for vessel segments and materials.
During construction, the ship was divided into 4 segments. The nose of the vessel was built first and was fitted with a main communication array, connected to several antennas and a radio station.
The second segment was built to store smaller fighter vessels, and weaponry. This section of the ship was the most challenging and expensive to build. Purely due to the safety hazards and costs required.
The third segment was built for the comfort of the crew. Fitted with a total of 102 crew cabins all with a personalised bathroom and lounging area. There is also a large cafeteria sector built within the third segment, connected to a gym, shooting range, and social area.
The fourth and last segment is the bridge and main engine compartments. The bridge was designed to give the Captain and Officers a tactical and defensive view of the ship itself, and the surroundings.
History - - - Efforts during the Convention Wars
The first battle the Galaxia participated in was The Second Siege of M'kara. Militia forces intended on breaking through a defence line along the Messier Trade Route, in hopes of advancing towards several USF controlled shipyards. The initial attack was successful, Militia Dreadnoughts and Carriers broke through and were advancing towards Kibaar Station.
Luckily enough, the Galaxia was stationed there, and was soon put to use as enemy patrol groups closed in. The Galaxia initially launched smaller fighter vessels to deal with the incoming patrols, the fight became brutal soon afterwards. 3 USF ships were lost and an extra 5 were severely damaged. However, the Galaxia came out of the fight unscathed, racking up 4 total kills against Dreadnoughts and Destroyers.
The second fight happened in the G'farah Cluster, when the Militia attempted to flank USF defences. The Galaxia and 2 other Destroyers were docked at a research facility when the Militia attacked. Although 1 USF Destroyer made a daring sacrifice in an attempt to force the enemy to retreat, the Galaxia still came out with no visible signs of damage.
The third time the Galaxia seen action was during the final days of the Convention Wars, during the CPP6 Research Facility Incident. When Militia forces raided planet G'ross 667, they initially attacked most research facilities and orbital harvesters. With CPP6 Research Facility suffering the brunt of the raid. The Galaxia was called in as a final effort to push back the enemy, with a secondary objective to save any survivors that may still be alive on CPP6.
The battle was a success and the Militia retreated, but the raid still left a solid blow to the USF and their power on G'ross 667.
History - - - Eventual Destruction
In the last hours of the Convention Wars the Galaxia met its end. During a great battle on D'quan (A small moon in the GHG 56 System) the vessel was surrounded by several Militia Orion-Class Destroyers, and sustained a heavy blow to it's hull. The force of the blow was hard enough that it knocked out several gravity stabilisers, and auxiliary thrusters, causing the Galaxia to fall to its end.
A total of 4 survivors lived on after the crash into the hot sands of D'quan. With Captain John Reeves and the crew of the Galaxia being remembered as war heroes. The legacy of the Galaxia still lives on, even after the Convention Wars long ago...
FILE READOUT ENDS HERE....
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submitted by NickDaHobo to worldbuilding [link] [comments]


2020.08.17 05:47 DrDoinkMD A Short Review Of Career Mechanics and CAF

So, as I write this, I do want to preface this by stating that I do in fact hope you all are enjoying the game and are having a great time playing it; but, I have some gripes.
Let's talk about career mode. For EA to have touted this as a "whole other experience" from the other games, it seems pretty damn empty. Sure, we have this system of social media where we can get a rival, talk smack, and bring ourselves to our own character created versions of Cormier Vs. Jones 3; it all just. feels. empty. In the entirety of taking my character from zero, to the G.O.A.T. hero, I had all of 5 social media interactions. 5 social media interactions in over 20 fights. It honestly begs the question of "Why is this mechanic even here in the game?". If it's not fleshed out, why is it included? Also included in this career mode is something that many people are familiar with in these kinds of games; the training simulations and mini games. I honestly have no problem with the mini-games or the simulations of training, my issue lies strictly with the fitness mechanic. During the period in between signing your fight contract and the actual fight, you have a self appointed amount of weeks for training, hype creation, and move learning. All of these things have allocated prices that pull from your pool of your in-game time and money, as well as a "Fitness" meter that goes from "low, moderate, peak, and overtrained". Hype of course attributes nothing to this meter. Learning moves and hitting the gym of course raises the meter. But, let's say you are on your 34th fight, with a 5 star fighter, and you've done these mini-games over a hundred times on this one character. You still have to train until your meter hits peak, or suffer debilitating nerfs to your character during your next fight. This makes the option of taking the fight on one week absolutely not desirable, so why even bother including it in the game?
The Character Creation. I'm not going to talk about the facial structures. Everyone knows about the facial structures. So, i'm not going to talk about the facial structures. BUT, there are some key points of the character creation that frustrated me. First off, I want to state how much I love how the tattoos look in this game. UFC 3, in my mind, has some of the best looking tattoo to skin textures i've seen in video games and I was looking forward to all the new options in UFC 4. Unfortunately, it seems as if they have just copy and pasted the existing tattoo options from the old game into the new (With exception to a couple). This was quite disheartening, as the first thing I did when I started the game up was rush into the character creation in hopes of making yet another bad ass hammer fisted monster only to find that only familiar options were available. Additionally, one thing I enjoyed in the previous game was creating a bevy of fighters in different weight classes. They were all equally maddening to look at, and they possessed customized stats, movesets, and attributes to fit whatever I wanted to do with them in quick fight. While I am very impressed with the kind of "learn as they fight" mechanic of the game, it totally stuffs the ambition to keep creating custom fighters capable of smashing the UFC roster. I understand that we are in the era of E-sports, and that they want to online to be fair across the board, there's a simple fix to this; Don't let us use our min-maxed fighters online. I will forever miss my friends asking during couch matches "Who's Bonk McDingle and why does he have max stats?".
submitted by DrDoinkMD to EASportsUFC [link] [comments]


2020.08.17 05:32 DrDoinkMD Okay, there's some issues.

So, as I write this, I do want to preface this by stating that I do in fact hope you all are enjoying the game and are having a great time playing it; but, I have some gripes.
Let's talk about career mode. For EA to have touted this as a "whole other experience" from the other games, it seems pretty damn empty. Sure, we have this system of social media where we can get a rival, talk smack, and bring ourselves to our own character created versions of Cormier Vs. Jones 3; it all just. feels. empty. In the entirety of taking my character from zero, to the G.O.A.T. hero, I had all of 5 social media interactions. 5 social media interactions in over 20 fights. It honestly begs the question of "Why is this mechanic even here in the game?". If it's not fleshed out, why is it included? Also included in this career mode is something that many people are familiar with in these kinds of games; the training simulations and mini games. I honestly have no problem with the mini-games or the simulations of training, my issue lies strictly with the fitness mechanic. During the period in between signing your fight contract and the actual fight, you have a self appointed amount of weeks for training, hype creation, and move learning. All of these things have allocated prices that pull from your pool of your in-game time and money, as well as a "Fitness" meter that goes from "low, moderate, peak, and overtrained". Hype of course attributes nothing to this meter. Learning moves and hitting the gym of course raises the meter. But, let's say you are on your 34th fight, with a 5 star fighter, and you've done these mini-games over a hundred times on this one character. You still have to train until your meter hits peak, or suffer debilitating nerfs to your character during your next fight. This makes the option of taking the fight on one week absolutely not desirable, so why even bother including it in the game?
The Character Creation. I'm not going to talk about the facial structures. Everyone knows about the facial structures. So, i'm not going to talk about the facial structures. BUT, there are some key points of the character creation that frustrated me. First off, I want to state how much I love how the tattoos look in this game. UFC 3, in my mind, has some of the best looking tattoo to skin textures i've seen in video games and I was looking forward to all the new options in UFC 4. Unfortunately, it seems as if they have just copy and pasted the existing tattoo options from the old game into the new (With exception to a couple). This was quite disheartening, as the first thing I did when I started the game up was rush into the character creation in hopes of making yet another bad ass hammer fisted monster only to find that only familiar options were available. Additionally, one thing I enjoyed in the previous game was creating a bevy of fighters in different weight classes. They were all equally maddening to look at, and they possessed customized stats, movesets, and attributes to fit whatever I wanted to do with them in quick fight. While I am very impressed with the kind of "learn as they fight" mechanic of the game, it totally stuffs the ambition to keep creating custom fighters capable of smashing the UFC roster. I understand that we are in the era of E-sports, and that they want to online to be fair across the board, there's a simple fix to this; Don't let us use our min-maxed fighters online. I will forever miss my friends asking during couch matches "Who's Bonk McDingle and why does he have max stats?".
submitted by DrDoinkMD to UFC4 [link] [comments]


2020.08.16 22:51 alegonz [Super & Real] Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The air had grown thick with every conceivable emotion. A veritable fleet of fighter jets from every nation did sorties over the pathway every few minutes. Battalions of soldiers had formed a wall of human bodies. Tanks in front and behind a fleet of Humvees all guarded the most important prisoner transport in human history. An armored semi-trailer truck driven by two soldiers armed to the teeth sat in the middle of a wall of vehicles. Inside the vehicle, Jericho and John sat opposite the most wanted man ever to live. Armed men sat with guns in the ready position. Jennifer flew above the convoy, ensuring no super tried to interfere.
Jack, to his credit, sat motionless. His face beet red and soaked from his own tears, he had plenty of time to piece together the horror in his mind. All his life, all he had ever wanted was to witness, as the song said, the glory of the coming of the Lord. It had been his dream ever since his father had opened the church when he was six years old. He couldn’t imagine how it could be any better than that. Yet, as a tropical storm of memories flashed through his mind, he found himself alone with the terrible fact that he’d become one of the false Christians he’d rallied so hard against in his sermons.
I was no better than them after all, he thought. As untold millions were ash beneath the soil of the Earth, all because of a monster he summoned, the true nightmare had come to haunt him. He had been in charge all along. Sure, the thing that called itself Jesus—the murderous false messiah he’d unleashed—had its own will and consciousness, but he ultimately could have asserted his control over it. Hell, under a different set of circumstances, he could have even been quite the hero. Unfortunately, he let his beliefs cloud his perception. It almost made him laugh now that he had nothing but time to think about it. How sad was it that superpowers were becoming reality all around him, and yet, he’d been so blinded by this figure appearing—and claiming to be Jesus, no less—that he somehow convinced himself it wasn’t true.
Jericho, hand on the shoulder of the murderer, focused intently to avoid any problem. He didn’t want to be blindsided, should Jack Hurst do anything. Still, the mad reverend resembled the human form of a deflated balloon. With the man’s guard down, he could read his memories. From what he saw, he could perfectly identify the things that had caused his downfall. Jericho had never felt such attachment to anything as this man did to his Lord. He was as much a true believer as any suicide bomber for a middle eastern terrorist group, just for a different cause. The result, however, proved no less disastrous. Very close to a billion were dead because of the actions of the man who sat inches from him. The sad part is that any number of people could have been this man. That’s what got to him the most. Jericho thought of the fact that there would be even a few who would willingly deceive the masses.
The enormous vehicle rumbled to a stop. The rear main door opened, with another set of armored doors behind it pulling open. When the group exited the vehicle, with over two dozen snipers and armed military men surrounding the entrance to the building, cameramen snapped pictures from behind the barricade. Jack Hurst stalked forward, head down, flanked on all sides. Jennifer hovered overhead, senses scanning for any conceivable problem. Friendly supers kept reconnaissance for several miles, keeping any enemy supers away, although there weren’t any, by the looks of things. A decided lack of suicide bombers and martyrs surprised not only Jericho, but the news media as well. The defeat of the fake Jesus had seemingly defused the mental bomb. Sure, the occasional right-wing pundit spoke to how ludicrous the whole thing was, and the random conspiracy theorist talked to their audience about how it was all a psy-op by the world’s governments, but the crowds lining the barricades largely didn’t know how to react.
The marble and granite of the building used to hold what would inevitably be the greatest criminal trial in human history spoke to age and prestige. Delegates from every nation watched every motion, every action, every thought that permeated the walls and corridors. It had been more than a week since the climactic battle, and the private meeting between Jack and his lawyer had taken place miles underground, in an abandoned mine that had been turned into his makeshift prison. No expense had been spared in a vain attempt to provide security. The people that had defeated him hadn’t taken time off. They took turns sleeping in shifts to make sure no one kept the world’s greatest criminal out of their sights.
Jennifer approached and walked a half foot behind Jericho and Jack Hurst. They walked down the hallway, the armed men walking ahead. Not once did Jack look up from the floor. After a quarter mile of hallway, two men opened the large oak doors to the courtroom. A small audience of camera crews and journalists, not to mention lawyers, bailiffs, and other various court officials either gasped, or made small statements. There were stands for an audience, but it had been kept empty, save for important law enforcement and legal officials. Jennifer and Jericho took a seat in the front row behind the defendant’s booth. Jack Hurst, motioned on by bailiffs, took a seat next to where his defense attorney sat. A heaviness to the air hovered in the room.
“All rise!”
At the main officer’s command, everyone stood. The judge entered from a rear door, climbed up above the room, and took his seat. The man wore a face aged from years of trying the harshest criminals in the world. His silver beard and hair amplified his stern expression, as he took in the sight of the man who had killed more people than anyone else in history, standing with hands folded in front of him at the defendant’s booth.
The judge cleared his throat. “You may be seated,” he commanded. Everyone sat. “Jackson Emile Hurst, you have been charged with crimes against humanity, mass murder, terrorism, and acts of sedition.” An official kept a typed record of all words said. Journalists wrote in their notepads. Cameramen focused on either the judge, or the defendant. “You have been accused, quite frankly, of more violence against innocent people than any person ever to live. How do you plead?”
The reverend took a moment to analyze the surroundings. This could, he realized, turn into the greatest show in the world’s history. The entire planet would be tuning in to partake in the single most important trial ever conducted. He would be immortalized forever in infamy never likely to be equaled by any criminal ever. It would be weeks, possibly months, of various witnesses. At the end of it all, he would be given an opportunity to make a final statement, perfectly encapsulating the entirety of him. It would be the greatest sermon of his life, where he would not ask for a forgiveness he didn’t deserve but would instead speak to why he believed so strongly. No man in history could have asked for a better platform to speak; the world would remember his words forever.
He took a deep breath, looked up at the judge, and smiled.
“Guilty.”
Everyone startled as if shocked by static. The judge found himself struck dumb. Newsmen and women shared looks of disbelief. After a long moment, the judge swallowed hard. “Well, um,” he began, “we shall convene in five days’ time to conduct a sentencing hearing.”
“NO.”
The judge’s head jerked briefly as if slapped when Jack made his pronouncement. It had come in a non-yelling, yet firm tone similar to a father reprimanding a son. “Excuse me, mister Hurst?” the judge asked, danger sounding in his voice.
“Sentence me now,” Jack said. “I don’t deserve a show, I don’t deserve a chance to give a final sermon to the world. I don’t deserve to have a grand speech immortalized in history books forever.” He looked at the groups of media men and women whose opportunities seemed to be vanishing before their eyes. “Condemn me before any more money is made off of me.”
The judge closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “As you wish,” he calmly spoke, opening his eyes. “You are hereby sentenced to death, sentence to be carried out in two hours’ time.” He lifted and slammed his gavel down. “Adjourned.”
Officers came and escorted the prisoner out of the room. Jennifer and Jack stood up to follow as security. They first walked him to a holding cell in the basement of the facility. After that, the two supers stood and waited as more guards came and opened the cell, and the whole collection of people led the condemned out of the cell and through a secure hallway to another armored vehicle. A driver and his copilot both took seats in the front, and then, after some five minutes of securing everything, the vehicle began rolling out of the garage. Ten minutes later, the man sat in his final waiting cell.
Jennifer sat in a chair, just outside the door that held the man she’d spent weeks fighting against. This unassuming man with gray in his hair held a higher body count than any person in history. Given the opportunity to create the biggest spectacle in television history, he instead chose to abruptly end his existence without giving a final grand notice. It went against what she expected. Still, she would see to his end herself.
Inside the cell, a portal opened, and out stepped Emily, and their two children, Eric and Tim. John watched as the four embraced. “You have forty-five minutes,” he told them, then left, the portal closing behind him.
The family sat and embraced. No words were spoken because no one could capture the mood effectively. The children were old enough to understand this would be the last time they saw their father. Emily knew her husband had committed crimes severe enough to warrant his punishment. Still, the pain of facing the future alone overwhelmed her. Jericho, seated next to his friend and ally, couldn’t face the scene the way his ally could. Jennifer, she seemed to be handling it better than him. As she ensured no shenanigans took place, her will had to be iron, as she knew these children would be orphans in less than an hour. Jericho could sense her unease, and yet he wondered how she did it.
“So, we won,” Jericho said, breaching the silence.
Jennifer let out a nasal sigh and blinked several times. “We pulled it off,” she agreed. “So now, we deal with the part they don’t show in the comics.”
“What’s your plan?”
Jennifer looked at him. “My plan for what?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You know,” he said, “for the future?”
She gave a chuckle. “You mean after I take a long nap and play some video games to wind down?” She said, pausing afterward to think about it. “I don’t know. I guess we get together as a team and discuss that.”
He laughed. “You know what I realized?” he said. “We never once formally sat down and decided we were a team, we just did it.” He scratched at his neck, instinctively. “I never would have dreamed as a kid that I’d be involved in all this crazy world-saving stuff.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s crazy to think that the most important battle of our lives took place within less than six months from the first arrival of powers.”
Jennifer considered his words. “As someone who reads the comics,” she replied, “I find it amazing it took that long. Usually, the villains showed up right away.” She leaned forward and rested her arms on her thighs. “Honestly, I was expecting everything to go to hell right away. The fact that most people with powers didn’t do shit really surprised me.”
His mind raced for an answer, settling on one. “Maybe most of them had your idea,” he answered. “Maybe they all thought the villains were coming and didn’t want any part of that.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Anyway, I have thing I’m going to do soon.”
She looked at him. “What, specifically?” she asked.
He held out his hand. She got the hint immediately. She shook his hand.
Her eyes widened, and a grin appeared on her face. “That’s a good one,” she said. “When you said we were going to shake up the status quo, you meant we were going all in.” He nodded. “Well, I hope it turns out the way you want.”
Footsteps approaching from behind alerted them both. They turned around and saw five officers with guns and full riot gear approaching. “Time’s up,” the first officer in front said.
“Alright,” Jennifer said, “I’ve got it.” She stood up and knocked on the door.
Jack loosened his grip. His face wet and red, he put a hand on his sons’ shoulders. “I love you more than you know,” Jack simply stated. His sons went to protest the inevitable, but he silenced them with a finger over his mouth. “No, this is how it has to be.” He turned to his wife. “Emily, I should have known better. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, especially not from me.” He pulled her tight. “You deserved better than me.”
“Jack!” she yelled.
“You’ll have to face the future without me,” he said. “I may not go where you’re going, but even still, I’ll love you.”
A portal opened. “Alright, it’s time for you guys to go,” John said, motioning at the three. The wife and children stepped away from their loved one.
“Dad, I’ll miss you,” Tim said, wiping his face.
“Don’t worry,” Jack reassured. “You won’t make the mistakes I made. You’ll be wise and strong. Not like me.”
“Dad!” Eric protested, “I can’t…!”
“You can,” Jack said, nodding.
The three disappeared into the portal. A few moments later, the cell door opened.
Jack stood up. Somehow, near the end, he felt a sense of relief. His beliefs had been shredded, and he didn’t know what would happen next, but at the very least, he knew his death would bring about the end of this horror that he had unleashed.
The soldiers turned to the two supers. “We’ll take it from here,” one said, “just follow us from behind.”
“Alright,” Jennifer agreed.
The soldiers led the man down the hall.
The door opened, revealing a medical table.
“Jack Hurst, take your place on this table,” A man said, approaching. He placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders.
Light passed through his eyes.
Jack found himself coming awake.
“Hm…WHAT?”
Jack shouted as he shook the grogginess out of his eyes. As his head swerved from right to left and back, he saw himself in a room surrounded by men in suits. “Before you do anything,” A man dressed the most elaborately of them, wearing an expensive Rolex, stated in a flat tone, “realize that we have ways of finding those you care about, and I know that, even now, there are those you wouldn’t want us to get to.”
“What the hell is going on?” Jack shouted.
“We knew the heroes were going to insist you be executed after trial,” the man replied, a grin on his face. “That was their mistake. You see, we’re the United States. We can get our own inside anywhere.”
Jack blinked rapidly several times. “So, you’re saying the US government put a super on my execution?” he asked.
“Exactly,” the agent said. “You see, getting supers that were in the employ of American agencies to stay loyal wasn’t exactly difficult, given our resources.” He shifted position in his chair. “We almost lost you. But you have the power to decimate nations in an instant. It’s the worst possible power. It’s exactly what we need so we can usher in a new American age like no other.”
Jack shook his head. “So, you’ve figured out all the angles?”
“It wasn’t difficult, we just had to make sure to transport a copy of you to a place with a faraday cage so you couldn’t transmit anything to the outside.” The man stood up and stretched. “Not that it matters. You’re going to be doing us a lot of favors from now on.”
“So the nation I love,” Jack said, in disbelief, “resorts to using monsters to control the world?”
“The world resists our efforts to control them,” the man said. “After all, it’s not like the middle east is getting any more secure.”
“Unbelievable,” Jack said. “I can’t believe this.”
The man shrugged. “There’s nothing to believe,” he said. “Our operative made sure no one knew you were being sent here.”
“Your agent wasn’t as clever as he thought,” Raymond said.
All the suited agents turned around. Ramond and John stood near a portal. “We had days to talk about the aftermath of the battle,” John explained, “and we all came to the conclusion that some rogue power, be it a nation, or a terrorist group, would try to make use of your power.”
“This entire conversation just got transmitted to the whole world,” Raymond said, pointing up.
The agents looked up and saw a series of drones, silently hovering overhead.
“Wait!” the suited man said.
The two supers and Jack Hurst exchanged a glance, right before the two vanished into a portal behind them. A moment later, the reverend summoned a device that sat in front of him. The agents looked at it.
A few moments later, an abandoned power plant a hundred miles or so north of Langley, Virginia exploded, showering concrete and steel on the forest nearby.
Some six days later, the President of the United States stood poised in front of a massive audience of onlookers. Jennifer and her friends, the people who fought alongside her to save the world, sat in chairs behind the government officials. The mood in the crowd seemed to be a stark contrast to the chaotic storm of emotion from the days earlier, when pious servants of the worst monster ever to terrorize the planet, the false messiah, shouted their cries and pleas for mass extermination as they watched their fake leader fight his final battle. This crowd seemed the sign of peace and quiet, as they sat, watching as the world breathed a sigh of relief after the near end of civilization.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the President began, “we are gathered here to celebrate victory in the face of a battle unlike anything that this world has ever seen.” Jennifer looked over the crowd, scanning each one as she waited. It pleased her to see no guns or explosive devices. Apparently, the victory had bought her some time to breathe, as she didn’t want to have to fly back into action so quickly. “We have all had our faith shaken, both in our institutions, and our fellow man, as a terrible crime, worse than any other, was perpetrated by an evil wearing the very face of the messiah so many believe in.” Jericho adjusted his tie as he did a victory lap in his mind. This whole ordeal had given him a new perspective, not just because of his powers, but because he’d never imagined himself fighting for a cause before. “In the face of unparalleled wickedness, a team of people have come together to save us all, and for that, we are here to celebrate them. First, the woman who was first to answer the call, Jennifer Black!”
The audience applauded. The President stood aside and pointed. Jennifer stood up and approached. She put her hands on the podium to steady herself. She’d never had to deal with a crowd like this before. “Um,” she said, “I don’t know what to say other than, well, I couldn’t stand by and watch something happen knowing I could have stopped it.” The crowd applauded again, and she saw they expected more out of her. She continued. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I just started showing up where people needed help and helping them. When the true terror began, I knew I had to be there to stop him, because no one was going to do it for me.” She paused to catch up to her racing heartbeat, and for the clapping to die down. “I promise that, from now on, my friends and I, we’re going to do everything we can to make things as good as they can be. That’s all.” She got up and headed back to her seat for a standing ovation.
“Well, that’s the best news we’ve gotten so far,” the President cheered, “and that’s something to look forward to. Next, a hero who stepped away from comfort to risk his life to save us, Jericho Torvalds!”
The billionaire stood up. “I am not one for giving speeches,” he explained. “Needless to say, I have to echo the sentiments of my good friend and ally, Jennifer, for how she so effectively stated our mission. In the coming days and months, we will begin a process of enrichment for all mankind, including some of the biggest opportunities in history. I can’t state specifics at this time, but rest assured we are preparing our plans as we speak.”
“Excellent,” the President agreed. He pointed. “Annie Wilson, who fought valiantly and fought evil all around the world in the lead-up to the climactic fight, come up!” She nodded and waved her turn off. “Alright then, Edward Mitchell, you had something you wanted to say?”
“I did,” the young man said, taking the podium. “I wanted to say something. My momma raised me to be a follower of Christ, so I have to speak from a slightly different position than my friends. When I saw that this monster wearing the face of the Lord Jesus Christ was doing what he was doing, I tried to hide it, but it ate away at me inside.” He paused and wiped his eyes. “Then, I saw so many of my fellow so-called Christians standing aside and letting this thing wreak havoc, or worse, actively assisting in the murder, not once contemplating the truth or falsity of the words being said.” He coughed. “Honestly, I think, in the wake of this act of unspeakable evil, we need to call out our fellow Christians for not standing up for the values of the real Jesus. We need to make sure we don’t support evil in its purest form.” A wave of cheers came from the crowd. “It’s high time we make it known that the real Christ wouldn’t kill! The real Christ wouldn’t hate or be hateful!” The cheers grew. “We’re the ones who are supposed to be the most accepting! How can we be so lazy as to forget that it’s our duty to fight against those who call themselves Christian but are hateful and exclusionary and are more interested in laws and court decisions than the lives of their fellow human being!” He blinked his eyes dry. “All I’m saying, is that we have to be the loving, accepting followers of Christ we’re supposed to be. More focused on people and less on the things they do.”
“What a wonderful sentiment!” The President said, applauding. “John Stephenson, did you wish to speak?”
John shook his head. “I can’t top that,” he admitted.
“Raymond Weiss?” the President asked, and the scientist shook his head. “Davis Wilson?”
The agent stood up and took the podium. “My boss isn’t much for words,” he said, “so I figured I’d speak for him and all of us in the government. This ordeal shook our very foundations. It also represents a rare opportunity to change the trajectory of our nation. I work for the FBI, and that means I deal with criminals. But I think it’s high time we stop focusing on policing our citizens with hardcore techniques and policing the rich and powerful with kid gloves. I think we need to restructure our approach to both law enforcement and the interactions between the government and its people.” He shrugged. “But hey, what do I know? I just happened to be one of the good ones.” A mild laugh passed over the crowd.
“Well, that was the latest in a string of good ideas for the future!” The President stated. He pulled open a leather-bound folder. “What I do next, I do with great pride. By signing this,” he pulled out a pen and signed, “I hereby grant citizenship to Jennifer Black, as well as authorizing a generous monetary reward for all the heroes who assisted her friends and her in their unprecedented struggle against a tyrannical evil.”
The crowd stood and applauded, and Jennifer and her friends did the same. After a few moments of being celebrated, the President handed each of them a document showing their congratulations as well as showing their gift for having saved the world. Of the group of them, only Jericho didn’t have some kind of freak out at the seven-digit number printed at the bottom.
What proceeded next was a whirlwind of important congressmen and heads of state mingling with the heroes, photos and selfies taken, and other various ceremony. Honestly, Jennifer wanted to get back home and relax. Jericho saw her mood painted on her face and approached. “Honestly, hey, I’ll take care of the rest,” he said. “You go home. You’ve earned it.”
She gave a half-smile. “You sure?” she asked.
He nodded. “Believe me,” he assured her, “I’m familiar with situations like this.”
“Thank you so much,” she said. She pulled him closer into a tight hug.
“I’m only here because of you,” he said. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
The flight home took only a few minutes. She landed in a field not far from her house and sped the rest of the way on foot. Inside the bushes, she shifted back. Manny reached into his pocket and pulled out his housekey and opened the front door. Although he wasn’t physically exhausted, the weight of the past months caught up to him all at once, and he walked to his room and collapsed onto his bed. As he rolled over onto his back, he fell into a deep slumber. If a disaster happened right now, one of his other friends could take care of it. A dream of the future played out in his mind. He saw a scene of humanity taking to the stars. He flew through space with his friends and he loved it. His female form would take him places he couldn’t otherwise go, and that was a gift he wasn’t going to give up for anything. The disasters he would have to face as Capacitor he no longer felt afraid to take on.
After the meeting, Jericho arrived at the hotel room.
“So,” he said, as his brother got up from the bed. “You weren’t up for the event?”
Luther hugged his brother. “Nah,” he retorted. “Big public showings were always your thing.”
Jericho pulled in tight for the hug. “I’m so glad you were there to help me,” he praised. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without you.”
His little brother laughed as he pulled back. “Careful,” he warned. “That almost sounds like you need me.”
“You’re right,” Jericho countered. “I do need you. And you’re going to love what I have in mind.”
Luther raised his eyebrows. “That’s a scary thought.”
Johann Torrell flipped through the pages of the Wall Street Journal. It had been weeks since the fateful battle for humanity. The mourning continued in Asia for the inhuman loss of life. Everywhere from the holy land in the middle east to the far reaches of China, the mood was a mixture of solemn and hopeful. The horror that had ensued during the false messiah and his reign of terror had put everyone on edge. He flipped past the world news to the prices of various futures.
“Sir?”
Johann looked up from his paper at the source of the voice. One of his employees had approached the table. “What is it, Christof?” he asked.
The man set a refrigerated package on the table. “Your shipment from Firestorm, sir,” Christof said, gesturing at the shipping label.
Johann perked up. “Ah! Yes,” he said. “I needed to see what the hubbub is all about.” As he set the paper down, he noticed the article about the increase in charitable giving. “Do you believe it?”
Christof perked up. “Believe, what, sir?” he asked.
Johann regarded the article with the disdainful expression warranted of old gym socks. “Billionaires giving up almost all their wealth, funding massive humanitarian campaigns.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s like the whole world’s gone goddamn socialist!”
Christof laughed. “Believe me, sir,” he revealed, “if I had as much money as you, I wouldn’t be doing that.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Johann said, chuckling. “I’m not giving up on the proper order anytime soon.” He used his knife to open the container. “I’m just so blown away. Would you believe I called Stephen Mavil…”
“Oh, the head of the Mavil family?” Christof asked. “The group that owns the largest producer of mining equipment?”
Johann nodded absently as he opened. “Yes, that’s the one,” he said. “Also, they have a group of mines of various minerals across the world. Anyway, you know what he did?”
“What, sir?”
The billionaire looked up, incredulous. “He said his family and he were giving up most of their mines! That the employees of his company would own it, as a collective! That he was liquidating most of his family’s stocks and giving all of it to the world’s poor!”
Christof gave a startled laugh. “What sheer insanity!” he agreed.
“I can’t imagine their family surviving on the twenty million or so they’ll have left after all that,” the head of the Torrell family admitted, opening the package. He removed one of the two bottles of champagne and pulled a glass from the other side of the table.
“Anyway,” Christof said, looking at the package, “isn’t Firestorm Spirits that champagne making company your grandson started?”
“Sure is,” Johann replied. “I’m damn proud of that boy. I first met him when he was just a boy, and I knew I could cultivate in him the spirit of competition.” He poured himself some champagne from the bottle. “He made something of himself. He was no minnow, Jericho, no he was a shark. He was destined for the upper echelons of society.”
“Sir?” Christof asked. “Do you mind if I try some?”
Johann broke from his reverie. “What? No, go ahead,” he offered.
“Thank you, sir,” Christof exclaimed, nodding as he poured himself a glass. He downed his glass in one swig. “Ah, that’s great stuff! That’s why it’s been selling out.”
“If you give it such high regards,” Johann said. “Honestly, I would never have pictured Jericho going into spirit making, but that just goes to show how talented he is.”
“It’s really popular with high society,” Christof noted. “All the world’s elite are drinking it.”
“They know taste when they drink it,” Johann agreed. He lifted his glass. “Anyway, cheers!” He put the glass to his lips and took a strong sip.
A storm of emotion shot through the billionaire’s head. A whirlwind of scenes, images, and feelings passed in rapid-fire. He found himself a war widow in Africa, watching her children starve while she lay powerless to feed them. A child in southeast Asia dying from a warlord’s bullet through his stomach, a slow, agonizing death, played out, with him seeing through the young boy’s eyes. Next, he found himself a young black man, forced to turn to selling drugs to feed his mother, dying of cancer, only to be murdered by police over a bag of weed. The visceral sights, smells, and raw feelings shot through him at lightning speed. These and about a few thousand other horrifying, soul-crushing examples of real lives having suffered and been laid to waste by easily preventable societal ills, played out in only an instant of real time in his mind.
One instant, Christof saw Johann take a sip, he then slipped and tumbled backward into his seat. The glass fell from his fingertips and clattered on the table. The billionaire blinked. Tears began to pour from his eyes. “Well, sir,” he asked, “how was it?”
Johann Torrell looked up and saw knowing in his employee’s eyes. “My…god…” he said, struggled. “It’s…it’s so horrible…”
“Go ahead, sir,” Christof said, taking the overturned glass and pouring his boss another drink. “Drink some more.”
The billionaire, his breathing harsh and struggling, clasped his fingers to the glass, pulled it to his lips and drank again. Another flash of thousands of memories came to him at once. “It’s all our fault!” he shouted. “We could have made a world where these people hadn’t had to suffer! It’s all our fault!”
“I take it you’ve taken a drink,” Jericho said, the memory of the man speaking to himself in the mirror-and indirectly, to each person who took a sip. “Using a number of powers I’ve collected, I’ve put a bit of power into each batch of liquor this startup of mine makes. If you’re a member of the richest, most powerful class of people in the world-like I am-then I know for a fact this has been designed to work specifically on you.” Jericho took a deep breath to steady himself, steeling his will for what came next. “When superpowers first became real, and I discovered I could copy powers, I did what I always did; I identified the new currency, in this case, abilities, and sought to collect them the way I sought to collect money.” He removed his tie and set it on the bed next to him.
“At some point, I came across the ability to live the memories of another person quite literally, in my head. This turned out to be the single most important moment of my life, although I didn’t know it. What it enabled me to do was to see how utterly wrong I was about everything. I saw that it was my class of people that had brought the world into a state where disaster was inevitable. Our hoarding of wealth has crippled the common people and made it a situation where things could devolve into chaos. Thankfully, as it turned out, people seemed too nervous about bringing down everything, and life went on, largely untouched. At least, that is, until Jack and his monster happened.”
He removed his suit jacket and flung it onto the floor. “So, what have I done? Simple. I’ve collected thousands of memories in my travels, my friends and I having travelled across the globe, saving lives and, in general, making everything better. What I’ve done, is given you some of the first-hand experiences I know will clash directly with your preconceived notions about social hierarchies and everyone’s ‘proper place in the world,’ and other Ayn Rand horseshit that I believed since I was a child.”
“I’ve also given you a huge boost of empathy and compassion.” He grinned. “At this point, I know some of you are cursing my name, wishing they could reach across space-time and kill me with your thoughts alone. I don’t blame you. In the weeks to come, even though I am no puppet master, I rest easy knowing that you will choose to make needed sacrifices to make the world a better place. You won’t be able to ignore the suffering I’ve put in your head. You won’t be able to pretend you aren’t part of the problem. And believe me, I’m not saying this from a self-righteous position. I, too, am going to be giving away almost all of my wealth.” He shook his head. “No, I’m going to be part of the solution, going forward.”
He stepped closer to the mirror. “You may think what I’ve done is wrong. You may say I’ve stepped over a line. I’ve committed an unforgivable sin. Just a matter of less than a year ago, I’d have agreed with you. But the time of man has drawn short, and the time for half-measures is long past. I can, however, give you two pieces of consolation.” He lifted one finger. “First, even after you’ve given away almost every cent you’re worth, you’ll still have more than enough not to have to worry.”
He lifted a second finger. “And second, I’ve pulled your neck from the guillotine.”
The memory faded, and Johann wiped his eyes.
“Father! Is everything all right?”
Johann blinked. “Oh, Reginald, my son,” he said. He nodded. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just an old codger having a moment.”
He smiled, pulled a spare glass, and poured. “Say, why don’t you try a glass?”
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2020.07.20 17:31 ND_PC Total Madness Player Playlists: Melissa Reeves

How's it going, everyone? Welcome to the latest installment of my Player Playlist tribute series for Total Madness. tl;dr, you can scroll down to see the songs on the Melissa list.
This is a project of mine where I create a playlist for each player on Total Madness as their time officially ends on the season. Through the mood, the lyrics, or, heck, even the title of each song on the playlist, I aim to represent some part of the player's profile, personality, or narrative on the show. For vets, it usually includes some allusions to previous seasons but focuses primarily on their time on Total Madness.
Now that the season is over, I can announce my plans for releasing the remaining nine playlists:
  1. This post is the debut of the Melissa Playlist (Link is to Spotify)
  2. Rogan on Wednesday 7/22
  3. Bayleigh on Friday 7/24
  4. Kaycee on Monday 7/27
  5. Fessy on Wednesday 7/29
  6. Cory on Friday 7/31
  7. Kyle on Monday 8/3
  8. Johnny on Wednesday 8/5
  9. Jenny on Friday 8/7
This is in reverse of their order of finish as shown to us by MTV.
The Melissa playlist is here! Honestly, I forgot about making a playlist for Melissa early in the season and only had two songs in there prior to the final. Then I had an unexpectedly busy and stressful weekend, to say the least, (police in three states were involved, yikes) so I didn't get to engage in my usual process of building up a shitton of songs and then paring it down. Instead, I wrote a list of songs on a legal pad and then built the playlist from two to its current 26. As you might know, I self-impose a limit of around 25 songs for each of my playlists in this series, so I didn't really edit the composition of this playlist once I reached 27 because I'm hella sleep-deprived. I do apologize though because I hate putting out shoddy or hasty examples of... well, of anything really. All this to say that I do not have an overflow Melissa playlist for you guys. Bonus points to whoever can guess what the original two songs on this list were!
That said, I think I hit on most of Melissa's defining characteristics. Her lovely accent, her MMA background/general competitive scrappiness, and her pregnancy/motherhood are all well-documented here. I even included some tributes to her occupation as a DJ. Honestly, I was really preoccupied with the fact that she was a nominee for Best Physical Competitor on this season and I kept ironically adding a ton of relatively hardcore songs to this playlist because of that. No hate for her fierce competitive mindset, but I really think that's hilarious. The "vibe" probably isn't as good a representation of Melissa as it could have been, but because I was on a self-imposed deadline I thought, hey, this is good enough. (For what it's worth, I really tried to come up with a song to represent her imitating Josh. I failed at that.)
You guys know I love feedback. As always, I'll be glad to answer any questions, honor any suggestions for this or any future playlist, or explain why I included a certain song or what it's supposed to reflect. I do really take everything into consideration, and I've got eight more playlists to compose, so I'm all ears.
In case you're interested in the other playlists in this series, here they are: Asaf, Jenn, CT, Ashley, Jay, Tori, Jordan, Bear, Big T, Kailah, Jenna, Wes, Mattie, Swaggy, Nany, Aneesa, Josh, Dee, Nelson.
If you need or prefer to read the Melissa playlist here rather than Spotify, here it is in tabular form:
Title Artist
You Are The Sunshine Of My Life Stevie Wonder
The Boxer Simon & Garfunkel
Celebrity Skin Hole
Hey Mr. D.J. Zhané
Music Madonna
Try P!nk
The Fighter Gym Class Heroes ft. Ryan Tedder
Kick in the Door The Notorious B.I.G.
Mama Said Knock You Out LL Cool J
Blur The Technicolor White Zombie
Till I Die Machine Gun Kelly
Man in the Box Alice In Chains
Talk Dirty Jason Derulo, 2 Chainz
Girls Talk Boys 5 Seconds of Summer
Bleed It Out Linkin Park
Catch My Breath Kelly Clarkson
Mama's Song Carrie Underwood
Tubthumping Chumbawumba
Ain't No Sunshine Bill Withers
Father And Daughter Paul Simon
Landslide Fleetwood Mac
Try Colbie Caillat
Mothers Talk Tears For Fears
The Sweetest Gift Sade
Cecilia And The Satellite Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness
Vienna Billey Joel
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2020.06.26 18:13 youto2 House Party 6/22/2020 - Part One

The scene opens with a tracksuit-wearing Santiago Martínez, making his way to the venue with a gym bag over his shoulder. He waves at someone standing by the backstage door, revealed by a camera pan to be his partner, Hugo Ironblood.
Ironblood: Are you always this late? The show's about to start!
Martínez: Kinda, to be honest. How's it going?
After a quick dap, Hugo opens the door and out comes Chad Hammocks, looking more disheveled than usual.
Hammocks: Oh, there you are! Ladies and gentlemen, my guests tonight are-
Martínez: Hey hey hey, I thought we were teammates! What's up with this serious interviewer B.S.?
Ironblood: You could've said "Hello", you know.
Hammocks: I'm sorry you guys, but I didn't have a segment last week and I think I might be having serious content withdrawals!
Martínez: Oh, shit. I know what you mean by that! Go ahead, go ahead.
Hammocks: Well, I'm glad to see you. So are you ready for tonight's match?
Ironblood: OOOOOOHHHHHHH HELL YEAH WE ARE! Trust me, Chad, we're not just ready, we're gonna dominate the competition!
Martínez: You're damn right, Hugo! Just 'cause we aren't acting like we're the next champs after beating a team with a 70 year old in it doesn't mean that we aren't the most powerful, innovative and the most united team in WiR right now!
Hammocks: Where's Cam'ron, though?
Martínez: I don't have a clue. But that's past the point. What you need to know is that we have a carefully prepared strategy to win tonight and bring home not just a dub, but a dub and a doink.
Hammocks: Oh, really?
Martínez: Don't even doubt it for a second. Here's the game plan, Hugo starts things off with a Bang, a couple of slams here and there, Bing Bang Boom, he lets a tag happen, Bing Bang Boom, he continues to put pressure on those fuckers, Bing Bang Boom, and then I get tagged in to double down!
Chad turns towards Sparky, who rolls his eyes.
Martínez: Bing bang boom, whatever.
Chad smiles.
Hammocks: Well, I'm glad to hear you have a plan set up already. So, whether you win or lose tonight, what's next for you guys?
Ironblood: We're still figuring out some things, but I feel like everyone watching will be pleasantly surprised.
Hammocks: Oh, yes! That's great! Have you finally chosen a name?
Ironblood: No.
He looks down in disappointment.
Hammocks: Ohhh. What about you, Santiago? I know you were interested in the GiGi $1500 Patreon Match!
Martínez: I was, and I still am, but I haven't heard anything from those folks. I made a counter offer and all that, but it's been nothing but crickets so far. Maybe I still have a shot!
Ironblood: That match's in like 10 minutes, Santi.
Martínez: Alright, don't get your hopes up. It is what it is, I would've taken that W anyways, so at least it's a bit more mysterious now. It sucks, it would've made some killer content, but what else can you do?
Ironblood: I guess.
Hammocks: Now do you feel threatened about someone else now going for the title of WiR's #1 content creator?
Martínez: What? No! There's no competition, Chadderino! As the 77th largest Just Chatting streamer in the entire world, I am beyond pleased when I see others succeed in their platforms. So there's no real competition, there's a lot of variety, and that's pretty poggers if you ask me...
Hammocks: Hey, that's a very good take.
Martínez: I mean: There are certain streamers who aren't very talented or innovative, and basically just survive out of the goodwill of some disgustingly obsessive simps... And then there's GiGi, whose content I'm not familiar with.
Hammocks: Oh, of course. But I wasn't talking about her, I was talking about someone who's just getting started: WiR's own Stephen Romero!
Martínez: Romero? Really? Romero. Romero! Hahahaha…
Hugo looks a bit confused by the weird laughter.
Hammocks: Yes, why are you laughing? I think he could do a good job!
Martinez: Romero, parcero, Coursera, dinero, elotero. Who cares, Chad? #WhoCare. Do you care, Chad? Well, you shouldn't care about that prick. This ain't about how good will he do, this is about who he really is: I offered to take some time, some of my time to help him out with his e-boy nonsense feud and he blew me off! I was ready to take time off my streams, the thing that gets me the big ones, to teach someone who clearly needs help, yet he tossed me aside like I was the second coming of Scotty Apocalypse. Well, fuck him.
Hammocks: Woaaahhh... Let's not go there, shall we?
Martínez: Nah, that's precisely where we need to go, OK? If he wants to do things on his own and crash and burn, that's one thing, he can fuck himself up. But going out there saying that I'm not trustworthy and that he wouldn't want to "be associated" with me, that's a completely different story. That's fucking with my career, with my friends and with the people who've supported me!
Hammocks: I don't think he meant it like that, Sparky...
Chad tries to pivot to something else, but Sparky cuts him short.
Martínez: So, if he wants to start some shit, well, I'm ready to go. If anyone out here wants the smoke, I'll be ready. I am a fighter, Chad, I was born to do this, and with Gayniversary just around the corner, you'll see what I can do. Tonight's just CAS, on Sunday, I don't give a shit who it'll be, the result will be the same. Goodbye.
Sparky storms out of the scene. Hugo just stands there awkwardly.
Ironblood: Sorry it went a bit out of control there. I don't know if it's a good segue to the rest of the show...
Hammocks: Technically it's still better content than that Zoom call, although that's not a very high bar if I'm being honest.
We then cut right into the ring, coming to you live from Veterans Memorial Colliseum in Evansville, Indiana, as we have a raucous, excited crowd on hand tonight, before we cut to our commentary team!
Paisner: Hello everyone, and welcome to the final show before Gayniversary! I’m Allen Paisner-
Woodbridge: And i’m Mark Woodbridge.
Paisner: And what a show we have tonight! We have Coup d’Etat in action facing their toughest challenge yet in SPECIALIST, in a match with potential tag title scene implications! We will also see Santiago’s stable in action together for the first time as he and Ironblood team with one another, and in our main event, we have old v new as Dover seeks to prove his efficiencies in the match-up! But first, we have our opener coming up, where we send it to Javier in the ring to cover!
Babaganoush: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL with a 30-minute time limit and is GIGI’S TOP TIER PATRON MATCH! Refereeing is Mia So Hung!
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
GiGi walks up to the ring in cosplay as Popuko, and now the crowd’s mood gets less pleasant.
Babaganoush: Please welcome your guest ring announcer… GIGI!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Paisner: Bit of a split over this one.
Woodbridge: Right - every fan wants to see this action… but it’s still sponsored by GiGi.
Paisner: We technically don’t know who won the drawing for this match, you know. We’ll just be finding out the participants now.
GiGi: Hello to all of my fans and subscribers, and to the lovely people at my sponsor Hobbylink Japan! Introducing first…
“Mirror, Mirror” plays and out walks a debuting Ayane Nobunaga, backed up and holding hands with her tag team partner, Mina Auralere. They hug on the ramp and Ayane continues up to the ring, face determined even though her body language is unsure. The crowd gives her a warm reception.
Paisner: Well, that’s unexpected!
Woodbridge: Yeah! That’s one of your new signings, right?
Paisner: Right, that’s Ayane Nobunaga of Moonlight & Magma, a great young female tag team out of Canada… didn’t really take her for a GiGi fan though!
GiGi: ...From Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada, weighing in at 135 INSPIRING pounds, she is representing Moonlight & Magma… AYANE! NOBUNAGA!
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
GiGi: And her opponent…
Now “GFY” hits the stereo and it’s Kaitlyn Casey Jones who bursts from behind the curtain! The fans cheer loudly as she gladhands and runs up to the ring, doing her blown mind taunt on the steps before hopping in, full of confidence, sidling up close to GiGi.
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! KCJ! KCJ! KCJ!
Paisner: That, though - less unexpected.
Woodbridge: Too true! Kait’s been making her affection for GiGi clear lately. It’s well known she likes girls, and one might say she’s been si--
Paisner: None of that, that’s slanderous, Mark.
GiGi: ...from Cardiff, Wales, weighing in at 200 LUSCIOUS pounds… KAITLYN! CASEY! JONES!
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
The two stare down, Ayane struggling to not avert her eyes, as Mia checks them both over, and, with the ref satisfied, the bell rings!
DING DING DING!
They go right in for the collar-and-elbow tie-up and Ayane has little chance against the much greater size and strength of Kait, who immediately forces her into a corner. Kait rears back to strike - Ayane drops down and rolls forward, aiming for Kait’s legs - Kait leapfrogs to avoid the takedown - Ayane reaches up and gives her a deep sunset flip and pins!
Crowd: WHOAAAAAAAAAAA!
Woodbridge: SUNSET ROLLUP THROUGH THE LEGS!
Paisner: An immediate flash pin and Kait HAS to be off-guard!
1!
2!
NO!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Woodbridge: Definitely a joshi-inspired technique there and it ALMOST paid off…
Kait kicks out and springs to her feet, whipping Ayane into the corner and charging in with a clothesline, which stuns Ayane, but she blocks the followup punch. Ayane shakes off and begins to give Kait a flurry of jabs to the chest and head, but Kait is able to shake most of the peppering punches off. Undeterred, Ayane begins to apply a headlock to her larger opponent - but Kait rolls her out of the corner and onto the mat with a crisp kneeling arm drag! Rolling through, Kait follows up with a pickup and then a front powerslam and covers…
1!
NO!
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Paisner: KCJ taking the initiative early on here, and if she can rely on her power for this whole contest, she’ll have the match in the bag.
Woodbridge: Damn right, it just doesn’t look like Ayane has the build to go muscle for muscle with Kait! She’ll have to change up the match in order to win.
Recovering, Ayane dusts off and Kait motions her in for the lockup again. It looks like it’ll go the same way again, with Kait easily overpowering Ayane - but Ayane shows her hand speed by immediately pulling Kait in for a crisp headlock! She transitions behind Kait, and begins to wrap her throat and shoulder with her arms…
Woodbridge: Early sleeper attempt -
Kait struggles out and turns around, trying to throw a clothesline - Ayane immediately locks her wrist! She tries to duck behind Kait again with the arm trapped but Kait, sensing something is coming, wrenches her own arm away with a wince. She blasts Ayane with a quick kick to the gut and as she doubles over Kait front facelocks her and hooks her leg, looking for a fisherman suplex - she won’t let her have it so Kait keeps the leg hooked and drives her back for a cradle DDT!
Crowd: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! / YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
She pins and Mia counts…
1!
2!
NO!
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOO!
Paisner: And Kait’s finally truly where she prefers to be - hitting big power moves!
Woodbridge: I remember getting hit with a cradle DDT just like that one 20 years ago. It was by Hank “Not That One” Williams and…
Paisner: Tell me later, because look at what Kait’s setting up after that kickout!
Kait has gotten back to her feet and crouches down, rocking her weight from side to side as Ayane rolls to her hands and knees and prepares to stand up - then she blasts Ayane on the neck with a scissors kick!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Woodbridge: UNDER THE KNIFE!
Paisner: KCJ just UNLOADING on the rookie Ayane! This match could be over very soon at this pace!
Another cover…
1!
2!
NO!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Paisner: BUT AYANE KICKS OUT!
Woodbridge: You wanna know what fighting spirit is? This is a pretty good example, right here.
Ayane gets her shoulder up in time, wincing and rubbing her neck, but gritting her teeth to get through it - she stands up unsteadily and Kait is ready and throws a clothesline - Ayane blocks with both hands! Kait pulls her hand back to throw a right cross - Ayane catches the wrist - Kait breaks the hold again and steps back, giving Ayane enough space to nail Kait with a dropkick that floors her!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Woodbridge: Beautiful counters! BEAUTIFUL DROPKICK!
Paisner: Ayane may be able to turn this thing around after all!
She falls to the mat and hooks Kait’s leg -
1!
NO!
Crowd: AWWWWWWWWWWWWW…
Paisner: Only a one-count, Kait much tougher than that…
But the momentum is on Ayane’s side now! She batters the now-kneeling Kait with shoot kicks to the chest - then she makes a break for the ropes and comes off with a running roundhouse - she absolutely nails it, but collapses to the ground! With Ayane unable to cover right away, she just focuses on getting her wind back while Kait rolls around on the mat trying to recover - after a few more seconds Ayane wills herself to throw a bicycle kick at the rising Kait, but Kait parries it aside and grabs and lifts Ayane. However, the only throw she can manage is a quick front powerslam, and, knowing that won’t be enough, takes a deep breath, jumps up, and goes for an elbow drop - AYANE SPRINGS TO HER FEET! She catches Kait and PLANTS her with a belly-to-back suplex, and bridges!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AYANE! AYANE! AYANE!
Paisner and Woodbridge: Holy SHIT!
Woodbridge: And that’s a valid pin!
1!
2!
NO!
Crowd: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW…
Paisner: Ayane surprised Kait there once again and that bridge was textbook-perfect. Nothing against KCJ but I would have loved to see Ayane win her debut like that.
Woodbridge: Right? It woulda been earned.
Both women sit straight up, obviously coursing with adrenaline, and scramble to their feet, going in for a lockup one last time - Ayane tries to duck around KCJ for a sleeper again but Kait is ready and blasts her with a back elbow! She turns around and slaps a front facelock on Ayane with practiced ease, and Kait hits her with a snap DDT in no time… she doesn’t cover, though, and makes a run for it…
Crowd: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…
Paisner: I think I know what’s coming…
...Kait comes off the ropes and smashes into the kneeling Ayane with a running knee strike!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Woodbridge: KNEE HAO! THAT’LL DO IT!
1!
2!
3!
DING DING DING!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Babaganoush: Here is your winner, by pinfall -
GiGi his the ring and snatches Javier’s mic away.
GiGi: - at a time of 5 minutes 22 seconds, and the winner of the Top Tier Patron Challenge… one of WiR’s two greatest feminist icons, KAITLYN! CASEY! JONES!
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
“GFY” plays again as Kait looks sweaty but triumphant and Ayane tries to put on a brave face but buries her head in her hands - but nobody’s leaving the ring. Now Kait takes the microphone…
Kaitlyn: GiGi… I just have to say… first, thank you so absolutely much for the opportunity, but second… I don’t want the money.
Crowd: murmurs
Paisner: What’s this about? I’m not sure I understand why she’s--
Woodbridge: Well, there was another prize. One that would appeal more to a si--
Kaitlyn: I think you should give that back to Ayane instead. In fact, you should refund whatever she paid in full… she gave her everything today, and she earned it back.
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Paisner: See, Mark? She’s just being noble about this. You should have bit your tongue when you were about to call her a…
Kaitlyn: Because more than anyone else possibly could, I understand that $1500 a month is a bargain for the chance to be at your side.
Paisner:
Woodbridge:
GiGi: It’s a deal. I’ll be hiring Ayane… but also keeping you, my number 1 VIP patron and bodyguard for life.
The two embrace passionately with Ayane, standing in the corner, looking alternately relieved and like she’d rather be anywhere else. She turns to the back, wistfully, as though she really wants Mina’s guidance.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Woodbridge: I KNEW I SMELLED A SIMP! Kait is selling out everything she stood for, and for what? A few feet pics and a vial of bathwater?!
Paisner: I can already tell this is a dark moment for WiR, Woodbridge.
Under the rain of boos, GiGi and Kait leave the ring together, but Ayane, left alone, manages a determined stance and a fist in the air for the people, which garners her cheers as she goes to the back.
We open to see two huge industrial doors guarded by unknown, black clad men, seemingly unfazed by the Evansville heat. The camera pans around and we see Kyle Scott, shouting, as the audio fades in.
Kyle: -is ours now!
Security Guard: Sir this property belongs to Mr. Malcolm White and we're gonna have to ask you, for the sixth time, please leave.
Kyle: Who the hell is Malcolm White!
Just as Kyle turns to leave through the doors he sees a familiar face, but one that doesn't belong in a place like this, as ginger curls enter the frame the doors slam shut and Kyle walks back to the car park. He begins to unlock the doors of his van as a voice rings out from the back of it.
???: Must be pretty annoying huh?
Kyle: What?
Kyle moves to the back of the van, only to find a tape recorder playing.
???: New faces, old faces, really old faces. Feeling like you're the only person who can see what's going on? Don't worry, you're not. You're right, in fact, always have been. The guy you saw in there? That was "Brother Senior Deacon", Paisner was with him too. It's a sick game they play, they want you to think they're hiding from you, but they're not. You know what you saw, and they know you know what you saw. It's gaslighting, plain and simple. Thing is, you already have the sol-
The tape cuts off, Kyle fumbles with the machine to turn it over, only to be met with the chorus of 5 Million Ways to Kill a C.E.O by The Coup playing on repeat. Kyle finally heads back to his van door, he sits down and turns on the ignition. Gonzo the pony rears his head at the sound of the engine starting, so to does Kyle, and there he sees a note attached to his windscreen.
1437 VINE STREET, CINCINATTI - JUNE 27TH, 7PM
We open our next scene, as we see Stephen Romero backstage, walking up to the locker room. Opening the door, as Romero walks in. As he calls out in the room-
Romero: Hello? I heard you were here.
As Romero calls out to this person, we see someone sitting alone, seemingly lost in thought until they hear Romero. The person then turns their head to look at Romero, as we now see they are none other than Brendan Byrne. Byrne looks up at Romero, as Romero continues to speak.
Romero: Do you have time? I have something i’d like to discuss.
Byrne: Sure, what is it?
Romero: I’ve got a proposition for you, I think you’ll want to hear me out.
Romero then grabs a chair, and sits in front of Byrne, Byrne waiting to hear Romero out.
Romero: So, we have all these partnerships going up around us yes? The man who took your title in Kyle Scott leading his Vanguard, the men who helped cost you that in Maverick and Krieger part of CMC, not to mention Balandran’s crew who i’ve had my own issues with. There’s a lot of bad men coming together, bad men who may have you in their sights.
Byrne: Indeed, I figure I don’t need to make a wild guess to know what you’re getting at here?
Romero: Indeed, right now, all these people with devious intentions are collectives, they work together as one, and someone like you who’s on their lonesome, no matter who good you are, you’ll be fodder when you keep facing five on one assaults. So if they have numbers, then we need our own numbers to protect ourselves, to mold this place into our own, better image. We need to work together as one as well. Because without each other, there’s nothing but mayhem awaiting us. So, I already have Specialist on board with me, I already have Rizwan on board with me, what say you make it another.
Byrne looks at Romero, seeming to contemplate for a moment, taking a deep breath, before-
Byrne: Stephen, I understand what you’re saying, and I trust your intentions. But we’ve done this before, haven’t we? When we were HERO to try and fight off The Strays? What I need you to understand is, last time we did this together, that was one of the lowest points of my life. I nearly gave up my career and left it all behind because of that. I wish you the best of luck, but last time I went another person’s way, that didn’t end well for me. This time, my path needs to be my own.
Romero: Really?! Are you sure of this?! I hope you realize the risk you’re taking-
Byrne: I do, trust me. I just can’t throw it all way again, if I need to take some bruises to keep going, then that’s how it is. And I need to keep going above all else, that’s what I learned when I finally recovered from all the strays and hero stuff. I can’t do that when i’m not the one choosing my path, not again.
Romero: Alright…..I know you’re a smart man, so I trust you’ll find the road you want to take, but even in my own collective I have a rough road ahead of me, so I worry your road won’t even traversible at all.
Byrne: I’ve been through a lot, i’ll make it out the other end one way or another.
Romero: Okay then….get in touch if you ever re-consider, these are hard times to be alone.
Byrne: To be honest, I almost certainly won’t.
Romero: Alright, just stay safe as you can then I guess.
Byrne: Can’t exactly promise that either, but i’ll do everything I can to get where I want.
Romero: Well, I wish you the best of luck, i’ll see myself out.
Romero then stands up, and walks out of the locker room, Byrne watching Romero leave for a moment, as he takes out a pair of earbuds, and before putting them in, calls out-
Byrne: Stay safe out there Stephen!
Romero turns his head back towards Byrne, and nods his head, before heading out. As Byrne then puts in his earbuds, and gets back in his own world to prepare for his statement later tonight.
We then cut back to Paisner and Woodbridge ringside.
Paisner: Welcome back. As you'll be able to see with your own eyes, things are not going great.
Woodbridge: I don't know what you're talking about, Allen, I'm enjoying the content!
The camera pans to the ring, where we find The Superstar and AKI Man, both holding mics in their hands. Javier and senior referee Tai Ni Wong are both in the ring, not doing much if we're being honest.
Superstar: ...Enough is enough, Paisner! You can't keep on putting established, world-renowned teams such as Create-A-Stable against random, low quality teams who've just formed!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Woodbridge: The man has a point, Allen.
AKI Man: We have been here FOREVER! We deserve better than what we've been given!
Superstar: So bring out those nameless fools, maybe we can show 'em how a real team does it! I understand it, you've given up already, that's exactly what you need to do!
[Run the Jewels] starts playing and Santiago Martínez steps through the curtains, followed by his tag team partner, Hugo Ironblood.
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!
Superstar: Fuck you, Santiago, I still had two more lines!
The two men seem relaxed but focused, talking to each other on top of the ramp... Until they realize that they are not alone.
Javier: And their opponents, with a combined weight of 569 pounds...
Paisner: Nice...
Javier: The team of HUGO IRONBLOOD and SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ!
Martínez: Dude, what the hell?
Joining them up there, Cam'ron West, a man with no fear and no understanding of life itself, steps out. The three men walk down the ramp, Hugo and Sparky looking at each other, clearly confused about what's just happened.
Woodbridge: Welp, this is a little awkward.
Ironblood: Uhhh, what do we do now?
Martínez: I don't know, dude! And he doesn't know either! Just improvise a little, shit!
Hugo shrugs and acts surprised at his stablemate's awkward presence.
Ironblood: Heeey, it's Cam'ron-chan, MY FRIEND! How are you doing?
Martínez: Hey! Uhhhh... Cam, do you know who's in this... Eugh, fuck it, you're in. It's probably easier to explain.
Ironblood: Yeah, that seems like a good plan.
Cam'ron doesn't understand what's happened, but he smiles out of politeness. As they make their way to the apron, Hugo climbs the stairs and enters the ring, with Cam'ron right behind him. Santiago stays outside, shooting the shit with some fans.
Woodbridge: I've seen a lot of weird shit in my life, one time I saw a trained chimp make a hot tag in Juarez, but I don't think I've ever seen a switcheroo like this one! Is that even WiR legal, Pais?
Paisner: I... Think it is? And even if it isn't for some technicality, I have no intention in having a discussion with Sparky any time soon!
Referee Wong is a tad befuddled by what has happened, but that doesn't stop him from checking on both teams. On the other hand, the members Create-A-Stable are beyond pissed.
AKI Man: What is going on? You're trying to trick us, huh?
Superstar: Hey, Martínez, you paper champ! You liar! You damn chicken! Guess what? It seems like you need your little goons to cover your cowardly ass! Hahahaha!
Paisner: That was a bit too wordy for a CAW, dare I say.
The Independent Champion ignores the completely absurd allegations, and moves back to his corner, giving Hugo some instructions. Cam'ron and AKI Man move to their respective corners.
Martínez: Alright, Hugo. You lead the way, focus on your FOV, don't run behind them, don't press and save energy for the tag, OK?
Superstar: Hey, Sparky, guess what else? I saw your stream once, AND IT FUCKING SUCKS!
Crowd: OHHHHHHHHHHH!
Woodbridge: Oh, no no no...
Martínez: You know what, Hugo? Fuck it, forget what I told you, it's speedrun time!
Superstar: Wait, what?
Ironblood: HELL YEAH!
DING DING DING
Woodbridge: And here we go!
Wong calls for the bell and Superstar looks in all directions, but he has nowhere to go. He foolishly charges at Ironblood, who dodges his weak strike attempt and grabs him by the throat.
Paisner: Oh, no...
Hugo gets a hold of the massive CAW and yeets him back to his corner. Superstar crashes directly with AKI Man, who loses his balance and falls hard on the floor.
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAY!!!
Paisner: Rough landing for The Superstar, back first on those turnbuckles!
Woodbridge: Sending poor AKI Man down to the-OHHH... OHHHHHHH!!!
The Superstar stumbles out of the corner straight into Hugo's arms. The larger man grabs him by the legs and slams him back first on his knee. Superstar twists and turns, squirming in pain, but Hugo covers him and hooks his leg.
Woodbridge: The intros were way longer than the match.
1!
2!
3!
DING DING DING
Javier: The winners of the match, at a time of 34 seconds, the team of Cam'ron West and Hugo Ironblood!!!
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!
Paisner: And that's how it all ends! A brutal Spinebuster from Hugo Ironblood!
Woodbridge: That man is a freak of nature, Allen. You combine that with Cam'ron's raw talent and the mighty spirit of CoolSkorpion84, and you have a team that can accomplish a lot!
Hugo quickly gets up and both Cameron and Santiago raise his arms, while the camera pans to a WiR doctor checking on AKI Man, still laid out on the floor.
Crowd: YAAAAAAAY!!!
The three men exit the ring and we cut back to Paisner and Woodbridge on the commentary table.
Paisner: Remind me to never make fun of Santiago's channel, by the way.
Woodbridge: Don't worry, I'll make sure you won't. My nephews are huge fans of his!
Paisner: Oh, really?
Woodbridge: Yeah. Wade's kids: Trendon and Loryn! I even got Sparky to sign some stuff for 'em!
Paisner: Awwww, that's so sweet, Mark! And so... unexpectedly nice of you! How old are the little fellas?
Woodbridge: They're 23 and 19.
Paisner: We'll be back after a message from our sponsors.
[COMMERCIAL]
We come back from commercial, where we see Stephen Romero standing in front of a mirror backstage in his wrestling tights and gear, a phone in hand as he scrolls through the TikTok page of fellow WiR wrestler and content creator GiGi. He tries to emulate a pose she does while watching himself in the mirror, bucking out his hip with his hands on one knee. Suddenly a door swings open to reveal Buster Braggadocio, who has stumbled across the dancing Romero and puts an ashamed hand over his head in disapproval.
Buster: I KNOW you are not dancing on fucking TikTok….
Romero: Hey, listen, content creation requires trying something n-
Buster points at the wrestling gear on Romero.
Buster: In your TIGHTS!!! Come on, brotha, have some Class!! Let’s get you in something fashionable so the gays on twitter don’t roast you.
Romero: Buster, i am a gay on twitter.
Buster: And if you want to keep it that way, you got to stay drippin!
Romero looks shocked but pleased as we now cut to a Tik Tok montage, set to music, in which Romero is in a changing room and does a model walk out to reveal to Buster a bomber jacket with jeans and a white undershirt, but Buster shakes his head disapprovingly. Romero reluctantly walks back to the changing room, and now finds himself changed into a big denim jacket with shorts and sandals, but Buster gives an instant and stern shake of the head as Romero heads back dejected yet again.
This time, Romero emerges in a buttoned down striped shirt with black pants. Buster seems to stare for a moment in contemplation, before shaking his head yet again and sending Romero back to the changing room.
Finally, Romero walks out in a kente cloth top and skirt, the top tastefully covering his nipples, as Buster simply nods and gives a thumbs up. Romero seems unconfident in the idea at first, but looks in the mirror and does a twirl, giving an approving nod at his own figure.
Romero: I guess I have to admit, it shows off some skin and I like it, that’s gotta count for something in getting me some exposure, no pun intended.
Buster: We aren’t done yet, my melanin-blessed friend. As a matter fact, we have just begun.
We now cut to Romero in the weight room, with Buster in a headband, gym shorts and a whistle as he barks orders at the larger of the two.
Buster: 10 PUSHUPS!
Romero knocks out ten consecutive pushups like it’s nothing.
Buster: NOW 10 FLOSSES!
Romero hops to his feet and hits the dance move with agility, ease, and fluidity.
Buster: 10 MORE PUSHUPS, NOW!
Romero drops to his feet and hits another 10 pushups.
Buster: NOW HIT THAT WOAH!
Romero pops up to his feet and hits it.
Buster: Yes.
We now cut to Romero leaning against a wall exhausted, as he goes to a nearby water fountain and leans down, still not reaching the low hanging fountain before just getting on his knees to reach the height needed to sip from it. Suddenly the stream of water is interrupted as Buster drops a massive stack of papers in a laminated binder onto the fountain in front of Romero’s face.
Buster: Here’s a list of tik tokkers to study. I’m gonna need you to write a 12 page report on this and have it back to me by sundown, capiche?
Romero: Buster, you just put that in the water.
Buster looks down and squeals as he lifts the binder out of the water stream but the water has already bled thru and soiled the many many pages.
Buster: I worked for weeks compiling the hottest trendiest dances, challenges, and personalities in a multifaceted report! For what?!?
Romero: It’s probably out of date information anyways if it took you that long to compile it, sorry to say.
Buster: I miss Vine.
We cut back to the arena, where the crowd is buzzing. There's a moment of anticipation, before Brendan Byrne walks out, to no music, in jeans and a t-shirt with his microphone in his hand.
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Paisner: We haven't seen more than brief flashes of Byrne since the world title was stolen from him by Kyle Scott.
Woodbridge: And it's great to see him back and at 100%, but why is he here to call out Maverick, out of everyone involved?
Byrne seems to be on a mission, acknowledging the crowd but barely interacting with them as he walks up the stairs and steps into the ring.
Byrne: Alright, let's make this quick. I know you have places to be, superheroes to assault, and money to lose. Get out here, Mav.
There's a pause. Byrne shifts from foot to foot, waiting for a response. There is none.
Byrne: No, Mav, I don't think you get it. There's no option here - either you come out here like a man or I drag you out here kicking and screaming by your dollar bill -
Maverick's theme hits, cutting Byrne off. Byrne leans over the ropes as Maverick steps out, baseball bat in hand.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOO!
Paisner: Maverick still holding that bat he used to beat down Dutch earlier, and he looks ready for another fight!
Maverick starts booking it towards the ring, holding the bat threateningly.
Byrne: Hold up, pardner. I'm not here to fight you - not yet, anyway. If we were going to do that you’d already have a lead pipe bent around your skull. So, that in mind, you can come in here with a bat like some bloody axe murderer and get your head kicked off your shoulders, or you can listen to me. Your choice, cowboy.
Maverick weighs his options for a moment, before conceding that Byrne does in fact have the high ground, and cautiously moving around the ring, never taking his eyes off Byrne.
Byrne: You see, Mav, I get everything else. Kyle took advantage of a situation Charlie Krieger created. Charlie - well, I thought we could change him, but he's always been drawn to power above all else.
There's a brief pause, as Maverick grabs a mic off the timekeepers table.
Byrne: You? I respected you, Maverick. You did what was right for yourself, not because you were afraid of becoming some sort of monster. Why throw that all away?
Maverick: Me? Throw everything away? I couldn't even buy myself a goddamn cheeseburger when Paisner called me back! I was flat fucking broke because of the company you let die, Brendan. When I saw Charlie's bounty, I realized I got to hurt you, and I got to solve my money issues. And now? Now Roscoe and I will never be poor again.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOO!
Byrne seems a little bit rattled, but does his best to compose himself.
Byrne: I let this company die? I poured my heart and soul into it until the last moment, even when you were fighting Ryan Sunshine and pretending you were still the bloody man to beat. As for everything else... Nobody knew, Mav. You went off the grid. All you ever had to do was ask. But, well - that answers my question. Byrne rolls out of the ring, and starts walking backstage, somewhat deflated. Maverick is confused for a moment, then responds.
Maverick: I - What question?
Byrne turns, still walking to the curtain, and responds.
Byrne: I wanted to know what kind of man would turn his back on everything he believed in. Now I do.
Byrne disappears behind the curtain, and Maverick seems struck for a moment, before grabbing his bat, throwing the mic on the ground angrily, and storming backstage as well.
Paisner: Byrne seemingly piercing Maverick’s self-righteous armor with that remark a little bit. Maybe it’ll be enough to bring back the guy we knew?
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2020.06.26 00:52 Taxi_Dancer THE ONLY AMERICANS WORTH DYING FOR

THE ONLY AMERICANS WORTH DYING FOR
2000 hrs.
“KAF (pronounced “kaff”) IS UNDER ROCKET ATTACK!” “KAF IS UNDER ROCKET ATTACK!”
A robotic voice with a British accent reverberates across the breadth and width of the ten square mile base, accompanied by the warbling drone of an alert siren.
“KAF IS UNDER ROCKET ATTACK!” KRRRUMMPPP! KRRRUMMPPP!
The base is rocked by the impact of incoming rocket rounds. The Taliban are firing Chinese 122mm unguided surface to surface rockets from hidden positions secretly carved into the surrounding area. The rockets are not particularly accurate, but that makes them unpredictable. Ten thousand NATO and coalition military personnel and civilian contractors live and operate here on this dusty, smelly, base sprawled out across a baking desert valley floor in Afghanistan. This is Kandahar Air Base, KAF for short. It’s the largest NATO base in existence, and it’s where the free world has chosen to fight against the Taliban. Its eight o’clock at night, but Kandahar is still swelteringly hot. And right now, ten thousand souls are wondering where the next rocket will strike.
KRRRUMMMP! KRRRUMMMP!
“KAF IS UNDER ROCKET ATTACK!” Most of the base inhabitants are either huddled in concrete bunkers or taking shelter in hardened structures or armored vehicles. Depending on the current Threat Condition, or THREATCON, everyone is required to have their body armor and helmet readily available, including the civilian contractors. Whether you are going to the showers, or going to the laundry, gym, or going to get chow, you had to have your body armor available. This is, after all, a war zone. The enemy can launch rockets at you at any time, and they often did. KAF is a gigantic target.
“KAF IS UNDER ROCKET ATTACK” Very few of the base personnel are actually in prepared fighting positions on the perimeter ready to defend the base. In truth, during a rocket attack, there is really nothing to shoot at. The best thing to do is simply get into your body armor, grab your weapon, get under cover, and wait. Only if the Taliban decided to launch a ground attack would there be actual targets to shoot, and in that event, it would be extremely critical that all of the enemy forces be killed before they breach the perimeter fence line. If just one enemy fighter wearing a suicide bomb breached the defenses and ran into a bunker or a building filled with soldiers, it would be a victory for the Taliban that would have world wide repercussions. Just one successful mass casualty bombing inside KAF could inspire hundreds more Islamists to join the jihad while causing the people of the free world to question if this war is really worth the sacrifice.
When the rocket attacks start, we find ourselves at the Reception, Staging, Onward movement, and Integration compound, also known as the RSOI. The RSOI is a compound of three, two story buildings built on a flat slab of sun baked earth and used to house units arriving in Kandahar. The concrete-hardened buildings consist of a series of huge, interconnected, open bays. New units arriving in Afghanistan stay in the RSOI compound, getting acclimatized to the weather and receiving any additional training they may need before they are pushed out to their respective operating areas throughout the war zone. Theoretically, the buildings are built to withstand the blast from an incoming rocket, but no one is in a hurry to test that theory.
We are sharing the RSOI with several other units, including a Navy construction unit, an aviation unit, as well as a detachment of US Marines. All of these units are scrambling to get accountability of their soldiers when the first rockets hit. Our unit First Sergeant, 1SG (shorthand brevity for the words First Sergeant) Calhoun, is barking orders to the platoon leaders and section sergeants. We need 100% accountability of where everyone is located. Who is doing laundry? Who is at the Board Walk? Who is at the gym? Also, since our female soldiers are housed in a separate RSOI building, we need 100% accountability of their status, as well. 1SG Calhoun, an old mountain man from the hills of Gate City in western Virginia, tolerates zero excuses from leaders who do not know where their people are located. At the same time, he rains hell and brimstone on any soldier, regardless of rank, who is caught without his or her body armor and helmet.
Barking orders and threatening first line leaders, 1SG Calhoun quickly gets all the answers he needs about the location of the soldiers in his unit. Ours is a Combat Sustainment Support Battalion, or CSSB, a command and control unit which is designed to take command of company sized logistical units that support and supply combat units stationed across the entire battle zone. Because of the nature of our unit, as far as rank is concerned, we are considered a top heavy unit. Where a regular infantry unit of 120 soldiers would have one captain and four lieutenants, our unit of barely 80 soldiers has five captains, six lieutenants, plus three majors, three warrant officers, a sergeant major, and a light colonel. The unit manning roster of our CSSB shows that there are as many senior ranking soldiers as there are junior enlisted soldiers. So it would take a hard smoking, hard drinking, hard charging, fist pounding person like 1SG Calhoun to keep command and control of a unit like this one. For almost everyone in the CSSB, this is their first taste of an incoming rocket attack, and as far as 1SG Calhoun was concerned, he would make sure his soldiers respected him more than they feared the Taliban.
The majority of the junior enlisted soldiers, privates to specialists, are in the RSOI compound. The rest are out doing laundry, or at the Board Walk, or eating dinner at one of the base’s three giant mess halls. Most of the senior leadership and officers are out exploring the base, or attending briefings, or meeting their NATO counterparts. All are accounted for and ordered to shelter in place until the attack stops.
KRRRUMMMPPP! KRRRUMMMPPP!
More incoming rounds land in and around the base. Three of our female soldiers rush into our open bay, pushing past a group of officers before running to 1SG Calhoun with medic bags in hand.
“First Sergeant!” It’s Specialist Sanderson, a young communications technician from northern Virginia. “We were doing laundry and saw a rocket hit near a group of Canadian civilian contractors! They weren’t wearing body armor! About nine of them are hurt.”
“God damn, fucking civilians!” yelled Calhoun. “That’s why you don’t get fucking complacent in fucking Afghanistan! Where are they?”
“About a klick out, Top!” SPC (shorthand brevity for the word Specialist) Sanderson answered in a manner which told that she was used to the 1SG Calhoun’s abrasive language. “We ran back here to get our aid bags! First Sergeant, we’re requesting permission to go help them!”
The three female soldiers aren’t medics. They are administrative and support soldiers, but they are also trained as combat lifesavers. It’s an additional duty they volunteered for in which they receive basic medical training in order to stabilize a casualty until actual medics can arrive on scene.
1SG Calhoun, our tough-as-nails, heavy drinking, heavy smoking, heavy cursing leader, looks down at these three young females. None of them are over the age of twenty-one. In fact, 1SG Calhoun’s own daughter back home is older than they are. Sanderson looks up at 1SG Calhoun, saying nothing, but pleading with deep blue eyes. Pain and agony etches itself across the first sergeant’s face. He feels like they are his own daughters, although he will never admit it. But they are soldiers first, and brave.
“Dammit! Get out there,” Calhoun barks. “But be careful! I want a status report ASAP!” Looks of pride and determination are shared on the faces of the three young soldiers as they gather up their medic bags. Calhoun turns to a soldier standing next to him. “Lieutenant! You ain’t doing shit with that! Give Specialist Sanderson here your radio!”
“Do you want some of us to escort them, Top?” the lieutenant says, handing his radio into the eager hands of SPC Sanderson.
“Do you have any rounds, El-tee?” Calhoun replies.
“No,” the lieutenant answers. “We haven’t been issued rounds yet.”
“Then stay your asses here,” Calhoun says. “The less people we have running around in the dark the better! Besides, those three can handle themselves!” He watches the three young female soldiers run out of the bay and into the darkness.
“KAF IS UNDER ROCKET ATTACK!”
KRRRUMMPP! KRRRUMMMP!
Suddenly, a new sound fills the air, the unmistakable staccato-thump-thump-thump-thump of M2 .50 caliber heavy machine guns being fired. We watch as red tracer rounds are flying off into the night sky about two kilometers to the west. They are accompanied by the sound of smaller caliber machine guns. Just as we realize that a new threat has emerged, the sound and pitch of the warning sirens change. The droning, warbling noise of the rocket warning siren increases in tempo to a high pitched whop-whop-whop-whop sound. A new warning is sent over the base intercom system:
“KAF IS UNDER GROUND ATTACK! KAF IS UNDER GROUND ATTACK!”
1SG Calhoun immediately looks out the doors, instantly regretting letting three of his young females go out into the night on their mission of mercy.
And so, the nightmare scenario begins. It’s only our second night in Afghanistan, the most dangerous place in the world, and the enemy has launched a major rocket attack against the base, followed by a ground assault. From our position in the RSOI, we have no data on how many enemy fighters are assaulting the perimeter. But since the firing is coming from the west, we assume that the enemy is attacking the air field. We have plenty of weapons but haven’t been issued ammunition, meaning we will have no way to defend ourselves should the enemy assault penetrate to our area.
The firing from the west intensifies as the Marines get word that a full on ground assault is happening at the air field. Already, several suicide bombers have attempted to blow holes if the defensive perimeter. We are told to lock but don’t load, meaning we are to have a magazine in our weapon, but no round in the chamber. We are also told to shelter in place and wait for the Quick Reaction Force, or QRF, to get to us. The QRF, as the name implies, are teams of soldiers and armored vehicles whose job is to rapidly find, isolate, and destroy the enemy if they happen to breach the base defensive perimeter. But there are only a few QRF teams, and Kandahar is a huge base, almost a size of a city. So with nearly 400 soldiers and Marines at the RSOI complex, the hunt immediately begins to find ammunition.
I know that a small handful of our soldiers, our advance party which arrived in Kandahar a few days before us, were issued one magazine of ammunition containing 30 rounds. Running through the halls of our RSOI building, I manage to track down an NCO from our advance party. I tell him to give me twenty-five rounds from his thirty round magazine so that I can arm five soldiers with five rounds each. It’s not much, but we could put up some type of defense against a suicide bomber.
The NCO, a senior supply sergeant who outranks me, is a veteran of OIF who had experienced a bombing at a dining facility in Baghdad. He is visibly shaken by what is going on and refuses to give up any of his ammunition, stating that he would have to sign it over to me and that I needed the commander to initial off on the transfer via a certain ammunition requisition form which he didn’t have at the moment.
Disappointed at his show of cowardice in front of subordinate soldiers, since he had previously bragged of being a combat veteran, I yell at him to get his head out of his ass. I physically strip the frightened NCO of twenty-five if his 5.56 caliber rounds and promise him that I will get him more ammunition if we survive the night. I then tell this senior ranking supply sergeant to take his weapon and his five rounds and go protect the females at their RSOI building. He turns pale at the prospect of leaving the safety of our RSOI building, but I give him a thumbs up and yell, “You’re my hero!” before I leave him to his task. Although it is only thirty feet between RSOI buildings, I have doubts as to whether or not he will do what I told him to do.
In all, I am able to collect 50 rounds of ammunition from our advance party soldiers. I load five rounds into a magazine for myself, and then distribute the rest to other eager young soldiers. The Marines, who turn out to be scout snipers, also distribute what ammunition they can spare. In the bay which we converted into a makeshift command center, a hasty defensive plan is formed. Soldiers will take cover in the drainage ditches and culverts surrounding each of the three RSOI buildings. The Marine snipers will take rooftop positions on two of the RSOI buildings, keeping observation on the approaches and alerting us of anyone advancing towards the compound. The twenty of us tasked with guarding the RSOI compound are in weapons-tight mode, meaning we are locked but not loaded, and we are not to fire unless we have a legitimate hostile target. Everyone else is to stay inside the RSOI buildings and not leave until the all clear is given.
“KAF IS UNDER GROUND ATTACK! KAF IS UNDER GROUND ATTACK!”
As the British voice drones on over the loud speakers, I hunker down inside a drainage ditch at the south-west corner of the south RSOI building, closest to where I can see the firefight going on at the airfield. Behind me about twenty meters, one or our captains is hunkered down and observing from another drainage ditch. The air is heavy from the humidity, and thick with the smell of raw sewage drifting around from the nearby waste water treatment facility, also known as the Poop Pond.
“KAF IS UNDER GROUND ATTACK! KAF IS UNDER GROUND ATTACK!”
Despite the sound of gunfire in the distance, it is eerily quiet, except for the big voice in the sky. That’s when I notice it. The rockets have stopped. I hear the sound of rocks crunching beside me and look up to see an armed figure running to my position from the second RSOI building. The RSOI complex is well lit and I see that it’s the senior NCO from the US Marine sniper teams. This one is the exact opposite of our shaky senior supply NCO. There was no hesitation in him to take charge of the defense of the RSOI complex. The Marine Gunnery Sergeant organized our observation positions, and then assigned our sectors of defensive fire. He kneeled at the edge of the drainage ditch next to me, whispering.
“We just got word that the perimeter has been breached.”
“How many got through, Gunny?” I ask.
“We don’t know, but stay cool. We got more good guys in here than bad guys, so we don’t want to shoot up any friendlies, especially the QRF!”
“Roger that, Gunny.” I reply. “Any word on when QRF will get here?”
“No,” the Marine answered. “Right now they have to clear every section of the base, block by block. It may take a while before they get to us.”
BRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTT! BRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!
The sound of buzz saws, as if wielded by God Himself, rips the night. Both of us look to the dark sky in the direction of the airfield. The pitch black night is lit up by hundreds of tracer rounds slamming earthwards, like red fingers of death reaching out to the enemy.
“A-10’s!” the Marine and I say, filled with amazement and awe. We don’t see them, but we can hear the high pitched whine of their engines and the tremor of the ground as the American attack aircraft hit the enemy with their 30mm Avenger cannons blazing.
BRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTT! BRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTT!
That’s good news. The enemy cannot have shut down the air field if we were able to put A-10 attack fighters in the air. Suddenly, we see a red flare shoot up from inside the perimeter of the airfield and arc up into the sky. It’s a signal flare, but what is it signaling? And who fired it?
“What the hell?” I say.
“I’m not sure,” the Marine replies. “This sector is yours. Keep an eye out for the QRF. We’ll get through this just fine, just stay cool! I’m going to the roof!”
“NO!”
“HOOAH (pronounced “who-raa!”), Gunny!” I say with as much confidence as my dry throat can muster.
“NO!”
“OORAH (pronounced “uh-oh-aa!”)!” the Gunnery Sergeant answers as he picks up his M16 and disappears around the corner of the building.
“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”
The soldier stopped reading from his folder and looked up from the podium. At the back of a classroom of fifty college students, a balding fat man with an unkempt graying beard stared back at the soldier, hate beaming from his two, close-set eyes. The college instructor stomped a fat, sandal clad, foot on the floor every time he yelled, “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”
Spittle began dripping down his beard.
“When I gave the class an assignment to write about a significant event that occurred in your life, I did not want to hear this! I did not want to hear this… this… this… patriotic, God Bless America, toxic, Alpha-male bull shit!”
The soldier stood calmly, waiting, his eyes fixed on the college instructor’s. Fifteen meters. Easy head shot. No collateral damage.
The lack of response from the soldier infuriated the teacher. The college instructor lashed out, his clenched fists beating the air, spittle spraying from his mouth again. “I want to hear stories about rampant homophobia in the ranks! I want to hear stories about lustful homosexual acts in the foxholes! I want to hear stories about Islamophobia, about rape, and about baby-killing! You know! I want to hear stories about what really goes on in the military, not this Fox News propaganda garbage!”
The soldier allowed a little smile. “And have you ever served your country, sir?”
“No, I have not!” scowled the college instructor. “But I don’t have to serve in the military to know that all of you, ALL OF YOU, are brainwashed Islamophobes who do nothing but kill babies! I don’t know how you got registered into this class just two weeks before the semester ends, but I’m shutting your patriotic bullshit down, soldier boy!”
It was decision time. The soldier stood silently, scanning the faces of the dozens of students in the room. Most of them were smiling in agreement with their teacher, some even clapping. The rest simply sat and scowled at the soldier. The fat man stood with his arms crossed over his fat belly, pleased to see that the indoctrination was working. These students were the real heroes! These students were the real future! These students were the real revolutionaries! Not those American bitter clingers of their guns, and Bibles, and Constitution!
Only one student remained emotionless. A young female sat silently at her table looking out the window, her deep blue eyes seemingly staring at something far, far away. A sand beige colored backpack with a white, oval, sticker which read “Afghanistan: I SERVED” rested next to her prosthetic leg.
The soldier closed his folder, and walked calmly out of the double doors that led out of the classroom. He knew definitively that, except for those he considered family, the only Americans truly worth dying for were those in Afghanistan, or Iraq, or anywhere else they had been called to serve their country. As the soldier walked down the hall away from the classroom, he heard the doors behind him open again then close as someone else came walking out. By the quick pace of the footsteps closing behind him, the soldier knew who it was. Without turning around, the soldier said, “I don’t think they liked my story.”
“Fuck them,” said SPC Sanderson. “Wait,” she continued, quickening her pace despite the fact that her injury in Afghanistan took one of her legs. “Wait right there, mister!”
The soldier stopped and turned, looking sadly at SPC Sanderson. She brushed a strand of light brown hair from her face, tears streaming down her eyes. “Why do you do it, Sergeant?”
The soldier blinked slowly, his expression softening as he regarded the young female whom he had served with in Afghanistan. They were standing alone in the brightly lit corridor lined with huge windows which looked over the campus. “I’ve never seen you cry, Nichole. Not even when you were injured in Afghanistan.” The soldier wanted to wipe her tears away, but he knew that he couldn’t.
“Why, Rick?” she said. “Every year since you were killed in Afghanistan, the week after Memorial Day, you come back. Why?”
The soldier smiled. “It’s not just me, Nichole. Lots of us come back for a little while. Me. 1SG Calhoun. Chuck. Davis. Even folks who died in previous wars come back to take a look around. Some of us who have served come back, but not all.”
“But why?” persisted SPC Sanderson.
The sad expression returned to the soldier’s eyes. “We come back every year to see if the American people are still worth our sacrifice. To see if they still deserve to have people like us fighting and dying for them. When one of us chooses not to return, that means that fallen warrior does not think America is worthy of defending anymore. And every year, the number of us who come back to check on things gets fewer and fewer.”
“And what happens when you all stop returning?” she asked. “What happens when the last of us feels like America is no longer worth the effort?”
“America will die,” said the soldier. As he faded into the air, the soldier said finally, “And Nichole, I won’t be coming back next year.”
“Hey! War Hero!” The fat instructor stood with his arms folded in the doorway of his classroom, staring daggers at the young lady standing alone in the hallway. “Are you coming back to class, or not?”
“No,” said Specialist Fourth Class Nichole Sanderson, who had been awarded the Bronze Star Medal with “V” device for valor, the Army Commendation Medal with “V” device for valor, and the Purple Heart for sustaining combat injuries while saving lives in Afghanistan. “No, I won’t be coming back. And I won’t be coming back next year either.”
submitted by Taxi_Dancer to DrCreepensVault [link] [comments]


2020.06.22 01:04 HelpfulApple22 Is my Star Card setup good for getting the Multi-Tasking trophy?

So, I think we ALL know about the infamous Multi-Tasking trophy, where you have to kill 25 OP Hero ships whose names are probably Chad and who work out at the gym 24/7 with your peewee vanilla Fighter-class ship that will drop dead if you poke it with a stick. And so, skill and maxed out Star Cards are necessary to be able to even catch a glimpse of the Hero ship Chad’s muscles that are the size of Yavin Prime. So, I was wondering if my Star Card setup would be efficient in slaying the Slave 1 or blasting the Millennium Falcon into the next millennium. Here it is:
  1. Primary fire damage increase. (10% increase)
  2. Health increase. (20% increase)
  3. Torpedo damage increase. (40% increase)
I’d say it increases my damage enough to stand up to a Millennium Falcon and also gives me enough of a health boost to make sure I don’t die TOO easily. What are your thoughts? Would you make any modifications, or keep it the same?
Edit: wow I said “increase” a lot in this post. Oh, I said it again there.
submitted by HelpfulApple22 to BattlefrontTWO [link] [comments]


2020.06.01 22:08 bloobybear Gym Class Boxing

Who do you think will win? ;)

“You win,” he squeaked meekly, his voice several octaves higher and weaker than the tough growling bravado he had touted just a few minutes before.
Her knee was still buried deeply in his groin. She had pistoned it up between his legs with blinding force, eliciting a solid, resounding crunch as it smashed his most tender organs against his pelvis. The crowd let out a long sympathetic “Oooooooohhhhhh” as the blow struck home. Brad squealed, his cry ululating like a tea kettle. He had actually heard the crunch. So had she.
“Huh, I thought that only happened in movies,” Lindsay said to him. She smiled into his eyes, which had begun to cross and fill with tears.
Excited titters swept through the crowd of students watching the fight: “Holy shit, I actually heard them!” “That has gotta hurt!” “I felt that one and I don’t even have balls!” Neither does Brad anymore!”
"Foul!" Cried Mark, Brad's toadie and assistant captain of the school's boxing club. "She hit below the belt!"
Lindsay, whose knee was still planted firmly between Brad's legs, scoffed. Brad, meanwhile, let out another high-pitched whine and collapsed, his torso draped around Lindsay's pretty thigh.
"That rule only applies to boy's boxing!" Lindsay protested. "This is a battle of the sexes. To see who's stronger: boys or girls."
"But that's not fair!" Mark whined. Lindsay noticed that the other boy's knees were also turned inward, as if in sympathy pains for the scrambled eggs of his captain.
"It seems fair to me," said Ms. Buckley. The pretty, young P.E. teacher stood ringside, watching the fight. It had been rather one-sided thus far, with Lindsay lacing the male fighter with three consecutive punches and following it up with that devastating knee. The crunch had been music to her ears, topped only by the arrogant boy's soprano submission. Guess he's rethinking who the tougher sex is now.
"Like Lindsay said," continued Ms. Buckley, "this was a contest to see who was stronger, boys or girls. Brad seemed quite confident a minute ago that boys were superior, so it only seems fair that blows to areas exclusive to one gender be allowed. What do you think Brad?"
The boy only let out a long, squealing EEEEEEEEE in response, Lindsay's feminine knee still mashing his tender nuts mercilessly into his pelvis.
"Oopsies," said Lindsay, smiling coyly. "Looks like Brad is having trouble answering. Coach asked you a question, State Champ," she teased, lowering her leg slightly. Brad gasped and another wince came from the audience as their prized fighter, who had so confidently boasted "Girls can't box!" just moments before, came down off his tiptoes. Lindsay swiftly grabbed a handful of the boy's hair before he could collapse to the canvas.
"So, Brad, would you say that my strike was effective?" asked Lindsay, smiling as she turned the boy to face the crowd of his classmates. He dangled from her grasp, his knees just barely off the canvas and his hands doing their best to cup his aching plums through his boxing gloves. He had never been hit so hard, in all his years of boxing. In fact, he’d never been put on the mat by an opponent. He was undefeated and the state boxing champ, but Lindsay, the petite gymnastics star, now had him clutching his most delicate appendages and squealing like a little girl. In front of half the senior class!
A sea of blushing female faces looked on as he swung by his hair from Linday’s grasp, alongside a collection of wincing boys, uneasy about the humiliation and emasculation of their one-time hero at the hands (and knees) of the beautiful young lady now propping him up like a marionette.
"I asked you a question, Brad!" Lindsay repeated, yanking his hair. The champion boxer yelped pathetically. “Did my knee hurt?”
Brad nodded urgently. Giggles spread across the audience from the onlooking girls.
“But you said I was too weak to box, remember? Because I’m a girl. Our bodies are too weak. Remember?” Lindsay twisted the boy’s hair, loving the groans and squeaks she elicited. Ms. Buckley hid her giggling face behind her clipboard, but Lindsay caught sight of the coach’s reaction and received a newfound boost of confidence.
“It seems like the pain you’re in is something unique to boys, no?” Lindsay cooed.
“Please,” Brad sobbed. “You win. I give. I give!” This brought about a cheer from the girls in the crowd and a dejected sigh from the boys.
“Oh, come on, man!” Mark roared. “She’s just a girl! Kick her ass!”
Just a girl?” Lindsay fumed, yanking Brad onto his tiptoes once more. The boy screamed and whined.
From ringside, Ms. Buckley rang the bell. She flashed Lindsay a quick smile and a wink. “I think that’s the end of round one. Lindsay 1, Brad 0.”
Round one?!” Brad asked in a bout of panic.
“Well, yes, you submitted. That’s one-nothing girls. We’re going to three, just like you wanted,” said Ms. Buckley with a mischievous grin. She couldn’t wait to see Lindsay land a few more nut-splitting blows on this cocky jerk.
“But I give up!” Brad pleaded. “She wins!”
“Exactly. Lindsay wins this round,” Ms. Buckey responded. “Decisively, I’d say.” The girls laughed again. “But you were adamant on three rounds, remember? Lindsay only wanted one, but you said you wanted to ‘really work her over’ and, what was it? Oh yes, ‘put the bitch in her place.’” She smiled her cruelest smile into the boy’s tearful eyes. “Thirty seconds to recover and then it’s round two. Oh, and so we’re all clear,” she looked deep into Brad’s eyes, “no blows are illegal.” All the color drained from the boy’s face and he began to whimper.
“Yes!” Lindsay exclaimed, letting go of Brad’s hair. The boy slammed, face-first, into the canvas, his gloved hands still wrapped firmly around his groin as he lay sniveled into the mat. “See you in thirty, State Champ. We’re gonna really hit some high notes in the next round,” Lindsay said, leaning down over her prostrate opponent. She then bounced off to her corner, all smiles, her pert breasts jiggling in her pink sports bra.
“Get up, Brad, you’re embarrassing us!” Mark seethed through the ropes. Brad didn’t lift his face from the canvas. “She’s a girl! A girl!! And she’s kicking your ass. It’s humiliating.”
Other boys now joined in, attempting to rally their champion. “Yeah, kick her ass, Brad! You’re the state champ!”
“You’ve never lost a fight!”
Somehow, Brad managed to get his knees beneath him. Slowly, he found his feet. His balls still throbbed, but the acute pain was now abating.
“Kick her fucking ass,” Mark told him. Brad slammed his gloved fists together.
They were right. She’s just a girl. He was going to smash her pretty face to dust.
Ding! Ding!
Ms. Buckley rang the bell and round two was underway (much sooner than Brad could have anticipated). Lindsay bounced lightly on the balls of her feet as she approached him at center ring from her corner.
“Oh, goodie! You got back up! I was afraid this wasn’t going to be much of a fight,” Lindsay mocked. “That would really be embarrassing, if the school’s boxing champ couldn’t even land a punch against a weak, little girl.”
“You got your free cheapshot, bitch,” Brad snarled, feeling a bit of his old machismo kicking back in as the pain in his balls dulled. “Now you’re going to learn why girls shouldn’t get in the ring with men.”
Roaring, the boy swung a mighty haymaker at Lindsay’s beautiful, smiling face. Easily, the graceful girl ducked beneath the gloved fist of her male opponent, stepped forward and smashed her own glove into the state champ’s shirtless stomach, just as he was throwing all his weight into his punch. A meaty smack rang out as Lindsay’s jab struck home, followed by a long huuuuuu as all the air exited Brad’s lungs in a breathy gust.
“Ouch,” Ms. Buckley chirped in from ringside. “That looked like it hurt.”
Gasping, Brad collapsed to his knees, one hand clutching his stomach while the other held him up from the canvas.
“Oh, come on, champ. You’re down again?” Lindsay purred. “You haven’t even hit me yet. Maybe we should keep score of our hits? That’d be fun! I think it’s 3-0.”
“4-0, actually,” offered Ms. Buckley.
Lindsay giggled. “Ouch, worse than I thought!”
“You...bitch…,” Brad gasped from his knees.
“Get up! She’s dominating you,” Mark screamed from outside the ring. “Smash her!”
Slowly, Brad regained his stance. Lindsay eyed him, grinning confidently. “I’ll wait,” she said. Furious, but still hurting, Brad brought up his gloves. “Ready? Maybe you’ll do better this time!” teased Lindsay.
“I’m going to kick your ass, you little —,” Brad began, before being cut off by Lindsay’s glove flashing out and blasting into his unprotected eye.
“5-0,” said the girl, matter-of-factly, as the boy’s head snapped back.
Irate and determined to show the superiority of his gender, Brad hollered and threw another wild punch at his female opponent. Lithely, the blonde fatale slipped his strike yet again, planted her foot firmly into the mat and brought a devastating kick into the boy’s side. Even before Brad could fold over, Lindsay stepped forward, placed a gloved hand on each of the boy’s broad shoulders and then brought her forehead crashing into his nose.
Another long, sympathetic oooooooooohhh came from the crowd as Brad shrieked and clutched his bloody face.
“Foul!” Mark cried, his voice nearly as high as Brad’s had been when Lindsay had smashed his nuts to end the last round. “You can’t headbutt in boxing!”
Ms. Buckley waved off the boy’s protests. “No blows are illegal, remember?” she said. “Besides, Lindsay is ‘just a girl’, after all.”
In the ring, Brad was whimpering behind his gloves. “Oh, God,” he murmured. “My nose!” The boy was clutching his face with his gloves, legs spread wide as he tried to balance himself. Lindsay, seeing the opportunity presented her, sauntered towards her unaware opponent.
There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd, which, seeing Brad standing with his legs so invitingly spread and the already-battered contents of his lycra shorts so prominently displayed between them, leaned forward in anticipation of yet another nut-shattering strike to the state champ’s prized possessions.
“Oh no…,” Mark sighed, almost queasy at the thought of what was about to become of his captain’s privates.
Lindsay stepped forward, planted her lead foot, raised her back leg as high as only a varsity gymnast could, then swung it forward with ludicrous speed to bury the tip of her sneaker between Brad’s spread legs.
CAAAAA-RUUUUUUUNCHHHHH
She couldn’t have aimed better, as her shoe smashed both of Brad’s plums to the point of compression. The sound was shocking, like two walnuts being crushed by a mallet. The entire crowd winced and even Ms. Buckley felt her knees turning inward at the sight of such a perfectly delivered kick to the testicles.
Instantly, Brad’s hands dropped from his face. Lindsay couldn’t have thanked him enough for that, as it exposed the boy’s expression, which was the sweetest thing she’d ever seen. She had really connected, she knew that just from the feel of his soft balls yielding against her toes, but his face told the tale of his torment even better.
Brad’s eyes had gone comically crossed, tears welling up in them like pools. His mouth, meanwhile, was open in a perfect O and, almost unheard because of its extreme high pitch, a long, keening wail escaped it.
“Owwwwwwww,” breathed Ms. Buckley in a husky exhalation. “That one really had to hurt.”
“8-0,” laughed Lindsay, drawing back her leg. As her foot withdrew from Brad’s groin, she felt his orbs slowly struggling to regain their former shape after the severe compression she had submitted them to. Even she winced at how that must feel.
Almost in slow motion, and still emitting a dog whistle’s cry, Brad sank to his knees then fell forward onto his face, his bloody nose smacking into the mat. His butt, meanwhile, remained in the air, given his crumpled body an even more pathetic appearance as he hugged the canvas, an undefeated state boxing champ put to the mat for the second time in two rounds by a petite girl in a pink sports bra and spandex shorts.
Ding!
“I think this round goes to Lindsay. What do you think, class?” Ms. Buckley said, turning to the group of students crowding the bleachers that overlooked the gym’s boxing ring. The young teacher felt a pleasant dampness between her legs and was happy to see the girls in the crowd looking equally flushed by the definitive female domination they were witnessing. The boys, however, all looked stunned, their knees clutched together and their hands clutching their own balls in sympathy. Most looked wan, as if they were going to pass out just from imagining the pain Brad must certainly be in at the moment.
“Well?” Ms. Buckley repeated. “Who won that round?”
“That was more than just a win, Ms. B,” one of the girls responded, breathless and flushed as if she had just experienced an orgasm of her own. “That was absolute domination.”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen someone get their ass kicked that hard,” said another.
“I...I can feel it,” a boy said, queasily. “My God.”
“Ah, thanks, everyone,” Lindsay shouted from the ring. “I’m just glad Brad got to show me why girls shouldn’t get in the ring with men. Thanks, champ,” she added, nudging the boy in the ribs with her shoe. Brad responded with two sharp, soprano tones that could’ve been “My balls,” but the boy’s voice was so strained and pitched it was nearly impossible to tell.
“2-0 girls, then,” Ms. Buckley said, ringing the bell again and marking her clipboard with a check. “30 seconds til the next round.”
“See ya soon, champ,” giggled Lindsay as she strolled casually back to her corner, swinging her hips in a blatant display of femininity. “Maybe you’ll land a punch next round.”
Unable to accept that his captain could be so thoroughly dominated by a female fighter, Mark pounded his fists against the mat in an attempt to once more rally his champion. “Get up, Brad,” he hollered. “You haven’t even hit her yet! You can’t lose to a girl at boxing!”
Mark couldn’t believe it, even after watching Lindsay manhandle the boxing champ for two straight rounds. Brad was the best boxer in the state. He had more than 17 knockouts and Mark had actually seen opponents from other schools refuse to get in the ring with the champ, afraid of the licking they’d get. But now, in less than two minutes of action in the ring, this … girl … had reduced the undefeated champ to a whimpering, crumpled sack bleeding into the canvas.
She had also landed the most brutal blows Mark had ever seen, all to the most sensitive of areas. He could still hear the crunch of Brad’s nuts being splintered by Lindsay’s kick. In those tight athletic shorts, there was nowhere to hide and Mark had seen everything … and Lindsay had really, really, really nailed them.
Mark groaned and clutched his own balls. He heard Ms. Buckley giggling and noticed the sexy young gym teacher had seen him curl over his privates. “Oooooh,” she mouthed, squinching her eyes and pursing her pouty lips in a mockery of male pain.
Ding. Ding.
She rang the bell, signaling the start of round three. From within the ring, Brad let out a weak, high-pitched sob from the mat. Lindsay, meanwhile, bounced into center ring. When she reached the crumpled male fighter she nudged him teasingly with her foot.
“Ready for round three, champ?”
Brad’s only response was another soft whimper.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to box some more? I thought you were good at this.” She nudged him again. The once-proud male champion clutched his groin even harder and squeaked a few indiscernible protests. Bending at the waist, Lindsay grabbed hold of Brad's hair once again and, none too gently, yanked his face from off the mat.
"Eeeep," squealed Brad as his female opponent pulled him onto his knees. His body hung limply from her grasp, but his hands remained tightly clasped around his balls. They had filled back into his tight shorts, stretching the lycra fabric tightly around them as they swelled beneath his gloves. The pain was still so intense he didn't think he could stand under his own power.
Dangling from Lindsay's grasp, Brad saw a sea of onlookers in the crowd, girls openly tittering at his pathetic state while the boys looked on with uneasy astonishment. Lindsay, standing above him, smiled at their reactions.
The girls were flushed with sexual excitement, eagerly awaiting another round of watching Lindsay beat Brad across the ring. The boys, meanwhile, were also rapt by the action and Lindsay noticed more than a few of them clumsily concealing erections as they witnessed their star athlete getting his nuts caved in by a lithe young female.
One thing was clear, regardless of gender: They wanted a knockout.
"Please," Brad begged. Lindsay couldn't help but be pleased that his voice was still several octaves higher than normal. "I give up. You win."
"Is that a submission?" Lindsay asked innocently. "I thought boxing matches only ended in knockouts."
"Yes!" Lindsay heard a few girls in the crowd say at once. "It has to be a knockout!" One cried out breathlessly.
Brad groaned in her grasp, so Lindsay gave his hair a sharp yank. "Oh, hush, you," she chided. "I'll get to you in a minute." With that she marched the prized fighter to the ropes, dragging him roughly across the ring as he sobbed pathetically in her grasp, then draped him over the middle rope so he faced Ms. Buckley and the crowd of on looking students.
"What do you say, Coach?" Lindsay inquired of the buxom teacher. "I think we're both up for another round to end this bout the proper way." Brad began to protest, but Lindsay silenced him by pushing down harshly on his head, forcing the rope deep into the male fighter's throat. He thrashed and gagged in her grasp, causing the girls in the crowd to stir in excitement.
"Well, I think it's only appropriate that a true battle of the sexes ends with only one gender left standing," Ms. Buckley answered. She was excited herself at the sight of the blonde boxer so easily dominating the much larger male. "But maybe we should vote on it. Class? Do you want to see another round?"
"Oh God yes," one of the girls blurted out immediately. Her cheeks were flushed and one of her hands was buried deep between her legs as she watched Brad struggling against the ropes in Lindsay's hand. "Please let her finish him."
"Yes! Yes!" A chorus of girls chimed in. "They agreed to three rounds and he can't just get off that easy!"
"Well, that's the female vote," said Ms. Buckley. "Boys?"
The male contingent of the audience exchanged worried glances as their female counterparts shot them icy looks. Even if they hadn't secretly wanted to watch Lindsay finish off their champion, they were too afraid of what would happen to their own prize jewels if they went against the female vote.
"Pleeeeease," Brad choked out. "Throw the towel!"
"May-maybe he can still win," Mark said meekly. Brad couldn't believe it. He looked at his assistant captain with wide, pleading eyes.
"Great!" said Ms. Buckley, seemingly satisfied with this exercise in democracy. "Let's see!"
Ding!
She rang the bell again. "Round Three! Lindsay leads 2-0. Box!"
A great cheer went up from the crowd (one half of it at least) that drowned out Brad's sobs. Lindsay, elated, shoved Brad once more into the ropes and hopped back, raising her fists before her face as she bounced on her feet.
Brad, however, simply sprawled at her feet, face up, and splayed his limbs. "Count me out!" He rasped. "She wins by knockout."
A feminine chorus of boos filled the gym. "That's not fair!" Lindsay scoffed.
"Those are the rules," Mark stated, unable to hide his shame at his captain's cowardice.
Furious, Lindsay turned to Ms. Buckley. The coach gave the young fighter a sympathetic, disappointed look. "I'm afraid he's right," she said before beginning her count. "One...two...three…"
Lindsay stomped her foot in aggravation as Brad smiled to himself on the canvas, knowing he had at least escaped more torment.
The crowd was now openly jeering and booing as Ms. Buckley approached the midpoint of her count.
"...Five...Six...Oh!" She said suddenly. "Just a reminder on the rules," she flashed a quick, sadistic look at Brad, whose arrogant smile curdled. "All blows are legal."
Confusion washed over Brad's face, but Ms. Buckley was happy to see Lindsay had picked up on her hint. The female fighter hopped giddily in place and then strode over the downed form of her male opponent.
"Seven…," Ms. Buckley counted from ringside.
"Almost ran out of time, champ" Lindsay said with a wicked grin. She stood between the boy's spread legs, hands on her hips. He looked up at her, more confused than nervous.
"...Eight…"
"Can't let your undefeated streak end like that," Lindsay said, locking eyes with Brad. She raised her leg, drawing her knee to breast.
"...Nine…"
"Let's get you back up before the ten count," Lindsay whispered and, just as Brad realized the position he was in, she pistoned her foot downward into the mound between his legs with a solid, echoing CRUNCH. Brad screeched as the girl's sneaker ground his nuts into his groin. The champion boxer flopped upright into a seated position as her blow struck. His face smashed into her tan, flat stomach and he squealed a single, strained note that had the crowd covering their ears.
The gym was otherwise silent but for Brad's cry, which filled the air for what felt like minutes before eventually fading out with a few halting, shrill whimpers.
"I guess girls can box, huh, champ?" Lindsay purred into her defeated opponent's ear. Brad was beyond understanding, his eyes glazed and glassy, teetering on the edge of unconscious. Lindsay grabbed the male boxer's chin gently and tilted his face up towards hers. Coyly, she blew him a kiss and, with a quick, firm twist of her ankle, mashed his crushed nuts even further into his pelvis with a grinding, cracking sound. Brad squealed once more, went rigid and then collapsed onto his back, knocked out cold for the first time in his boxing career at the feet of a sexy blonde female.
"...10," counted Ms. Buckley.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
She rang the bell, signaling the end of the match and now the crowd erupted into applause. Lindsay turned to face them and gave a cute little curtsy.
"Well, class, I think we've learned an important lesson today," Ms. Buckley said.
"Yeah," one of the girls in the stands answered, flushed and panting. "Boys really shouldn't get in the ring with girls."
Lindsay laughed along with the rest of the girls in the gym. Behind her, spreadeagle on the canvas, Brad twitched unconsciously.
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2020.05.21 09:14 Stormrider66 Carter Slade: Monster Hunter (Episode 11)

Start From Episode 1
Episode 10
Episode 11
“The year was 1933, the Great Depression was at its peak. The American economy had little in ways of jobs for families. In New York City there was a particular wealthy family that managed to not only survive, but flourish in these taxing times: the Jacobi family.’
‘Robert Jacobi was the second child born to Gerald & Margaret Jacobi, being born with Type 1 Spinal Muscular Atrophy - meaning he was never able to walk or have much motor function in his body. Gerald was a very wealthy Wall Street business tycoon who got his start working with the Mafia and Margaret - going by Marge - was seen as just his trophy wife. Gerald adored Robert’s older brother Barry, being a spitting image of the man and growing up in his footsteps. Unfortunately Gerald despised Robert - who needed several servants to live his daily life and get around - and always shunned him.’
‘Gerald would often refer to Robert as "The Boy" or "The Cripple" instead of "Son" like he did with Barry. Unlike the rest of his family, Robert was gifted with a Genius level intellect - even finishing university level classes and studies in many fields of mathematics and science by the time he was 9.’
‘Robert was bullied ruthlessly by some boys in the neighborhood, only getting sympathy from his servants, his brother and his mother. Marge was a beautiful film actress and model, and she also genuinely cared about her sons. Marge would read them bedtime stories about Greek heroes like Perseus and Achilles - figures capable of accomplishing incredible feats and overcoming impossible odds. Gerald would get drunk or do drugs and become violent towards his wife. The servants and boys were unable to do anything but watch. All the abuse also lead to Marge’s own substance abuse issues and eventually a fatal overdose.’
‘On one of Marge’s film sets, Robert remembered meeting one of his mother’s bodyguards - a tall British man that went by the name ‘Pontius Slade’. It sounded made up to him.’
‘Pontius was one of the few people ever that showed recognition for his intellect. During filming, Robert would construct a new puzzle everyday. The size and complexity of each puzzle seemed daunting, but he would make a point to work at it before the day was done and time himself for speed. Pontius approached him one day when he noticed that he was reading an advanced science book at such a young age. “You know what lad? You’re a lot brighter than anyone gives you any credit for. I hope my son gets to meet you one day.”’
‘“Why can’t he meet me now? Is he in England?”’
‘“He sure is, little Rorick is just a wee lad at the moment.” He chuckled, “There’s always time.”’
‘“That’s not what the doctors say...”’
‘“Believe me son, I have a gut instinct that you can solve this puzzle, just like you solved all these other ones.”’
‘Robert’s genius intellect lead him to start working on a cure for his disease, none being successful for more than a couple minutes on himself, but he was making progress on pet rats. He figured that he would make himself a temporary metal exoskeleton that granted him the ability to walk around and do regular activities that he couldn't do before while he was developing his serum.
By the time he was 10, he was part of a science expo for young geniuses to show off what his serum was able to do on rodents, earning him the top prize - which he didn't need. He beat out kids who could've used it to improve their quality of life in those trying times, and as such he was ambushed by a group of kids outside the expo.’
‘“Nice brace Robert! You think that you’re better than us because you won at your stupid science experiment?” One of the bullies taunted him.’
‘Robert was beginning to gain an ego now that he had been making incredible scientific breakthroughs, “No Lance, I KNOW I’m better than you.”’
‘“I’ll cream you!” The group of boys closed in for their beat down but Robert was prepared to fight. The frame of his exoskeleton was made up of primitive, almost steampunk pistons that helped hold up his petite frame. He had primitive controls for his hands to actually control his limbs. Using his mind’s incredible processing power he thought he would be able to strategize how he would maneuver and counterattack the oncoming brawl. Adults would have likely been able to subdue him, but these young boys didn’t stand a chance.’
‘That was what his cockiness lead him to believe anyways. After a few successful blocks and parries one boy smacked him on the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. His overconfidence left him open as the boys all started stomping on him and his metal frame.’
‘A kick from one boy crimped one of the pistons on his left arm, causing a build up in pressure and the arm was jammed. Robert struggled to free the joint and the excess pressure shot his arm forwards, striking Lance in the chest with enough force to stop his heart. The other boys all backed away to look at their friend convulsing on the ground, trying get some air.’
‘Robert looked down at his arm and saw exposed wires from the frame and remembered a study he read before his mother died about two Swiss physiologists that could use electricity to restart someone’s heart. Being only 1934 at this time, CPR wasn’t a technique anyone was aware of at that time. He shuffled over to Lance and yelled, “Move!” to them. They backed away and he placed the exposed wire tip against Lance’s chest. With a jolt, Robert’s suit powered off and Lance sat up, clutching at his chest. He was in a lot of pain, but he was alive.’
‘The boys carried Lance inside to the adults. One straggler looked back at Robert in fear, “You’re nothing but a circus freak!”’
‘Being left alone on the ground, some of his Father’s servants rushed to help pick him up and take him home. After that incident, he realized that these robotic suits were superior in every way to being human. Why simply cure his disease? Why wouldn’t he choose to advance beyond the capabilities of human comprehension? These were questions that flooded his mind. A cure could stop the degeneration of his muscles but wouldn't necessarily reverse it or make him better - cybernetic enhancements and exoskeletons would make him better than he could've been even without the disease.’
‘Robert continued his studies in every form of science he could, mastering almost all scientific fields before he was 15. He also spent those 5 years working on a "Prototype" combat suit. On his 15th birthday, his father took Barry - who was 19 - to the movie theatre, spending no time with Robert. On their way out of the theatre, Gerald and Barry were tragically gunned down by the Mafia. It turned out that Gerald Jacobi had cheated multiple Mafia families and his latest crooked deal landed him on another families hit list. Gerald had planned on leaving his fortune to Barry, but because he passed as well- Robert was the only one left to claim his inheritance.’
‘After grieving his brothers passing, he decided to add some weapon functionality to his Prototype combat suit. The armor made Robert capable of moving at Peak human speeds, wield the strength of an Olympic weightlifter, withstand small gunfire and even discharge electric pulses to whomever touched the suit. Each arm was modified with a blade on either wrist, as well as triggers for two shoulder mounted guns. Adjustments were made so the suit would respond to his internal muscle impulses and move as if it was his own arm. It was primitive compared to what he would make eventually but it was far more advanced than anything else in 1940. He decided he was ready to single-handedly take on the Mafia for revenge.’
‘Robert remembered back to the stories his mother used to read to him and his brother about the Greek Gods and Heroes, and decided to dig through his book collection for inspiration. After some digging he examined his brand new comic books from Detective Comics #27 and the slightly older Action Comics #1. The covers depicted costumed crime fighters by the names of ‘Batman’ and ‘Superman’ respectively.’
‘’Maybe I can be a superhero like these two!’ He contemplated in his mind. He also found a book on Greek history and mythology. Stories of Heracles and Perseus we’re almost like precursors to ‘Batman’ and ‘Superman’. Even with his massive intellect, Robert was still a young boy: disillusioned with ideas of grandeur.’
‘The Greek book mentioned the armor and weapons used by the Spartan soldiers. One name in particular stood out, ‘Xiphos’. It was the name of the Spartan sword. That was it! That was his ‘superhero’ name! The last thing he did before leaving for war against the Mafia was remodel his helmet like a Spartan helmet.’
‘Robert - or “Xiphos” - went to the Godfather's house on the night that all the families were meeting. In his suit he started killing them all with his guns and blades. His guns ran out of bullets fairly quickly, getting surrounded by gangsters with guns. They unloaded on him, but he managed to kill multiple with his wrist blades before getting grabbed by almost a dozen men. Even with the suits enhanced strength, they were able to restrain it, and they tried to remove any of the pieces they could - almost succeeding. His suit sent out some electric pulses that repelled them. Xiphos slaughtered the remaining people in the building.’
‘The press would refer to it as war between the crime families, never knowing it was a lone teenage boy. Not only did he inherit his father’s fortune, but he also claimed the fortunes of most of the crime families that same fateful night. By the end of the struggle every Mafioso was dead and Robert made his way home with his fortunes. Even though his suit had extra durability, high-powered firearms still managed to cause some damage to him under the suit- he was visibly beaten and bloody.’
‘Robert knew he needed to disappear before getting caught, so he decided that he would move to Los Angeles on the other side of the country. He invested most of his money in other companies to build his fortune further. Advancements in technology from both himself and his various companies he owned would lead to him enhancing his own body as opposed to needing to wear a suit. By using companies he owned: SmartEyes Inc, Hearing and Wellness Entriprises, Collective Bios Inc, and many others he practically reversed and eliminated aging altogether.’
‘His self proclaimed ‘hero’ exploits soon caught the attention of similarly powerful beings and entities, expanding Robert’s worldview of a purely scientific mind to the fantastical. He knew that he could only stick around for so long and decided he would pass down his knowledge to his protege: me. He still wants to save the world! To be a superhero!”
Magnus finished his story to the Deadly Sin, Pride, Pride was tall and well dressed with purple skin, white hair and pointed ears. He was in a very tall skyscraper overlooking a rainy cityscape through his window. His back was to the demon who was standing on the other side of his desk.
Pride sounded unamused. “Why are you telling me this, human?”
“Because Robert’s legacy must live on! I have intel that Heaven plans on destroying everything outside of it. No earth, no Hell, nothing! This is bad for business for both your people and mine. But let me tell you what, Demon: I want to back YOUR side! We can help you collect souls to power your own team. I have connections to the most influential and powerful people and monsters to walk this earth! The Organization wants to keep business running smoothly. Saving the world is also just good press, right?”
Pride got up, “You know my name is Pride, correct? You think that I would accept HELP?” He said that word with disgust, “It’s not in my nature.”
“It’s precisely because it’s not in your nature that I made you the offer. It’s a mutual benefit to us both, surely your own ego could see that it makes you look better to your peers?l
“I have no ‘peers’... but I suppose it won’t hurt to keep in touch. My subordinates will keep in touch.” With a blink, he was gone.
Magnus grinned to himself. He looked at a colored photo on the wall of Robert as a boy in his wheelchair, grinning with his mom and brother also in frame. The blonde boys crystal blue eyes were a dead ringer for Magnus’ own. Also framed on the wall were those two comic books and the Greek book.
“Atta boy, Robert.”
———————————————————
A preteen Carter was walking with Rorick on top of a mountain in China, they were headed to see some monks. Even though he was still a boy and not much taller than before, his body was inked in tattoos already.
Carter complained, “Father, I have these stupid tattoos, why do we need them blessed by these monks now?”
“To finalize the seal on your abilities, Boy. We’ve completed every other step.”
“I don’t know why my abilities need sealing.”
“A few reasons: you’ve gotten very careless because you rely on your senses and transformation to solve your problems for you. I need you to be the best, so that includes no cheating and doing it right.”
“This ink will just go away like the other ones did. My healing keeps the cells refreshing.”
“Once this last seal is added then it won’t. It’s magic.”
“I think you’re just scared of what I can do.”
“You’re fucking right I’m scared! It terrifies have much power you have and how little of a fuck you seem to give! You’ve destroyed many buildings on hunts and almost caused fatalities on our side! You’re discipline is lacking! This will force you to train your skill instead of relying on pure brute strength.”
————————————————————
Slade had his arm around Estiel, they were officially a couple at this point. Julia was still his close friend but this hunt they were going to would be the first one together in quite a while.
“You decided to grow some facial hair.” Julia liked his look but felt awkward trying to make small talk.
Estiel rubbed his chin, “That’s right, he’s becoming a distinguished man.”
“So what’s the deal with this hunt? We have almost no supplies but almost everyone is going?”
“It’s because we’re so short on supplies that everyone is needed.” Slade added, “Estiel here got intel on a large nest of vampires hanging out in the mall wing that’s under construction. Construction was shut down.”
“We need to do this in numbers. We don’t have the resources to spend on traps and ammo and such.” Estiel added.
Slade continued, “This is our chance to finally end the Black Talons!”
“You don’t mean-“
“That’s right, I heard that Kamaria Morowa is there.” Estiel interjected.
“T-that’s incredible! We could finally put an end to them! She’s the last leader!”
“Exactly!”
The group entered the mall from the construction side but the mall was open for business and filled with people. Many panicked when they saw the armed KSG members.
“What the fuck!?” Slade shouted, all of his people looked around confused. Estiel shed some tears, “What’s wrong?”
She kissed his lips and looked into his eyes, “I didn’t want this! Forgive me!” She extended her wings and flew off through the skylight. Julia just managed to grab a hold of her leg as she flew off. “Let go of me!”
“What the fuck did you do!?” Julia lost her grip and fell a short distance onto the mall roof. She glanced up at a large aircraft that dropped five large capsules in through the skylight, one almost landed on a woman but Slade tackled her out of the way in time.
“Get out of here!” He screamed at her, turning to look at the capsules. Everyone shifted in terror and confusion at what was going on. He tightened his grip on his blade in one hand and his shotgun in the other. “Prepare yourselves! It was a trap!”
Julia ran to the ladder to get down to ground level. She was a few levels up and jumping back through the skylight could be fatal. The doors were all locked and no one inside could get out. The carrier flew away.
Capsules were each labeled something different in a language that the group didn’t recognize: θΈΑΜΑ, ΑΚΡΌΑΣΗ, ΜΥΡΩΔΙΑ, ΓΕΎΣΗ, and ΑΦΗ.
A scratching and pounding could be heard from inside the containers. The sound of air hissed as the chamber decompressed and unlocked. Everyone’s sight suddenly went black.
“WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!?!” Someone screamed.
“I can’t see!”
“Where did everyone go!?”
Even Slade’s sight was gone, “Everyone, stay calm!”
Even outside, Julia’s sight also disappeared. The sound of cars crashing, horns honking and people screaming could be heard around the busy block.
“What the fuck is going on!?” Julia screamed. She knew she had to get away, so she started to head back to their armored van for cover.
Another chamber hissed open and suddenly the sound was gone. Slade concentrated hard, feeling the vibrations from the ground. He tried concentrating on what he could smell and if he could taste anything in the air. He was enraged by how dull his senses became because of the seal on his body.
A third and fourth chamber opened and everyone’s senses of smell and taste disappeared. The vibrations of large creatures could be felt shaking the ground. And then suddenly.... nothing...
Slade literally felt as if he was drifting in a void of nothingness. Whatever was in those chambers emitted something that made everyone incapable of using their senses. Were they alive? Were they dead?
The large quadruped creatures crawled out of their canisters, they were like large reptiles with fangs and claws. Each one was colored differently and had a distinguishing characteristic: The yellow one had a fin on its head, the red had tusks, The purple had a large spike like a unicorn on its head, the green had a spiked tail and the blue had wings.
The yellow creature chomped down on Slade’s torso and tossed him around like a doll. The others toyed with the KSG members and civilians by throwing them around, ripping them apart or even eating them. Everyone present was screaming and fumbling around but even the ones getting attacked - Slade included - couldn’t even tell what was happening.
Even with their sensations, some of the Guard members shot their guns in every direction to hit something - causing more unwanted casualties in the carnage. A lone drone was watching the massacre of hundreds of these people occur.
“These experimental weapons are proving most effective sir.” Agent Kensington reported to Magnus. They were watching on a large projection screen.
“We kill the head of the KSG and test our bio weapons at once? Sounds like a win to me!”
The creatures slaughtered everyone else in the mall. The green and red ones played tug-o-war with a corpse. Slade concentrated as hard as he muster, being the sole remaining survivor. ‘I need to use my abilities, I gotta force open the seal!’ He thought. ‘I’m sure I’m not dead... I hope...’ he hadn’t used his transformation or his senses to their full extents since he was a child.
The tattoos on his body started to glow an eerie blue color, catching the attention off the purple one. Even though his physical sensations were absent, a echo of an instinct helped him get to his knees. He was bloody and his clothing was ripped up.
“Slade’s body is glowing?” Kensington questioned.
“His tattoos are...” Magnus leaned back in his chair. The other chairs were occupied by the council members of The Organization, they were mostly obscured in shadows. A woman in a black dress that cut off at her shoulder leaned forward and examined his tattoos, her hair was in a braid. “That’s some extremely advanced magic...”
“Too advances for the Queen Witch, Jezebel?” Magnus smirked at her.
“I could definitely do this,” Jezebel was amused by his accusation, “But it’s complex. It’s a new mixture of shaman tribal etchings, Enochian symbols and it’s been blessed by magic from all over the world. It’s fascinating!”
A yellow, reptilian demon leaned inwards. It had wings on its back and feathers coming out of its head. “So you’re saying he’s one of a kind?” It had a slithery growl. “Maybe we should call them off. He’ll make a good addition to my collection...”
“I know your name is ‘Greed’, but you must be stupid if you think ‘The Collector’ would let you take him for yourself.” It was an Arabic man.
Greed hissed at him, “Don’t speak out of line, Amir!”
“I suppose you’ll put me in my place, is that it?” Amir narrowed his eyes but didn’t flinch.
“Why don’t we test it, Djinn?”
Amir’s eyes started to glow blue.
“Calm down boys, the seal is disappearing. It’s designed to hold in something of more power than either of you.”
Slade’s instincts got him to his feet. His ripped up clothes slouched off of his body, he gripped his weapons tighter than he realized and started to crush the grips slightly. The purple creature charged angrily at him, trying to ram him with its horn.
Slade breathed in and time felt like it slowed to a crawl, within this void he pictured an incoming shape. As the shape neared him he pointed at it with a gun and pulled the trigger. The shape was undeterred completely and still kept up its momentum. This gunshot attracted four other malicious shapes to charge at him from various directions.
Slade tossed the ineffective weapon to the side, or at least he assumed he did. There was no physical sensations to give him feedback so he figured it was possible he wasn’t even holding the gun anymore. The closer shape in his mind charged at him and he jumped into the air before it could reach him, he slashed down with his weapon. There was no way to confirm if he even slashed it, but there was no time to even contemplate a follow up. Another shape caught him mid air as he was leaping over the first.
“How did he maneuver over the first one? How could he know?” Magnus was confused he looked around at the others for an answer, they were all silent.
The five creatures all tossed Slade around, he was barely able to keep his distance from them using his sixth sense, sometimes they managed to grab him and the blades weren’t strong enough to do anything to them. The green creature swung its large clubbed tail at Slade, knocking him to the ground. The five creatures surrounded him, done playing with their food.
“It doesn’t matter, he’s dead anyways.”
A pillar of light erupted into the sky from Slade’s body, blinding the creatures and everyone watching the screen. The creatures all backed up and shook their heads, trying to clear their vision again. The council looked back at the screen and noticed that Slade’s tattoos were all gone. His eyes were glowing red.
“My, my! What is going on here!?” Another voice called out.
Jezebel smirked, “The seals broken. Let’s see a real fight.”
For the first time in a decade and a half, Slade turned into his werewolf form. As big as he was when he was younger, he was even that much bigger now. The creatures were a little smaller than a garbage truck and weighed as much as an elephant each. Slade in this form was over 10’ tall standing up and very bulky.
“I’ve never seen a Lycan like that before!” Agent Kensington was dumbfounded for once. “Have you, Mr. Clayton?”
A man slammed his fist on the ground, he spoke with a Norwegian accent, “There’s no Lycan on earth like that! Even the largest Alphas are still much smaller. That fur and those eyes... somethings not right...”
The creatures all gained their bearings and looked at this new threat. Their body language changed from casual to defensive. They all growled and snarled.
The Yellow creature struck decided to strike first, Slade instinctually tackled it mid-charge with a body slam. The creature tried snapping at him with its maw, but Slade grabbed the back of its neck with one hand and the lower jaw with the other and pushed it backwards. It struggled to break free, yet his vice-like grip tightened. A crunching, snapping sound came from the creatures neck as it snapped in half, the spine stuck out of a hole in its neck. The other creatures all pounced on him at once, clawing and biting him as savagely as they could.
With the death of the yellow creature, everyone got their sense of taste back. Slade couldn’t feel anything but he was sure he needed to quickly get out of this situation. Slade tossed the multi-ton creature off of his right arm with as much force as he could muster, throwing it through a large steel column that was holding the roof up. The collapsing roof started to fall on top of the creatures, thousands of pounds landing on them. They all let go to run out of the way and Slade bit down on the green creatures tail, catching it right above the spike. Slade could taste the blood trickle out on its scaly flesh. Soon they were buried under a mountain of rubble.
“Prepare the contingency.” Magnus ordered.
“Right away sir.” Kensington responded.
Julia could taste the dust in the air, knowing something was up. Suddenly she could smell again too.
Slade crawled out of the rubble with the other three creatures. The sky was darker now save some helicopters in the sky. One got too close in range and started to spin out as the pilot’s main senses cut out, causing him to lose control. Slade had the severed tail of the green creature in his mouth with its severed head in one hand and dragging its torso in another.
The helicopter was head straight for him, but the flying blue monster flew up and caught the tail in its jaw. The blades of the helicopter connected with the creature. Instead of the blades grinding up the creature, they instead tore themselves apart against its rawhide with little resistance. The purple creature with the spike on its head charged at Slade, ready to impale him. Slade turned to face it with a roar, the spike impaled him through the heart and pinned him to the ground.
“That’s it, ladies and gentlemen.” Kensington called out.
Slade twisted its head to the side and snapped its horn off before throwing it into the red one that was charging at him.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jezebel exclaimed.
He got back up to his feet and pulled the horn out of his chest. Everyone watching was shocked when the wound stopped bleeding and then closed almost as rapidly as it happened. Slade charged at the two creatures and jumped on the purple one - stabbing it through the eye with its own long horn. It bucked and kicked as he held on and suddenly everyone’s sensation of touch came back.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen, proceed without the contingency plan!” Magnus ordered Kensington.
The flying one swooped down with the helicopter still in its mouth. It smacked him in the face with it, crushing the remaining steel and flew up again - Slade grabbed ahold of its neck as it flew up. Climbing to its back, he felt around for its flapping wings and grabbed a hold of them. They flew so high in a short amount of time that Slade’s vision returned. He studied the creatures and the carnage below, just his hearing was still gone.
The entire block was in chaos as vehicles were smashed, people were run over and buildings were destroyed. There were emergency services that were also causing more carnage as their sight and hearing left as soon as they entered the perimeter. These creatures didn’t resemble any sort of monster lore that he could possibly think of and they were definitely unique creations. They had to have been bioweapons designed for what? Warfare?
Slade could see a jet on the horizon even in the dark. That same sense that guided him through the fight so far was screaming at him to finish it and get out of there. He tightened his grip on the creatures’ wings, ripping them out of their sockets. The monster let out a piercing shriek as they tumbled towards the ground from that high up. His vision disappeared again as he got closer to the other monster.
Slade concentrated his full body weight and strength into the creatures head as they fell. He felt the sudden impact on the ground, followed by the splatter of the creatures head into the concrete below. As soon as impact happened, his hearing came back. The stimulus overloaded his senses as all sorts of screaming, sirens, horns and explosions could be heard all around them.
The intense shriek could be heard for the first time as the heavy footsteps of the last galloping creature charged at him.
“Fighter inbound, sir.” Kensington shouted.
Slade pinpointed Julia’s confuses screaming a ways away, but couldn’t see anything yet. The sound of the incoming jet cut through the sound of the helicopters and he knew he had few moments to get the fight over with. The tusks of the final red creature impaled him in the shoulder as it tried to savagely gore him to death. Slade’s instincts told him to open his mouth and absorb energy. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was accomplishing but he obeyed his instincts.
“What the fuck?” Magnus declared. All of the council members muttered amongst themselves in confusion. From the screen it looked as if the moon was flickering, like the sun’s light wasn’t hitting it for moments at a time.
“Is your technology failing us, Dawnhammer?” Greed hissed.
Kensington retorted, “All readings are normal, no other lights in frame are experiencing dimming at all.”
Slade grabbed the tusks in each hand and forced the creatures face in front of his own. A very low growl came from his mouth, “Fuck you!” Before being followed up with a beam of light shooting out of his mouth, melting the skin off of the creatures face, followed by its eyes and brain and then finally it’s skull, until the only thing remaining was its body and the two tusks he was holding.
Everyone’s senses came back, Julia looked at the destruction that had laid all of this waste before her. The corpses of those large creatures were scattered all around and a smaller - yet still quite large - black furred monster stood upright.
Everyone on the council was speechless. They were made up of the most powerful monsters, demons and humans that walked the earth, yet they had never seen anything like this before. The Norwegian man rubbed the sides of his shaved head and then grabbed his Mohawk up top, racking his brain.
Slade scanned the sky briefly, the jet was almost there: it was now or never. He turned to Julia and rushed towards her. She was shocked and terrified by his speed and the fact he was heading towards her. She had no idea that Slade was anything but an unnaturally strong human - no idea that was him. Instinctually, her body turned to flee, but she tripped on some rubble and hit her head on the armored van, knocking herself unconscious.
Slade noticed the drone as he was running. Once he reached Julia’s body, he grabbed a slab of concrete with one hand and lobbed the huge chunk - weighing hundreds of pounds - a football stadiums distance into the drone, crushing it before Kensington could react to it. With little time to spare, Slade picked up her unconscious body and sprinted as fast as he could carry himself in a random direction. The jet dropped multiple firebombs that decimated everything within the radius and shot down the helicopters.
“What is he?” Magnus was fascinated.
The Norwegian man stood up, excitedly shouting, “I know what he is!”
Many armed men would later quarantine the area and tie up all loose ends so no one knew what really happened that day. The news reported that there was a major gas leak in the unfinished building, which most people bought.
Slade managed to outrun the blast radius and make it far enough away that they were no longer in danger. They were in a wooded area, away from other people. Slade laid Julia down on a bench before sending something approaching.
A figure appeared out of thin air - a tall woman in a black dress. Slade growled at her and stood his ground between them.
Jezebel smiled, “Bad puppy, I’m afraid you’ve killed my pets. I might need to put you down.”
Slade roared at her.
“Now now, my pet... I’m just kidding around... You’ll prove very useful to me later, I just need to mark you for myself.”
She raised her hand and snapped her fingers, no sooner did she snap than Slade was reaching for her torso, he got paralyzed in place. Jezebel’s heart was racing at how fast he moved, she could feel control quickly slipping away as she held him away. This would require effort, something she hadn’t had to exude in a very long time.
Slade’s body was paralyzed in place, but his hand started to glow a translucent blue. Suddenly his ghostly appendage grasped her soul. Taken by surprise, she had never been so vulnerable in her entire existence. She was going to die if she didn’t act fast. Using all of her magical energy she could muster she choked out the words, “Seallum!” His grip loosened enough for her to teleport away.
Jezebel appeared in her own luxury room at The Organization headquarters. No one else knew of her detour she took to see Slade. She could still feel the icy grip on her soul and the scar it would leave for all of eternity. She pressed her luck by thinking herself above him. She would need to be much more cunning to pull off her plans.
Slade’s body became mobile again and his momentum caused him to tumble over the edge of a steep hill. As he stumbled he changed to his Demiwolf form for the first time ever and then finally into his human form. He was passed out by the time he reached the creek at the bottom.
————————————————————
Back in the present, Julia and Jane were sparring in a secluded room of one of The Organization’s compounds. They conversed between grapples, punches and kicks.
“Do they have something on you too? Or is the pay really just that good?” Julia got Jane’s arm into a lock.
“I didn’t really have much of a purpose, I became estranged from my family as a teenager and pretty much ran away from home. They gave me a purpose.” Jane twisted her body to follow where her was and flipped it so she had Julia in a hold.
Julia elbowed her in the stomach before prying her choke hold off and shoulder throwing her. Jane landed on her feet. “That’s unfortunate.”
“I assumed they have something on you?”
“At first, it was just life. They essentially bought my services from my father, he trained me to be his little weapon for hire.”
Jane threw a flurry of punches, kicks and knees with fancy footwork. Julia kept up and deflected them all. Jane spoke between strikes, “Something. Changed. Didn’t it?”
Julia kicked her away and followed up with her own combinations of limbs, “I. Got out. And found. Someone...” Jane slipped up with some footwork, letting Julia get enough of an opening to get her arm in a better lock. “He took me in and gave me a better life, and I liked it...”
Jane used her moment of weakness to reverse the hold like before, this time she got her to the ground and Julia was stuck.
“Those same people are trapped here then?”
“Somewhere... they’ll kill them if I try to talk to them or escape.” Julia coughed out those last words before tapping Jane’s arm, she released her hold and got to her feet. Julia rubbed her throat.
“You’re a master at stealth, have you bothered to check if they’re even still here? Or alive?” She outstretched her hand to Julia.
Julia grabbed her hand and got pulled to her feet, “They can detect where I am any time I’m here. Kensington chipped me as part of the agreement.”
“I never got chipped, I’m a hired mercenary. Let me find out for you.”
Julia shook her head, her face a worried expression, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.. They might kill you! They have magic AND advanced tech, they can probably hear our conversation right now! Don’t be stupid.”
“My sister is a Witch - a powerful one at that - the last time I saw her, she made me a magic bottle that keeps me hidden from magical surveillance. EMP’s have taken care of all these cameras too. They don’t know shit.”
“A powerful Witch? And you just decided to tell me now!?”
“Well, she forcefully gave it to me as I ran away... And then proceeded to use said magic so I could... Run... Away...” I have very little left, but it will be worth it to get you out of this life if I can.”
“I couldn’t possibly expect something like that from you. We don’t even know each other!”
“I don’t know why, but I feel like we should know more about each other than we do. There’s some link I’m missing here.” She pointed between them and grabbed her towel and water bottle.
Julia copied and they shut off the lights to the room, their long shadows lingered as they stood in the doorway. “If I get out, you have to come with me! You can’t willingly work for them, they’re evil! Believe me, if it’s money you want we can pay you just as well to fight along side us!”
“I may take you up on that.”
As they walked away from the gym, Julia’s shadow disappeared. Jane’s shadow split into two as one followed her and the other one appeared to rise out of the ground. The shadowy figure had glowing red eyes and the slots narrowed as they walked away.
———————————————————
Julia woke up on the park bench, it was actually pretty quiet at this time. As she sat up, the blood rushed to her head, throbbing from where she hit it the night before. Rubbing her head she stood up and followed the large paw prints into the tree line.
A large drop was at the end of the trail and there was damage to the foliage as something large looked like it crashed through there, she could make out the figure of a person through the trees and carefully slid down to get to the bottom.
In the creek was Slade, completely naked save for a dingy jacket covering his nether regions. There was a small gathering of early morning joggers standing by and a homeless man that she presumed the jacket belonged to. A duck was tugging at Slade’s hair. Julia noticed that some of his tattoos were gone now, he wasn’t as completely covered in them anymore. Two of the woman joggers appeared to be checking him out, and judging by one’s spaced hand placement - like she was “recounting” something to her friend - it was safe to say the jacket was recently placed there.
Slade opened his eyes and sat up a bit - looking around at his surroundings before looking at the jacket. The old homeless man shook his head, “I've been drunk before Son, but I've never seen someone get so hammered that they would get naked and sleep in the river. You need to make better life choices, and that’s coming from me!”
“Well, I appreciate the modesty cover sir, it’s a little chilly out this morning.”
The man looked at the women, who smiled and waved their fingers. “Cold? Hmmph.” He shook his head.
Julia took off her jacket and threw it to Slade. “Jack! I don’t want to hear your excuses this time, we’re going to rehab now! Let’s go!”
He had to fight back his relief that not only was she alive, but helping him out of this mess. He expertly swapped the jackets and handed the other one back to the homeless guy. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“You need help son.” And he turned to walk away, “God damn jackass!”
Slade tied the jacket around his waste and the people watched him walk away. He winked at the women as he passed and they blushed, checking out his bare behind that the jacket couldn’t cover.
“You need to explain to me what the fuck last night was about!”
“You’re right, I’ll tell you everything; I really need clothes before we do anything!”
“I can’t believe they’re all gone...”
“Estiel, she betrayed us... Betrayed me... and for what? We probably won’t ever get her to answer for her crimes. I know those monsters were on another level entirely, but it’s the same story. If we just had the resources.... We wouldn’t end up in these losing situations! Pro bono monster hunting isn’t the way forward. We’re making a change.”
Episode 12
submitted by Stormrider66 to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]


2020.03.13 16:49 anthony2690 29/M looking to make new friends with mutual interests:

Hey, I am Anthony from the UK :) I moved recently over a year ago now and live with my other half of three years.
I realised that I get pretty lonely and don't really know anyone here. So I am hoping to make some new friends with mutual interests to hang out with or play video games with :)!
Gaming (Xbox One X/Nintendo Switch) I've been playing video games since I can remember, from the Sega master system onwards and super excited for the future Xbox Series X :)!
Games I enjoy:
Blazblue
Bullet Soul Infinite Burst
Castlevania
Dark Souls
Dragonball Fighter Z
Final fantasy
Forza horizon
Gears
Guilty Gear
Halo
Klonoa door to phantomile
Killer Instinct
Kingdom Hearts
Lost Odyssey
Metal Slug
Monster Hunter World
Mortal Kombat
Mushimesama Futari 1.5
Nights into dreams
Ori and the blind forest
Sea of Thieves
Sekiro
Sonic 3 & Knuckles
Tales of Vesperia
Tekken
Tetris 99
Under Night In Birth
Witcher 3
YS
Zelda Breath of the Wild
& loads more
Music:
+44
Angels and airwaves
Alkaline trio
Babyshambles
Billy Talent
Blink 182
Brand New
Coheed and Cambria
Cinematic Sunrise
Circa Survive
Clash
Cure
Dance Gavin Dance
Dream state
Feeder
Gym Class Heroes
Incubus
Killswitch Engage
Less than Jake
Libertines
Muse
New Found Glory
No Doubt
NOFX
Nujabes
Offspring
Pales Waves
Paramore
Placebo
Rancid
Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Smashing pumpkins
Smiths
Stand atlanctic
Streetlight Manifesto
Third Eye Blind
Tuxedo
Twenty One pilots
The Story So Far
Vampire weekend
View
Veltpunch
We Came As Romans
Weezer
Zebrahead
& loads more.
If you have any mutual interests, want to suggest some games/music, or play online together feel free to get to know me :)!
I apologise in advance if the formatting of my post is a mess! :p
submitted by anthony2690 to MakeNewFriendsHere [link] [comments]


2020.02.25 07:37 Zephylandantus Univer7 - Legacy. Chapter 1

A/N: sorry for the wait. I've wanted to write more in the setting. But finding the right angle took time. No promises for update frequency. Enjoy, comment and remember: serotonin is a drug. It is supposed to be experienced in small bursts. Prolonged continuous exposure will build resistance.
-Zephy
Beginnings
“Anna! ANNA!” The woman called out as she entered the workshop. Her eyes were scanning the floor below the two ships parked on the grav-lifts and when she spotted what she was looking for, her voice changed from slightly annoyed to mildly-piqued interest.
“what are you doing?”
“Replacing a parabellic inverter.” came the answer.
“hm.” the woman looked at the hull, it was hovering a good forty centimeters above the floor and the girls feet were poking out from underneath the port side. “This is a-”
“Yes” The slightly annoyed voice of a teenage girl interrupted her “It’s a SS-403-AM, the Inverters are part of the reflector module and I could just replace the whole thing.” A hand shot out from the underbelly of the ship and patted the floor in the somewhat vicinity of a size 6 spanner. “but it would take four hours to replace the module, thank you” The woman had bent down and placed the spanner in the searching hand. “and would cost three times the credit. It takes two hours to replace the inverter, including realigning it and costs less in parts.”
“So you’re replacing the inverter, without removing the module, to save time?” Her voice was rich in Parental-style-testing-your-reasoning.
“The 403 predates the Field-propulsion tech, mom, its aftermarket modifications. It’s actually easier to do it this way, because the alignment follows the power nodes on the hull and it has to synch with the array.” The girl was clearly annoyed to be pestered with questions about her capabilities.
“I’ve already run her through that gauntlet, Sandrine.” A gruff male voice mused from the break-room/office door. “She knows what she’s doing. Leave her to it.”
“Thank you Mike.” The semi-muffled voice of someone using their chin to hold a casing up, while reconnecting the grounding cable to the plug held a tinge of gratitude.
“Hello Mike” Sandrine looked at the man. “I was just making sure she knows her basics.”
“Last time I checked” The man looked at the sign on the back wall that read 'Mike's Garage' and grinned. “That was my job.” he held out a steaming cup to the woman and beckoned towards the door he had emerged from. “Coffee and a chat? While she finishes up?”
Sandrine took the cup with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”
“You just lemme know if there’s something you need, kiddo.” he just spoke the words out into the workshop.
“Will do, now git.” came the slightly less muffled reply.
“That girl is going places” Mike said after the two had taken a seat in his office. “and fast.”
“I know, she’s been giving me grey hairs for a good decade now” Sandrine smiled over her coffee-emulate.
“She’ll be pestering me about an apprenticeship again soon. I’m running out of excuses.” He looked at her with an apologetic smile.
“I’m not surprised, she really likes working here, not many places you can get a job without a license.”
He looked at the woman. Knowing full and well that the only reason they could have this friendly an accord was because she insisted on it. “She” he nodded his head towards the door. “could get any job, anywhere at any time. With every license in the world handed to her.”
Sandrine smiled at her friend. “Which is exactly why she has to earn it.”
Mike Harrison was a self-employed sub-contractor for the USL. His workshop was placed next to the Small-Ship docking bay and his primary clientele were miners, private transports and the odd USL fighter, when one of the Defender Class ships came in for refit and repairs. In his youth he had been one of the Engineers on the AEGIS build and had, subsequently, resigned from USL duty as soon as he could. Using his commission bonus to set up shop on the Terra Orbital Platform. He now did repairs and upgrades to whoever dropped their ship on his grav-lifts.
“You know she’s missing out, right?” he said out of nowhere.
“What do you mean?” Sandrine’s eyebrows did a little dance of worry.
“She’s what? fifteen? and currently under a 403 repairing a component that was an aftermarket refit.”
“It's a simple replacement” Sandrine remarked.
“No.” He locked eyes with the woman across the table. “She hasn’t replaced the inverter. She removed it, fixed it and is currently putting it back in place.” he pressed his right index finger against the table as he listed the steps. “That is an operation, which, if she wasn’t here, I’d have to hire someone else to do. Someone insanely expensive.”
“Well she likes working in the shop.”
“Because that’s all she knows, Sandy” He looked out through the dirty window to the shop floor. “First she went with you to your little shop. then she got old enough to join Educational Systems and came to your lab after school. Then that thing happened with first fleet’s com-relays and you pissed off to fix that for six months. I stepped in to give a hand, and subsequently she’s been hanging out here ever since.” He sighed. “She goes off to the library in the morning, takes her qualifiers and one hour later she’s here. Every day, all day.”
“Yes well… ES is standardized, they won’t let her pass until she is old enough.”
“Bullshit Sandrine and you know it.” Mike was getting aggressive. “She has no proper network, she spends her days at a workshop with a guy who is old enough to be her grandfather and his apprentice, who despite of being three years older than her, couldn’t perform half the repairs she does. Jeff is a good kid, but he’d spend six hours replacing the entire module and then another two aligning it properly. She’s barely had that ship on the lift for three hours and she’s practically done.” He sighed.
“I’m as much a part of the issue as you are Sandy.”
“DON’T...Don’t Mike, you’re not her father.”
“I know, my kids are fucking morons compared to her”
“Don’t say that, Junior is an astro-”
“My point exactly, Anne is... Compared to her, my kids are retards, sitting in a corner shitting themselves.”
“So what is you point?” Her tone was annoyed and impatient.
“My kids had friends who sat with them and self-defecated.”
Sandrine got up. Rushed out the door, slammed it behind her and went over to the ship to pick up her offspring.
“I swear on the Monument of heroes Jeff, if you take a Steel brush to my Titanium Tools I will have a Draegis Drone shit all over your locker. Just spray them with the super coolant and put them back in their spot.”
“but the manual says” the apprentice was trying his best to defend the steel brush in his hand.
“The Manual is made by the company that makes a living selling new tools.” The fifteen year old was standing in a pose her mother used frequently when people refused to listen to instructions, feet at shoulder width, both hands curled into fists and pressed against the sides of her abdomen and toes pointing towards the target.
“Brush down, gloves on, super coolant spray, back in the tray.” she instructed with a stern voice.
“Anne, we’re leaving.” Her mother called as she approached. “I’m so sorry Jeff, she should be more respectful.” she apologized to the eighteen year old engineering student.
“No worries Miss Sabron, she’s showed me how to repair a parabellic inverter today. I guess tool maintenance is a natural 'next-on-the-list'.” The young man smiled and picked up the aerosol can of super coolant.
During the brief walk to the transit platform Sandrine looked at the girl. The smooth, mid-back-length platinum blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, she had grown into her teenage figure with remarkable grace. She was slim, well proportioned between limbs and torso and graced with a impressively symmetrical face. The faces of the boys they were passing told her that her daughter was seen as both attractive and beautiful, which was a pleasant confirmation of her own opinion about her daughters appearance.
"Are you...happy?" She asked the girl.
"Why?"
"Don't you miss having friends?"
“I’ve got friends.” she looked at her mother. “You, mike, Jeff, Uncle E” Sandrine looked at the girl as she listed the names of the people who, for the most part, had watched her grow up.
“Dammit.” It slipped out before she could stop it. She quickly shot a sideways glance at her daughter who, apparently, was completely unphased.
“Mom...I work in a garage…" the teen began. "I hear entire sentences made up entirely of cuss words and a single ‘and’ multiple times before lunch… Besides, if people ask, you said ‘Darn it.’”
“Yea…” Sandrine hated the fact that Mike was right. She almost hated him being right as much as she hated herself for not spotting it first. Things had to change.
The next morning Anna rolled out of her tiny room and into the open dining/Kitchen/Living area of their apartment and shuffled over to the counter for some breakfast. The cereal bowl was, as usually, placed and filled, with a bag of milk sitting next to it, just waiting for her to do the final part of the ritual. In her current state of less-than-fully-awake she almost didn't notice the packed bags and naked walls, but only almost.
"What's" crunch slurp crunch "with the bags?" She mumbled between mouthfuls.
"Good morning sweetie" Sandrine beamed at the girl as she swept through the apartment packing the last bits and pieces into boxes. "I thought we needed a change of atmosphere."
"A vacation?" Anna managed to mumbled between munches.
"Maybe, that depends on how things work out."
"Things?" Anna lowered her spoon into the bowl and looked at her mother.
"Nevermind sweetheart, don't worry about it. Just finish your breakfast, the transport leaves at noon."
When the two females stepped out of the transport, Anna couldn't help but marvel at how they could spend more time packing, than they did traveling to the Mars Orbital Station. Even with the 0.5 luminals speed limit for inner system travel, the journey took less than one hour, time she'd spent reading through the technical manual for the new EVA Suits used for vacuum dock ship maintenance.
After they'd passed through the customs check and their belongings had been loaded on to the transport for the surface, her mother had lead her to the immigration office in the station and filled out some documents. Anna had no idea what they were about, she was more focused on the repair docks that were scattered along the outer Hull of the station. None of them were USL. Mikes garage had been the only private owned repair shop on the TOP. Here, every shop was privately owned. She was angry that they'd just hand out entrepreneur licenses like that, when she couldn't even get an apprenticeship permit.
Her mother slid the paper in from of her. "Sign here, honey." She pointed at a line. Anna scribbled her name 'Anastacia Krachic Miller Sabron' the line read when she'd finished. Her mother then signed her name underneath and slid the paper back to the immigration official. The lady behind the counter looked at the paper, then up at her mother, then her jaw started dropping slowly, her eyes swapped target to Anna and then back to her mother.
"I'm sorry, Miss Sabron, we were not aware that the Engineer was coming. Please follow me." She waved them back behind the counter and began leading them towards a side door.
"That won't be necessary" her mother began. Anna realised that her mother's objections were futile as the immigration officer guided them through a short series of corridors to an inconspicuous looking door.
"Please wait here" she said, slightly flustered, and left.
Anna looked at her mother as they sat down in the two comfortable looking recliners in the room. "What was that about?" She asked.
"A bit of pomp and circumstance, sweety, nothing to worry about. I had hoped we could skip it, but now it'll just slow us down a bit." Sandrine looked around the room with an expression that mixed a fond memory with a hint of pain.
A short, uncomfortably silent, moment later, the door opened and a man wearing a suit, sans jacket, briskly walked in. "My apologies, Engineer, we had No idea you were coming, I will have the USL protocols reviewed so it doesn't happen again, you have my word." His apology was uttered with machine gun speed, despite that, every word was clearly articulated.
"Don't worry about it, Station director Hamil" Anna looked at her mother as Sandrine spoke with a calm authority that Anna had never heard her use before. "I made no official travel plan, and I'd like to keep my presence off the vip records for as long as possible." The man nodded at, what seemed like, an uncharacteristically slow pace.
"I understand Engin...Miss Sabron" he smiled warmly. “Allow me to unofficially apologize for retaining you, the transport to First Landing has just departed, allow me to provide a drop with my personal carrier, to mitigate the inconvenience."
"Thank you Station Manager, for your kindness." Sandrine smiled warmly as she got up from the chair and shook the managers hand. "Let's go Anna."
"What was that about mom?" Anna had tried to puzzle the pieces together in her mind as they walked to the station managers personal transport. She had waited to ask the question until they were in transit to the First Landing spaceport.
"My job" was the only answer she got.
School
"Ok everyone, take your seats so we can get started, ok?" The teachers overly cheerful tone cut through the commotion in the classroom. As the other students settled down in their seats, Anna was standing by the door, clutching her backpack to her chest. This was a room full of people, on the TOP All schooling was done through terminals at the library, or at home, and Anna had quickly come to the conclusion that rooms full of people were not amongst her favorite things.
"We have a new student joining us today, if you would like to come over here and introduce yourself." It wasn't a question. Anna was staring down into the backpack, willing it to swallow her whole, so that the eyes didn't focus on her. She took the three steps to the teachers desk.
"I'm...Anna" she was talking to the bag, it repaid her efforts by completely ignoring her existence, a gesture for which, she was immensely grateful.
"Hello Anna, I'm Abigail Johnson. How would you like to be identified?" That was a question. Anna was immediately aware of that. But she didn't understand it.
"What?" She looked at the teacher, who was all smiles and encouragement.
"What is your preferred pronoun Anna? How would you like us to refer to you?"
"Uhm.." the confusion had her on her heels "I don't...what do you mean, miss Johnson?"
"How do you identify? What gender pronoun do we use when talking about you or referring to you?"
"Uhm...I'm….female" Anna looked at the teacher with an expression of disbelief in her eyes. "Obviously" she finished the sentence. A wave of muffled laughs rippled through the classroom.
"Now now, there is no such thing as presumptions here Anna, This classroom has room for All, This is a safe space. Now please go take a seat so we can begin."
Anna scanned the room for empty seats, there was one at a shared desk next to a kid with a greenish hue and a slightly amphibious appearance and one next to a girl who looked like she had a job as a social Media model. Anna started down the path between desks and as she got closer to the one next to miss universe, the seat was taken by the girls backpack. Luckily the other empty seats was down the same path and further back, she made her way down to it and looked at the amphibious kid. "This seat taken?" She asked.
The kid looked up at her "What? No." It looked around somewhat confused and pulled the chair out.
"Thanks" Anna said and sat down "It is now" she smiled.
As the teacher noticed All her pupils were seated, she called attention to the class and began the lecture.
After, what Anna found to be, a very boring and basic introduction to astral charting. The bell rang for recess. While her classmates filed out of the classroom she kept in her seat.
"I'm sorry" the amphibian said "but we have to leave the room during recess"
Anna looked at it. "Oh, ok" she said and got up. They left the room together and once they were in the hallway the kid turned to her. "I'm D'ree, by the way. I am also female."
"Nice to meet you D'ree. What's with the gender specifics?" She looked puzzled, trying to wrap her head around everything.
"I think it's because us S'skii are prone to swap genders." D'ree looked at Anna apologetically. "And some humans have a similar desire."
"I don't" Anna remarked.
"Me neither" D'ree said coldly. The girls looked at eachother and broke into a laugh.
"C'mon" D'ree said "let's go get something to eat"
"Hey sweetie, How was school?" Sandrine asked as she heard the door in the hotel suite open and close again.
"School sucks" came the reply. "Why did we have to go here and why do I have to go to school when it's a vaca-" The stream of words stopped as reality had a head-on collision with Anna. "This is permanent! Why is this permanent?" She shouted at her mother from across the room.
"We needed a change of atmosphere and this was the best option" Sandrine looked at her daughter and felt her heart break a little when the indignation and rage her daughter portrayed didn't taper off.
"You. You. Uurgh!" Anna stormed off into the bedroom.
The next morning Sandrine was making breakfast when Anna emerged from the bedroom.
"It'll get better, i promise" she said to the top of her daughters head, seeing that that was the only part of her that she could make eye-contact with.
In the classroom Anna had taken her seat next to D'ree, when miss Johnson entered and beamed at the class. “Good morning class, today we’re going to explore the intriguing aspects of energy and relativity, as it is explained under the 'Theorem of momentum'" she looked out over the pupils and drew a breath. "Those of you who has done their homework will know that the theorem has disproved Einstein's theory of relativity with regards to Faster than light travel. Can any of you explain How it has done so?"
Anna raised her hand, as the only one in the class.
"Anna" miss Johnson said, with a smile.
"It hasn't" Anna said. "The theory of relativity states that momentum is a variable, which is a useful perception of momentum when moving at speeds slower than light. The Theorem defines momentum as a constant, derived from energy in relation to resistance and mass. Which is a definition that is necessary in order to move at speeds in excess of Lightspeed. It is not a disprove of Einstein's theory, it is an adaptation."
"That is not correct, Anna" miss Johnson said. "The textbook clearly states that the Theorem disproves the Theory of relativity" the teacher smiled at Anna. "But if you had read the material, you would have known this. This class is entry level physical, not 'new girl guesstimates'" the classroom had a wave of snickers ripple across it.
"The textbook is wrong, and not only in regards to relativity. There are numerous errors in it, most of which, will kill someone when applied to reality" Anna snapped back. "Many of them are due to oversimplifications, but just because it's entry level physics it doesn't justify jumping to the wrong conclusion." She stared at the teacher and felt a twitch in her jaw as the muscle jerked.
Miss Johnson looked at her. "You, little miss, Will go to the principal's office, where you will face the consequences of wording off against a teacher."
"But" Anna stated.
"Now" miss Johnson roared.
Anna got up from her chair, grabbed her bag and stormed out of the classroom. Once she arrived at the principal's office, she took a seat on one of the chairs that were positioned against the wall, opposite the door to the office and waited. A teacher walked by her as she sat staring into the floor. “Aren’t you the new girl in Johnson's class?” the woman asked.
“I guess” Anna replied without looking up.
“Then you have PE in ten minutes. I strongly recommend you be there.” the voice was stern, but friendly.
“I was told to go to the principal’s office.” Anna kept looking at her feet certain that if she looked up, all she would be facing was a condescending stare.
“The chair will be here after my class, child. But attendance in PE is mandatory.” the woman’s voice had a tone that indicated she was not used to, or in any way inclined towards, arguing with a student. “I will make sure Principal Kriegman is made aware of the situation.”
“Thank you” Anna replied as she grabbed her bag and headed off towards the gymnasium. After a dozen or so steps, she turned back towards the chairs, hoping to see the teacher still there, but found only an empty corridor. Remembering the conversation she hurried to the girls changing room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen” The woman standing in front of the class began. Anna was taken aback with the sheer size of the facilities, the PE department was a standalone building on campus, where the changing rooms were placed in opposite ends. The girls changing area was at the northern end and opened into an olympic sized swimming pool, which was separated from the next area by sliding doors, these revealed a multi-purpose arena, that was currently configured for basketball. Beyond the arena, separated by another set of doors, was the dojo area, a large space, covered in floor mats with an equipment area on the east side, behind a set of sliding paper doors. Further south was the gym. A lot of exercise equipment, mostly consisting of free weights and resistance machines, no treadmills or stair machines. Adjacent to that was the boy’s changing area. The class was standing in the dojo.
“That is Mrs. Devereaux” D’ree whispered into Anna’s ear. “She’s mental, former USL or something, don’t piss her off, she’ll make you pay.”
“As you all know, by now, the purpose of Physical Education is to prepare you all for the harsh environment in which we live here on mars. If you haven’t worked up a sweat by the time the class finishes, you will work one up after school.” Devereaux looked at the loose semi-circle standing in front of her. “Now, square up, one per mat and focus, you know the drill.”
Anna watched as her classmates spread out across the floor, spaced evenly, the only open spot was the one she was standing on, so she centered herself and looked around. The other kids were standing with their eyes closed and breathing. Anna recognized the exercise and took the base stance of ACT, closing her eyes and focusing on her breath she found her pulse rhythm easily and focused on it, controlling it with her breathing she flowed into the first motion cycle, sliding her left foot forwards by half a pace-length she lifted her right arm so it was placed parallel with her lower rib, palm facing in as her left arm did a counter-clockwise semi-circle sweep, carefully contained to only take up as much space as was necessary to divert incoming interference from her torso. She maintained her focus as she then slid her right foot back a quarter pace and shifted the weight to it collecting her left foot at her right knee as the right hand moved forwards while the palm rotated to face the motion, fingers extended. She completed first cycle and repeated it, modulating the end motions to begin the second cycle. As she began the second repetition of the second cycle an interruption entered her area of awareness, her focus had blurred out everything that wasn’t inside a five foot radius sphere from her solar plexus. The interruption was a hand, positioned so that her motion would be hindered, she modulated her position, allowing a free flow through the cycle without establishing contact with the hand. Another obstacle was interjected in her sphere and again she adapted her position, this time the new position revealed additional obstacles from the new position and she modulated her motions to an alternative cycle pattern.
This repeated itself until she managed to complete a second cycle. As she began her third cycle, she expanded her awareness to approximately six feet, just like the instructors on the TOP had taught her. She recognized the person who was obstructing her exercise as Mrs. Devereaux, the realisation caused her pulse to jump and she quickly refocused to regain control, then she launched into her third cycle of motion and found that the teacher was actively trying to obstruct her movements, first it was one or two motions in a cycle, then it expanded to about half of them and by the time Anna had reached her tenth cycle of motion, Mrs. Devereaux was everywhere, constantly interjecting herself into the flow as an obstruction, her interjections had become more than just obstacles, she was attacking and Anna was defending herself. The realisation jerked Anna out of her focus and the resulting single-finger-touch to her right collarbone marked the end of the exercise.
Anna took a step back, breathed deeply to relent her control over her pulse and looked at the teacher.
Mrs. Devereaux was standing in the twelfth cycle starting position, one Anna had only recently begun practising. She was controlling her breath, using the three pulse technique, which Anna had only seen demonstrated and she was drenched in sweat, her neat ponytail was clinging to her shoulder and the puddle that had formed beneath her was etching towards the puddle of sweat that had formed beneath Anna’s feet.
The rest of the class had formed a circle around the two, all of them standing with their mouths ajar, gaping at the two women.
“Well done miss…?” Mrs. Devereaux said. Anna just looked at her, gathered herself in the exit stance and bowed at the waist, with her right arm crossing her chest, fist clenched.
“Anna” she said at the end of the bow, and as she righted herself she noted that Mrs. Devereaux had returned the salute.
“Alright, Anna. You have an appointment with a chair at the Principal’s office, shower first, young miss.” Mrs. Devereaux looked at the rest of the class. “You, you, you and you” she pointed at the four other pupils that showed signs of exertion. D’ree and three of the boys. “Showers and then onwards. The rest of you, I will be seeing after school. Running gear, ten miles.” The ones pointed out to shower leaped towards the changing rooms. The rest groaned as they had a nice long commute home from school on foot to look forward to.
“That...Was…” D’ree began as the two girls hit the showers in solitude “Amazing” she gawked at Anna as Anna slipped under the onslaught of water spewing from the showerhead. “How did you do that?” D’ree continued. “Do what?” Anna looked at her friend with a puzzled expression.
“You managed to stave off Mrs. Devereaux, for more than an hour, it looked like you two were dancing.” D’ree’s voice was full of admiration.
“I just...Moved through the circles, I guess.” Anna was dumbfounded, this had been just another ACT session. On the TOP her instructor had used the same method of training, albeit Mrs. Devereaux had different interference techniques, the result had been the same: motion, interference, adaptation, repeat.
“It looked amazing, you’re really good at it.” D’ree beamed at Anna. “I can do maybe three minutes. Michael is the best one in class and he can fend her off for twenty minutes, then he’s out of breath.” she continued.
“Sounds like he needs to ascertain his focus” Anna suggested as she leaned back into the shower jet, letting the warm water loosen her back muscles.
“You must like being in trouble” D’ree said teasingly. “First you word off against Miss Johnson and then you fight Mrs. Devereaux for an hour.” Anna looked at the S’skii girl through the steam that had filled the communal shower room. “I don’t” she said. “On the TOP I was never in trouble, I just signed in to the virtual teaching environment and took my classes.”
D’ree looked at her. “That sounds boring” she remarked.
After a quick change of clothes Anna headed off to the Principal's office and took a seat in the hallway.
A short wait later a man popped his head out of the door. “Miss Sabron?” he inquired. Anna nodded. “Principal Kriegman will see you now.” Anna got up and entered through the door into the Assistants office, where she saw her mother sitting in a chair. “Mom?” her surprised voice rang clearly through the office.
“Of course sweety.” Her mother replied and smiled.
“Just go through the door miss.” The assistant gently coaxed Anna towards the door that had a Plaque on it which read ‘Principal Kriegman’.
“Ah! Anna, welcome” Principal Kriegman beamed as Anna entered the office. She was a woman in her early sixties, with a brown head of hair, styled in a messy bun and a clear preference for floral patterned suits. “I hear you’ve caused quite an uproar today, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you” The Principal was all smiles as she offered a handshake to Anna, which she took. “Please, take a seat.” Kriegman insisted.
Anna looked back towards the closed door. “Yes, you mother will be joining us shortly. But first we need to handle things without her. Get some clarification, if you will.”
Anna looked back at Principal Kriegman with a quizzical look. “You see, my girl, I only have the insight that the teachers have offered, I will need your side of the events as well and I tend to find that getting the students side of things is easier without overly protective parents in the room.” Kriegman smiled warmly.
Anna just looked at the Principal, who got up and walked over to a drinks dispenser. “Chocolate?” she asked. “Yes please” Anna's voice was almost a whisper.
"Right" Kriegman said as she offered a steaming cup of chocolate to Anna. "Miss Johnson tells me that you've worded off against her in front of the class." Kriegman held up a finger to stop Annas objections as she took a sip of her chocolate. "This is, of course, an unfortunate development. But between the two of us" she leaned across the table and folded her fingers around the cup. "I'm more interested in the 'why' than the 'what'."
Anna looked at the principal as a million thoughts fought to gain Access to her mouth at once. The one who made it through the bottleneck was.
"What…?"
"Indeed, what did you say, that caused one of this schools most inclusive and accommodating teachers to send you to the principal's office?" The Principal looked at Anna with a mischievous grin. "Did you tell her that you identify as a plant?"
"What? No" Anna was shocked.
"Pity, secretly I keep hoping that someone would one day, just to see how she'd react." Kriegman leaned back in her chair, chest bopping from a soundless laugh.
"I told her that the physics textbook was wrong"
Kriegman immediately stifled her mirth and sat upright. Her left hand pressed the button on the intercom. "Charles, have Miss Johnson, Miss Sabron and Mrs. Deveraux shown in ASAP."
"Yes dear" came the voice from the other side of the door.
The three women entered in short succession a few minutes later. Anna’s mother looked at her with a worried, but loving expression. Miss Johnson’s eyes were overflowing with, what seemed like, a mixture of joy, victory and gloating. Mrs. Devereaux didn’t look at her at all.
“So” Kriegman began. “There seems to be a mistake in the physics textbook.” “I beg your pardon, Principal Kriegman” Miss Johnson interjected. “But we’ve been using these textbooks for three years now, and they’re perfectly fine. I don’t see how one child misunderstanding the basics of physics warrants a review.” She continued with an agitated voice.
“Miss. Johnson” Kriegman was unexpectedly stern in her tone. “If I found the claim to be unsupported, we would not be here. The young Miss. Sabron is a recent transfer from the United Terran Education Standard schooling program. The Martian Educational System does not have access to the records of ES students, or the capacity to obtain these without long delays and bureaucratic nightmares. In this case, however, Miss Sabron, senior, was kind enough to include a copy of Anna’s records in her application. Due to the nature of Miss Sabron’s work, these records are confidential. I can however guarantee you that if Anna has discovered an error in the Entry level Physics material, There is, most likely, an error.” Kriegman had locked eyes with Johnson and had increased the sternness in her voice.
“Anna” Her mother laid a hand on her shoulder. “what is the error you’ve found, dear?”
Anna looked up at her mother, then at Principal Kriegman, then at her cup of chocolate and then at her feet. “The theorem of momentum” she muttered. “Speak up child” Johnson snapped at her. Anna locked eyes with the teacher and held her gaze as her dagger stare left noone in the room in doubt what was going through her mind. “The textbook clearly states that The Theorem of Momentum disproves Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. This is wrong, it expands on the definition of Momentum in regards to faster than light velocities. It does not, in fact, disprove anything.”
“I’d like to see the proof of this.” Johnson flatly stated. Anna jumped out of her seat, or, she would have had her mother’s hand not been on her shoulder, firmly pressing her down in the seat.
Kriegman saw the restrain and smiled. “Anna doesn’t need to provide proof of her claim” her mother's voice sounded calm and reserved behind her “I can verify that she is correct.”
“Yes and every helicopter parent in the galaxy would die to prevent their precious babies being proven wrong.” Johnson sneered, with a pleading stare at the Principal.
“Abigail” Kriegman began. “It's your Textbook. Who have you credited with formulating the Theorem of Momentum?” She looked calmly at the teacher. “Chief Engineer Sabron of the USL, Why?” Kriegman turned her gaze to Anna where she rested it briefly, with a smile and then to Sandrine. “Miss?” She inquired politely as she extended her right hand in greeting and rose from her chair.
“Chief Engineer Sandrine Sabron, USL, Retired.” her mother rose and shook the principals hand.
Abigail Johnson involuntarily shifted from pasty-caucasian to ripe-tomato and stormed out of the office.
The two women sat back down in their respective chairs.
“I’ll have the college level physics department go over the textbook and I’ll also look into why they haven’t reported this in earlier.” Kriegman tapped on her holo display while talking.
“Bribes” came a stern voice from the corner of the office. “She’s been paying a percentage of her earnings on the books to the higher level staff to keep them in the curriculum.”
“Mrs. Devereaux” Kriegman sounded shocked, but looked oddly relieved. “that is a serious accusation against the faculty of this institution.”
Anna looked from the principal to the PE teacher and then to her mother, who was staring at Mrs. Devereaux with her mouth slightly ajar.
“It is also one that Sheriff Devereaux has been silently investigating for the past three months.” Devereaux said. “but let's get back to the important topic of today.” she continued and looked at Sandrine. “Hey Eggy” She smiled. “LILITH!” Anna saw her mother’s face slam head-first into the concept of ‘happy’ as she jumped from her chair and embraced the PE teacher. After, what Anna felt as ‘a too long’ embrace the two women looked each other in mutually teary eyes.
“Now” LILITH said. “Why have you taught Anna here high level ACT?”
“High level?” Sandrine sounded confused. “I merely asked the instructors of the system defence fleets to give us lessons while they were docked” She looked embarrassed. “there aren’t many ways to keep a body fit on the TOP.”
“What level?” Kriegman looked at Devereaux with a worried expression briefly flaring across her eyebrows.
“Solid three, early four, with adaptation capacity of a decent six.” Devereaux sounded almost proud.
“So a three point five?” the principal was leading the question, heavily.
“Three point seven to three point nine” Devereaux stated. Anna looked at her mother as she did her best possible imitation of a question mark.
Sandrine looked just as puzzled and the two looked at the Principal and the PE teacher respectively.
Mrs. Devereaux locked eyes with Anna and took a deep breath. “Three is the legal limit for civilian personnel, at level four you’re considered a weapon. Five is the limit for trained adaptation. Six is the benchmark for USL Marines...DAEMON was a seven point seven.”
Sandrine drew a gasp, Anna recognized the reaction as one that immediately lead her mother to tears, chocolate and wine. She looked back at her mother, who was sitting slightly hunched over, lips quivering as she was holding back tears.
Anna snapped her head back towards the PE teacher and jumped from her chair to produce an obstruction between the teacher and her nearly crying mother. Her heart raced, she caught the rhythm, flowed into it and instinctively moved to have the best position of the two. Which was easy, when Mrs. Devereaux didn’t flinch from her position of leaning against the window sill, arms crossed in front of her.
“Jeez Eggy, I get it, the reminder is still too much, I’m sorry, now get the gremlin to calm down. I swear, it's just like looking at him, just with hair and hips.”
Anna registered her mother getting up from her chair in her blind spot, and walk up behind her, enveloping her in a warm and safe embrace. She let her pulse slow to normal and turned around in her mother’s arms and reciprocated the embrace.
“Louise?” Kriegman’s voice was as low and inconspicuous as humanly possible.
“Four point seven.” came the reply. “I’ll take over on her training, before someone gets hurt.”
"Good, good" Kriegman regained some of her vocal bravour. "Anna, dear, due to the differences between Educational Standards and the Martian Qualification Program, we can't directly transfer your qualifications. Instead we have to pinpoint the level you're at. This Will be done over the course of up to four weeks. We do know, however, that your social interaction level requires you to be in miss Johnson's class. Do try to make the best of that situation. The level of the various classes in regards to your curriculum, Will be adapted to your qualifications, as we specify them. Ok?"
Anna nodded silently.
"I believe we need some air" Sandrine said. Kriegman nodded. "Good Day to you Principal Kriegman, Mrs. Deveraux."
A couple of hours later two females were seated in a couch in a hotel suite, just outside the spaceport, sharing a plaid and most definitely not sharing two tubs of icecream.
"Crazy day, huh?" Sandrine looked at her daughter.
Anna just stared blankly at the wall opposing the couch.
"Yea" she sighed as she snuggled into her mother's armpit. "At least it can't get any weirder tomorrow."
Next
submitted by Zephylandantus to HFY [link] [comments]


2020.02.01 19:18 jinxbeatz (New class questline) Pugilist Prizefighters Monster Bashing Arena

Pugilist prizefighters monster bashing arena questline:
Cast: Southie, Ray, Prizefighter, Commander, Audience
Opening Cinematic: Camera goes black and opens immediately to a basic husks face and iconic “blaghh” noise and in a quick animation the husk is punched by an anti-material charge and the scene slows, suddenly the hand changes from a AMC to a regular hand punching the husk as the scene quickens to regular speed and pans to a far shot of a human figure punching and kicking husk after husk coming at them. Camera goes in to focus on a husk coming right behind the figure and just before it makes contact the figure swiftly steps away, the camera slows on a still headshot of Prizefighters first appearance and allows you to get a good look at the anarchy driven fighter. After a second or two he cocks back and delivers a lunging punch forward then ducks and goes into an uppercut. Camera pans out to see husks laid out and out of the darkness a smasher arrives in frame midcharge headed straight at prizefighter. Prizefighter stands straight and still in the path of the smasher and is devoid of emotion and just as the smasher hits, what seemed to be his body explodes into glass and one shard hits the camera breaking it and the camera hits the ground and fuzzes out.
First mission: One mans trash
Southie is looking through some things and contacts ray
Southie: Commander I have been looking for remnants of my home to pay homage to my late father and I know where a key part to that may be could you help me search for it?
Players go into an eliminate and collect mission to find the item and enter a rundown gym which has tons of contraptions around
Ray: Southie said he is looking for his fathers old boxing gloves search the area
Searching the area you find a safe that when searched drops a flier on the ground
Southie:(bewildered) What the! Someone stole his gloves… wah? The monster dome?
Mission ends
-Back at homebase-
Southie: Ray I need this paper scanned and the location marked
Ray: its deep in husk territory… but wait theres signals there and one really strong one, commander deploy to this zone, there might be people to save
Second mission: Welcome to the Dome
Players deploy into a vast forest zone with a path and the sky is covered my treetops as the player proceeds a thick purple fog rolls in and restricts vision.
Ray: Gaushdys I cawuashhhh…
Ray is cut off as the players continues further they are met with what seems like a wall, then the fog immediately lifts to realize that wall was a GIANT coliseum and somehow your not in a forest but a town with lights on and all and there is no forest in sight.
Ray:(shock) there really is a coliseum out here and a town?! Investigate the area
Players run around the large area to find the entrance and enter, once all players enter, a large metal grate shuts behind them with a large boom. A light up in the stadium flashes on to reveal a man with a microphone.
Prizefighter: I have no idea who you are or what your name is but I do know that you lot are here for a challenge! LADIES n GENTS WE HAVE OURSELVES A FINE PAIR OF NEW CHALLENGERS!!
The lights in the flash on to reveal people in the audience and a loud uproaring cheer.
Southie: Wait ,wait, wait, uncle Carl?
Ray: Uncle!?
Prizefighter: Ss..ssSouthie? Is that you? (an audible click and beep is heard) My apologies everyone back to our lovely show here, lets see what their made of.
Metal walls, gates, blockades and debris rise up to turn into makeshift cover and at the drop of a hat husks are spawning in packs.
Building doesn't work
Ray: Something is cutting me off, I cant get a evacuate you just yet, please try to hold on im working as fast as possible.
95 husks spawn in the first wave
(if anyone goes down) Prizefighter: well you have to try harder than that
-between husk pack spawns-
Prizefighter: I beat this one in a minute or two flat, so far you aren’t impressing
-Wave 1 ends-
Prizefighter: WELL, WELL, WELL MAYBE YOU ACTUALLY CAN IMPRESS ME BUT YOU ARE NOT DONE YET!
Just as husks were going to spawn the ray evacuates the team.
Prizefighter: Darn! So he is alive…(audible click and beep) what a bunch of cowards!
Mission ends
-Back at homebase-
Southie: Wow I would have never expected my uncle out of anybody to survive.
Ray: Yea about that uncle thing, what do you mean? And why did he try to kill us?
Southie: My father was a world class boxer and my uncle also took up boxing but in a much more violent manner, even after always losing to my father he would say he is better throught all of his cheap wins until he finally got caught, it lead him to accepting madness but taking it out on husks is not how I saw him turning out.
Ray: We need to save those people regardless of his hobby, deploy to the town and try to convince them to come back to homebase with us
Third mission: Wanted alive or ALIVE????
Players enter the village zone and look around for survivors, after five minutes of not finding anyone.
Ray: This zone is (sad) actually quite depressing
One survivor is found
Ray: Oh! There is one there!
Survivor: Uh hello? What is it?
She waves with something shiny on her arm
Ray: We want to save you from the husk hord…
Survivor: Uh no thanks? I need my training for the day
Ray: Wait what? Training? No you can be safe from them at homebase
Survivor: You must be new around here but most of us left know how to handle ourselves
Ray: Which is why we need you guys to come to homebase its safe and you can help make it safe for others
Survivor: Does this homebase have manta?
Ray: The manta?
The survivor raises the arm to show a blue shining bracelet
Ray: i..is that a blueglo bracelet?
Survivor: No its a power manta and its why I don't need your help, but if you can show me your stronger than us then I will have no other choice
Ray: How would we do that?
Survivor point to the coliseum
Survivor: Beat Prizefighters unbeatable challenge
Mission ends
-Back at homebase-
Southie: Ray! Please don't consider doing any challenge by my uncle and especially not a unbeatable one. Hes off the deep end and anything unbeatable may just be walking into death.
Ray: I would never be thaaat oblivious im trying to find out more on the manta thing.
Southie: Mantra? Its like words of power but what does that have to do with anything
Ray: No a ma… wait thats what it is! Its a power bracelet fueled with bluglo.
Southie: That would explain the weird nature of the area since everyone is strong but isn't bluglo hazardous that way?
Ray: Thats the thing its professionally sealed and everyone there has one so how did they get such a intricacy so easy?
Southie: better yet why do some of them seem to be malfunctioning and they don’t know, I researched the sounds that happens when my uncle tends to switch personalities and its seems like its bluglo leakage.
Ray: Im sorry Southie and im sorry Commander but the best way to find out is to take his challenge and get answers from the source
Fourth mission: Move mountains
Players deploy at the coliseum entrance and walk in to get the same treatment as before. Except when the metal blockades deploy an entire second floor is added with narrow hallways and two walkways up.
Prizefighter: Maybe this time you won’t have it so easy
Wave 1:
Husks spawn in the normal 95 of normal husks and zappers
-post 1st wave-
Prizefighter: NO BACKING OUT NOW!!
The stadium rumbles and an electric field walls off half the arena.
Prizefighter: Hahahahaha!!! well good luck with my unbeatable challenge
Wave 2:
Crowd quiets in shock but then begin cheering again
Basic husks spawn from the second floor and smashers and huskies spawn from the ground floor
After 100 husks 2 miniboss takers spawning
-post 2nd wave-
Prizefighter: this ones my real workout wave!
Wave 3:
100 Huskies start spawning on the ground floor and 1 miniboss smashers
-post 3rd wave-
Only people with the mantas can do this wave
Wave 4:
60 shielded zappers and blasters spawn and 3 miniboss zappers on the second floor
-post 4th wave-
Southie: Carl just stop we want to help you, your suffering from bluglo poisoning.
Prizefighter: The bracelet wont come of...(Click and beep) ALRIGHT LETS SHOW THEM THEIR FINAL CHALLENGE
Wave 5:
Southie: Get this replacement bracelet to Carl quickly
Bottom Floor: 88 husklings
Second Floor:10 takers
After placing the bracelet
Southie: please take the bracelet and the laser saw next to it, use everything in you Carl
As the wave ends Prizefighter jumps down grabs the bracelets and exchanges it for his broken one and climbs back up and despawns the husks.
Mission ends
-Back at homebase-
Prizefighter: I apologize to all of you for the trouble I have caused, I know it cant make up for the people who have failed my challenge but I will now only accept those willing and not stragglers.
Ray: All is forgiven Prizefighter but we need to get the people from that city back to homebase
Southie: I need my fathers gloves do you have them
Prizefighter:(nervous) Yes but I kind of have them up for grabs for the death wave…
Ray and Southie: The what?!
Prizefighter: its okay you guys have me an I have been fighting these guys since they arrived at my doorstep.
Quest Reward:(Mythic) Prizefighter (Pugilist)
Final mission: Punch out!
Complete the death challenge in the monster bashing arena
Same as the unbeatable challenge just a final wave with 50 zappers and blasters and no metal cover
Prizefighters: This is the challenge that always seems to get me but with each try there is a chance of success.
Mission ends
Quest reward: Monster bash arena
Endless arena of torture as the arena shifts as it pleases with Prizefighter back in his victory throne.
Offers rewards depending on how far you get so better hope you get lucky.
Quest rewards: -Monster bash arena
(Mythic) Prizefighter: Pugilist
Health: 13,880
Hp regen: 400
Shield: 6,796
Shield regen rate: 2,000
Shield regen delay: 7
Hero ability damage: 1.1
Hero healing modifier: 2
Run speed: 461
Sprint speed: 619
Class perks:
One, two shuffle- 3% chance to avoid damage and overcharge abilities have a 67% chance to instantly start hp and shield regen
Overcharge: Abilities have a double effect for double the stamina, stamina is increased to 180
Abilities:
Swift-step: Quick dash in any direction which is short- 9 energy
Overcharge: double tap to dodge roll-18 energy
Haymaker charge: A punch charge that does 7,246 damage- 20 energy
Overcharge: Pressing haymaker charge again midcharge spins into an uppercut for 19,341 energy damage- 45 energy
Afterimage: Pugilists bracelet flashes and a hologram afterimage of themselves appears where they are standing, husks that attack this make it explode releasing confusion gas in a 3 tile area, any confused husks or mist monsters are vulnerable to a roundhouse kick by repressing afterimage on a confused husk for 50,000 energy damage- 35 energy for afterimage and 10 energy for each roundhouse kick(additionally you can uppercut afterimage to set it off manually)
Perks:
I’m made for this- emit a small taunt in your area leading husks to directly attack you
I’m made for this +- emit a small taunt in your area leading husks to directly attack you, additionally damage avoiding chance increased from 3% to 11%
Thank you so much for reading my idea, took me awhile please tell me what you think!
submitted by jinxbeatz to FORTnITE [link] [comments]