13 Good Bets to Make With Your Boyfriend - What to get my

RoyalRoad
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Story contains a lot about markets, logistics, development, and the best and worst of human history. Not so much Space Marines nuking aliens.
If you enjoyed the trade negotiations and Senate politics in the Star Wars prequels, and wished that there was an entire standalone story consisting solely of those parts, this might be for you!
In response to all the helpful feedback I've gotten, I am making major revisions to the start of this story, especially focusing on chapters one through three. While this occurs, there may be some inconsistencies.
The names of the brave astronauts aboard the first manned FTL spacecraft will forever be recorded in the annals of human history as a triumph of human ingenuity, determination, and international cooperation.
However, what came immediately after would be far more remembered.
"Hello, people of Earth! Humans! Welcome to the galactic community."
A shocked planet watched on their screens as an utterly alien character that looked like it was lifted out of a bad sci-fi show spoke. The alien mouth movements of what could only be described as a frog creature did not match the very human words that came out of the robotic translator.
The aliens did not pirate TV networks, nor did they hack into important government websites. They simply broadcast this openly on satellite TV for anyone with an antenna to hear. And for anyone who did not, there were CNN and social media.
"First, we would like to congratulate you on your first successful use of the blink drive. That itself is a feat of enlightenment most species we monitor do not achieve. Indeed, the physics of it all is not only extremely complex, it requires the cooperation and sacrifice of many beings, over many generations."
The young people at Mission Control in Johnson Space Center patted each other on the back tepidly as they watched the green headed frog-like alien addressing their hard work on the main screen.
"We come in peace. We are representatives of the Galactic Trader Guild."
Some humans let out a sigh of relief. Others, skeptical, watched intensely on.
"We are not here to take your resources or your people. The thousands of planets and species in the galaxy live in total peace and harmony with each other. Regional conflicts on planets are inevitable, but one thing we as a Guild pride ourselves on is our ability to ensure that none has ever reached the sacred frontiers of space."
That's a little odd, most people thought, and probably at least a little propagandized. After all, war is such a big part of human history and the human condition that it was hard to imagine an entire galactic community of thousands of FTL-capable species that never fought in space.
"Our spaceships represent millions of years of hard work, and these incredible investments must never be put into jeopardy. Therefore, weapons designed for use in space are banned. This ban will be enforced by regular ship inspections from your local Guild representatives, who are exceptions to this rule."
Most of the peace-loving people of Earth thought this was great news. After all, many nations had banned the usage of weapons in space. The only exceptions were, of course, the nations that actually had the capability to make use of space weapons. Government lawyers in the world were already starting their first drafts on their inevitable memos on how these rules obviously wouldn't or shouldn't apply to their country.
"As our name implies, we are a trade organization. We have rules for proper trade conduct that ensure a free and fair exchange of goods. All offworld traders from your planet must abide by them. Any breach of our bylaws and all fraudulent transactions can be reported to your local Guild representative. All our Guild documents will be transmitted to your people, translated to your dominant language."
A quick string of bytes followed on the digital transmission. Amateurs on the Internet quickly decoded the document. The content was a goldmine of information about the galaxy. Coordinates for alien planets on the blink drive, some engineering documents, and standardized units of measurements.
These are the temperatures and pressures at which pure water boils.
This is the standard strength of iron.
This is the distance light can travel in a vacuum while certain atoms decay. And so on.
Indeed, the big frog alien continued, "inside, you will find the specifications for an FTL beacon and the requirements for a standard trading spaceport. Once you have built them, traders around the galaxy will make the journey to make fair exchange with your people. Commonly traded items are food, manufactured goods, and workers. We are certain that your planet has many items of value for trade."
"We hope that you have a good cycle, and we eagerly await the arrival of you and your descendants in our spaceports!"
With that message transmitted, they and their ship disappeared. There were no negotiations. No exchange of handshakes.
As their ship blinked away, humanity pondered the colossal implications.
"Which planet is next on the list?" asked the big green frog as he parched his throat with water after the broadcast.
"That was it, representative. The railgun upgrade betting pool has Planet-3822 and Planet-8901 as the most likely next contenders for enlightenment. Would you like to place a wager?"
Some governments decided to suppress the news. North Korean state television cut to an orchestra playing classical music. Others made laws prohibiting the distribution of the material transmitted by the aliens until further study could be made.
In most of the connected world, the Internet rendered these measures pointless. By the end of the day, everyone had seen the aliens and that's not a genie that you could put back into the bottle. Most governments used this as an opportunity to justify dramatic increases in funding for space programs and defense.
There were very few incidents of the often exaggerated threat of civil unrest. Most people went on with their lives. They went to school, to work, and to ball games.
The arrival of the aliens had profound implications on the future of human philosophy. Most major religions had a dogma-compatible explanation by the end of the hour. Some sects even proclaimed this as evidence that their worldviews were correct.
In the stock market, this news was a massive upheaval in expectations. Thousands of alien worlds. This meant new markets with potentially trillions of customers. It also meant that potential alien technology could put entire industries out of business. Stock prices swung wildly as uncertain traders rapidly changed their positions.
Several development companies immediately announced their intentions to start construction on the spaceports mentioned in the Guild documents. As it turned out, building a place for spaceships to land wasn't that complex. You just needed something hard, durable, and flat that could withstand a bit of heat and wear. Using the formulas provided by the documents, experts agreed that the asphalt concrete normally used for airport tarmac would do just fine.
Normally, environmental reviews would need to be done, the sound pollution would need to be contained. Hundreds of tests needed to be conducted on site, but from what the frogheads said, if you built it, the traders were going to come.
Nobody wanted to be left out of what was going to be the new gold rush. So, money changed hands to grease the gears that ensured these new projects went through. Some lobbyists in Washington DC made a lot of money ensuring that no new regulations on "spaceport construction and operation" were added.
Even in California, the capital of NIMBYs and tree huggers, people could smell an opportunity if it boomed down from orbit and bonked them in the nose with it. Which it did in this case.
Thus, Livermore Spaceport.
What used to be a bunch of warehouses and parking lots just a short five-minute drive from Lawrence Livermore National Labs became a rapidly growing construction site. It was close enough to the San Francisco Bay Area metro that people could commute to it and see the first of the new generation FTL spacecraft take off and land, but far enough that they didn't have to hear about it when they slept.
BREAKING: LIVERMORE SPACEPORT OPERATIONAL
Looking up from her morning coffee, that's what the muted TV screen was trumpeting in big words on the CNN ticker. The mayor was talking, judging by the scrolling captions, something about how this will bring new jobs and money to the city.
Sarah snorted. Everything is always breaking news. She absent-mindedly watched as the TV played stock footage of the construction workers installing the antenna last month and humanity's first interstellar ships took off and landed on the concrete lot as she sipped her coffee.
Sarah Miller would not call herself a hard worker. She graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in Communications, not exactly a field high in demand. When she got offered a job as a "marketing person" at a tech startup in SF, she grabbed it, more like you'd grab a life raft and less like it was an opportunity of a lifetime or anything.
Then, two years later, the startup failed. Funding dried up, and now she was out of a job in a metro with some of the highest cost of living in the world, with not exactly the hottest resume.
So now she was sitting at a breakfast shop just outside her rented apartment in Livermore, checking her emails to see whether she got any replies on her job applications (she had not) and contemplating how long she'd last before she'd have to go home to live with her parents in Seattle.
It was not exactly a fun thought.
"You going to the spaceport opening too, Sarah?" Rudely interrupted from her self-pity, she looked to see the woman across from her. She racked her memory to match the face to a name, but nothing came immediately. Mid to late 20s, Asian American, hipster glasses, t-shirt and jeans.
The writing on the coffee cup in her hand said her name was "Jan". Ah, yes, they met a few times on the BART commute into the city. Was her name Jan or…
"Hey Jen, naw I was just staring at the news. How's it going?"
"Great! What about you? Haven't seen you on the BART for a few. You still working at that place downtown?"
Sarah sighed internally, here it is again. "Not anymore, we just got shut down. So, I'm pretty much just lounging around."
"Aww that's terrible!" Then Jen thought for a second. "Listen, I've got a business idea about the spaceport stuff, but no one to share them with. You should come with me to the opening."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Sarah asked, leaning forward. Normally, this would sound like the start of some kind of MLM scam or something, but she'd been unemployed long enough but that the word "business" piqued her interest. She knew that Jen was some kind of fancy engineer who made enough to still have savings despite living in one of the most expensive places in the world, so she probably wasn't asking for money.
Jen almost whispered, "my cousin's one of the construction workers at the spaceport, and he said he could get me in. They have a lot of big companies bidding to get on the ground floor of the alien trade with truckloads of all kinds of goods, but he's got an employee pass that'll get us in on day one."
"Wait, what?" Sarah said, confused. "I thought we were just going to see the opening."
"We are," Jen replied, "but I'm thinking we rent a truck, load it up with food, and see what the aliens will give us!"
"What do you need me for?"
"Well," Jen hesitated, "I have money for the truck and the food, but I don't know much about selling stuff…"
Neither did Sarah. She was in marketing, not a saleswoman. But she wasn't going to mention that.
"Sure, I sell a ton of stuff on Craigslist," she said instead, "but I'm sure nobody has experience selling to aliens!"
Jen looked relieved. Really, she just wanted some kind of backup instead of going alone. "Ok, since I'm putting up the money, and you're going to do the selling, I think we split profits fifty-fifty after I recoup the cost of the U-Haul rental and the food. How's that sound?"
Sarah thought for a while, but not too long. It probably wouldn't make them that much money, she thought. Then again, she wasn't putting anything on the line. And she needed money, if there were any to be earned here. She reached her arm out for a handshake.
"Deal!"
It's not like she had anything else to do on Saturday.
Costco, Livermore
The froghead had said that aliens traded food, and food was relatively cheap, so it was probably a safer bet to stick to than manufactured goods. Who even knew if the aliens could ride a bicycle or were interested in a PlayStation? The part he mentioned about trading workers sounded an awful lot like slavery, so that was an obvious non-starter.
"Do you think the aliens eat meat?" Sarah asked, holding up a massive bag of hamburgers.
Jen considered that for a second. Some vegetarians and vegans would probably postulate that a morally superior species would not partake in the consumption of animal flesh. Then again, she didn't have to guess. She pulled out her phone, and looked up the Guild documents summary someone had helpfully compiled into Wikipedia.
"Hmm it says that many of the other alien species are omnivores because that's how they get a wider variety of calories," Jen said after browsing a while.
They loaded one bag of each of meat onto their carts, and made sure to buy ice boxes to keep them frozen. It took several trips to their rental truck, but they finally loaded it with enough fruits, vegetables, and frozen meats to make a dent in Jen's sizable bank account.
They hoped that these aliens liked apples and pears. Those were on sale.
Livermore Spaceport, Earth
It looked like the entire Bay Area showed up and were lining up to get in. Tourists were bussing in from out of town. They saw several groups of international tourist groups that were corralling their customers around with loudspeakers.
As they drove past the long line towards the vehicle entrance, they waved at the excited crowds and got a few whoops and cheers in return.
The security guards at the gate checked their pass and let them through to the security checkpoint. Several men that looked like they meant business opened up their truck and scanned it carefully with metal detectors and x-ray scanners to ensure that no one got any funny ideas.
There was a short delay while the customs officer tried to figure out whether they needed to fill out an elaborate looking form for the fresh food in the back of their truck. A few calls to his supervisor later, amid angry glares from the truck drivers waiting behind them, he let them go.
Sarah and Jen drove into a parking lot closer to the landing pads. The pads were large concrete surfaces with white and yellow painted targets. Off in the distance, they could see hangars and a tower that looked like an airport traffic control tower. There were also a few buildings under construction, including one that looked like the start of an upscale luxury dining establishment.
From behind, they saw some of the crowd were filing into a waiting area from where they could observe the aliens from afar.
Jen felt lucky. If the food in the back was the price of admission for seeing the visitors from outer space up close and personal, to her, it would have been well worth it. Sarah was checking the battery on her phone to make sure that there would be enough left to take pictures or video, if the opportunity arises.
Most of the other trucks in the parking lot with them had logos of recognizable companies on them. Several tech companies in the Bay Area that sponsored the construction of the spaceport won bids to get in on the action. Others were some local companies that had connections to the spaceport like Jen did.
Sarah saw them first before she heard it.
First one, then several more, spaceships descended from the sky, accompanied by sonic booms as the excited crowd looked up into the sky with hands on their brows shielding from the sun.
The alien spaceships couldn't be mistaken for human rockets, but there was a certain familiarity. Long, pointy, utilitarian hull shapes with rocket flames coming out the bottom. Like modern cars that all look like they're designed in a wind tunnel, it seems like there's one efficient way to build spaceships, and everyone stuck to it.
It's nice to know that at least we were on the right track, Sarah thought to herself as the ships touched down gently on the target landing pads. Human ships can't maneuver as sharply, nor are they anywhere near the same scale and size, but at least we got the shapes right.
The cargo-plane-sized spaceships settled on the concrete landing pads without so much as a crunch. Small hatches opened at the bottom of each, and walkway ramps rolled down.
At some hidden signal, the security guard gestured to the parking lot that they were free to approach, and the dazed merchants sprang into action.
The alien they've just greeted through a translator calls himself "Zarko". He was apparently part of a species of rock planet humanoids called the Zeepil that came from a system about 200 light years from Earth, and his skin had a charred appearance that made him look like a heavily sunburned sloth on two legs.
"Let me guess, what you've brought is your native foods," Zarko's translator said in a monotone Stephen Hawking voice that did not match the movement of what looked like his lips.
"Yes! How did you guess? Can you guys eat the fruits and vegetables that we have?" Sarah asked. She stopped herself from mentioning the steaks and chicken in their ice boxes. She figured there's no knowing whether these aliens thought about carnivores, so she started with the safe stuff first.
"We consume silicon and uranium for sustenance," Zarko made a strange face and then burped, "I am joking. Every newcomer species asks the same question. Most species share the same diet. Some species eat meat from other animals. Sapient meat is of course illegal on most planets."
Relieved that Jen didn't just waste thousands of dollars on the meat, they showed Zarko their wares. And with their permission, he sampled some of each goods they had, including a bit of the raw meat.
"Good, good," Zarko was pleased. "I detect a high amount of sugar and starch in a lot of your wares. I would take it all." The Gaks would be impressed the next time he stopped at their planet.
"Can we see what you have?" Jen asked excitedly. She pushed a funny image of the aliens grabbing all their stuff and just taking off out of her mind. They wouldn't go through all the trouble of coming here just to steal some food… would they?
"Yes, yes," Zarko pulled out a tray of gadgets and started describing his goods to them.
"This is a spaceship rated fire extinguisher," he described several slightly oversized aerosol cans, "good for even reactor fires!"
"First aid kits for basic bandaging and wound cleaning, compatible with human physiology." They were several plastic looking boxes with an alien looking skull marked on all six sides. It looks like the red cross symbol wasn't so universal anymore.
"Civilian hunting rifle," Zarko set it on the table. "Powered by laser. Holds twelve shots."
It was a familiar looking weapon. Jen and Sarah looked nervously around at the security guards, but they didn't seem to notice. This was very illegal in the state of California.
They shook their heads at that one and asked to see something else. Whoever was dumb enough to buy that one would probably get it confiscated on their way out of the spaceport.
"Advanced mathematics calculator, base-24," he said. This one looked like a regular calculator but with more buttons. Interesting, but probably not that useful to humans.
"Stasis box. Keeps food safe to eat for years. Operates on solar power." Ah, a space fridge, basically. Finally, something that would probably cover their expenses.
Zarko also claimed to have tons of raw materials in his ship, including what he called "better concrete" and "better steel". The translator had some problems with these; it seems like they just hadn't been invented on Earth yet. But Zarko had customers for those on other planets already, so he didn't bother to put them out for display.
After a little haggling, Sarah and Jen settled on four of the first aid kits, six of the fire extinguishers, and one of the stasis boxes. Sarah reasoned that the stasis box could probably fetch a much higher price if they resold it as "alien technology" online, and Jen deferred to Sarah's experience in selling her old stuff online.
Zarko printed out instructions for each of the items in English, even if they did all look fairly intuitive to use by themselves. The aliens may look different from them, but by the way the fire extinguisher buttons seem to activate, the way they made their stuff did not seem that different.
The most significant difference they saw between the alien goods and what their human counterparts would be is the amount of care that clearly went into making each item. Each of the first aid kit boxes, Sarah observed, looked just a little different from each other. The adornments and decorations on the side were painted or carved on with details that weren't exactly the same, and one even had a bright gold finish.
She wondered why.
As she got home around midnight, Sarah immediately got onto Craigslist and thought about where to list "alien first aid kits". Technically, it could be under "household items", or "tools", but "collectibles" would probably get them the most-
That's when she found the "alien" section. Of hecking course. For a website that looks like it was made in the 90s, they'd already adjusted to the latest fad with remarkable speed. She found dozens of listings of alien items that she saw that Zarko was parading around, and quite a few that he didn't have.
There were no other first aid kits listed on the market. Which was strange because she definitely saw dozens of those being sold by the other traders. Hm… without a starting price, it was hard to gauge how much she should be selling it for.
She refreshed the page out of habit and watched the new items scroll in.
Her first reaction was: Ah, someone just posted a first aid kit.
Her second reaction was: Wait, for how much?
There was a listing of a first aid kit for $20,000. Which was ridiculous. It's a collectible, but a box of bandages was not worth the price of a brand-new car.
Something nagging at her instinct, Sarah opened one of them up. It was just a bunch of bandages, syringes, and basic medical stuff. Some of it had the wrong shapes, or had a different color than they'd normally be, but there's only so many ways to bandage an open wound, and everything looked familiar-ish.
She read the English manual that Zarko had printed for her. It said:
"Rated for human use. Includes:
Bandage 4 rolls,
Skin adhesive 16 pieces,
Pain relief cream 2 ounces,
Radiation exposure injection 2 doses,
Cold relief medicine 24-"
Wait, what? Radiation exposure injection? Like in case the spaceship hull leaks or something?
Sarah skimmed through the list and looked at usage instructions for:
"Radiation exposure injection: use in case of emergency hull exposure. Rapidly repairs cell and bone marrow damage for patients with acute radiation exposure and kills all cancer cell growth in body. Dose takes effect within 30 seconds. Side effects may include nausea, dehydration, drowsiness…"
Her blood chilled. She read it again.
And again to be certain.
Then she wiped away the sweat around her eyebrows to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
"Kills all cancer cell growth in body."
She looked at her laptop and refreshed the page. The previous first aid kit listing she saw had been taken down, presumably sold for $20,000. If this kit did what it said it would…
Excited, she refreshed the online listing page again. She saw two listings for the alien first aid kit, both up to well over $100,000 now.
Refresh.
A million. Some guy was selling a darn first aid kit for a million dollars.
This was incredible. Some corner of her brain whined something about putting a price on health, but she cast that out of her mind to refresh again and see more listings in the millions of dollars. And she was holding four of them in her lap.
Half an hour later, it seemed that the prices had stabilized around $4 million, the price of a small closet in downtown San Fran.
This was evidently the market price for the life of a cancer patient.
Horrific.
She put up a listing for $15 million for her four boxes.
Instantly, her email inbox started getting notifications, a number of apparently wealthy individuals with sick relatives desperate to buy a miracle cure that hadn't even been tested or proven on humans yet, introducing themselves and sharing their life stories.
There was a guy who owned a large database company but had recently been diagnosed with lung cancer. He knew he should have stopped smoking years ago, but he needed something to manage the stress.
Another, a business executive, who had a heartbreaking story of her dad dying of liver cancer.
Then, a short and simple "Willing to offer twenty million in cash today for all 8 doses of anti-radiation medicine in alien aid kit, J&J VP of Research and Innovation, Alexi G."
She looked him up online.
He was legit, from a big pharma R&D.
She reasoned that maybe selling to someone who could do research on it would help more people. And he was offering more…
She replied.
He wanted to meet at their company office downtown first thing in the morning.
Downtown San Francisco
Alexi had made good on his offer. He hadn’t tried to haggle the price, as she’d know some Craigslist buyers would try to do once you met them in person. It was generally considered a jerk move.
It was Saturday, so the offices were mostly empty, except for one conference room with several employees as well as Alexi. She handed over her duffel bag with the four kits, he opened and checked each to make sure their contents were all there, and handed over a cashier’s check for the agreed amount.
And that was it.
It had taken her bank an hour to process the check, and several additional hours to clear it. The money appeared in her account around midnight, at which point Sarah let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding for a day.
Sarah was rich.
Sarah got out her phone to text Jen the news.
Huh, there was an email notification "Hey Sarah, thank you for your interest in applying to be our marketing assistant. If you can send us your resume and a co-"
Delete.
Twenty million dollars was a lot of money.
Neither Sarah nor Jen had ever seen that much money, but they knew enough to leave something like this to a professional.
An accountant at a Big Four company helped them divide up the assets and ballparked how much they’d eventually need to render unto Uncle Sam the things that were his come April 15th.
Sarah paid all her bills on time, a first in months.
Jen quit her job the next day. After all, what was the point of being a web developer for a measly six-figure salary when there was a gold rush next door?
Figuratively speaking.
They both vaguely knew the history of the gold seekers during the California Gold Rush.
Some of them struck it rich, but some found nothing in the river beds of the Sacramento. The people who had made the most money in 1849 were actually not the flood of gold prospectors who came into the area.
The people who had gotten the richest out of the gold boom were the merchants who sold them the prospecting equipment they used, the services they needed, the food they ate, and the clothes they wore. The masses of pioneers who came for a new life in the American West: they were the real gold rush.
Most people today do not know the name of a single gold seeker.
Most people today have heard of some of the merchants who got rich off the gold seekers’ businesses. Levi Strauss, John Studebaker, Sam Brannan.
And of course, Henry Wells and William Fargo.
This was the fourth time they've been back to the spaceport, Sarah thought, and they'd gotten something new each time. They'd dealt with different traders each time, though they did see Zarko at least one other time as he was leaving with a full hold of fresh fruit.
After the first couple days, the alien traders had noticed that there seemed to be shortage of first aid kits on Earth, and the inevitable flood of anti-cancer syringes put online dramatically lowered its listing price.
Several large pharmaceutical companies had also issued press releases that they were within months of the development of generic anti-cancer medicine. The lawyers were working overdrive over the IP implications of adapted alien technology, but there didn't seem to be any laws preventing companies from doing it…
This brought its price down to the tens or hundreds of thousands. Nothing to sneeze at for most people, of course, but it was a literal cure for cancer and well within range of some other items the aliens were bringing.
Today, Zarko was trying to sell her and Jen on some kind of liquid medical adhesive in industrial quantities. Some hardy tree-like species use it to glue deep wounds together or something, but Sarah saw a few listings for it on Craigslist a couple of days ago that had no takers, even for cheap. Medical companies must have thought it not really worth pursuing as Earth already had similar products.
Unfortunately for Zarko, he'd already filled his cargo hold with tons of the liquid after hearing how well medical supplies were selling on Earth. His reward for his entrepreneurial spirit was an empty paw. It was beginning to look like he'd need to dump his cargo for a few boxes of worthless Vton trinkets on his way home.
Sarah and Jen had driven all the way out here with a U-Haul truck worth of pears, and most of the other traders were ready to leave for the next cycle of traders to come in anyway. They could dump their goods on Zikzik, the trader next door, but all he had left are a bunch of "better steel". Apparently some construction companies were learning to work with it, but from what she heard, it was annoying to sell those because the government was still looking at the regulations around these new building materials.
And they looked soooo heavy to have to carry home.
Sarah had learned to read a little more of the humanoid sloth's facial expressions, and he was clearly not happy about having made a trip for nothing. "Tell you what, Zarko. I'll give you the fruit, and you can bring me my goods the next time you come back," she said.
Zarko's snout perked up as he thought. Fundamentally, Zarko considered himself an honest trader. He didn't cheat or skimp on quality of materials, and he didn't lie about what he sells. Sure, he embellished a little sometimes, as all traders do, but who doesn't?
Zarko had never taken on debt to a customer. He's heard of other traders doing this, but the far more common use of debt across the galaxy was to trap people into a lifetime of hard work in unpleasant conditions.
But Sarah and Jen didn't seem like the kind of people who would be capable of doing that.
For a second, Zarko thought about cheating them. Just take their fruits, and never come back to Earth, but immediately he put the thought out of his mind. That was not the right thing to do.
Zarko agreed. He would just have to remember to bring more first aid kits next time right?
"Did you see the way Zarko reacted to the IOU?" Sarah asked Jen on the way home.
"Yeah, do you think he'll just abscond with the fruit?"
"Nah, apparently the pears are selling out like hotcakes. He can't just leave Earth and never come back. I heard Zikzik say he got a brand-new reactor upgrade just from one trip of pears alone," Sarah sounded confident, and hoped that she was right. Something else was bothering her about the alien traders.
"Good. Maybe he's worried we're naive or something and someone else will take advantage of us," Jen brainstormed.
Naive? For what? Getting cheated out of a truck full of ugly pears Safeway was going to throw out at the end of the day? Then, it dawned on her.
"I think there's something missing," Sarah said slowly, thinking about their past interactions with the alien traders, "they don't think about selling things the way we do."
"You mean they don't have money?" Sarah smiled and rolled her eyes in her head, of course Jen was thinking about money.
"Yeah. Come to think of it, they clearly don't live in some kind of Star Trek galaxy where everything is free," Sarah continues her train of thought, gears turning in her head, "they just barter and haggle for all our stuff."
"They don't have money, they don't have debt, they don't have Craigslist!" Jen blurted, the implication of this was beginning to excite the inner businesswoman in her that she's been discovering the past week.
"Coming to the spaceport is their Craigslist, but without money or debt, they must also not have a lot of the other stuff we take for granted," Sarah was already making a list in her head, "that explains why the small variety of consumer goods they have are all related space travel and cargo storage, and why most of their big trade is in industrial goods. They can't have banks! What about loans and mortgages! What about paying fines! How do they even buy stuff normally?"
"Ah, must be such a simple and happy existence without having to think about money," Jen said wistfully.
"Yup," Sarah grinned, "let's go ruin it!"
RoyalRoad
Next

The Real Rules of Golf *

The Dragon

[Next]
Andelia was proud of herself. In the past 200 years of acquiring contestants and beasts for the Galactic Arena, she had never come across so fine and rare a specimen. The planet she had found him on was in an out of the way “undiscovered” system that she had paid good money for the information on. The initial scan of the species revealed that they had only just left the surface of their planet recently (an honestly impressive feat given their level of technology and punishing amount of gravity). They had been discovered through a scan of background radio waves on a nearby potential colony. Some sensor tech had smudged the results of the scan and sold the original to pay off some debts to some friends in high places. Friends that Andelia happened to share.
So, there she was using those same radio wave transmissions to find herself a good candidate. The problem was they were all so short, high gravity and all that, and she needed some “wow factor,” something that would really pull in the big crowds and give some decent returns on this rather expensive excursion. Lucky for her these little monkeys (calling themselves humans) had many contests of strength and ability, and they LOVED entertainment.
The list of potential contestants kept growing and growing.
She would definitely have to come back if the first one went well.
That was when she found him.
The perfect choice.
He was young but nearing his middle age. He was well known for his prowess but, would not cause an uproar if he mysteriously vanished or died. There was also plenty of footage from his native media which would make for great advertising on his skills and abilities, he even had a stage name!
Andelia specialized in low-impact capture, meaning she could remove a specimen form its environment without drawing suspicion that “aliens come from the sky and steal people!” She used one of the oldest tactics in the book. Faking the specimen’s death. For this particular creature that would be a more difficult, however, not impossible task, as the native species had a large collection of information of their anatomy and medicine from which to construct the necessary toxin.
And so, she killed him…not literally but you get the point.
The Games Master was surprised when Andelia wanted the monkey thrown into the main brackets without testing him first. It was a poor investment to place a rookie with the professionals unless they were fodder for the early rounds. Seeing as though the monkey was laughably small he acquiesced her request and offered her a 15% cut of earning for the match since she was undoubtedly going to lose money on her find and he felt bad for the old reptilian huntress.
The next day they brought the human out of his medically induced coma. They put him in a cell below the arena away from the other contestants at the request of Andelia. She didn’t want any of the veteran fighters selling out her secret to their sponsors. She made sure to bring enough equipment and decoration from the human’s home world, including food, so as not to make him suspect of his current situation. The gravity was only slightly less than his home planet inside the arena, and there was little she could do to change that. She had built translation software based on the media he had been a part of and spoke to him shortly after he awoke.
“Everyone you know believes you are dead,” Andelia said, “you have been brought to this place to fight, to entertain. There is no escape besides victory or death. Prove yourself a champion and freedom may be yours.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. He simply got out of his cot, sat on the ground with his legs crossed beneath him and started breathing, slowly and rhythmically.
Andelia had watched enough footage of him to know that he was preparing himself. She was gratified beyond words. There wouldn’t have to be beatings to make him fight. No starvation or other torture. She had chosen well.
Pleased with this development, she returned to the Games Master to see who he would be fighting. She knew his prospects weren’t bright given her cut of the profits, and she also knew that this cycle had some big names that had returned to the Arena. When she reached his office all of her earlier gratification had turned to nervousness. She knocked on the real wood door.
“Come in!” he sounded in a bad mood. “Andelia I was hoping you would stop by soon, please take a seat.”
As usual, the proud huntress, despite her age, chose to remain standing.
“Very well,” he continued, “I have good news and bad news. The good news is you will probably make your money back on the first round. The bad news is your little monkey is going up against Champion Al’Xerd.”
Silence hung in the air between them.
She had wasted her time. No one had beaten Al’Xerd in 30 years. The 4-meter-tall champion was a legend having won his freedom twice over, she didn’t know that he had returned again.
“Your right. At least I’ll make my money back.” She left before he could say anything.
Andelia walked solemnly back to the human’s cell, at least he deserved some parting words before the match. When she arrived and looked through the viewing port, the little creature’s peace was obvious. He hadn’t moved. She watched him for a few minutes before keying the speaker to the cell, “Die well little one.” Andelia unkeyed the intercom and turned to leave when she heard him speak for the first time, “As you think, so you shall become.” The human’s cryptic wisdom would not save him from slaughter, she thought as she walked away.
The viewing booth was nice, but not too nice. There were several other hunters and huntresses who all acknowledged Andelia due to her age and experience in the trade. She pulled a seat near the front left corner of the viewing booth, where she could get a good view without being disturbed. Meanwhile the other hunters were talking about how the season would unfold and were placing steep bets on their captures, as was typical.
The Announcer descended from the central viewing booth, reserved for VIPs, into the center of the arena. His voice echoed out across the stone and sand, “WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO THE GRAND GALACTIC ARENA! THIS YEAR BRINGS PROMISE AND SURPIRSE LIKE NEVER BEFORE WITH THE RETURN OF ONE OF YOUR FAVORITES FOR THE FIRST ROUND: CHAMPION AL’XERD!”
The Arena shook with excitement and thunderous cheering as the champion exited from the side of the arena opposite to Andelia. He was a Tar’Meer from their outer worlds, born and bred to fight for the glory of the Arena. Tar’Meer were bipedal, and easily one of the largest species in the galaxy. With a large set of horns upon his mighty head, and tusks that protruded a half meter from his mouth, he was terrifying to behold. His thick skin protected his enormous muscles, which rested upon his massive frame. He was adorned in precious metals and wielded no weapons, at least none that weren’t natural. He had four arms with four fingers on each hand, each finger was capped with a long razor-sharp claw. His tail nearly hung down to his split hooves, which had ended the lives of many contestants. He wore no armor, as his speed was unmatched. The odds were strongly in his favor no matter who fought him.
“May as well go for broke,” Andelia whispered to herself as she wagered all 15% of her earnings on her little human winning, it was good luck anyway.
The human definitely brought a wow factor when he entered…since everyone thought it was a joke. And a funny one at that too. Even the Champion joined in on the taunting and laughing as the little human strode across the floor towards him.
“I GUESS ALL THAT IS LEFT IS COWARDS AND CHILDREN TO FIGHT ME!” Al’Xerd yelled to the crowd, turning his back on the little biped that barely reached the top of his leg. “LET ME GUESS,” he turned around and squatted down to the little human’s height, resting on his massive haunches, “YOU GOT LOST LOOKING FOR YOUR…”
Before the champion could finish, the little human moved faster than the cameras could track and pushed his hand through the Champions throat and pulled his vocal cords out along with his windpipe.
“Showing off is the fool’s idea of glory.” He dropped the champions throat on the ground and with a kick almost as fast as the strike before, sent the champion flying back several meters onto his back where he writhed on the ground choking on his own blood. The Arena fell silent as the little human turned to make his way back to his cell without pause.
The Arena would soon understand the way of the Dragon.

Keeper of the necronomicon part 5

Under the sea
We travelled for hours under water covering a great distance, in the Nautilus the legendary submarine who had once been piloted by Captain Nemo on his undersea adventures.
The genius Sasquatch had of course made some improvements to the submarine, making it more fit for under water warfare.
These upgrades would come on handy soon…
In the submarine was me the keeper of the Necronomicon
The book of the dead made out of human flesh and written in human blood, the book I had lost and the book we must now recover, Lubna my love the Arabic woman with telekinetic powers, Poseidon king of the sunken city of Atlantis, Sanna the vampiric angel wearing sir Lancelot’s armor, and of course the bigfoot was piloting the submarine.
-You know what bigfoot, we never got your name, what is it? I a sked my hairy apelike friend with feet the size of newborn babies.
-We sasquatches, are not much for names, you can call me Chewie like my favorite Star Wars character.
-Well then, Chewie it is! Me and Lubna said at the same time.
We both joined each other in laughter.
-I was thinking maybe you should let the vampire girl suck some of your blood, you have the mad Arabs blood in you so you can grab the Necronomicon but only you, it would be most useful if Sanna would also gain the ability.
-Excellent idea! King Poseidon liked the idea.
-I concur, as long as the vamp/angel girl don’t mind? Chewie asked.
-Oh, I don’t mind at all, Sanna removed her helmet and began to suck blood from my arm, it felt strange and funny as she drained me, but I was alright. My blood was joined with the blood of Christ that she had already sucked from Jens, the man had aided us in our quest but met with an most unfortunately end at the end of the sharp tip of the spear of destiny, the very same spear that had penetrated his ancestor Jesus Christ.
It was something poetic about it.
-But wait, I wont turn into a vampire now, and wait again maybe you SHOULD turn me into a vampire, maybe the whole team? Having the whole team gaining the skills of vampires could prove useful. I told the girl.
-I honestly don’t know… But I think not, not every vampire can in fact make other vampires, if we could the world would have been overrun with vampires long ago, only vampire overlords… Nosferatu like Van Hellsing was before he died, can in fact make other vampires….
-Oh, the irony the greatest vampire hunter turned into a vampire himself, I wonder how that happened? Poseidon the Atlantean king asked.
-That is one of many things I wish to discuss with that bearded bastard and old fool, Merlin! I proclaimed in anger.
-You and me both buddy, but now its time for action enemy approaching, great white sharks, BIG ones, a snaketopus, and a small army of squid men up ahead.
-What the fuck is a “snaketopus”? I asked bewildered
-Just as it sounds, a giant octopus, with snake arms instead of tentacles and a giant mouth with sharp teeth, it has been terrorizing the deeps and eating many of my people alive.
LET’S KILL THIS FUCKER!
Time for some action
Chewie was piloting the sub and I of course was the shooter,
Rest of the team helped with launching the torpedoes.
First two torpedoes hit the head of two of the ugly snake arms, killing them both, exploding and turning the water red with the blood from the heads and blown of tentacles filling the water… the sharks were hungry and could sense the blood from miles away.
There were hammer headed sharks, saw sharks, tiger striped sharks, grey sharks, but worst of all the great white shark.
They, were all fighting for the blown of tentacle bits, and biting at the snake-topus leftover tentacles still attached
To its hideous body. Some of the sharks fought each other for the leftovers. The great white decided to end the fighting and bit a smaller shark in half.
I aimed at the snaketopuses hideous body/mouth in the middle between its arms, I hit it right in its open ugly mouth and it exploded from the inside out, filling the sea water with its bloods and guts, hideous intestines.
-Great work kid, that shot was one in a million! Chewie, the sasquatch praised my skill full shot.
Wow, that bigfoot REALLY loved star wars , who would have knew?
-But, chewie please tell me you don’t love the Disney movies? I asked him.
-Fuck, Disney, fuck Kathleen Kennedy and fuck marREYsue,
The force was ALWAYS partly female, Princess Leia was a powerful a strong woman way before rey and rose tico.
My man. This Bigfoot was a man of culture. Princess Leia in that golden bikini in jabbas palace was when I learned a woman, can be more interesting than a Nintendo game.
Just a boy becoming a man. But I was not going to ask a fucking big foot about his fapping habits, if bigfoots even did those things, I was not going to find out in the middle of an epic under water battle anyway. I guess some things are better left alone anyway.
-I am summoning my comrades in arms, the great whales.
Poseidon the king of Atlantis. Could of course command sea life with his mind, and I know people give Aqua man a rough time, but there is much more then fish living in the deep.
- The fucking sharks don’t listen to my command! They are all deemed traitors from now on by me, Poseidon king atlantis the sunken city, ruler of the seven seas.
The great whales came, orcas the black and white killer whale you might have seen at sea world, the big blue whales, gray whales with their humps on their backs, narwhal with their long spear like tusks, but most of all the MVP, the big kahuna, the blue whale biggest animal on planet earth.
Its heart is the size of Volkswagen beetle, it must eat four tons of krill each day to live, there were four of them, all hungry with open giant mouths opened and swallowing the army of squid men who opposed us in our quest to R`lyeh the stone prison of great CLUTHULU.
A yellow submarine appeared, it torpedoed one of the blue whales, sharks were fighting and biting each other just to get a taste of the whales sweet, sweet blown of flesh.
Mermaids were cutting sharks and poking their eyes with knives, some of them had underwater spear guns and shoot the sharks straight in the face, killing a few.
Atlanteans riding great sea horses cut the head of hammerhead sharks, and cut some of the smaller sharks in halves, but the great whites proved to big a challenge and some of them bit our men in two, and some were swallowed whole.
Chewie kept our sub out of harms way, and I kept shooting torpedoes, killing many great whites, the rest seemed scared and retreated, it appeared we had the upper hand,
But the yellow submarine was still out there.
Another blue whale was killed in action leaving us with two down and two alive, its giant body was floating dead in the water, massive amount of blood from the dead whale filled the water sending the sharks into a kill frenzy.
Poseidon summoned a powerful underwater current; the flow of water pulled the remaining squid men into the sharks kill zone.
Arms, legs and heads were all bitten of leaving torsos with missing body parts floating about.
One of the remaining blue whales opened its giant mouth and swallowed the leftovers of the dead squid men and the alive ones, they tried their hardest to keep swimming away from its giant mouth, but they were unsuccessful.
The mermaids summoned a pack of dolphins, and a group of dolphins can actually kill hammer sharks or tiger sharks by working together. Most of the smaller sharks were killed and the rest fled, leaving only the great whites and the yellow submarine as our opposing forces.
The squid men were all dead. Three great whites remained the were all attacking one great blue whale, the smaller whales had all left, the big blue whale swallowed half of a great white, the other two however ripped it apart…
And that’s when I saw it!
I took a chance shot, the torpedo went flying through the water for a great distance… and it HIT.
I sunk the enemies, damned sub marine. I wondered who was inside for a second, but there was no time to find out.
I blew the face of one of the great whites, only one remained and it proved no match for the great blue whale.
The whale sent the shark running… or eeerrrr…. Swimming.
Either way it fucked right of.
We were finally approaching our final destination….
R`lyeh home of great CLUTHULU the eldritch god forever sleeping there, waking him would end the world.
We must stop the bad guys and the cursed book The Necronomicon, The book of the dead back into safe hands again.
CALL OF CLUTHULU
Now we finally arrived at R`lyeh the stone prison/grave where dead CLUTHULU was dormant… dreaming for aeons.
Only a certain page in the Necronomicon hade the instructions of how to wake this Eldritch God, powerful enough to end the entire human race once and for all.
The sound of drums, flutes and banjos being played told me the ritual had begun. The air was filled with smoke, and what smelled like burned flesh, sacrifices of beautiful virgins’ girls of different ethnicities no doubt, one white skin like milk and hair like honey… Scandinavian.
One with luscious red lips and ebony skin.
One Asian with perfect bone structure and hair dark like the night.
And more, Bosnian, Romanian, European, Australian and so on…
All of them perfect beauties, to young to die with smooth skin no man or woman would ever have the pleasure of knowing.
The sight and smell sickened me!
The mysterious Cult of Cthulhu had been busy.
Damned bastards! Delusional mad men all of them.
Thinking they were in touch with god…
But great Cthulhu was no god, and even I could hear his call inside of my head now…
I almost went insane from the sensation of his tentacles reaching into my brain… oh the horror!
But I must resist, Lubna my love was still with me, we had to get her soon back. Had to… must. Get Abdi back.
Get the Necronomicon back. Let Cthulhu sleep, never to wake again. Sanna the vampire/angel was here to with her armor and the Excalibur sword. Chewie was with me holding a teleportation pad and what looked like a light sabre.
King Poseidon was with us too, but he was the only land walker of Atlantis being a half breed, his army was swimming in the waters fighting the deep ones, aided in their battle by great Moby the last of the blue whales.
King Poseidon’s greatest familiar, an animal with a spiritual connection to him, aiding him in his use of magic.
The ritual was more then just blood sacrifice the were also a perverse and filthy orgy going on…
I will spare you the nastiest descriptions dear reader.
But the participants were beautiful women of all races and ethnicities, men wearing dark red robes with face masks made of the bones from dead animals, squids, goats head, giant lizards and snakes. Trolls and giants even a cyclops with red skin and one big eye watching the action.
In the middle of all this was one of those demons with a living beard made out of snakes, he was holding hands with the reptilian woman who hade stolen the book of the dead from me. And she in turn held a knife to the throat of Abdi,
The young had the blood of the mad Arab Abdul Al-alhazared in him, same as myself and therefore could hold the book without it biting him.
Chewie the super intelligent sasquatch was working on the teleportation device, it would create a portal that would let an army of sasquatches come to our aid….
But fuck it was loud…
It made beeping sounds….
Beep…beep…beep…
And the cyclops turned its giant eyes to us, the eye turned bright red with hatred.
We had been spotted!
It was time for war.
Time to end this once and for all.
THE BIG FAT KILL
I dual wielded two p90s emptying out two 50 round clips of
Bullets into the enemy horde, shooting of their dicks, faces, hitting chests and tits spreading death all around me.
Then Lubna threw the grenades bodies exploded, arms, legs, heads and blown of torsos all came flying through the air.
Poseidon summoned a giant wave and it came crashing down sweeping the enemy troops away. First wave wipe out. But more was coming.
Sanna wielded the Excalibur in a two hand grip, holding it over her head, making it charge up with sun light and then swung it down creating a great wave of energy splitting the enemis bodies into two halves like when Darth Maul feel to his death, leaving only the groin and legs left standing.
Second wave defeated.
But the third one was upon us. Poseidon struck a troll in its ugly face with his mighty golden trident, the troll’s skull and eyes were penetrated, killing it in an instant. But now he struggled to get it loose, it was stuck in the enemy’s dead flesh. He quickly grabbed a knife trying to hack the head of the troll’s neck. He was not fast enough another troll gave him a punch to his ribs and crushed a few of them, he with great agility penetrated the trolls heart with his knife.
But one arrow from a crossbow wielding cult member hit his right shoulder, making him bleed blue blood onto the stone ground.
At least we knew he was not a reptilian shape shifter.
Lubna blew the face of one troll with her doublebarreled shotgun she was now wielding, and then quickly shot the fourth and last troll, ending its disgusting and foul stinking life. There were no more trolls. But plenty of humans led by a cyclops.
One single well aimed shot from my 357.MAGNUM revolver blinded the cyclops making it stampede its own troops to death. A killed the next five men with straight head and throat shots but now I was out of ammo. And the enemy kept coming! Sanna the angel had no time to recharge her magic sword she was in the middle of the enemy horde slicing down opponents left and right. One of the cult member lit her left wing on fire with a torch.
A lone crossbow arrow landed between king Poseidon’s eyes ending his life once and for all.
I pistol whipped one cult member, a naked female covered in blood, straight in her pretty face, knocking her teeth out.
Lubna levitated a rock in her smash and then kept smashing it into the naked woman’s face until there was not much left of it, just a red colored mess.
And then! Chewie lit his laser sword and began cutting heads of , reinforcements of sasquatch-es coming through the portal.
Chewie the bigfoot, led the charge.
-Forward my hairy friends, forward, kill the snake bearded man or demon, whatever he is we must get to book back.
CLUTHULU WAKES
-Come on you apes; you want to live forever? The silver backed sasquatch commanded his troops. He was the biggest one almost twice the size of a regular sasquatch, who were all just a bit taller than a big man. This thing was MASSIVE and had dark fur, contrasting with the rest of the packs brown fur. His one eye was bright red and the other one had been blinded by a cut, and he gritted his sharp teeth. He was ready for the slaughter. He commanded a pack of twenty sasquatches including himself and chewie,
They absolutely annihilated the enemy troops. Arms, and legs were ripped off, bones cracked, heads smashed, hearts ripped out and eaten while they were still beating. The sasquatches were fierce and relentless in their assault.
It was over very quickly, leaving a battlefield full of blood and enemy corpses scattered everywhere along with their body parts and smashed out brains and ripped out guts.
We only lost five sasquatches in the assault with fifteen still standing, including Chewie and the leader of the pack Scarface they called him. He had a big scar across his face,
and his right eye, he only needed one eye to be a murder machine though.
Now we only had the reptilian shape shifter and the snake bearded demon left the were standing in between two caves, I quickly ended the life of the reptilian with a magazine of straight head shots from my automatic pistol, leaving nothing left of it but exploded brains. Abdi the young Arab boy/demon made his move, now free from the demons grasp he threw the Necronomicon into the burning fires where a young virgin had been sacrificed. The book screamed in pain.
But the snake beard triumphant hold up a page from the book it had previously ripped out. He did not need to tell me it was the only paged he needed. He began chanting in a language unknown to man. Out from the caves came two monsters, from the left was the snake like head and body of a basilisk and from the other on the right side, appeared a monster that belonged in the secretive caves of Mexico.
It was huge and long, formed like a centipede, and its giant mouth was the size of a cave opening, these cave dwellers usually was laying waiting for its prey inside of caves luring their unknowing victims into its foul mouth, pretending its ginormous, foul mouth was a cave opening, compulsion would cause it victims to move inside and come back, the simply could not stay away from its call.
The eyes of the basilisk made five sasquatches into stone statues with its monstrous gaze. It moved its disgusting yellow eyes towards Lubna …
But the woman was quick in thought and movement both,
She had a make up mirror and showed the basilisk its monstrous face in the mirror, it turned to stone when it saw its own ugly face.
The rest of the big hairy apes walked straight into the mouth of the other monstrous creature; it was just like in that story told by that mad man… Night nator!
The sasquatches knew they were marching to their own doom, but they simply could not stay away. The compulsion was too strong. Only chewie and Scarface remained alive now. Chewie was striking at the monster’s tail, but his laser sword got overheated and exploded in his hand. His right hand was blown of, and now he was punching the monster with his remaining, furry left paw made into a fist.
Sanna cut the monster in half with legendary sword Excalibur, out of it cut of body dead sasquatches came spilling out, some was skeletal some were half digested, it was a disgusting sight and it made me puke. Now Scarface was walking into its mouth, I could see into its open mouth and saw that it had many hideous eyes inside… Scarface heard the call and his compulsion appeared to be driving him inside the monster’s mouth. It swallowed him…
And after a few seconds its exploded from the inside.
Scarface most have sacrificed himself and exploded a grenade. Only a disgusting mess was left of the monster now.
Abdi had transformed into his demon form and attacked the Snake bearded creature, what the fuck was this thing!?
Abdi had picked up a dagger from the ground and cut one of the snakes out of the snake demons face, trimming his beard a little.
Disgusting dark black blood spurted out from the cut of snake on the mans face straight onto Abdi`s body, the boy screamed in pain!
It appeared that the blood was like acid, it melted holes in the boy’s skin. He stomped the cut of snake head on the ground to death, it spurted into an explosion of blood, melting the boys foot.
The rest of us was in a trance like state… hearing the Call of Cthulhu and could not intervene. Abdi head butted the snake bearded demon putting his demon horn straight into the right eye socket of the snake demon, it had yellow insectoid eyes meaning each of its eyes consisted of thousand of smaller eyes like an insect. Now one of those eyes were blinded. The dark black blood melted Abdi’s horn and the snakes in the beard all bit the boys face filling him with venom, the boy went for the throated and cut it, acid blood spurted into the boy’s face starting to melt it of showing the boys skull under his flesh. The snake bearded demon laughed, rubbing a finger with his blood on the page of the Necronomicon it died with a smile on its face, and the boy Abdi died screaming in pain and then…
great Cthulhu woke up from his eternal dead slumber.
ENDGAME
Great Cthulhu awakens from his eternal slumber, he was the most enormous being I had ever seen, standing taller than a tower like empire state, its monstrous belly the size of a mountain its tentacled beard had tentacles even longer than the great kraken, longer than the anaconda snakes living in Africa`s jungle.
It was clear to me as soon as this being woke his sleeping brothers, they would lay waste to humanity in no time.
Cthulhu grabbed the great blue whale Moby in its right hand and formed a fist smashing the great whale to pieces. Another terror from the deep rose.
KAIJU! The great lizard monsters. This monster was the Reptilians back up plan, they thought this Godzilla-like being could stand a chance against great Cthulhu. It was a head shorter than the squid bearded monster and it bit Cthulhu straight in its neck. Cthulhu began to drip dark red blood from its wound filling the ocean underneath it.
Maybe the Illuminati was on to something, when the nuke plan had backfired on them, maybe this giant reptilian would be able to stand toe to toe against great CTULHU.
But I had a very bad feeling about this. If I had to place a bet on this clash of the titans I would wager on the squid-god.
Cthulhu placed its hands on the great reptilian’s face and stuck its hideous thumbs straight into the yellow eyes of the oversized lizard monster. The great KAIJU roared in pain.
Cthulhu began to strangle to kaiju monster by wrapping its eldritch tentacled beard against the reptile’s windpipe trying to suffocate the monster. The reptile hit the eldritch god with a haymaker into its great belly and Cthulhu retaliated with an uppercut to the reptile’s jaw, making the lizard bite its own tongue of.
The clash of the giant monsters began to split R`lyeh into two pieces, their blows were so powerful that they caused a great cataclysm.
A giant snake from Yig was summoned by the Kaiju it appeard to be its familiar. A monster bound to it that gave it spiritual strength, now it came to aid great kaiju in this battle for life or death for all humans living on this planet.
The snake wrapped itself around Cthulhu’s throat and began to suffocate the monster like a boa constrictor.
Maybe we could win this after all.
Out from the dead carcass of the cave monster a hideous cocoon was birthed and out of that cocoon an even more hideous sight was spawned… Nyarlohotep the tentacled god we had defeat in the battle for Excalibur what seemed like a very long time ago when so many of our friends where still alive, we lost so many lives among the way. And now this abomination was back.
-I come in peace humans! I am on your side. If Cthulhu destroys all humans, there will be no one left for me to torture! I am a malignant god, like a bad kid with a magnifying glass, burning ants. And all of humanity are like ants to me. And you did surely not think you could defeat me so easily?
What the tentacled headed monster said rang true to my ears. He was on our side after all. And yes, defeating him HAD seemed too easy.
Cthulhu grabbed the snake of Yig and ripped it into two halves, it died in an instant. And then he grabbed the bottom and top jaws of the reptile’s face and began to rip it apart… after some struggling, he was victorious. The great kaiju died a most painful death.
-Human grab the book of the dead, you know what you MUST do if I am not successful in calming great Cthulhu.
The eldritch abomination Nyarlohotep spoke before trying to communicate with the world ending squid god.
I grabbed the book from the flames. I could only pray Nyarlohotep to be successful or I would have to pay the ultimate price…
Great Cthulhu swatted Nyarlohotep like a fly.
-Do it! No mother should live longer than their child anyway! Lubna commanded me.
I grabbed the Necronomicon and a dagger and stabbed my beloved straight in her heart.
Blood magic, I had to pay in blood to the demon to grant my wish. The goat headed demon Baphomet appeared in front of me.
-Your wish will be granted human! For the cost of her soul and yours both, two lovers burning in hell eternally tormented together.
-At least we will be together. I spoke.
-As you wish! The demon grabbed Lubnas dead body and ripped it apart, blood spraying everywhere and he sucked the soul out of her. Then he began binding Cthulhu to his will… after some struggling the eldritch god began to go to sleep, like a hideous, monstrous baby.
Me, Sanna the angel and chewie the big foot all went to the submarine Nautilus and went back to the sunken city of Atlantis. When we where there I said goodbye to my friends and alone walked into the portal to the house that does not exist. I remain here into the end of my days, no evil can enter this house.
I am the keeper of the Necronomicon and I will keep the book of the dead out of evil hands forever.
THE END.

Windward - Chapter 1

Chapter: 2 3 4

“My wager’s on Shorn’s crew.”
Frigid wind whipped through Korin’s hair and tried to find its way through his coat, cold fingers searching for any purchase to leech what little body heat he had left. At the very least today was clear. Cloudless skies might not have been the ideal conditions for today’s operation, but it meant Korin was only cold, not cold and wet.
“Not his style,” Drell’s voice. Even inside his head it sounded as though was from a distance. Korin reached up to tug on his earpiece.
You’ll go –
“I’ll go deaf, blind, and a thousand other things I’m not even sure humans can get” he snapped, “I know I know.”
“You still messing with the worm?” it was Bool this time, “If you’d just leave it alone you’d forget it was even there.”
“Right,” Korin muttered, too quiet for anyone to hear. He was sure it was transmitted – the worm picked up any little sound you made, even your breathing. Supposedly it could even hear your heartbeat, but he had never managed to confirm it for himself. “It’s burrowed into my ear canal and I’m supposed to ignore it?”
Yes.
“Ah thanks, I was worried my question wasn’t rhetorical enough.”
You know how to remove it. If it bothers you so much just rip it out.
“Sound idea, the second lieutenant would love it.”
Then please quit the whining? I can already feel your discomfort, I don’t need the added commentary.
“It’s completely Shorn’s style,” Hetal was back on his theory, “Big haul, small crew, and this route crosses right through his territory.”
Korin looked to his left where he could just see the speck of black that was the large airman. Bare chested and wearing what could only charitably be called pants, it was easier to see the trailing haze of heat he left in his wake. One of the two Scorches in the squadron, no amount of cold could bother him. He could have flown into a block of ice and melted a path straight through. “Must be nice.”
You hate the worm? Imagine if you needed the bag too. Yeah, you’re welcome.
“Might keep my face warmer.”
“Only looks like his style if you’re a moron,” Cena far on the right wing joined the idle conversation. She was much too far for Korin to see, yet if she was looking he was sure she could make him out against the perfect sky. A Snap, she was one of the squadron’s lookouts. Korin never bothered listening to the specifics, but he knew her improved eyesight had something to do with the ability to turn her eyes into ice, or something?
Micro–lenses in the viscous fluid of her eyes that allow for the fine adjustments and focusing of light far beyond what the iris can manage.
“Yeah, that. Perfect team. You listen to the useless jabbering of the floraficers and I do all the flying, fighting, risking my life . . . wait, what do you do again?”
Listen to your grumbling. And give you the ability to fly. “Eh, sounds useless,” Korin grinned.
I should have let you fall. “He doesn’t just go for any big haul,” Cena continued, “Only the ones that he knows he can carry back without a ship. The Deliberate was porting masts. Try flying on your own with one of those tucked under your arm. No Titan’s managing that.”
“I’d still be willing to give it a try,” Raesh cut in, drawing several dry chuckles that echoed inside Korin’s head.
“I’d wave as you plummeted straight into the Mists.”
“Korin’d catch me.”
Korin laughed, “No I’d wave too, just from right next to you.”
“But the Puckle’s carrying small arms down there. Even Korin’d be able to carry an armful.”
He opened his mouth to retort but Hetal did not give him the time, “Just saying I’ll be bagging some of Shorn’s crew by the end of this operation, maybe even the pirate lord himself.”
“Mouths shut, kids,” Second Lieutenant Ayla cut through the chatter, her voice louder than all the others, “Puckle’s coming up on the turn. Cena, Ghaal, Stick, Gretch, climb to ceiling and keep those eyes of yours on the scan. Hetal you’re on Cena, Kip stick to Stick, keep ‘em safe. Titans on me, we’re kissing mist. Korin, go as low as you can before your worm dies. Something comes at us from below I wanna know about it.
A chorus of “Heard” stuttered through Korin’s ear as he added his own. Following her lead, he and the rest of the Titans tilted towards the Mists below, splitting as the Snaps and Scorches started climbing. The formation closed around him, and Korin’s unaided eyes saw his squadmates clearly for the first time since jumping from the Puckle’s deck.
Titans every one of them, the air behind them crackled with electricity, small arcs of blue light sparking through the sky. Raesh pulled up to his right, a monster of a man at two-hundred centimeters and one-hundred thirty kilograms. That anything could lift his frame from the ground was a testament to his wyrm’s fortitude. Or it had a thing for punishment. Curled snuggly on it’s bondmate’s broad back, the translucent figure yawned like a cat, stretching as the furious wind of their descent howled around them. More an outline than flesh and blood, its shape was defined by thin streaks of lightning. Looking closer the lines pulsed with a steady rhythm that was mirrored in Raesh. Faint light scored his arms and legs like veins just beneath the skin, the beat mirrored in the wyrm on his back and originating from his own heart.
Finished with its wake-up routine, the serpentine figure strolled up to Raesh’s shoulder before curling under his other arm like a sash. Its head swiveled to glance at Korin before turning its gaze to the same direction as its bondmate. Looking forward himself Korin met Ayla’s eyes as she fell into a position on his left. Covered by a sheer veil her mouth mirrored the words that barked in his ear.
“That as fast as you can fall? Get down there before we fly straight into an ambush.”
Heard that? She wants us to go faster.
Throwing the sign for “Heard” he felt a grin cross his lips that was not his own.
“Fine,” he relented, “Have it your way.”
The world blurred.
Korin pointed his nose to the Mists as his vision ceased to hold any meaning. The gusting howl became an explosion that tore at his eardrums. His stomach turned as gravity add its own strength to his fall. An endless sea of dark grey below rushed up to meet him. Nerves and animalistic fear threated to tear his heart form his chest.
Breathe.
The Mists consumed his vision, filling it until he could see nothing else. Scraping against his peripherals he tried to grab one last look at the sun without turning his head lest the wind snap his neck. Nothing. Daggering into the Mists light and sound faded away to muffled afterthoughts. Falling further he could feel the pressure building quickly on his back as though he had submerged himself in water, yet aside from a slight discomfort in his ears it never came close to crushing him.
You’re welcome.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “Thanks for not letting me die.”
It’s not so much an active choice. More like a contract I haven’t yet broken.
“Well then thanks for not breaking it at the worst possible time?”
Harder than it sounds. But again, you’re welcome.
“–rin . . . ear me?” Ayla’s voice warbled and stuttered, random fluctuations in the Mists interfering with the worm’s Pulse.
I think we went a little too far.
“Barely,” he spoke loud enough so that hopefully Ayla could hear him, “Climbing half a klick, see if that helps.”
Now his stomach lurched the other way, twisting itself into a knot as the forces from below tried to yank it through his bellybutton.
“Better?”
“Much,” Her words still sounded as though they were being churned into butter, but at least she was no longer cutting out. “Hold altitude and slow up a bit. At that decent rate you overshot the Puckle by at least a couple klicks.”
Shadows swam through the Mists around him, shifting shapes that flitted about just out of sight.
“Yeah, got a few down here myself.”
“Bloody storms you’re that low? Surprised the worm’s this clear. Must have gotten a good batch this time. How’s the visibility?”
“Awful, but the Pulse should light up a Titan’s trail or a set of pulsesails well enough. Probably want to stay a bit ahead of our little ward. Anyone coming from this low’ll be looking to stay out in front of them as well.”
“Fair point. Still pull back a few hundred meters then hold heading and speed. Keep talking to me about what you see.”
Korin smiled, “Well right now the puckles are kinda dancing around me, trying to figure if I’m –”
“I don’t care about the mist mites, kid. Anything you see that’s worth my time.”
“Heard.”
“Alright people, net’s spread. Let’s see what we catch.”
–––––
“Carver?”
Lorren looked up from the mug, squinting her vision into focus. A pair of black eyes stared down at her from behind a massive beard, concern wrinkling the already overgrown brows above them. A gut covered in glorm hide overalls poked out in front of the man, and as her head once more began to fall forward she caught a glimpse of cedar braces around thigh-high boots. “Rock and drop you’re wrecked. Gunther! I need a pitcher of water up here!”
The rumblings faded away as the man took a step from the table, Lorren no longer caring to summon up the energy to keep track of him. For her lack of effort she did not see the paddle of a hand as it struck her across the face.
Now she had her focus. Staggering to her feet she could feel the roots like claws start to grow from her hands, only to suddenly be on the floor, vines sprouting form her back to cushion her fall.
“’Anks,” she muttered. There was no response but she could feel the disgruntlement inside her head.
“Don’t mention it,” said the man.
“Not you,” she snapped, “Wha . . . what’re you playing? Think jush – just because I’m sloshed doesn’t mean I can’t – I can’t – I can’t . . .”
“Maybe?” he guessed, “Drink this, then threaten me.”
Grabbing the proffered cup she drained it before letting it fall to the table. Her tongue felt numb but her sluggish wits quickly realized what she’d been given.
“Water?!” rage boiled in her gut, hotter than when she had been slapped, “Don’t gimme water when I’m –”
“Being offered a job?”
“You interrupt a lot, don’t you? Don’t need a job. Got plenty of money. And if not, got more’n that in goodwill.” She raised her voice, “Right Gunther?”
The words swam to her from across the room, “Get out, Lorren.”
She raised her mug in a cheer as she took a sip, only to spit it out in disgust. Somehow the man had replaced her stout with even more water.
“Disgusting,” she carefully placed the cup to the side. Water was water, and she was not so drunk as to waste a whole mug. She knew exactly what it was worth.
“Perhaps not as much of the latter as you think, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty of the former. Funny thing, I get the feeling you don’t really care for either at the moment.”
“You’re right, where’s my beer?”
“You spilled it in your lap.”
“. . . ah.”
“Draken left earlier this morning. Without you.”
She scoffed, “Figure that one out all by yourself?”
“Pretty hefty contract to just walk out on. Got a reason?”
“I’m too famous,” a small bit of spittle leaked out the side of her mouth, “Needed a bigger name to fit my grandeur.”
“Bigger than the Draken?”
“Yup,” her head bobbed in an exaggerated nod, “So unless your Ludover himself I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering.”
The man gave a rolling chuckle that made his gut bounce and the chair beneath him creak, “No I’m not Riker, and I doubt you’ve ever heard of the Glispin.”
“Tiny, rockhopper. Study little thing though, built in Borsjur.”
Her company raised a bushy eyebrow.
“Heard the skipper’s an ass.”
Another laugh, this time long and loud, “Like I said I’m not the Ludover.”
“Then leave.”
“But tomorrow I’m taking his gambit.”
“. . . call me Lore.”
–––––
I wouldn’t try to touch them if I were you.
“Why not?” Korin muttered, his hand slowly reaching for the puckles flitting around him.
Never liked the look of them. Something behind the eyes. Always seemed like they were up to something.
“Seemed? You never bothered to find out?”
This may come as a surprise to you, but when instinct tells you not to mess with something, those that listen to those instincts have a tendency to live longer.
“Honey.”
What?
“Honey,” his hand inched forward, “I’ll bet the first guy to stick his hand up a beehive was considered the village idiot. But because he ignored his animal instincts and figured those striped rotters were hiding something good, he probably died one of the richest men of all time.”
Or, the wyrm snarked, he died that day. And the one who found his body surrounded by dead bees and an empty hive got the payout of a lifetime.
“Only one way to find out.”
You dumb idio–
Korin lunged through the air, hand outstretched. The closest mist mite tried to dodge but it seemed to swim through which the airman flew. Fingers closed and Korin gave a hoot of triumph. The eel’s body twisted and turned, body slick with moisture as it struggled to free itself, mouth snapping wildly as it tried to twist itself into a knot tight enough to catch Korin’s wrist in its jaws. Refusing to give it the chance he swung it around himself like a whip, keeping it far from any part of him he cared to keep.
“And – whoa, close there – after all that worry.”
Congrats, you’ve accomplished . . . what exactly?
“I alone have conquered nature.”
Who knew this was all it took.
“If you think about it all of human history has led to this moment. So from a certain point of view I’m the pinnacle of storms!”
Spines rippled down the puckle’s body, starting at the head and running down its length until Korin’s hand felt the bite of a dozen pinions punch through is leather gauntlet and dig into his palm. Instantly released the creature hissed as it darted deeper into the mists, disappearing from sight before Korin cared to look for it. Cradling his wounds, a raucous laughter echoed in his head as the worm in his ear barked to life.
“Korin, talk,” Ayla’s voice was tight with concern.
“It’s nothing,” he raised his voice, “Just startled is all. Bleeding mist mites.”
“Storms Korin, gave me a heart attack. Try not to die to a puckle before our pirates get a crack at you.”
No promises, the wyrm ghosted through the mists into view, pulling beside its bondmate, You better hope those spines weren’t poisonous.
“Wait, are they?”
A dark chuckle was the only response.
“This is serious is my hand going to fall off?”
Wouldn’t know, never had the hand to lose. Is that something they do?
“Not normally.”
Probably fine then, but . . .
“But what?”
Korin glanced to his side where the wyrm still flew. Thought it matched his direction and speed its head pointed behind them, the faint whisps of translucent air that made the outline of its eyes squinting as it looked back into the mists.
The airman followed his gaze, “What are you –"
Trails of light glowed through the mist, glaring despite their distance.
“I’ve got pulse trails!” Korin yelled into the worm, “Four coming from behind, lateral distance seven-fifty to a thousand meters! Current ascent rate they’ll breach mist in just under three minutes.”
“Got something here too,” Cena’s voice, so quiet Korin could barely hear as Ayla’s worm transmitted her words to the rest of the squadron, “Can see another four kissing mist. Can’t make out their classes yet.”
“Korin,” Ayla now, “You’ve got a line on their trails, what’re they running?”
“Ti –” he paused, thoughts racing, Those are way too bright and steady to be Titan trails. It’s like they’re burning straight Pulse. But that’s –
“You cut out,” the second lieutenants voice fluttered with a note of concern, “Confirm Titans?”
“They’re too bright,” he whispered. “They’re too bright,” for the second time that day his heart threatened to push its way out of his chest.
“Airman Ashor!” Ayla snapped, “What are –”
“Blights!” he knew he was yelling but he didn’t care, “Every bleeding one of them’s a blight trail!”
Voices split Korin’s skull as everyone spoke at once. Several shouts of “Impossible,” and “It’s far too early” clashed with demands for greater details or information before Ayla brought everyone to heel with a sharp command.
“Korin you’re sure? Not the time for a misread.”
“I’m positive,” his hands were shaking as he reached for the straps securing one of his four short spear to his back, “They’re flying on pure Pulse. Breach in two!”
“Rise to match but don’t engage. Where’ll they be in relation to the Puckle?”
“Right below. They keep this ascent rate they’ll smash into her hull.”
“Heard,” Ayla took a deep breath, “Prepare to defend. Snaps, drop in formation but keep the Puckle in your range, I want you providing fire support. Check your shots, I don’t want to lose anyone to crossfire. Kip stay with them, you’re still on guard duty. Anything gets too close turn it to ash. Raesh take Tholin and Set, head off the group that’s coming from the front. Hetal kiss mist and join them.”
“Breach in one!”
Heavy breathing rife with nervous energy clouded Ayla’s words, but her voice remained steady, “Remaining Titans on me, get under her hull and keep it free of holes. Korin I need a disrupt. Just before they breach I need a flyby. Nothing fancy, just something to break their formation so we can finish them off. A hit and run, if they’re truly blights and you close they’ll rip you apart. Breach?”
“Thirty!”
“Hard burns people, make it to position before they do. Captain Renalt,” she spoke into her other worm with the skipper of the Puckle on the other side, “Prep for boarders. We’ve got company.”
–––––
The moment she opened her eyes Lore regretted it. Even laying down her head felt like an open wound, and her stomach felt like the Churn far below.
“You could have stopped this. Still can, actually.”
There was no reply.
“Sulking, really?” She tried to get her feet beneath her but quickly realized the futility.
“It’s almost noon. I get it, you’re mad I skipped out on the Draken. I –” she faltered, the finality of her words striking harder than last night. Now she needed a drink.
“I am too. She’s a good ship. I’m sure they found another Navigator who’ll take care of her.” The words were hollow. Draken was hers. “But she doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I have to do this. If there’s even a chance, this is it. A gambit run will cut fifty years off the cycle. I – please,” water blurred the corner of her eyes, “Please. Help me make it to the Glispin. Help me look. Help me find her. I won’t be able to do any of this without you.”
You will die, the growl rumbled in her skull, flat and emotionless.
“Please.”
Silence. Then her blood started to pound in her ears, her heart racing as something pushed her body to move. The storm in her stomach quieted and the throbbing from her head faded to nothing more than a bad memory. Parched she reached for the waterskin beside the bed, slinging it over her shoulder as she moved. Her pack by the door was already prepared, a remnant from the day before and assembled for her journey on the Draken.
“Trip’s be a bit longer than an ice scoop. I missing anything?”
Bring the box.
“Right,” dashing back to the bed she reached under until her fingers brushed cold steel. Pulling back a small, intricate blacksmith’s puzzle in the shape of a cube hung by her fingertips, no larger than her hand. Stuffing it in a side pocket of her pack she took a final look about her room. Bare walls and bare floors looked back at her. What was the point of furnishing a room when you barely lived in it? A glint of silver from the bed once more drew her close. Folded within the rumpled sheets lay a small chain with a silver and glass pendant. Sealed within a vial a small sprig of a vine glowed with a tiny light, faint yet steady. A quick swipe and it was once more safely around her neck.
“Would’ve been a piss poor way to start a gambit.”
As if there’s a good way to go about it.
Ignoring him Lore shouldered the pack and pushed through the door, squinting as sunlight filtered into the small alley. Clean and sturdy apartments rose on either side, their weight supported by the cedar slats composing their walls. Delvers never wasted space, and that carried through on the houses they built. Passing onto the street beyond the alley Lore sidled through the crowd with ease. So many bodies and yet there was little jostling. Unlike islanders, delvers knew how to pass each other in tight spaces. Shops and apartments towered into the sky above and slowly leaned over the street, built out and high, the upper floors connected to those across the street by wooden beams.
Even though much of the sky was obscured Lore could just see the child islands flying high above. Far smaller than the island they were tethered to, they held the overflow of Port Aarvald. A growing city needed space, and the islanders had refused to allow them to increase the city limits, stating what land remained on Imnar was needed for farmland. So the inhabitants of the port did what any respectable delvers would – they made their own land. Regalia was the newest addition. Pulled from the mists by none other than Draken herself, the chunk of rock five-hundred meters across soared above the city, towers of scaffolding already covering her craggy face as the builders set to work. Four tethers of greatvine – each thicker than a rockhopper – lashed her to the port and kept her from being blown away. The greatvines were grown from the underbelly of Imnar herself, and resonated with waves of pulse gathered from the mists below. It had taken a dozen teams of Navigators to manage such a feat, but the result was well worth the effort.
There were three other such floating rocks above the port, but Lore thought Regalia by far the grandest. Not only because it was the largest by a couple meters, but because she had found and flown it herself. Piloting Draken it had taken three days of painful navigation through the mists. Olard had thought it too heavy, which is why she was the Navigator and he was only the skipper.
“What’ll he do without me keeping him in check?”
Feel happiness for the first time in years?
“Eh, he’ll miss me.”
A single step and the buildings peeled away, opening the sky and revealing the docks ahead. A legion of ships floated there, tethered to stories of moors stacked high on top of each other and slightly offset. Tugs and even a few fliers darted between them, loading and offloading cargo from delver and islander ships alike. Distantly she caught a glimpse of Slithin, Draken’s sister ship. Sixty meters bow to stern she was far from the largest ship in port, but she was by far the sturdiest. If you wanted to take something that large deep into the mists you needed something hardy, along with a lack of self-preservation. Sails stowed she looked like nothing more than a long and rounded log dotted by bolting-hutches, fasteners, tow hooks, and a line of thick viewports for the bridge crew. Booms and masts like skeletal fingers bristled down her length and along her underside, her pulsesails stripped for maintenance. She had been caught in a storm and her canvas had been so damaged it was a miracle she’d had the power to climb back to port.
Turning her back on the achingly familiar profile of the Slithin felt like tearing out her heart. Pointing her feet towards the tallest towers of moors where a small navy of rockhoppers bobbed in the wind.
Glispin, she mused, a ship. My ship.
–––––
Calm down, came the voice inside his head, you’re going to pop an artery before they get a chance too.
“Hold.”
Ayla’s called to him over the worm, conducting his charge. Through the Mists the four lines of pure pulse ascended, gaining speed.
“Twenty.”
If you die on me I’m making sure they never find your corpse.
Korin wanted to respond but was too busy counting down.
“Fifteen.”
“Hold.”
Sweat and mist slicked his hair to his head, a tie holding the long strands form his eyes. White knuckles gripped his spear, the numbness making him question whether they were his own.
“Ten.”
“Nine.”
“Eight.”
“Seven?”
“Six?!”
“FIVE!”
“Now!” Ayla screamed and Korin launched. The wyrm gave a whoop within his head as its bondmate pushed them forward, adrenaline coursing through his blood and hurling them to even greater speeds. Korin’s nervous mind marveled at how they flew. Was this why Alya had waited so long? How had she known? Sound and wind blurred together as his eyes refused to understand what they were seeing. A thousand meters fell away and sunlight glinted above as Korin and the four trails raced to the edge of the Mists.
A moment.
A hearbeat.
A body.
Korin released the spear and turned ever so slightly. Fletching at the end of the projectile carried it true, and as the airman sailed past a stunned creature it could not have reacted as the weapon punched a hole through it’s chest the size of Korin’s head.
The world exploded with sound.
“Engaging from the front!”
“They’re blights! They’re bloody blights!"
“Watch the roots!”
“Bleeding assholes!”
Korin looped around, his worm twitching with the number of voices screaming through its tendrils. He had already recovered his spear, caught moments before. The hit was true, and the shaft hadn’t split. If it had entered too far from a perfect angle it would be nothing but splinters. Pulling into a climb he breached the mist to glimpse the battle for first time.
Ayla and her Titans were in trouble. The fight was three to four and yet his squadmates dashed and dived like frightened birds. Bolts of lightning flew widely behind them, the human’s unable to accurately aim their wyrms without sight.
“Korin get your ass to the bow!” Ayla’s voice thundered in his ear. As he watched she collided with a blight. Her limbs flashed as Pulse coursed through them, screaming as she tore the unfortunate creature in half with her bare hands. Even as its legs dropped the upper torso refused to die, roots and vines growing out of it as the its mouth opened to let loose an alien wail.
Red blood flecked with electricity coursed down her arm as she ripped it off of her, spitting after the body as it fell. She looked up, eyes burning with rage, and turned directly to Korin.
“Move!”
Terror raced him further. Curving around Puckle the sight that met him made his blood curdle. Tholin was dead, his body held aloft by his wyrm. Wooden roots encased and pierced his body, puncturing his neck and growing through his eyes and nose. A waterfall of blood leaked from him, swallowed by the Mists below. Set was struggling, his limbs flashing with terrible power as he fended vines. He tried to fly free but a thick root had curled around his leg and was pulling him closer to the blight from which it had grown. Hetal dodged and weaved, his flight path contorted into knots as he threw billowing tongues of fire around him. Two hung on his tail, but refused to get close, obviously wary of what the intense heat would do to the vines that comprised their bodies. Chasing their heels a hail of ice spears fell from on high, thrown by the snaps above. It was clear they were too far away, their projectiles having too far to travel. Aside from a slight annoyance the hostiles paid them no mind.
Only Raesh looked like he was winning his fight. From the looks of it the blight was doing its best to stay away from him. The massive airman sailed through the sky, lighting cutting swaths of air before him as his prey desperately tried to shake him. Again and again Raesh tried to close into a grapple, but from the looks of it the creature wanted anything but.
“He’ll be fine,” Korin turned back to Hetal, then climbed. Higher and higher, cold air burned his skin. Another thousand meters above Puckle and he stalled, flipping his body and letting the soles of his feet see the sun. Falling. Faster. Faster.
Release. The spear fell away from him, seeking blood.
It missed. His target dropped and the weapon hissed by, carving a trench down its back. Korin cursed as he heard the sound of splintering wood, a single bad throw destroying the spear. Pulling up to prepare for another pass he reached behind him to grab another, only for the wind to be knocked from him as something heavy collided with him from behind.
Hetal’s other tail!
He had not seen it peel away from the other and fall with him. Putting on speed Korin tired to distance himself from his attacker, but something wrapped around his leg like a ball and chain, weighing him down.
Korin move!
A burst of power shot through Korin’s body and he pulled, hard. The vine wrapped around his leg went taught as it dragged its host behind it, the two bodies corkscrewing through the air in a wild flurry of wind and fear. Depite his maneuvers the plant continued to grow up his body, tightening its grasp as it tied first his legs, then reached for his fingertips, trying to trap them to his torso. Korin faltered and he fell, for the first time looking down he saw his enemy.
Taller than him by at least thirty centimeters, it reached for him with a long, thin limb tipped with three fingers. Its face was long and pointed, two sets of eyes – one above and set slightly wider than those below – glared at him. It’s snarling mouth revealed a row of blunted, round teeth, and a wide, white tongue within. It did not have external ears, instead two small holes were hidden within the folds of the foliage that encased its head. He would have tried to guess the proportions of its torso, but it was impossible to guess what it had looked like before the transformation.
Blights were born flesh and blood, but as they aged they slowly replaced themselves with vines, eating away at their muscles and sinew until they were more plant than flesh and blood. During the metamorphosis their old bodies began to rot away like that disease that earned them their name, the necrosis food for their new form.
This one looked younger. One leg still remained completely untouched by vines, the familiar curvature of muscles beneath flesh all the more gruesome because of the fringes of rotting meat that circled its hip joint. The appendage almost looked human, except the foot was long and thin, an it’s foot more a paw by sight, and longer bones lengthened the distance between the ankle and toes. A flitting thought left Korin wondering how such a thing could walk.
Pain. His arms struggled to free themselves but already he could feel sharp thorns digging into his body, tearing groves in his skin as they sprouted from the root still holding him still. Higher it climbed, searching for his neck. He was going to meet the same fate as Tholin. A breathless howl filled his mind like a storm, a scream of animalistic rage. Pulse pooled at his fingertips and wind rose around him, buffeting his assailant. Still the thorns dug deeper, holding them together. Korin looked down once more into the eyes of his killer.
A massive five-fingered hand curled around the rotter’s face. Electricity flashed beneath skin and knuckles creaked as the hand squeezed, until a sickening pop came moments before the creatures head exploded in a geyser of clear, watery blood. The root loosened and Korin wriggled free, Raesh’s snarling visage floating up to greet him. Another blight struggled in his grap – the one he had been chasing – caught by the throat. A crunch and it went limp.
Dropping the corpses the big airman gave a solemn nod, then tore through the air, charging for the blight from which Set’s limp body now hung. Glancing back to Hetal Korin caught a glimpse of what had once been his opponent, the fireball already fading into the Mists.
“We’re going to win,” he breathed, “We’re –”
Cena’s voice cut through his words, “Twenty more on the horizon, closing as fast as they can.”
“Ten more behind as well!” Stick, another Snap called through the worm, “They must have circled around!”
Fingers of dread gripped his spine as he dived, slipping down into the mists. Far below he could see them, their pulsetrails bright in the fog.
“Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five!” he added his own report, “Twenty-five coming from below! Breach in a minute thirty!”
Ayla swore, “Fifty-five. Raesh, how you looking?”
“It’s just me and Hetal. Set and Tholin are gone.”
“I lost Erit,” the worm went silent, tense seconds passing as everyone came to the same conclusion. Blights were slow. Even a Titan could outrun one, albeit with difficulty. The Puckle and her flightless crew, however . . .
“We stay,” Ayla spoke into dead silence, “Snaps, join up with Raesh. Kip, you’re with me at the stern. Korin, run.”
Blood drained from his face and his tongue went dry, “What?”
“Someone needs to let command know the blights are back. I don’t care what they have out there or where it is, you can outfly it. Get back and tell them everything. Tell them –” she choked off, her voice growing thick on her last words.
Raesh’s roar filled the void, “Tell them there were hundreds!” nervous chuckles echoed all around, “And as you ran you saw us slay entire legions before we fell! If they aren’t singing songs about us by the end of the month, I’ll come back and finish what that blight started.”
“Why aren’t you moving!” Ayla cut back in as cheers shook his head, “Go!”
Turning his back to his comrades Korin flew, wind wicking away tears.
–––––
(Continued in comments)

Tales From a Small Town: That one "haunted" house

When you live in Raw, chances are you're deeply afraid of Leslie Torres. Unless you know him. The only thing you have to fear then is getting on his bad side, or, you know, taking on a wager of any kind with him.
I don't know if Leslie's cursed or has Loki's favor or something, but no matter the bet, he always wins. I had to learn that the hard way when I drunkenly agreed to a game of strip poker. He was kind enough to let me keep on my underwear but he laughed his ass off. However in every social group, there's always this one person who never learns from their mistakes, and in this case, that would be Rocco.
Now if you know Rocco, you know he's something. He's funny, easy to talk to and a good guy at heart, albeit a little on the nasty side sometimes, but most of all, he's not very smart. I mean, no offense to the man but there's only so much I can give him credit for. Not that he's an idiot, he just never learns. Imagine my surprise when one day, completely out of the blue, Mars called me and asked me if I could come over and bring some pain meds or something against a stomach bug.
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
"Don't get too worried or anything, but I think Rocco's dying." I could hear pathetic little moans in his voice coming from somewhere in the background, mixed with Leslie's husky laughter.
"Okay, what happened?" I asked sharply.
Mars let out a deep sigh. "Rocco dared Leslie to pickpocket one of the bigger guys here in Foul."
I didn't need to ask who had emerged victorious. "What did he make him do as punishment?"
Mars sighed again, even louder this time. "Rocco is bound by his word as a gentleman to eat his body weight in watermelons."
See, I don't think he's dumb in the general sense, but who in the world enters into a bet with Leslie, especially when they've known him for such a long time? Rocco is also a bit of a conspiracy theorist. He believes in ghosts, aliens, evil doctors, bigfoot and all that jazz. Furthermore, he used to be dead set on his suspicion that a certain old, abandoned house on the outskirts of Raw was haunted.
So last year in summer, Mars came to pick me up from home to spend some time with the group. She has this cute little white and pink motor scooter which she only uses when she's around town "incognito"–she looks a lot less threatening when she's riding something that looks like it's from a Barbie doll set instead of touring around with three dudes in all leather. Either way, she took me over to Foul where we arrived just in time to witness a heated debate between Leslie and Rocco.
Hopping off Mars' scooter, I ran up to Leslie to greet him. He thankfully accepted my hug, despite still obviously being a bit angry with his friend.
"So," I began, "what's the deal here?"
Rocco let out a deep sigh. Instead of answering however, he pointed into the air behind him accusingly while at the same time flashing Leslie a triumphant smile. "She's from Raw, she can literally tell you I'm right! Go on, Pepper. That old large house that's kind of halfway in Raw and halfway in the desert, know which one I mean?" –I nodded– "It's haunted, isn't it?" he asked.
"Oh." I frowned. "Uh… I don't know actually. Never really thought about it."
Leslie grinned widely. "Of course not. Miss Bennett here is a clever and busy woman, Rocco, you really think she gives a damn about that old shack?"
I got a little red in the face from that. Still, I had to contradict him. "Just because I never thought about it doesn't mean it's not true."
Rocco let go of a breath of relief. "See?"
Leslie looked a bit disappointed. "You shouldn't encourage him, you really shouldn't."
"So why do you think something's wrong in there anyways?" I inquired.
"Glad you asked. It was really creepy. Last week, I was walking around out there because my car had run out of gas. Not gonna lie, I was planning on stealing some. Either way, I walked by the house and there was this odd, distinct wailing coming from inside. The door was hanging wide open since it's broken and the hinges are insanely old, so I could hear it loud and clear." He shuddered at the memory.
"Are you sure it wasn't a squatter or a stray animal?" I asked. "I told him that too," Leslie muttered from beside me.
"No. It just… I don't know. It didn't sound right. But isn't there, like, any legends about that place? You guys live all around it, someone must have noticed something," Rocco went on.
I shook my head. "Sorry, but not really." He hung his head. Seeing his friend so crestfallen seemed to make Leslie soften up a little. "Maybe we could take a look at it. Who knows, could be fun. Like, what do you call it? Urban exploring?" He glanced over at me for confirmation and I shrugged and nodded. "Might even find something. Least it'll be off the table afterwards," he added.
"Wait, so this is actually a thing we're gonna do now?" Mars asked incredulously, exchanging looks with Sandy, who had been standing beside them watching the scene in silent apathy.
To answer her question and fast forward a little, yes it was. Soon enough, we were all standing in front of the old, abandoned building.
"This must have looked really pretty once," Leslie remarked as we climbed up the porch. He had an almost dreamy look on his face when he turned to me. "Imagine living in a place like this."
"Actually, if we don't find, like, a ghost inside and if the roof and walls are intact, why don't you guys start staying here?" I suggested. "It definitely doesn't belong to anybody and it looks better than the sheds and trailer."
"Not a bad idea… we'd be closer to you too," he replied, raising his brows as he looked the old building up and down. "Always thought Raw was kinda nice."
"Oh my god, that'd be so cool!" Mars blurted out, tugging at the guys' arms. "What do you think? Sure the door might need some fixing, else the monsters will get in, but other than that…"
"Let's just take things slow for now, shall we?" Sandy reminded her and motioned for Leslie to go inside first. As my friend vanished inside the doorway, us others followed suit. Mars went in behind him, then Sandy, then me and at last Rocco. The light from outside didn't even reach past the hallway right behind the porch. After our first steps into the old house, which were accompanied by the ominous creaking of the withered, decrepit floorboards, we were already surrounded by darkness.
I could hear Rocco draw in a sharp breath behind me as we began to look around, careful not to break out of the small line we had formed when entering. The air inside was stale and I could see flocks of dust dancing in the dying sunlight.
"No crying yet," Leslie murmured. "So far, so good…"
The wallpapers were faded and peeling off in places, but I could make out the pale remains of a white and pink bouquet pattern on a light yellow background. It truly must have been quite pretty once. It reminded me of my own home a little, except that it was completely unfurnished. The place had really been left to itself.
The further we proceeded inside, the darker it got. We found an old, scabby kitchen and figured the room we'd found ourselves in right after entering must have been the living room. The next thing we stumbled upon was a set of staircases, one leading to the upper floors and the other down into what was probably the basement.
"For your information, I call upstairs," Sandy said, immediately making good on his claim and shaking up dust as he ascended. Mars shrugged and followed him and Leslie leaned against the wall, lazily stretching his arms.
"I'll leave the basement to you, bud," he told Rocco with a smirk. "Go right ahead, I'll wait here."
Rocco was looking understandably uncomfortable. Leslie nodded at the staircase. "What are you waiting for? The ghost's gotta be expecting you."
"Aren't you gonna–?"
"Nope. Your idea, your spook. Knock yourself out."
"I'm coming with you," I told Rocco. He let go of a relieved sigh and thanked me as he turned to go down the stairs, but not before sticking out his tongue to his friend. We tried to tread as carefully as we could. I had taken out my phone and was shining its flashlight down so we could at least see the way ahead of us. The stairs were wooden, old and just as decrepit as the rest of the house. I remember hoping they wouldn't break down underneath us.
With the only light cutting through the blackness veiling the basement being my tiny phone flashlight, the mood was more than strained. The air was stale and had me feeling like I would suffocate if I breathed in too deeply.
"Like inhaling wool," Rocco muttered and I nodded.
The room was surprisingly large. My light didn't even reach every corner at first. I know it sounds stupid, but it felt a bit like we'd stumbled into another dimension.
"Leslie?" I called up the stairs, regretting it instantly seeing as my throat was getting dry but hoping for a hint of affirmation. "Are you there?"
"Still here," came the reply. "Everything okay down there?"
"It's fine," I shouted, shuddering slightly.
"Yeah, we love it here!" Rocco added from beside me.
I could hear Leslie let out a coarse laugh. "Sure you do."
I shined around my light some more, only to find another passage in the back of the room. Rocco seemed elated and waved for me to follow him. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, man, but this is getting a little too much for me. I'll wait for you upstairs."
He gave me a disappointed look. "I thought you were gonna help me! Come on. Please?"
I ignored the sting of guilt and instead handed him my phone. I quickly climbed up the stairs again where Leslie greeted me with a slightly mocking look on his face. "So?"
"I was shitting myself, okay?" I hissed as I plopped down beside him. "I just can't with dark rooms sometimes."
"Hey, least you own up to it. I respect that." He chuckled. "Why do you think I don't wanna walk around down there?"
"Wait, you're scared too?" I asked incredulously.
He shrugged. "I like being a chicken sometimes."
When Rocco's piercing scream rang out from the basement however, he seemed to forget all about that. Leslie jumped up and dashed down the stairs, warning me to stay back, but I couldn't help but follow him. Mars and Sandy appeared to have heard as well, seeing as I could hear them run to join us from upstairs. For the time being however, it was just Leslie and me in the darkness with Rocco shouting for help somewhere ahead. My heart was pounding in my chest as I called out to answer, asking him where he was.
"It grabbed me! It fucking grabbed me!" he howled instead.
"Who grabbed you? Where are you?" Leslie bellowed.
"It's alive! Holy shit, it's alive!"
I grabbed onto Leslie's shirt with trembling fingers, afraid to lose him in the pitch-black room as we tried to follow our friend's voice. Rocco was still screaming like a madman. When it finally seemed like we had gotten close to him, we still couldn't see anything.
"Rocco, where's my phone? Turn on the light, quick!" I shouted.
"I can't find it," he whimpered in response. "Wait…" Finally, a light came on right in front of us. It wasn't as bright as before and barely illuminated our surroundings at all. There was Rocco, cowering on the floor like a wounded animal, holding my cell phone in his shaking hands as he looked up at us. "It's behind you," he uttered.
My heart sank. Leslie drew his gun, spun around and fired aimlessly into the darkness. I winced. "What the fuck are you doing, stop!" I whined as I tore at his shirt. He was breathing heavily but instantly gave in.
"Sorry," he panted. "Mars? Sandy? Are you guys around?"
We could hear their answer somewhere up on the stairs. Leslie sighed. "Rocco, why do I feel like there's nothing there?"
"Gimme that," I said as I took my phone from his hands.
"It's behind you, I swear," Rocco cried out. It was only then that I noticed he didn't look right. He seemed too panicked, too afraid. I bent down beside him and began to caress his arm.
"It's okay," I told him, trying to soothe his nerves. Without standing up, I gave Leslie my phone and whispered to him to go check. Rocco was still having trouble catching his breath. I grabbed both his hands and squeezed them, quietly giving more words of affirmation. I was sorry I'd left him there, I really was. The dim glow of my phone had already vanished somewhere up ahead and when I turned around to look for it, I spotted it a few feet in front of where we were sitting, unmoving in mid-air. It shone down on something I truly wish I hadn't seen before.
It looked like the pale, bare remains of a person, but stretched and dented in an unnatural manner with thick rolls and huge lumps of flesh where they shouldn't be any. The sight was grotesque and disgusting, but what was worse were the memories it stirred up within me. I felt sick to my stomach.
"I'll be damned," Leslie muttered. "What the hell is that thing?"
"I don't know," Rocco finally managed to press out. He appeared to have caught himself again to some extent. At least he was talking to us and breathing normally again. "I saw it lying there so I went up to it to get a better look. I thought it was something else at first, I don't know what, but then it suddenly stuck out its arm and I swear to God, it grabbed my foot…" He took a deep, shaky breath. "I stomped on it a few times before I got away from it."
"Yeah… I think it's dead." Leslie bent down, took out his gun and poked the mass of flesh with the muzzle a few times, looking to be too disgusted to touch it. "Yup. Dead. We should get out of here."
We made our way up the stairs where I tucked away my phone. Its battery was too low to use it by then anyways. Mars and Sandy helped us once we had reached them and pulled Rocco into their arms to support him while walking. He was still a bit wobbly on his feet. The shock had really been too much for him.
"Hey… you don't look so good," Leslie remarked, walking slowly on purpose in order to stay beside me while the others were already out the door.
"I've seen that thing before. Well, not exactly that thing. But one that looked like it," I replied.
"Oh," he uttered. "Oh," he suddenly repeated. "I think you've told me before… was it–?"
"I don't wanna talk about it right now. Can you guys drop me off somewhere around home?"
Leslie apologized a hundred times, even though it wasn't his fault I was in such a gloomy mood. It's true that I told him where I'd seen a creature like the one in the abandoned building before, but that doesn't mean it was easy talking about it. I'm not sure if doing it again will be fun, but I think I want to share this other story too, so I'll try. Next time.
x
Where I've seen the fleshy things before

Went Full Bear; Paid Full Price

Where to start. I've had some success channel-surfing SPY weeklies. Taking small, consistent gains each week: a thousand here, a few thousand there. The objective has been to hit 1% gain to the portfolio each session. It's been fun, profitable, and reliable.
Thursday rolls around with the unemployment numbers and I'm getting a bear vibe. I know, I know, you don't need to say it. My gut was already screaming don't do it.
I'd already bagged $3000 from the first spike and drop at the Thursday open. Sent the wife and boyfriend a cute little screenshot of the day's winnings. Proceeded to kick back in the chair, ready to call it a day by 10:00 a.m. I throw back a couple of beers (it's 10:00 pm here in Asia), queued up Ozzy's "Tendie Train" on Spotify, and start thinking there's gotta be room for some tasty bearish puts before bed. Just a quick strike, take one ride down the red candle slide, bag some tendies, and get out.
I usually buy 30-50 ATM contracts. It's enough of an "investment" (wager, if you will) to justify the time and effort but not enough to lose my damn shirt if I bet wrong and have to bail.
Maybe the booze was making me cockstrong and greedy, but for whatever fucking hair-brained reason, I decide to yolo in and bought 100 8/21 SPY 337P for just over 10K. The TA (and my now lying gut) suggested the price should pop down quickly, print some jpow bucks, and let me get out the backdoor.
Instead, it pops up fast. wow, hmmm. ffs, I usually don't get caught out like that! I'm down more than I'm comfortable and feel a foreboding rush of heat over my body. Against my better judgment and wanting to drop my cost basis, I doubled down on the rising price action with another 130 contracts for a total of 230 337P priced at just over $24,000. Whoa, that's a lot. Right away I'm thinking, "you're a fucking idiot." What was an educated bet turned into a get rich quick scheme that was guaranteed to get me poor.
Sudden fucking alarm washes over me and I realize I might be in way deeper than I had planned to be when I sat down to trade. That's too much money put down on one rubbish bet and way outside of my rules for engagement and trading strategy.
This was the first time I dropped such a large amount; of course, it's not going to work out. In the ol' "heart of hearts," I already know I'm fucked. A million scenarios start to play in my head.
Price is now melting up and digging me a deeper pit of hell from which to escape. A few hours later, $8000 down, and the clock ticking towards 4:00 pm (4:00 am, my time, and I'm tired), I get to that point where bailing is going to hurt too much if I don't give the trade a second chance to work out. I'll ride it out overnight to see if I can get a fade on Friday to cash in my 230 0 DTE hail marys. Fuck it, let's diamond hand this shit and see if we can pull and pray that price down a buck to $337.
As I'm trading from Asia, I have to wait out a super stressful Friday on two hours of sleep from Thursday's shit show. I'm sweating, feel like absolute ass, can't focus, and know I'm in the shit. I sit down around 4:00 pm local to watch the pre-market.
Hey, there's movement in the PM! By 7 a.m., the price has rolled down to a little over 335. Fucking $GLD, mate! If I could just sell now, I'd bag around 20K according to the options calculator.
Cool story, but we all know where this goes: it's waaaay too early for that drop, and the price is guaranteed to roll right back up by open. And it proceeds to walk right up to the Thursday close by the bell. Funny how that works, right on time. Crazy, amirite?!
Unfortunately, no profitable quick-sell opportunity at the open. I hang on. My unrealized losses are now in the $12,000 range. This is starting to hurt. At about 30 minutes into the session, I had a short window to sell back to an $8000 realized loss; instead, I stood my damn ground to wait it out like a fucking clown, thinking, "I'm getting all my money back, mfs."
For the next few hours, no ranging through the channel, nothing--just green dojis meandering up the fucking hill in a tight little formation.
Sitting in the dark, loneliness engulfs me, only the muffled chatter of LA Dodgers baseball radio providing me some company.
By now I'm raging internally at the WSB bulls yelling "Tesla this" and "Apple that" at me from my Samsung (not AAPL) tablet... shut up, guys, I've got my own problems at the moment.
The day (night for me) wears on. I'm losing hope as the price action of the underlying stonk literally only goes up. Look SPY, I need you to swoon, not moon! Tell Elon to stop sending his little rockets over my battleground.
I'm flustered and exasperated. My typically clinical and unemotional approach folds. This movement was unreal and completely divorced from the reality of life, Mainstreet, whatever. Wall Street simply does not care about fundamentals, TA, the world burning down, presidential hellfire, the poors, anything. It is the matrix. Literally, it's now all pump with little dump. Every green blip simultaneously spikes my heart rate and blood pressure. Green, red, green, red. Geezus, pick a direction! Enough of the damn Christmas tree.
Of course, with WSB being part of my real-time market analysis and a reliable leading indicator, the fucking bulls were, instead, driving me further up the wall going on and on about FAANGS, bears, bulls, 500/2000, Rheeeeee, tendies, tenders, chicken, etc., with each refresh of Reddit.
By midday, I decided I'm going down with SPY 08/21 337P. The captain does not leave his post. I'm squeezing into dust the remaining lumps of bearish coal gripped with fear in my now cubic zirconia hands, waiting for a reversal of power-hour, something. Of course, nothing... nothing happens AT ALL, other than the slow green creep of SPY taking my tendies $0.01 at a time. I'm now looking at the full loss, for fuck sake, sitting there, aghast and unmoved, like a bear in the middle of the highway, locked in the headlights of a fast-approaching TESLA/APPLE truck.
I mean it really fucking blows. By 3:00 pm, I'm fucked. I pray one last time for power-hour to dump to the strike, knowing, of course, that it will not. I finally bail at 3:40 pm, selling off my 230 once-hopeful contracts at 0.03. Not good times. I had to tell Jesus himself in a variety of ways that I was not impressed.
I lost the $24,000 and had to call my wife today to explain it to her... it was embarrassing, depressing, humiliating, etc. Well, I had to explain it to her boyfriend who explained it her as she was "busy at the moment." To make it worse, Chad said he was "disappointed in me." I really look up to him.
I'll fight another day, but this one bites. It's all on me, this is my bad. Therefore, I'll take it like a bear, but got damn if I ever bet against Elon and Grimsy, Timmy Apple, Jeff, or the WSB bois and bulls in this market.
Bears really are fuk. Well, maybe not next week... but I'm not taking that bet. Godspeed, tech bros. Good on ya.
tl;dr: it was a bad idea to yolo into 230 contracts of 08/21 SPY 337P; lost mucho tendies

Memorial Tournament Preview Blog

Since Riggs, Trent, and Frankie have turned their golf positions at Barstool into less blogging and more playing with themselves and selling $50 cases of soda, I decided to take a dull, butter knife stab at a preview blog for this weekend’s Memorial Tournament.
Last Week
Real quick let’s talk about how much we should all hate the PGA after Sunday’s off-air debacle, and then about some questionable feature groups this week. For weather reasons on Sunday, the Workday final round tee times were moved up so players could finish before incoming storms. Great, that all makes sense. But somehow the PGA was not able to broadcast the round on TV, and when they did have to kill the live broadcast, they didn’t even mention where to go watch the rest of the tournament. THERE ARE NO OTHER FUCKING SPORTS ON, WHAT COULD CBS HAVE MADE PRIORITY OVER THIS FINAL ROUND? No seriously, someone please tell me because I would love to know what aired on CBS from 11 am to 3 pm instead of live sports. Can we also talk about how terrible the Thursday/Friday coverage is every weekend on all networks? You usually get 2-4 featured groups you can stream online from 9-3 (even these groups you often need NBC Sports Gold to watch), and then get maybe 3 hours of full coverage in a TV broadcast. There is legitimately a channel called the Golf Channel, who are airing a shitty preview/talk show while you are missing coverage. Here’s a fucking mad idea - put live golf on the golf channel before the major networks get prime coverage.
Then we got a look yesterday at the featured groups for the Memorial. How do you fuck this up? If you are younger than 70 and even sporadically watch golf, you could do this job better than whoever does it for the PGA. Here’s the formula: Brooks Koepka makes a joke about Bryson Dechambeau using steroids one week ago = you put them in the same group. Golf has so little drama because all these guys are friends and making millions of dollars even when they aren’t winning. Fans need these storylines/rivalries to be buffed up, not ignored because they might hurt Bryson's feelings.
This Week
As far as a course preview, we get a strange twist this week with the players coming back to Muirfield, who just hosted the Workday Charity Tournament. I’ve been watching golf for a long ass time and cannot remember the last time this happened, but it’s not a major headline at all so maybe this does happen on occasion. Either way the setup this weekend will look different than last weekend, with much faster greens, thicker rough, and some changes in tee box locations. I think we see some youngeinexperienced players struggle with the change in green speeds, especially since they just played these same greens and they were rolling like carpet (stimpmeter will go from 11 to 13.5). My gut tells me the winner is either a veteran or someone who didn’t play here last week. This would rule out guys like Hovland, Burns, Merritt, Niemann, etc.
Finally, we have to mention that Eldrick Tiger Woods returns to the field this week. I’m looking at his +2000 odds and hate the value because we have no idea where his game is at right now. That being said, Tiger has won the Memorial five times and placed T9 last year, and T23 the year before. I will root for Tiger to win every tournament he enters, but I won’t look at a future for him at these low odds, and for his first post-break golf since The Match.
Now let’s go over wagers this weekend and what you should look for. I am usually not a fan of betting on outright winners, before any golf has been played. The odds always look so good but you will rarely have a profitable year trying to bet winners every week. That being said, here are some of the best value picks IMO.

Dechambeau +850
- This man is -69 (nice) in his 4 tournaments since the resumption of the season, with final results of 3rd, 8th, 6th, and 1st. Not only is he launching drives 10% further than the field consistently, but his confidence is sky high and that mental edge goes a long way. Bryson also won here 2 years and 40 pounds ago, so he does like this course. But let’s not forget what a whiny bitch he is. Give me odds on if he will punch a cameraman this week and I would hammer yes.

Rory McIlroy/Justin Thomas +950
- Rory holds the current #1 world golf ranking, and JT holds the current #1 FedEx cup ranking. Neither golfer has won since returning from quarantine, however they each grabbed a trophy or two early in the season (pre-pandemic). Both have seen some inconsistencies in the past month, with over par rounds or missed cuts, but undeniably still playing great golf. You might want to think about JT’s state of mind after blowing a lead and then a playoff last weekend, but I still like him to show up and be in the mix.

DJ +1500
- DJ recently daddy-dicked Brendan Todd in the final round of the Travelers, starting his final round 2 shots behind and leaving with a 1 shot victory (6 shots ahead of Todd). He might win, he might not, either way he’s going home to Paulina Gretzky and a Johnny Depp style lunch spread.

Koepka +1750
- I’m going to choose to ignore Brooks’ round one 74 at the Workday this weekend, followed up by a missed cut. His previous two tournaments he posted 8 consecutive rounds under par, and a Sunday 65 to place 7th at the RBC Heritage. That being said, in my brief research it looks like his best finish at the Memorial was T31 in 2017, so maybe he hates this course. But Petty King’s hate for everyone besides himself is a great motivator. Can’t wait until we get a “suck on that Faldo” on a hot mic.

Morikawa +2000
- My guy Collin is less than a year removed from his amateur status, and has now made 24/25 cuts to start his career. Three weeks ago he lipped out a 3 footer to lose in a playoff, had a rough 2 weeks at the RBC and Travelers, but then he came right back and won in a playoff this past weekend. This dude is a sniper from the fairway, but can he stay straight off the tee and hole some putts? 2 playoffs in his last 4 tournaments would indicate yes.

Cantlay/Matsuyama/Rose/Kuchar +1250 to +6500
- All four of these guys have won the Memorial in the past, with Cantlay at the best odds trying to repeat his title from 2019. I sneaky love Justin Rose here who has been playing great golf, and reminds me of a slightly less hate-able version of Adam Scott. Always fun to root for Kuch daddy as well, but his association with Sketchers is unforgivable.

Hovland/Simpson/Schauffele/Berger +2000 to +3000
- Three young studs who have won or come close to winning this season, and a veteran who has been playing lights out golf (Webby). I would not be surprised to see a slow start for Hovland after two disappointing Sundays in a row, but he is too good not to make a push if he makes the cut. Schauffele actually scares me, he is definitely the odds on favorite to be a serial killer after his PGA career (eh maybe Mickelson). But that focus and weird fatheson relationship has been working for him, and he’s sitting just a few spots outside the FedEx cup top 10 and playing great golf. Meanwhile Webby is sitting at #2 in the FedEx cup rankings with a win at the RBC Heritage and a top 10 at the Rocket Mortgage Classic. Side note, why is there a “t” in mortgage? Fuck that word.

My pick: once again reiterating I will likely not bet on a Sunday winner before Thursday starts, but if I was I would put my money on Justin Rose +4500 or Xander Schauffele +2500.
Thursday Matchups
Easily the best way to bet on golf, and in my experience the most profitable. Here are a few picks I’ll be making before Thursday. Currently I am 4-2 betting matchups (last 4 PGA events) and I’ll track my picks moving forward. If I get to Jack Mac or Reags level of bad betting, I promise I’ll retire and not pretend I know what I’m talking about. I’m only going to pick matchups in the featured groups for Thursday. Nothing worse than betting on someone like Marc Leishman, and having to refresh the golf cast simulator thing instead of watching live play.
Dechambeau (-115) over Thomas (-105): everything is so planned out and calculated with Bryson, and his sit-out at the Workday feels like a part of his plan. Fucking hate rooting for this kid, but I see him coming in fresh against JT who blew an enormous lead last weekend.
D. Johnson (even) over Morikawa (-120): my favorite first round matchup bet. It seems counter-intuitive going against the guy who won at this course a few days ago, but don’t forget the major change this week will be how the greens roll. And Morikawa is 150th on tour in strokes gained with the putter. Lock it in.
Take a flier - round 1 leader
I don’t think I’ve ever bet this prop but I’ve also never written a golf blog before so let’s take a shot here. I’ll put a half unit on it as well: Rickie Fowler +4000
Rick's finishes at the Memorial the past 3 years: T14, T8, solo 2nd. In 2017 when he placed 2nd, he shot an opening round 66. I also feel like I see him in the mix a lot in early rounds, but can’t quite put together those low weekend rounds.
That’s all I’ve got. Sorry it’s not funny but it’s better content than we’ve gotten out of Foreplay.
Let’s make some money and blow off work Thursday and Friday.

[Tales From the Terran Republic] The Poop Starts to Settle Part 3 of 2: Sheloran Moves In

Sheloran moves into her new home, a perfectly normal jail where nothing is HORRIBLY WRONG...
The rest of this series can be found here
***
“Well, it seems that we are going to get a chance to get to know each other after all!” Pam said cheerfully from behind a thick clear partition. “Goody!”
Sheloran just sat there on her padded cube miserably.
“Quite the scene in the courtroom!” Pam said brightly. “Woo! I have to say it takes a rare individual to tell any Terran judge to get fucked but Judge Thaddeus Carter himself… damn! You really let him freaking have it!”
“Yay me,” Sheloran said glumly.
“Yeah… maybe not the smartest move but if you are going to go down, go down guns blazing!” Pam said brightly. “You sure you aren’t a little Terran in a frog-suit?”
“Nope, just a plath… a very unlucky plath...”
“Oh I’m going to have to call bullshit on that one,” Pam smiled. “Oh, before we continue, I should introduce myself shouldn’t I?”
Pam drew herself up straight in her chair.
“I’m agent Pamela Dawson!” she said cheerfully. “I’m your profiler!”
“My profiler?”
“Yep!” Pam exclaimed enthusiastically. “It’s my job to figure out what makes you tick and let me tell you, that’s going to be fun!”
Sheloran looked at her suspiciously.
“Don’t feel too special. Most people here have a profiler,” she said with a grin. “You guys are just too interesting!”
“We are?”
“Sure!” she replied. “We host one of the greatest collections of… unique personalities, truly gifted humans and kalesh, exotic xeno threats, and the like anywhere in the galaxy! It’s a gathering of extremes, true one of a kinds! Normal humans, or any of the standard races for that matter, are boring! You guys? Not boring! I mean, a plath? Here?!? If someone told me two days ago that I would be chatting with a plath guest I would have told you that you were high… (and to give me some!)”
Pam leaned forward on her desk and whispered into the mic.
“Actually I would have had to look up what a plath was… and THEN I would have told you that I wanted a hit off of whatever pipe you were smoking! Oh! Speaking of...”
Pam tapped on her tablet and a doorway opened. An armed and armored combat drone floated in…
Carrying a tray that had a bottle of absinthe (her favorite brand!) a beautiful absinthe glass, chilled water, slotted spoon, and a small dish of sugar cubes.
“Care for a drink?” she asked. “We took the liberty of sneaking a peek into your hotel and this stuff would be repugnant beyond words to your roommate so we figured it was for you!”
“Um… thanks?” Sheloran said as she walked over. She opened the bottle and took a sniff.
“If we wanted to poison or drug you we would just gas you!” Pam said cheerfully as she pointed up at some very suspicious looking vents in the ceiling. “Or we’d have one of the bots hold you down...”
Sheloran carefully prepared herself a much needed drink and took a long sip. Oh she needed that.
“Is that your favorite?” Pam asked. “You get an alcohol ration. It would have to come pre-mixed though. We give you a drink or six a day, not a whole fucking bottle!”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Sheloran as she sipped her absinthe suspiciously (still drank it though).
“I was wondering when you would ask,” Pam smiled. “Everyone asks that eventually. The easy answer is because it’s easy.”
Sheloran just looked at her in confusion.
“You are among the elite. You guys are the worst of the worst, the most deadly of the deadly, the baddest of the bad. You guys thrive on misery. Adversity empowers you. Brutality only gives you strength. Hell, most of you actually like it.”
“I don’t like it!” Sheloran squeaked sipping her absinthe.
“We could make this a living hell,” Pam chuckled, “but why exert ourselves so much just to suit you, make you stronger, more dangerous? Tartarus isn’t a ‘jail’ or even a ‘prison’. It’s a warehouse. It is our assigned task to store some of the most dangerous biological weapons in the galaxy, people like you. We aren’t concerned with punishment, or reform. Both concepts are a complete waste of time when we are dealing with individuals like yourself or anyone else here. Do you have any idea who we have in here?!? We can’t do shit to them! What they have been through… what they put themselves through just for fun sometimes… It’s literally impossible to punish them. Beat you down? Seriously? The concept is laughable. What lash would we use on someone like Tiberius Shane? Starve you? What privations would we use on ‘The Maiden’ that could bring her to her knees? Intimidate you? What would we possibly confront Kvash The Wounder with to make him flinch? It’s a complete waste of effort. Shit. You fucks would just view it as free entertainment.”
Sheloran’s eyes widened as she sipped her drink. Who was she going to be tossed in here with?
“The list goes on and on,” Pam chuckled. “Nobody in here is going to break. If they could safely be brought to heel they wouldn’t be here in the first place!”
“I can!” Sheloran squeaked nervously.
Pam just laughed.
“You are actually a prime example,” she chuckled. “I’m still crunching your numbers but you are ‘just a normal everyday plath’, completely ‘nice’, totally ‘docile’ (at least where violence goes)...”
“I am!”
“… until you get ‘pushed’...” Pam smiled wickedly. “Then you enter some sort of fugue state and become incredibly dangerous with the reaction times and target acquisition speed easily equal to that of a ‘sufficiently trained, fully enhanced, human special operative’. We have you on tape, both your own and the restaurant’s footage… would you like to see?”
Sheloran just shook her head.
“Well take my word for it,” Pam enthused, “when you black out shit gets freaky and you can go toe to toe with anyone, not just Harkeen thugs, and that’s before we even begin to talk about your ‘other abilities’. It’s in our best interest to keep you feeling comfortable and even more importantly, safe. I would much rather deal with you, than… you...”
“Other abilities?”
“Your innate technological abilities for one!” Pam exclaimed. “You just throw together the coolest little toys! The stuff you normally make is neat! The shit you made while in the Twilight Zone… The techies are still trying to figure out your Barn-Mart specials! Any info you feel like laying on us would be deeply appreciated!”
“I… I learned it from a video game...” Sheloran stammered.
“I like you!” Pam replied cheerfully. “I’m not sure if you actually believe that or are just a really good liar but I’m going to let you in on something,” she said as she pulled out the pistol she discarded in front of the hospital from a drawer in her desk, “This didn’t come from a video game. We checked them all.”
“It… It was based on one! That’s where I learned-”
“Advanced electronics? Weaponsmithing? High level electric and electronic engineering? Advanced physics?” Pam asked, “And something else that we are still trying to figure out… Even this little toy has some very smart very educated people very very excited.”
“I just tweaked it a little,” Sheloran said uncomfortably.
“Sure you did,” Pam winked. “Those little tweaks have some quite highly paid people not only a little confused, but actually a bit pissed off. Why didn’t you just use this little monster? It was certainly up for the task!”
“Because I wanted them to-” Sheloran started to hiss and then clamped her hands over her mouth with a squeak.
“Suffer?” Pam asked her eyes gleaming malevolently? “Oh don’t worry,” she smiled. “I’m not DOJ and we have little interest in supporting their little games. We honestly do not care.”
“DOJ?”
“Department of Justice,” Pam smiled. “Not me. I don’t get paid to do those people’s jobs for them. I mean if we catch you planning a crime outside of this facility then yeah, we clue them in, but as far as helping them with a current investigation or trial? Pssh. I’ve got better things to do than become an active threat for one of our residents or guests. I mean, we think we got all the bases covered but… we aren’t you now are we? I am NOT going to be the reason you black out next time! They don’t pay me nearly enough for that bullshit.”
“Who… who are you with then?”
“The facility was built by and the exterior and outer spaces are guarded by the Republic armed forces,” Pam replied. “As far as who I and the rest of the internal and administrative staff goes, let’s just say that we serve the Republic and leave it at that.”
“Intelligence?” Sheloran asked in alarm.
“...We serve the Republic...” Pam smiled. “As a guest, all you need to know is that you will be well provided for and are completely safe. Everywhere you will go is covered by auto-turrets and patrolled by combat drones and we don’t use stunners. If someone starts trouble then they will stop… instantly. Even you can’t dodge them. Please inform your alter-ego. Even the most aggressive, violent, combative person here isn’t keen to throw their life away when there won’t even be a fight. No fun, no glory, just… darkness. That plus our two wardens, warden lassitude and warden corpulence, keep most people in line. I won’t bother telling you to relax or try to reassure you further but you will see. Things aren’t bad here at all! In fact, a lot of people are very happy to call this place home!”
A second combat bot entered the room carrying a small athletic bag and a tablet.
“That is your bag,” Pam said cheerfully. “You got a change of clothes, some undies (based on what we found in your hotel), and some slippers that I’m pretty sure you will like. There is also a tablet. You can use that to check the schedule, watch some vids, and communicate with me, of course!” Pam enthused. “You need anything or have any questions… or just want to talk, feel free to give me a call at any time. I do eat and sleep but I check my messages all the time!”
“Um… thanks...” Sheloran said dubiously.
“And if you want to chat with someone out there in the real world you can request a monitored line!” Pam enthused. “Someone’s going to be listening in, of course, but at least it’s something, right?”
“Uh, ok...” Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. She would send messages through Baxlon. That was probably monitored too but if they acted on it Baxlon would eat them alive!
“Just follow the bot and it will take you to your new temporary home (fingers crossed, right?)” Pam smiled.
“Follow me, ma’am,” one of the bots said in a disturbingly human sounding voice as it hovered off.
Sheloran, clutching her tablet and bag, followed.
After she left, Pam’s friendly smile faded to an expressionless mask, her warm eyes glazing over and turning to ice.
She pulled out a communicator.
“Hello,” a dead, expressionless male voice answered.
“I have a candidate,” Pam replied with a cold purr. “She needs to become a resident. See to it.”
“I will inform the DOJ,” the man replied and hung up.
Pam reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a simple white armband emblazoned with a three-headed hound embroidered in black and silver thread.
She strapped it to her right arm and with near mechanical precision, rose and walked to the door.
As it opened, two guards leveled their shotguns at her.
She smiled at the fear in their eyes. They lived only because she let them and they knew it.
“I’m ready to return to my cell,” she said in a dead voice.
***
She was shown to a small cell with a bunk bed and a pair of desks… as well as a really really exposed showetoilet/sink combo.
Wow. It was just hanging out right there in the corner, just like she would be whenever she used it.
At least the door could close (and lock?) whenever she wanted it to.
If the door can close and lock that means…
She searched the room and, yep, sensors. Her every single move was tracked.
At least they weren’t cameras. She could at least hope for a modicum of privacy.
She turned to the bunks. The bottom one was occupied so she started setting up on the top one.
“Hey,” a male voice said.
It was one of the guys from the hall that was clapping when she lost her pooping mind (again).
Wait! There were men here?!?
“You’re a man!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“Was last time I checked,” he laughed. “Guys and girls are all mixed together here… I know. Weird, right?”
Sheloran just nodded.
“They say that the place is so secure they only need to make one. If anyone acts stupid…” he put two fingers to his head “Zap! Besides, everyone is fucking deadly here and everybody knows it! They also say it helps keep us ‘properly socialized’ or some bullshit like that. Don’t know about that but it’s nice having women around, even if I don’t have a girlfriend… yet! Name’s Roop, nice to meet you!”
“Sheloran,” she replied.
“I heard you today in the cubes!” he said. “Fucking badass, man!”
“Yeah, I sure told them...” Sheloran said ruefully.
“Oh your cellie is in the day room,” Roop said. “She practically lives in there. She’s one of the Grimdark Fifty-Thousand nerds. It’s almost like you have a private room!”
“Well, that will make pooping easier.”
Roop burst out laughing.
“You’re alright,” he said. “So, what are you in for?”
“Oh I really shouldn’t-”
Roop laughed some more.
“Cha-ka!” he laughed as he mimicked cracking a whip. “Just kidding! Everyone knows why you’re here! Those fucking threen picked the wrong madam to fuck with! Fucking brutal, man! The way you just walked in there… and then just sat down and ordered fucking breakfast!… Invited fucking SWAT to join you!… Didn’t even flinch when they hit you with the flash bangs!… Just raised your fucking coffee mug!… Pure motherfucking class!”
Sheloran winced.
“Hey, you wanna go grab a beer?” he asked. “I have two comin’.”
“Oh I appreciate it but-”
“I know, ‘nothing’s free in the joint’ but trust me, here it fucking is! I get six beers a day not counting all the weed! You won’t owe me a fucking thing!”
“You already sniffing around the new girl?” a husky female voice laughed as a huge human woman loomed into view. “I done told you you will probably have to wait till you become a resident to hook up!”
A gigantic tattooed woman gave Roop an affectionate headlock.
“Don’t mind Roop,” the woman laughed. “Horny little fuck’s been humpin’ everybody’s leg since he got here!”
“It wasn’t like that!” Roop protested. “I was just welcoming the new guy!”
“Uh-huh...” The mountain of a woman laughed. “Tell you what,” she grinned. “If you act right, you can come by my room later and I’ll give you a little bit.”
Roop’s eyes lit up.
“Really?!?”
“Sure! Why not!” the huge woman said. “Your sack must be about ready to pop! How long has it been?”
“Nine years...” Roop said, almost whining.
“Well no wonder you are so wound up!” she laughed. “Let me take care of business here and I’ll take you to heaven right after!”
“Really?!?!?” Roop replied.
“Get a load of this guy,” the woman laughed. “Yes, Roop, really. Now go to my room and wait.” “Yes, ma’am!” he exclaimed almost in ecstasy.
He started to sprint away but paused and turned to Sheloran.
“I was serious about grabbing a beer with ya!”
“Get out of here!” The woman said swatting Roop’s butt.
He left at a sprint.
“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!!!” he voice cried out as he ran.
“Forgive Roop,” she laughed. “He really wasn’t trying to trick you into owing him. He’s just trying to be nice. Hard to believe he chopped up his entire family.”
“Eeep!”
“But we don’t judge here,” the woman said. “It’s one of our rules. I’m Lee but everyone calls me Momma Bear. I’m the resident advisor for the block.”
“Resident advisor?”
“Yeah,” Lee replied. “I’m a ‘resident’ here, a lifer, and I live down here with you guests to help you guys out. Are you familiar with the trustee system?”
Sheloran shook her head.
“Well, here in Tartarus, we prisoners operate this place. We keep it running, keep it clean, and keep it orderly. You will only see the guards when you are in the outer ‘shell’. Once you enter the ‘core’ it’s just us… and the sensors, turrets, and bots of course. We trustees are the bosses. We assign jobs, wipe noses, swat butts, and whatever else that needs doing. You have any questions or need something I’m your girl. Just come see Momma Bear and I’ll point you in the right direction.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sheloran said meekly.
“You can drop that ‘ma’am’ bullshit. Call me either Lee or Momma Bear. We are here for a reason after all! I’m no better than you! I’ve just been here longer, that’s all!” she said with an odd look in her eye for a moment.
She shook herself.
“Anyway, stash your shit and I will show you around!”
***
“… and don’t screw with the bots,” Lee said as they strolled the block. “They aren’t packing stunners and they will kill you. If they say something, listen. They will only say it once.”
Sheloran just nodded as she looked around.
“And see the bot with the gold markings?” Lee continued. “Those are ‘manned’. There is a guard piloting it. You want to talk to the man, just talk to one of those. If you ever have a problem with someone or feel even a little unsafe and you can’t find me or if you don’t want to talk to me about it for some reason, go to a goldie. Just don’t try to ‘take care of it’ yourself. There are too many turrets and drones. You will die. I’m serious about that. Don’t test them.”
“Ok,” Sheloran squeaked.
“Let’s see...” Lee said as she looked out across the common area. “There!” she exclaimed as she pointed at a specially decorated gold drone. “See the one with the star? That’s officer Jax! He’s the block’s concierge officer. He’s your point of contact as far as the man goes. Between him and me we can take care of whatever you need. Let’s go say hello!”
***
Officer Jax was really nice.
After they met with him Lee said that she had to go and ‘take care’ of Roop.
With a big grin and a wave she left.
When it was time for lunch Sheloran was amazed. Everything was so yummy! Oh it was so nice! There was this massive salad bar loaded down with apples, and oranges, and bananas and those wonderful tomatoes that Terra had. Everything was so fresh! They say that it’s because they grow a lot of it here!
Oh! And the olive bar! Great Prophet it was so good!
And you could go back as much as you wanted!
They even had these ‘fountains’ that had chocolate pouring down the sides in thick sheets and you could dip fruit and bread and all sorts of things in it! Wow! She had never seen anything like that before!
She didn’t have her dispensary card yet but it was “sangria day” so she could get a glass or two (She discovered that she absolutely adored sangria!) and nobody minded. They just said that she could just ‘pour in’ next time. In fact they insisted and kept filling up her cup until a bot said that she had had enough. (Ok, just one more glass then that’s it!)
She was still nervous as anything but everyone was really nice to her. In fact, she was a bit of a celebrity. It turns out that she was all over the news and everyone knew what she had done and what she had said to Judge Dredd.
There were even people who wanted to be her boyfriend!…
And one person who wanted to be her girlfriend!
Everyone wants to be my ‘friend’ except for a pooping plath! Sheloran thought ruefully as she politely declined yet another offer.
She was a little bit flattered though. When people expressed ‘interest’ before it was because she was a ‘cute’ little xeno. They were interested in ‘what’ she was…
Here, they were offering because of ‘who’ she was, what she had done. They wanted to be with her because she was a badass, one of them.
It was different… and a little bit exciting if she was being perfectly honest. They actually wanted her! It didn’t matter if she was weird… or even that she was “bad”… They actually wanted her!
Maybe she could… No! Absolutely not! Poop! What was she thinking?
And she wasn’t ‘one of them’!…
Was she?…
Completely overwhelmed, she retreated to her room and locked the door.
She hoped that her cellie was nice.
She pulled a really nice blanket over her head and hid for awhile.
***
[Chatroom UNDEFINED]
[Private Chatroom UNDEFINED]
[Present: Bunny]
[Interpol-2 has entered the chat]
///Bunny: Oh shit! Five-Oh! Five-Oh!///
///Interpol-2: Good afternoon, Bunny :) Keeping out of trouble (at least in the Republic)? ///
///Bunny: Funny you should mention that...///
///Interpol-2: Goddammit, Bunny! YOU PROMISED!///
///Bunny: I promise a lot of shit :D ///
///Interpol-2: So why the summons? You just wanted to gloat?///
///Bunny: I need a teeny, tiny, almost insignificant little favor.///
///Interpol-2: You actually expect me to assist you in… BREAKING THE LAW?!?///
///Bunny: Yep! :D ///
///Interpol-2: I should just log off and issue an alert but I simply have to know. What the hell are you planning and exactly why the FUCK should I help you?///
///Bunny: You know the Tartarus Detention Facility?///
///Interpol-2: Bunny… You can’t be serious!///
///Bunny: :) ///
///Interpol-2: One. It’s impossible, even for you and two… there is no two! It’s suicide!///
///Bunny: Care to make a little wager then? The bet: We hit the place, break out exactly who we want and only who we want and then escape without a trace.///
///Interpol-2: I know we’ve enjoyed a little wager or two in the past but not this time! This is too much! The fucking Cerberus program is in there! Please tell me this isn’t about them!///
///Bunny: Relax, we aren’t touching any of the hounds. Even we have our limits! No, this is just good old-fashioned high treason. ///
///Interpol-2: High treason? WTF? I thought you guys were on our side!///
///Bunny: Relax, it has to do with the Kung-Fu Cunny. ///
///Interpol-2: Oh, that’s cool then! :D I’ll take a piece of that action! (but no touchy Cerberus!) God! It would be GREAT if Tart got taken down a peg or three!///
///Bunny: We’re going after a guest. We aren’t getting anywhere near the residential levels.///
///Interpol-2: And you need me to make this happen?///
///Bunny: Hell no! The day I need your help to pull off a job is the day I start doing people’s taxes for a living!///
///Interpol-2: Then what do you want?///
///Bunny: You want to hear something fucking hilarious?///
///Interpol-2: I could use a laugh. ///
***
Sheloran entered the dining hall expectantly.
If anything lunch was just a warm-up!
Supper was amazing! She grabbed a plate of grilled veggies and gleefully raided the salad bar.
She paused over the pile of goodies in front of her as she gave thanks to the Great Prophet for the feast. She might be stuck here for well… maybe forever… but at least the food was good!
She wondered what their gardens were like. She bet they were awesome and wondered how long it would be before she could see them.
As she raised the first forkful of goodness to her waiting mouth a blur zipped in and landed across from her.
“Hi!” a slightly built blonde female exclaimed. “I’m Zippo! Your cellie! Sorry I didn’t meet you before but the Bionids were launching a raid and we had to put those foul xenos down in the name of the Emperor!… Sorry… I don’t mean ‘xeno’ like you I mean ‘xeno’ like xenos! I play Grimdark! Do you like Grimdark? It’s awesome! You can read my books if you want! We have a great community here! I hear its even better once you become a Resident! You slash stuff up, huh? I saw the news! Pretty cool! I like fire! I burn stuff! I just can’t help it! I just love to watch flames you know! Did you know that fire meets all of the requirements for life itself? It does! That’s how I got here! I just kept burning stuff! Did you know you can start a fire with just...”
Oh Creators... Sheloran thought in horror. This was her pooping cell mate?… Great…
“… And they were really mean to me there, so I burned them up! Oh how they screamed! It was so funny!...”
Wait. What? Sheloran thought in alarm as she caught that last bit.
“You burned your cell mates?” Sheloran asked her eyes widening in alarm.
“Well, the people in my bay,” Zippo replied. “We didn’t have ‘cells’ we all lived in one big room which made it really easy to get them all! See what I did was...”
I have a killer for a cell mate… Great… Sheloran thought glumly and then chuckled. Of course she did. She was here after all.
“… and then BOOM! WOOSH!” Zippo said as she threw her arms wide. “Everything burned! I used to be a chemistry major! Straight A’s! That’s how I knew you could make-”
“Excuse me.” Sheloran said after she swallowed a slice of perfectly ripe avocado.
“Yeah?”
“Why did you burn your fellow prisoners again?”
“Because they wouldn’t stop beating on me! They said I talked too much! Anyway, like I was saying I used to be a chemistry major so I knew you could take the detergent and mix it with...”
There it is, Sheloran chuckled. She was wondering where the turd in the salad was. At least she spent most of the day playing that Grimdark game.
“… but don’t worry! I’m not burning anything anymore! I can’t! I don’t wanna die… or worse!”
“Worse?”
“You DON’T want to go where they send you if you get ‘voted off of the island’!”
“Where’s that?” Sheloran asked, quite concerned. Knowing the universe’s fondness for pooping on her head she was probably going to go there too.
“Oh it’s bad!” Zippo said with big eyes. “It’s called the-”
Zippo trailed off into wide-eyed silence as four elderly people quietly walked up.
“Good evening, Zip,” an old man said with a smile. “Mind if we chat with your friend here?”
“Sure!” Zippo squeaked and quickly grabbed her tray and fled.
“You’re welcome,” the man said as he sat down across from her. “Five minutes with that girl is more than enough for anyone. I’m Martin,” he said as he extended his hand.
“Sheloran, nice to meet you,” she replied as she shook it.
“Kid,” Martin said, “You got style. You handled your business, yourself. You didn’t send some punk. You even did it with style. Didn’t bother trying to run, just sat yourself down and ordered breakfast, even tipped your waiter. Class act. Much respect.”
“Um, thanks?”
“And you didn’t scrape and beg in front of that judge,” Martin smiled. “Fuck the Republic and Fuck you too… classic! Wish I had said something that badass when I was on trial.”
“That was kind of a mistake, actually,” Sheloran replied.
“Heh… probably,” Martin said as they all laughed. “But some mistakes you just gotta make!”
He leaned forward.
“I just got one question,” he asked. “Why did you do it? Why did you kill those fuckers?”
Sheloran just sighed. Just be yourself, right?
“They hurt my people,” Sheloran snarled. “innocent people, people who hadn’t done a pooping thing to anyone… made her kid watch while they...”
Sheloran hissed.
“Nobody hurts my people and gets away with it!”
The group all looked at each other and nodded.
“Kid,” Martin smiled. “You ever hear of ‘The Saints’?…”
“No?”
“We are a… professional association… of like minded individuals,” Martin smiled. “From all across the Republic… A ‘union’ of sorts… a union that you might benefit from joining.”
“Look, Martin,” Sheloran said carefully, “I appreciate it but I just want to get through this without getting in any more trouble...”
They all laughed.
“We aren’t some pissant prison gang,” Martin chuckled. “I’m talking about when you beat the rap. You are running a pretty nice little game on your own but as you have found out, it can be hard without people at your back… and with The Saints you can take your little game and make it a lot bigger. We don’t do shit here except our time. The only ‘perk’ you get here is that Zippo won’t crash your lunch. She steers clear of us. She doesn’t want the Orggs wiping out her legion like last time she crossed us.”
“Yeah, little bitch tried playing in the big leagues,” a silver-haired woman snarled. “We crunched up all her tasty little smurfs!”
“It’s the closest thing to a shanking we could manage around here,” Martin chuckled. Krista here does board games, I do cards, Sven handles the FPS and RTS racket. You game?
Sheloran smiled.
“A little...”

funny bet wager ideas video

Cute/fun Bet ideas for couples!? ok so me and my boyfriend are always making bets. But the problem is.. we dont know what should be the concequence! So we make random bets all the time. right now, he said i bet ill make 3 goals tonight at soccer, i said ok its a bet. And if he does.. what are some cute things i could do? and if he doesnt what should he have to do? im not asking for preverted I am not sure I understood your question, but it sounded like you are trying to think of things to bet your boyfriend that the loser would have to do if they lose the bet. Here are some ideas. 1. The loser takes the winner out to dinner at a fancy restaurant where he has to wear a tie and you wear a dress. 2. The loser has to serenade you with a love song and a dozen roses in a shopping mall I bet you've lost a bet at some point in your life. But the price you had to pay probably wasn't as big as for the people included in this list. Bored Panda has compiled a series of unfortunate gamblers in the middle of their redemption, and the photos are so funny and embarrassing, you'll think twice about entering a wager next time. Funny Wagers For Bets. wagers. (wager) bet: the act of gambling; "he did it on a bet". (wager) bet: stake on the outcome of an issue; "I bet $100 on that new horse"; "She played all her money on the dark horse". (wager) bet: maintain with or as if with a bet; "I bet she will be there!" This is fun, even if both of you aren’t very much into sports. Figure out the rules, say “Hi,” to the mascot, and cheer for the home team. 16. Get a cheap, funny gift to make them laugh. They say laughter is the best medicine. The loser of the bet buys or makes a funny gift or a goofy little prize for their date. 25 Fun And Flirty Bet Ideas For Couples 1. Loser has to make dinner. This is a cute way to get your partner to cook something nice for you, or perhaps take you out for dinner. If you haven’t had the pleasure of enjoying this in a while, this is one bet that can make your dreams come true. Ideas for Fantasy Football Bets or Punishments from Fantasy Football Nerd - your home for fantasy advice, news, rankings, and projections. The Meow Bet: For one day, anytime the loser has to speak to someone (either on the phone or in person), he/she has to work the word "meow" into the conversation. If you've seen the meow scene from the movie Super Troopers, you know what I'm talking FRIENDLY WAGER IDEAS Pool: This is a fun wager for couples that like playing pool – or if one pair of the couple is trying to learn how to play pool. This bet is pretty straightforward; you play a game of pool – may be the best of three? – and pick a winner from there. Video Games: This is a good wager idea bet for gamer couples. You can play against each other in different games either online or offline. Make it even better by putting a wager on the outcome. Couple playing billiards in bar. Getty Images/Polka Dot RF. Try one of these: The Loser Has to Eat Something Spicy. If you're in New York I bet my roommate Dee a dollar he wouldn’t eat a nacho chip covered in Crisco (I lost), I entered a Sideburn-Off on who could grow the scraggliest muttonchops in a month (I lost), and I bet my friend Gillian she wouldn’t race around our cafeteria at full throttle and slide headfirst into our punnily-named drink station “Thirst Base.” (I lost, and thankfully the chocolate milk on tap

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