#Direct Sampling Radio

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[wonders-of-the-cosmos]

Mariner program

The Mariner program was conducted by the American space agency NASA to explore other planets. Between 1962 and late 1973, NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) designed and built 10 robotic interplanetary probes named Mariner to explore the inner Solar System - visiting the planets Venus, Mars and Mercury for the first time, and returning to Venus and Mars for additional close observations.

The program included a number of interplanetary firsts, including the first planetary flyby, the planetary orbiter, and the first gravity assist maneuver. Of the 10 vehicles in the Mariner series, seven were successful, forming the starting point for many subsequent NASA/JPL space probe programs. 

The name of the Mariner program was decided in "May 1960-at the suggestion of Edgar M. Cortright" to have the "planetary mission probes ... patterned after nautical terms, to convey 'the impression of travel to great distances and remote lands.'" That "decision was the basis for naming Mariner, Ranger, Surveyor, and Viking probes."

Each spacecraft was to carry solar panels that would be pointed toward the Sun and a dish antenna that would be pointed at Earth. Each would also carry a host of scientific instruments. Some of the instruments, such as cameras, would need to be pointed at the target body it was studying. Other instruments were non-directional and studied phenomena such as magnetic fields and charged particles. JPL engineers proposed to make the Mariners "three-axis-stabilized," meaning that unlike other space probes they would not spin.

Mariner 1 and Mariner 2

Mariner 1 and Mariner 2 were two deep-space probes making up NASA's Mariner-R project. The primary goal of the project was to develop and launch two spacecraft sequentially to the near vicinity of Venus, receive communications from the spacecraft and to perform radiometric temperature measurements of the planet. A secondary objective was to make interplanetary magnetic field and/or particle measurements on the way to, and in the vicinity of, Venus.

Animation of Mariner 2's trajectory from August 27, 1962, to December 31, 1962. Mariner 2 · Venus · Earth.

Mariners 3 and 4

Sisterships Mariner 3 and Mariner 4 were Mars flyby missions.

Mariner 3 was launched on November 5, 1964, but the shroud encasing the spacecraft atop its rocket failed to open properly and Mariner 3 did not get to Mars.

Mariner 4, launched on November 28, 1964, was the first successful flyby of the planet Mars and gave the first glimpse of Mars at close range

This archival image is an enhanced contrast version of the first Mars photograph released on July 15, 1965. This is man's first close-up photograph of another planet -- a photographic representation of digital data radioed from Mars by the Mariner 4 spacecraft. Data was either sent to Earth immediately for acquisition or stored on an onboard tape recorder for later transmission.

The pictures, played back from a small tape recorder over a long period, showed lunar-type impact craters (just beginning to be photographed at close range from the Moon), some of them touched with frost in the chill Martian evening. 

Mariner 5

The Mariner 5 spacecraft was launched to Venus on June 14, 1967, and arrived in the vicinity of the planet in October 1967. It carried a complement of experiments to probe Venus' atmosphere with radio waves, scan its brightness in ultraviolet light, and sample the solar particles and magnetic field fluctuations above the planet.

Mariners 6 and 7

Mariners 6 and 7 were identical teammates in a two-spacecraft mission to Mars. Mariner 6 was launched on February 24, 1969, followed by Mariner 7 on March 21, 1969. They flew over the equator and southern hemisphere of the planet Mars.

Mariners 8 and 9

Mariner 8 and Mariner 9 were identical sister craft designed to map the Martian surface simultaneously, but Mariner 8 was lost in a launch vehicle failure. Mariner 9 was launched in May 1971 and became the first artificial satellite of Mars. 

Mariner 10

The Mariner 10 spacecraft launched on November 3, 1973, and was the first to use a gravity assist trajectory, accelerating as it entered the gravitational influence of Venus, then being flung by the planet's gravity onto a slightly different course to reach Mercury. It was also the first spacecraft to encounter two planets at close range, and for 33 years the only spacecraft to photograph Mercury in closeup.

Venus in real colors, processed from clear and blue filtered Mariner 10 images

Mariner 10's photograph of Venus in ultraviolet light (photo color-enhanced to simulate Venus's natural color as the human eye would see it)

This mosaic shows the planet Mercury as seen by Mariner 10 as it sped away from the planet on March 29, 1974.

source x, x | images x

[thealieninhiding]

The Katie McGrath Archives (WIP)

A repository of my ongoing digital archeology & archival work please contact me if you have anything to contribute and buy me a coffee if you value my content

Updates

(last updated 2025-01-14)

2025-01-14

Scans:

2008-10 InStyle (LQ)

2009 DRAMA Magazine (LQ)

2009-10 The Sunday Times Style (Ireland)

2010-10 Tatler

2010-12 InStyle

2011-02 Instyle (LQ)

2011-07 Tatler (LQ)

2011-10 Sunday Independent

2012-03-14 Sci-FiNow

2012-03-23 The Lady Magazine

2024-07-03

Scans:

2014-02-07 London Times - Dracula sets

Audio:

(Un)likeminded 2x02 How to Survive The Apocalypse

2024-05-24

Video:

2017 Katie McGrath interview [CW|KMcGsource]

2017 Supergirl Season 3 Sweet dreams (are made of this) Music Video

2017 CW SDCC Promo Supergirl and Arrow

2019-01-01 The CW Promo Open To All

2021-04-25 Supergirl Season 6 Katie McGrath Lena Luthor

2021-09-15 Supergirl Season 6 Katie McGrath Reflecting on Supergirl

2024-05-22

Audio:

Interview - 2009-07-17 Katie McGrath Mr Media interview

Interview - 2009-10-15 Geek Syndicate Merlin BTS special

Video:

BTS - 2008-10-08 Blue Peter Merlin BTS

Events - 2009 TV Choice Awards Digital Spy interview

Events - Getty Videos of 2009 TV Choice Awards, 2010 Merlin Series 3 launch, 2011 W.E. premiere, 2017 King Arthur Premiere

2024-05-17

Archived interviews

2008-12-07 Tribune Magazine - What Katie Did

2011-10-14 What's on TV - Merlin's Katie McGrath- 'Bad girls have more fun!'

2012-12-03 Fanhattan Blog - Colin Morgan, Katie McGrath and Bradley James on Season 5 and The Series Finale

2018-08-01 The TV Junkies - Supergirl SDCC 2018 Interviews- Lena’s Impractical Lab Outfits, the Return of Reporter Kara and a More Grounded Season 4

Audio

HHush samples

Interview - 2009-2011 Sci-fi Talk rewind merlin the series specials episode 1

Interview - 2011? Merlin S4 Sci-fi talk byte katie mcgrath on morgana

Interview - 2013 BBC Radio 1xtra part 1 & part 2

(Un)likeminded 1x02 While You Were Dreaming

Trees a crowd- Irish folklore segment

Magazine scans

2008-09-20 Radio Times

2009-06-08 TV Week (Aus)

2010-09-05 Sunday Express

2010-09-30 Totally Merlin Magazine

2011-12 Total Film

2012-03-14 Sci-Fi Now

2012-10-06 Radio Times

2013-04-06 Irish independent

2013-09-02 Marie-Claire (UK)

2013-12 Instyle

2013-12 Total Film

Video:

Fans - 2012-04-16 Merlin4 [carlospyrrhus]

Fans - 2017-08-30 Supergirl cast together on set [Joyce Law]

Interview - 2009-09-?? Merlin S2 audio interview with Katie McGrath [BJsRealm] part 1

Interview - 2010-09-06 Merlin Series 3 - BBC Radio 1xtra Interview with Angel Coulby & Katie McGrath [BJsrealm]

Interview - 2011-10-14 Merlin S4 Colin Morgan, Eoin Macken Katie McGrath on The Late Late Show

Interview - 2012-07-15 Colin Morgan and Katie McGrath at SDCC 2012 - innerSPACE [merlinnetwork2]

Interview - 2012-07-18 Katie McGrath Talks Merlin At Comic Con 2012 [ThinkHeroTV]

Interview - 2012-10-25 BBC Radio 1 Breakfast - Colin & Katie part 1 & part 2 [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2012-12-03 Merlin S5 Katie McGrath interview international press day [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2012-12-03 Colin, Bradley, Katie phone interview [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2013-11-09 Katie McGrath on BBC One Saturday Kitchen [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2019-07-22 ENTREVISTA SUPERGIRL Elenco fala sobre a nova temporada [Warner Channel Brasil]

Interview - 2019-07-23 Melissa Benoist Teases Directing An Episode Of 'Supergirl' [ET Canada]

Interview - 2020-02-21 ‘Supergirl’ Celebrates 100th Episode [ET Canada]

Panels - 2011-07-28 Merlin Comic Con 2011 Panel [ThinkHeroTV]

[stfrancisprayer]

dexter fletcher goes go-karting in a piece promoting lock, stock and two smoking barrels (1998) - KARTRACING magazine, october 1998. 🏎️ 🚦more photos + article under the cut!

Dexter Fletcher and Nick Moran, stars of the new British film 'Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels', have raced karts indoors and they now fancied driving a racing kart outdoors. With some help from Deavinsons and their new PRD 2-stroke, KARTRACING was happy to oblige...

Club sound-system guru Darrin De-Grads contacted his friend Oli Wheeler (KARTRACING's track-tester) to see if he could arrange a 2-stroke PRD sample for his mates Nick and Dexter. The fact that they both wanted to experience the 2-stroke presented us with a fortuitous problem.

The inevitable spinning/stalling and push-starts that accompany the introduction to a traditional direct-drive machine present potential [?] for all concerned. Therefore, what we required was a user-friendly [2-stroke PRD,] one with a clutch. Since Deavinson's PRD is so equipped and [none of us] at KARTRACING have had a go in one, Oli and I arranged to meet Dexter and Nick at Rye House.

During the journey to Rye, Radio 1's film critic reviews, ironically, [covered] 'Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels'. Alarm bells should have [rang] when the character described Godzilla, in his round-up, as an underrated film and 'well worth checking out.' For his review of 'Lock, Stock...', he obviously decided that this highly praised film was due for a [?] and felt that the film's style, plot and structure were derivative of Quentin Tarantino, dismissing the film as merely a 'British Reservoir Dogs', a misplaced and ironic observation considering that Tarantino himself is always keen to explain how Reservoir Dogs is a pot-pourri of various movies.

However, what interested me was the negative application of the word 'derivative.' Now, without wishing to get into some philosophical [discussion,] what the hell isn't 'derivative' these days, and especially within the [?] of go-karting.

Deavinson's PRD is another attempt at devising a 'budget' 2-stroke - goodness me, how 'derivative!' [...]

partial transcript of the article written by Nick Gordon

[linnielemon]

RGU Episode Bracket Battle - Round 17

The Romance of the Dancing Girls (Episode 32) vs. The Prince Who Runs Through the Night (Episode 33). Or, Nanami and Utena are irreparably psychologically damaged.

Feel free to submit propaganda for your favorites in the comments or reblogs! + reblog for a bigger sample size please! Also, feel free to share your opinions about the direction of the poll in the comments or reblogs, they really do give me a good giggle ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶꒱ა

Episode 32 synopsis (from the wiki): Nanami is terrified of what she saw last night and broken by Touga's betrayal. She cannot help but connect Anthy and Akio's relationship to her own feelings for Touga. Touga presses Nanami on whether her true feelings for him are the same as Anthy's for Akio. To prove that she is not like Anthy, Nanami challenges Utena to a duel.

Episode 33 synopsis (from the wiki): The Shadow Play Girls host a bizarre radio show that frames a recap of the most recent duels. Meanwhile, Akio brings Utena to an amusement park, and what happens between them forever changes her feelings about Akio, Anthy, her prince and herself.

⤷ The student council is deciding your fate...

[justforbooks]

Angie Stone

American soul singer and songwriter who enjoyed success with her popular hits No More Rain and Wish I Didn’t Miss You

Angie Stone, who has died aged 63 in a traffic incident, was an American soul singer and songwriter. She rose to international prominence in the late 1990s and early 2000s with two albums, Black Diamond and Mahogany Soul, that spawned a pair of popular singles, No More Rain and Wish I Didn’t Miss You.

Eight further solo albums displayed Stone’s command not just of soul but of gospel, R&B and funk, often in collaboration with other songwriters and artists, including Prince (U Make My Sun Shine, 2001), Snoop Dog (I Wanna Thank Ya, 2004), Anthony Hamilton (Stay for a While, 2004) and Betty Wright (Baby, 2007).

Stone had first come to light in the late 70s as a member of the Sequence, a pioneering hip-hop trio whose much sampled 1979 single Funk You Up is generally cited as the first rap record released by an all-female group.

Once the Sequence disbanded she spent a number of years struggling for a further breakthrough until she became a member of the R&B trio Vertical Hold in the early 90s and then released Black Diamond in 1999, after which she never had to fight for recognition again.

Stone’s rich vocal dexterity on Black Diamond drew comparisons with Chaka Khan and Gladys Knight, and the album made it to No 46 on the US charts, eventually selling close to 1m copies. Its standout track, No More Rain, which portrayed the defiant upswing in mood that often follows the emotional depths of a break up, reached No 1 on the US Adult R&B single charts and made a big splash in Europe, too.

In similar but more vulnerable vein, Wish I Didn’t Miss You, from Mahogany Soul (2001), made an even greater impact in various parts of the world, including as a Top 30 hit in the UK. The album, which peaked at No 22 in the US, also generated four other singles and contained a version of Curtis Mayfield’s Makings of You that became a sublime staple of her many live shows.

Stone was born Angela Brown in Columbia, South Carolina. An only child, she grew up with her mother, a nurse, and her father, a cab driver, in the city’s Saxon Homes housing project, where she sang in the local Baptist choir and was a keen cheerleader at CA Johnson high school. She was academically successful, a good athlete and a notable basketball player.

With two other members of the cheerleading squad, Gwendolyn Chisholm and Cheryl Cook, she had begun to write her own stock cheers, and in time their rap-like material took on a more musical direction, encouraging them to form the Sequence.

Fans of the Sugarhill Gang, one of the early rap outfits that had emerged from the New York area in the late 70s, in 1979 they blagged their way into a Gang gig in Columbia, where they found themselves backstage singing their own compositions to the group’s manager, Sylvia Robinson.

She was so impressed with Funk You Up that she had them in a recording studio within a few days, and the song swiftly became a landmark release in the first wave of “old school” hip-hop. According to Rolling Stone magazine, “in a 70s landscape where the few rap records that existed were chorus-free rhyme marathons, the Sequence seamlessly mixed singing and rapping, unwittingly paving a lane for artists such as Lauryn Hill, Drake and Future”.

Over the next six years the Sequence toured widely alongside the Sugarhill Gang, making three albums and releasing 10 singles. But they were unable to recreate the success of Funk You Up, and in 1985 they split when Stone refused to renew what she saw as an exploitative contract. By that time she had married the rapper Rodney Stone from the group Funky 4 + 1, and had taken his surname.

Earning money by writing songs for other artists, including Jill Jones, Mantronix and Lenny Kravitz, she supplemented her income by working as a factotum at Kiss-FM radio station in New York, where she eventually met the musicians Willie Bruno and David Bright, with whom she formed Vertical Hold. Although the group disbanded in 1995 after two albums, they had a US R&B chart hit in 1993 with Seems You’re Much Too Busy, which was co-written by Stone and Kurtis Khaleel.

By then divorced, in the second half of the 90s Stone co-wrote songs with the emerging R&B singer D’Angelo (Michael Archer), with whom she had started a long-term relationship, until the years of hard slog finally culminated in a solo recording contract that led to Black Diamond and much wider acclaim.

Stone’s most commercially successful albums were her third, Stone Love, in 2004, which reached No 14 on the US charts, and her fourth, The Art of Love, in 2007, which made it to No 11, after which she continued to release new collections of material at regular intervals until her final album, Love Language, in 2023.

In the later part of her career, however, some of Stone’s attention had turned to acting, including on Broadway as Mama Morton in the musical Chicago (2003) and with small roles in movies such as The Hot Chick (2002), The Fighting Temptations (2003), Pastor Brown (2009), Scary Movie V (2013) and Ride Along (2014).

A popular live artist, she was due to be touring the UK this year. The road collision that led to her death took place in Montgomery, Alabama, as she was returning from a concert in nearby Mobile.

She is survived by a daughter, Diamond, from her marriage to Stone, a son, Michael, from her relationship with Archer, and two grandchildren.

🔔 Angie Stone (Angela Laverne Brown), singer and songwriter, born 18 December 1961; died 1 March 2025

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[thekingofgear]

In this photo from 2001, Thom plays a Korg that I'm not proficient enough to identify. I'm not able to find this Korg attached to him on the website, so I'd like to know what he is playing here and for what song. I'm most baffled by Colin playing upright bass, which may leave YAWA & Pyramid Song, for which I believe he neither played a Korg, so I am stumped!

Thank you very much for the submission!

This photo is doubtless from a performance of Motion Picture Soundtrack. During 2000 and 2001, Thom experimented with various digital organ keyboards for performances of the song. He paired the organs with an Electro-Harmonix Micro Synthesizer effects pedal in order to get a more distorted sound, presumably to better emulate the crunchiness of the late-1800s Putnam & Co pump organ/harmonium used on the original recording. Colin likely played the same double bass as in the photo, a South Korean student model bass, for the studio recording of the song. However, the harps on the studio recordings are samples which Jonny processed. The choir near the end is also a sample, specifically one from the 1963 film Donovan's Reef (this was identified by casiopeia67).

Jonny sitting at the band's Putnam and Co pedal organ at Radiohead's studio during the recording of In Rainbows in 2006-2007. It's worth noting that this is the same instrument that the band used for Thinking About You on Pablo Honey (listen at the very end of the song to hear the same mechanical noises from the organ as during Motion Picture Soundtrack). The band purchased it from Chipping Norton when that studio closed down in 1999.

The particular digital organ visible here is a Korg CX-3 — specifically the version produced from 1979-1991. The later digital version, produced from 2001-2011, has the "CX-3" model number printed on the back panel next to the "Korg" logo. At a glance, the CX-3 looks very similar to Jonny’s Hammond XB-2. Both have a single manual of 61 waterfall-style keys, both have wooden cabinets, and both have a set of drawbars in a control panel to the left of the keyboard. These similarities are unsurprising, as both are “clone-wheels”: replicas of Hammond tone-wheel organs meant to be more portable than a vintage B3. But perhaps the most notable difference between the keyboards is that the original CX-3 used analog technology, while both the later CX-3 and the Hammond XB-2 used a digital sound engine.

Thom playing an organ during Motion Picture Soundtrack in Toronto in 2000. Note the EHX Micro-Synthesizer pedal on top of the pedal. In addition to it, there is also a direct box and what appears to be a small speaker (presumably serving as a monitor).

In fact, although we’ve written that Thom borrowed the XB-2 for performances in 2000, it’s possible that he in fact used the CX-3. The keyboards are extremely similar in a side-profile, particularly in the blurry footage we have of the band’s show in Toronto on October 17, 2000. The 2000 tour seems to be one of their worst-documented, so hopefully someone can dig up some more photos or footage.

Here are a couple photos of the control panels of an original Korg CX-3 (left) and a Hammond XB-2 (right) (Audiofanzine: CX-3, XB-2). The similar placement of the drawbars and buttons makes the keyboards hard to distinguish. However, the XB-2 has an additional panel beneath the keyboard with buttons and a small LCD display (these extra buttons control a variety of features, from vibrato tuning to preset selection). In contrast, the Korg has an overall thicker wooden cabinet. The newer version of the CX-3 has an added panel above keyboard for the drawbars, which makes it easy to distinguish.

Jonny playing his Hammond XB-2 during Nude (then called Big Ideas) at a soundcheck on April 17, 1998 at the Radio City Music Hall in New York (source: Meeting People is Easy).

[mjonthetrack]

Chapter Twenty-One – “The Quiet Type”

The jet was quieter than usual.

Selah sat by the window, chin tucked into her palm, her curls falling like curtains around her face. No comic book doodles in her lap, no soft hums of music from her headphones, no vinyl-inspired facts or sarcastic commentary. Her earbuds were in—but the telltale bass or tinny treble never came.

Reid noticed first. His brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

Morgan caught it next. He glanced at her from across the aisle, her usually open posture replaced with a tightly drawn stillness. No cracking jokes. No teasing. No brightness. Just… silence.

“You alright?” he finally asked low.

She didn’t look at him. Just nodded once. Barely.

It wasn’t until they landed that it deepened.

On-site, Selah moved like a ghost. Efficient, yes. Professional, always. But the sparkle wasn’t there. She isolated herself near the evidence van, eyes locked on samples, ignoring even Rossi’s offer for coffee. The others exchanged subtle glances—no one said it aloud, but they all felt the shift. It wasn’t about the case.

Something personal.

She finished her analysis early and left without a word, sliding into the temp base van with only a short radio message confirming she was going back to prep the lab.

By the time the others were wrapping the last sweep of the scene, the questions started bubbling.

“I’ve never seen her like that,” JJ said quietly. “She barely looked at any of us.”

Morgan’s jaw flexed. “It’s not like her.”

Hotch looked thoughtful, but didn’t comment.

Then Garcia’s voice filtered into their earpieces, warm and heavy with hesitation.

“Guys,” she said, “I know we don’t dig into each other’s private lives without cause, but I was… worried. So I checked Selah’s public socials.”

They all stopped what they were doing.

“It’s her brother’s death anniversary today,” Garcia continued, gently. “Twelve years ago. He was thirteen. She was only a kid.”

Silence.

Garcia exhaled shakily. “She posted a single photo this morning. A black-and-white Polaroid. Him holding a comic book. No caption. Just a heart and the date.”

Morgan blinked, throat thickening. “That’s why…”

“She’s carrying it alone,” Reid added quietly. “Like she always has.”

Hotch’s voice was low. “She doesn’t talk about it because it still defines everything.”

Rossi sighed, eyes soft. “People don’t get into this line of work without ghosts. She’s just been hiding hers better than most.”

JJ whispered, “She shouldn’t have had to.”

They stood together, momentarily bonded not by the case, but by the ache of understanding something deeper.

Morgan ran a hand down his face. “I should’ve known.”

Reid looked toward the direction of the base, his voice barely a breath. “We all should’ve.”

The light desert wind tugged gently at their jackets as they stood still for a beat longer, the silence heavier than anything they'd felt from her.

But it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

———-

Chapter Twenty-Two – “The Song Beneath”

Selah barely made it into the lab before her fingers started to shake.

She’d meant to bury herself in work, drown the memories in evidence and data and maybe—just maybe—forget for a few hours. But the minute the door clicked shut behind her, and the low hum of silence pressed in…

It was too much.

She moved like muscle memory, flipping on the record player on the corner table without thinking. The vinyl she’d left queued up the day before started spinning—a slow, mournful soul track. The kind her brother used to sneak into her Walkman before school.

Her knees gave before her mind caught up. She sank to the floor beside her workbench, one hand pressed to her chest, the other trembling in her lap.

She didn’t sob. Not right away.

But the tears came silently, steady and unapologetic, as her back pressed to the cold metal cabinet and the room filled with her music, her grief, her truth.

When the knock came, she didn’t respond.

“Selah?” It was JJ.

Then Emily’s softer voice: “We’re coming in, okay?”

The door eased open. Selah didn’t move.

The team stood just inside the threshold, frozen by the sight of her—knees drawn in, lips trembling, tears streaking down cheeks that normally held laughter and sass and sun.

No jokes. No snark. Just grief.

JJ knelt first. Then Emily beside her. Rossi moved to the corner and quietly turned the music down but not off.

Reid and Morgan stayed back, both stunned into a heavy silence. Reid’s hands fidgeted, aching to do something—say something—but it was Morgan who stepped forward.

He knelt slowly, his usual swagger muted into something protective. His voice was low, a rough whisper like he was afraid to break her more.

“We should’ve remembered. We should’ve been here.”

Her eyes didn’t meet his right away. But when they did, Morgan felt that ache hit hard and deep.

“It’s okay,” Selah croaked, trying to smile and failing. “I didn’t want anyone to—”

“But we do want to,” JJ cut in, gently. “You don’t have to carry this alone, Selah.”

Reid’s voice cracked softly from where he stood. “He was thirteen, wasn’t he? I—I read about the case once. Mistaken identity. Wrong place, wrong time.”

Selah’s lip trembled harder, and her face crumpled.

“I should’ve walked with him that day,” she whispered. “He was just going to the corner store for gum.”

Morgan didn’t think—he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently in as she sobbed into his shoulder. No words, no bravado. Just arms strong enough to hold all the weight she’d refused to share.

JJ’s hand rubbed her back. Emily rested her head briefly on Selah’s shoulder. Even Hotch—who’d arrived quietly—stood near the doorway, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

The team stayed like that for a while. Not as agents. Not even as colleagues.

As family.

——-

Chapter 23

Derek Morgan couldn’t sleep.

Not because of the case. Not because of some nagging lead or Garcia’s late-night pings.

It was her.

Selah.

He kept hearing the sound of her crying—the way it cracked through the silence of the temp lab, how it silenced the usual sparkle in her voice. The echo of it still rang in his head. Grief wasn’t new to him, but grief on her? It wrecked him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

She was usually so full of light, so quick to snap back with a joke, a lyric, a smirk that made him shake his head. But that night? All of that had slipped away and something deep inside him twisted watching it.

He’d seen her strength. In the field, in her lab, in how she carried herself with quiet confidence. But now... he couldn’t stop picturing her curled in on herself, trying to be small, hiding behind that brave face.

By 1:17 a.m., Morgan gave up on pretending he’d get any sleep. He threw on a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and let instinct do the rest.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if showing up unannounced was the right call. But the longer he sat in silence, the worse it felt not to do anything.

When he pulled up to the safe house the Bureau arranged for her during their time in Georgia, the lights inside were still on. Music faintly filtered through the glass—soft, bluesy, unmistakably vinyl. Probably Etta James or maybe something deeper, sadder. Something that understood heartbreak.

He knocked.

Quiet at first. Then again, firmer.

The door opened slowly, and there she was—wrapped in one of her oversized NASA tees, curls loose and wild, barefaced. Beautiful.

She blinked like she hadn’t expected anyone. “Morgan?”

He offered a lopsided smile, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Hey. You got a minute?”

Selah studied him for a beat, the kind of long pause that wasn’t for suspicion—but protection. For her own heart. For whatever piece of her still felt raw.

Then, quietly, she stepped aside. “Yeah… come in.”

————

The vinyl hummed from a corner of the living room, spinning something raw and smoky, a woman’s voice wrapped in pain and promise.

Selah didn’t say much at first. She padded barefoot to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses, and poured water without asking. When she handed one to him, their fingers brushed. Her skin was warm—softer than he expected.

They sat on the couch. No lights. Just the glow from the record player and the moon pouring in through the blinds.

“You good?” Morgan finally asked, voice low, cutting through the hum.

She shrugged, pulling her knees up under her. “I will be.”

He watched her. Really watched her.

There was something different about Selah when she wasn’t “on.” She wasn’t the bright spark in the lab, the fast-talking firecracker with her goggles and comic book posters. She was... quieter. Grounded. She looked like the kind of woman who held galaxies behind her eyes.

“I’ve been around loss,” he said after a pause. “But I’ve never seen it take the shine out of someone like it did you.”

She offered a tired smile. “It comes back. Just takes a little time.”

“Still,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It hit me harder than I thought. Seeing you like that.”

That got her attention. Selah’s eyes lifted, meeting his. There was a quiet curiosity in them, but she didn’t push. Not yet.

Morgan’s gaze dropped before it betrayed too much, and that’s when he saw it. Her thigh, exposed as she shifted under the hem of her oversized NASA shirt, inked with a floral design and sharp script—beautiful, unexpected. His breath caught for a second.

And just like that, it all clicked.

It wasn’t just that she was gorgeous. It wasn’t just the brains, the wit, the voice that stayed in his head even after the music stopped. It was everything. The strength behind her softness. The fire that flared even in her grief. The way she didn’t try to impress anyone, but left an impression anyway.

Damn.

He liked her.

He really liked her.

Morgan stood up abruptly, setting the glass down a little too hard.

Selah blinked, startled. “Wait—what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, trying to rein in everything unraveling in him. “Nothing. I just— I gotta get outta here.”

“Morgan?” Her voice was small, uncertain. That wasn’t like her.

He stopped at the door, back turned, hands on his hips.

She deserved an answer. But not one he could give without messing everything up.

“You ever feel something creeping up on you so fast it scares the hell outta you?”

“…Yeah.”

He turned just enough to glance at her over his shoulder, her knees still hugged to her chest, curls falling in her face, and that damn shirt barely covering her thighs.

“That’s what this feels like,” he muttered. “Goodnight, Selah.”

And then he was gone—leaving her confused, concerned, and just a little breathless in the quiet warmth of her vinyl-spun haven.

——-

Chapter 24

The sun broke through the blinds too easily for someone who hadn’t slept. Selah blinked at the sliver of golden light painting her floor, the record long since stopped spinning.

She’d replayed the night over and over in her head—Derek Morgan standing in her living room, heart on the edge of his sleeve, then vanishing into the dark like he hadn’t just shaken something loose in both of them.

She ran a hand down her face, groaning.

“What was that?”

Still barefoot, she shuffled to the bathroom, brushing her teeth with one hand while scrolling her phone with the other. Group text from the team. Garcia was demanding a breakfast meet-up. Mandatory, no excuses, bring your appetites and your emotional baggage, muffins will be provided.

She chuckled a little. Of course.

By the time she rolled into the small café, she looked a little more put together—fitted joggers, her Howard hoodie, curls in a loose puff. She spotted the team right away: Rossi with his paper, Hotch with his coffee already half gone, JJ and Prentiss sharing looks over something Garcia was dramatically retelling.

And Derek.

He was already there. Black hoodie, baseball cap low. Coffee untouched.

Their eyes met the second she walked in.

And everything paused.

Morgan’s mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but it took him a second too long.

Selah offered a slow nod and slid into the empty seat next to Garcia. The woman lit up.

“There she is! The sunbeam I was worried had been swallowed by crime scene hell.”

Selah gave a tired smile. “Still here. Just...slow morning.”

Garcia tilted her head. “You good, sunshine?”

“I’m okay.”

Across the table, Morgan hadn’t said a word.

Hotch glanced at him. “Morgan, you good?”

He blinked, snapping out of his haze. “Yeah. Just—thinking.”

JJ leaned forward. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

Selah sipped her tea and avoided looking at him directly. “He never does.”

Morgan’s head turned sharply at that. A subtle acknowledgment. A shared secret.

And the rest of the team noticed.

Rossi raised a brow. “Something we should know?”

Prentiss narrowed her eyes between them. “You two look like you saw a ghost.”

Morgan finally spoke, clearing his throat. “Just a long night. Thinking about the last case.”

Selah nodded once, adding smoothly, “Yeah. Sometimes the aftermath’s harder than the scene.”

No one said anything for a beat, but Garcia’s eyes narrowed, curious and so tempted to stir the pot.

Hotch looked between them, then—classic—chose to pretend nothing was out of place. “Let’s focus up. We’re due for a brief back at Quantico after this.”

Selah busied herself unwrapping her muffin.

Morgan finally picked up his coffee.

But even with the food, the chatter, and Garcia’s usual sunshine energy, that current? It hummed underneath the surface between them.

Something had changed.

And neither of them could unfeel it.

————

Chapter 25

The jet home was unusually calm—exhaustion thick in the air after a hard-won case. Everyone was in their own world. Reid had knocked out cold with a book still on his lap, Garcia was softly humming while scrolling on her tablet, JJ and Prentiss sharing snacks, Hotch lost in the quiet, Rossi sipping his scotch like a man with peace in his pocket.

Selah stood quietly, stretching.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmured to no one in particular, heading toward the back of the jet where the bathroom was tucked.

Morgan’s gaze followed her.

He tried to keep still, tried to stay locked in the idle rhythm of the hum beneath his boots and the low buzz of post-case chatter. But that ache from the night before—the weight of her sleepy eyes and the curve of her thigh where her tattoo peeked out—it wouldn’t leave him.

And when she disappeared behind the slim door?

He moved like instinct took over.

Selah had just turned toward the mirror when the door clicked open behind her.

Before she could ask, his hand slid around her waist, spun her gently, and his mouth found hers like he’d been dying for it. She gasped into the kiss, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

“Morgan—”

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The kiss turned fevered, hungry—his body moving like it had waited long enough. He hiked her onto the tiny sink, hand gripping her thigh, the other lost in the curls behind her ear. Her legs locked around his waist as she pulled him closer, kissed him deeper, like she needed him just as badly.

Breathless moans filled the tiny space, low grunts and bitten-back curses—heat, sweat, tension uncoiled in a rush.

And just as quick as it happened, it ended.

Morgan stepped back, chest heaving. He didn’t say a word.

Selah blinked, still catching her breath, the cool metal of the sink under her palms.

He opened the door, stepped out.

And was gone.

By the time they touched down at Quantico, Selah had tucked it away. Neatly. Emotionally. If he wanted it to be a one-off, she wouldn’t beg for meaning.

She adjusted her jacket, caught up to the team.

Morgan didn’t even look at her. Didn’t even try.

She smiled at JJ’s joke. Nodded along when Rossi mentioned a steak night. When Garcia looped her arm through hers and started chatting about a local record store, Selah leaned in, light and bright like nothing had happened.

But inside?

She felt the ice Morgan had left behind.

Before they could split, Hotch's phone buzzed. His eyes flicked across the screen, mouth tightening.

“We’ve got another one,” he said simply. “Local. Briefing room in ten.”

————

By the time they gathered, Selah was flipping through the file, tuning in and ready to go.

That’s when the door opened.

“Sorry I’m late,” came a familiar voice.

She looked up—and her heart caught in her throat.

Marcus Reed.

He looked the same, if not better—clean cut in a dark henley and jeans, shoulder holster slung under his jacket, smirk tugging at his lips.

“Marcus,” Selah breathed, trying to keep it cool. “Didn’t know you were in the mix.”

“Consulted last minute,” he said, stepping closer, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Good to see you, Ellis.”

Morgan's entire posture shifted. Jaw clenched. Hands curled.

Selah smiled, a little surprised by the warmth in her own chest. “It’s been a while.”

The rest of the room murmured greetings, flipping through the files.

Garcia, eyes flitting between them, nudged JJ and whispered just loud enough for Morgan to catch: “Okay wait…they look good together. Like, annoyingly hot. Movie couple vibes.”

Morgan stood abruptly. Chair scraping. His fist clenched.

“I need air,” he muttered, storming out before anyone could stop him.

Selah watched him go, her chest tight.

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Did we miss something?”

Reid blinked. “Was it something I said?”

But Selah didn’t answer. She looked back at Marcus, whose hand now rested easily on the table near hers, completely unaware of the emotional explosion he’d just walked into.

And she knew.

This game had just shifted.

[awkwardlyoutsidely-doodles]

Glass Smile

Here just a little sample of my writing before, I put out my writing commissions on here, I hope you enjoy this radio Apple.📻🍎

Quack !

Lucifer stared mutely at the red lake that sat in the middle of the park that was in pentagram city , He numbly tossed out seeds into the still water,  landing with a deliciate plunk. Seconds passed before they're was a feeding frenzy of beaks and teeth, gnashing to get to the offering before them.

Lucifer momentarily smiled fondly at the murderous creature, even the ducks, down in the pits of hell could always put a smile on his face, if it was just a moment. 

"What a quaint moment! Royalty coming among the masses!"

Lucifer smile dropped almost instantly,  at the sound of the radio laugh track the pierced the quiet afternoon, he face quickly turned into a grimace.

It was his fault after all he did ask the demon here.

"Your're late.." He said, not responding to the quip, instead reaching into the bag of seeds and throwing another handful into the gaggle,of feather and quacks. 

"Now now your're watch must be wrong your majesty,  I'm never late. " He said with the widening of his sharp tooth smile, he chuckled again at the expression of the shorter face, before adjusting the moncole over his eye, " Beside you seem rather content on you own  who am I to distrub you hmm?"

"Cut the shit."  Lucifer said turning his back on the ducks, that continuned their frenzy with fevor. "Why does everything have to be so goddamn funny to you all the time, with the damn smile! "  He snapped baring his own sharped teeth,eyes flashing red for moment, before the flame quickly fizzling out as soon as it started, he grimaced an turned his back on the demon, "...Forget it, I called you here for a reason."  He rest his elbows on the railing over the lake.

The smile was still plastered on the radio demon face, but his eye did twitch ever so slightly at the uncommon display of anger from the King, but a split second later his head titled in a curious manner. He walked towards the small space between him and the railing, still leaving a modicum of room between himself and the blistering king. He tapped his claws rthymnically on the metal bar, causing Lucifers eye to twitch, not so subtly.

"Down to bussiness." He said between taps, " Why this little chin wag, hmm?" His eye flitted around his surroundings, landing on the pond in front of the them, "Beside the breathtaking veiw, very much much to die for?  " He said lazily smile in the kings direction.

Lucifer wasn't looking at him, he mechaically throughing small hand full of seeds into the rippling pool below him, watching the ducks quack and squawk to get their fill, his lip twitched, before exhaling, the breath he didn't know he held. 

" I like it hear, one of the only places in hell that could be called peaceful." He avoided the question given to him by the other demon, to annoy him?  Maybe. To avoid the little despairing thought in the back of his head? Definitely.

The Radio Demon seemed to exhale as well, through his yellowed jagged smile, but he didn't seem any less perturbed on the outside, nor did he verbally adknowledge the others statement, letting the King of Hell stew in his silences.

Oh and how did Lucifer hated silence.

He bite his lower lip, as the silences torn on between, the other even refrained from tapping his claws against the railing, the ducks quacks seemed far in the distance as well. 

Oh fuck it.

"Here--!!" Lucifer haphazardly shoved another bag of duck feed into Alastor's hand, earning a fleeting moment of surprised in the demons, face his ears, twitching at the close proxismity of the others hand, before looking down at the bugling bag of feed in his unexpectant hand.

The sound of the record scratch was definitely satisfitying to Lucifer seeing it was one of the only indentcations that Alastor was annoyed.

"What do you you expect me to do with this?"

He made eye contact with the other for the first time since his out bursted. He scoffed,  "Well, I thought it was pretty self explaintory, you take out of little bit." He mimic the gestures, spoke as if he was talking to a child, "And through in the pond for the ducks."

Now it was Alastor's turn to bristle at the condesdion tone of the other, he made no move to acutally copy the King, just holding the bag like it was a dead piece of vermin, "Yes yes.." He played a half hearted laugh track,  " Why do you want me  to feed the ducks,  would have been a more pointed question, your Majesty." 

"Uh....." He cleched his jaw,  and looked away again a blush blooming on his alabastor cheeks, "Uhm...Idon'tknow...." He mumbled the ladder half of the sentence.

"Pardon?"

Lucifer growled,  and then  exhaled, "I SAID...because it's fun..!"

Alastor acutally genuinely laugh at that, the tinny noise was much more pleasant then the laugh that always accompanied him,  " Did you ask me hear to feed the ducks with you?" He said between breathless giggles, putting his gloved hand to his chest.

Lucifer pouted turined back to the splashing birds, "Yeah what if I did!?" He retorted red face.

Alastor was about to responded with another mocking remark before, looking over at the royal, he rouged cheeks even more prominent with the flush that had came over his pale face,  blonde hair unkempt and facing over his forehead.

He pursed his lips slightly his every present grin twitching, along with one of his ears, Curious. Perhaps he poke fun at him another time, it didn't have anything to do with his oddly endearing fluster.

Alastor looked down at the bag of feed that remained in his hand, some had spilt out, from his laughing feet but it remained mostly whole and heartly.  Hmm..

He reached in the bag taking a healthly pinch, before lazily through it in the direction of the gaggle of ducks, they reacted instantly, teeth gnashing at each other and the food to get the better morsel. 

Alastor chuckled adjusting his monocle, " Why my, my, such ravenous fellow!"  The bespoken laugh track returning before looking toewards Lucifer once surprised at what he wintnessed.

A smile. Genuined and large the first he probably even seen from the shorter man, strong and hardy, not made of glass to shatter at the slightest nudge.

"Aren't they!" He beamed and vomit of infomation began to spew from his mouth, something Alastor would usually exusse himself to exiting stage left, but for some reason he decided to half heartedly listen while turning to watch the ducks.

Hmm..that smile. He'd like to see it again.

[tangleweave]

@morgansmornings (continued from here)

Eddie did all he could to discern the words Jayden was whispering, and some of them might have been forever lost if his Other hadn't been listening as well. Her murmur was directed more into his chest and his jacket than his ear. Fortunately, his Other picked up on the salient details and put the necessary conclusions into Eddie's mind almost faster than Eddie himself might have.

"Jay?" Eddie pressed his palm against Jayden's forehead, only to find it flush with fever and streaming beads of sweat. She'd indicated being dosed with something. Maybe it was best to get her back to base; they likely had the resources to figure out what it was.

Well, now. Time for Us to take the reins.

Cannon and Paibok will not like it.

They can kiss Our ass. "Abort, abort, abort." Eddie kept his instruction calm and quiet. "Figurehead, need you to wipe out the mobile's memory and give us an extract for six, on the double. Bolts, regroup at the parking deck, Yellow Level. Marko, check the mobile."

The reply from their home base was as curt as could be – not a voice that could be mimicked, but a warbling double-blip tone, A and G, to acknowledge the request.

Marko's voice cut into the channel. "Why check the mobile if we're just going to use another one to get out of here?"

"Wouldn't put it past our target to datamine the equipment or sabotage the ride. Maybe both. Dunno how long she's had to play with it." Eddie tilted Jayden's head to one side and swept her hair aside to check her ear canal. Her earpiece was still there, so Mystique hadn't nicked it, but that didn't mean she wasn't trying to listen in on the exchange. A channel was only as secure as the people on it. "Go silent until we regroup."

Realizing that carrying Jayden bridal style while she was unconscious would surely draw suspicion, Eddie instead hefted her up and carried her as he might have borne an exhausted child, and tucked her forehead against his neck as he moved with purpose out of the terminal.

Reaching Yellow Level of the parking deck only took about three minutes, but it was three minutes longer than Eddie would have liked, and all of it in radio silence – it was something of a surprise that the others would endure his orders as easily as all that, but maybe they were willing to accept his wisdom in the moment. Yellow Level was the ground floor and there was plenty of cover here; a Figurehead van would be here soon to pick them up and get them out.

Marko. Behind Us.

Eddie turned around to see a pile of sand roiling and shifting its way out from behind a vehicle and subsequently build itself up into the form of a man wearing a green T-shirt and brown khakis. Why in God’s name could Marko not look like he was wearing something else? He’d worn far less conspicuous clothing into the airport – but morphing into his sandy form did mean that he couldn’t take normal clothes with him. (Which meant that he’d left yet another set of decent clothing in a bathroom stall or ventilation system somewhere.)

When Marko’s face resolved into something recognizable, he cast a glance at the unconscious handler in Eddie’s arms before stepping forward. “Tires got slashed. Computers were overheated by the time I got there, so either it was her or Figurehead, doesn’t matter now.” He gestured at Jayden. “What happened to her?”

“Poisoned, I think.” Black tendrils dipped into each of Jayden’s pockets, seeking out what she’d tried to indicate to him. A sample? Maybe a needle or… and then one thin tentacle withdrew from one of her cargo pockets to hold aloft a serrated silver dart. Eddie winced, and out the corner of his eye he could see Marko doing the same thing. The tendril spun the dart slowly around for them both to inspect as Eddie’s Other whispered to him. “Dunno what it’s got on it but He’s not eager to find out. We gotta get this back to Figurehead. For all We know, it could kill her.”

He pressed his cheek against her forehead. She was still warm and pouring sweat but her temperature hadn’t skyrocketed yet. He looked back to Marko. “Not gonna let that happen on Our watch. Count on it.”

“Okay, sure, but what’re we gonna do about the target?” Marko asked. “We’re not just gonna give up on trying to catch her, are we? She flies outta here and she’s in the wind.”

“If this dart was her, she’s in the wind anyway,” Eddie replied, while the tentacles withdrew into his body – save for the one wielding the dart, which tucked it carefully away in an isolated pouch. “Maybe right now she’s just better at bobbin’ an’ weavin’ than we are at boxin’ her in. We gotta step up our game.”

“Assuming Figurehead doesn’t put us all back in the hole again,” Marko groused. He pointed a finger at their unconscious handler. “Even her, to hear her talk about it.”

Eddie glared daggers at Marko. “Nobody’s goin’ back,” he vowed. “Count on that, too.”

+ + +

The return to base was mercifully uneventful. A large unmarked van, identical in its shell to the mobile unit they'd been employing for monitoring, into which all of the 'Bolts packed. Given the nature of their quarry, they naturally had to confirm their identities with passphrases, memory questions, and even ability demonstrations. Save for Elektra, all of them possessed some degree of meta ability -- Cannon with wind generation, Marko with his living sand, and of course Eddie's Other and Paibok with their multitudinous capacities for shapeshifting.

It was a point of interest to Eddie that it might have been one of the few things he and Elektra had in common, that they did not exist within the realm of augment, mutant, or alien. Eddie knew that Elektra had some experience with paranormal phenomena, and that she was incredibly resilient and fast, but he was still hazy on whether that stemmed from anything other than rigorous physical and spiritual training. He'd heard tell that she'd died once... but really, who hadn't?

Upon return to The Brute, the blocky, unmarked building lodged in the middle of Arizona that was their foundational home base, the unconscious Jayden was brought to the infirmary while the rest of the team was brought before faceless government types that calmly debriefed each and every one of them damn near straight into oblivion. Eddie couldn't be sure but he was fairly certain he was the one kept for the longest period of time, and that his teeth were threatening to fall out as he died slowly of old age in front of the pair of agents questioning him. Even his Other had to remind him that it was only natural, since he'd assumed command when Jayden had been disabled.

He avoided asking what would be done with her, knowing they would tritely remind him that it was none of his concern, and instead inquired as to whether he could see her in recovery. They didn't seem to take issue with the idea, and he hoped that was a good sign.

The room she'd been put in was remarkably like that of a standard hospital room, absent a window to look out at the landscape beyond. It meant that Eddie could take a seat in the nearby chair, though first he inquired about her health to the nurse checking up on her charts. Beyond that the prognosis was good and that she should wake up anytime, the nurse didn't have much to offer and handwaved any other questions about details. He didn't get to hear any insight into whatever poison was used to tag her... and that sure sounded like the matter was being taken out of his team's hands and handed off to someone else.

The notion made him sigh. Between this and the mall incident from a few weeks ago, he wasn't feeling too great about the team's track record, and he could only imagine that Jayden would be feeling none to happy about the failure once she woke up as well. They'd wanted Mystique caught alive... and he had no illusions that it was so they could enslave recruit her, as well. But that seemed a terrible idea to him. Maybe it wasn't the worst thing on Earth that she'd managed to slip past them.

He heard a soft sound erupting from Jayden, interrupting his ruminations, and he stood up to approach her bedside in time to see her eyelids fluttering, struggling to open.

"Hey there," he murmured. "Glad to see you're still with us."

[missamyrisa2]

Shrill little electronic voices chitter away in unison. "Sub"Sub"Sub"Subject identified."

You see a clutch of small metallic spheres, hovering in midair, something between inviting and ominous. "Voice sample analysis complete." You're surprised to hear a tinny speaker play back your escaped giggle. "Elevated stress patterns detected. Initiative directives recommend enforced relaxation protocols." Panels slide open on the surfaces of a pair spheres, seams so perfectly-machined they were invisible until now. From inside each one, a dextrous, segmented length of cable unfolds, twitching with purpose. "This recommendation is binding. Request subject compliance."

You haven't even necessarily processed the situation enough to decide whether or not you're going to resist, but the sight startles you, and you instinctively lean away. Maybe that's all it takes, or maybe these particular machines have the sensitivity of their resistance-detecting algorithms turned all the way up.

"Subject is non-compliant. Beginning restraint protocol."

The mechanical hum jumps in pitch as the spheres dart forward to surround you. One writhing cable wraps around each wrist, and the machines holding them converge, pulling your arms above your head. A quiet plea escapes your lips, and the machines ignore it completely. It's easy enough for them to catch your ankles, now that they're almost lifting you into the air, making you stand on tip-toe--

"Subject response category: 'blushing'. Counter-response directive: engaging privacy screens."

One of the machines produces a bevy of miniature spheres, maybe a tenth the size of their parent. You count eight, as they zip into position: four in a square hovering above your bound wrists, another four in a matching square on the ground beneath your feet. There's a crackling sound, and suddenly you're staring at what looks like the inside of a perfect crystal of quartz. Some kind of force field? It would have to be. You have to assume you can't be seen. You don't know whether you can still be heard.

"Conferring with control unit. Setting: outdoors. Clothing removal: dispreferred. Begin sensitization analysis."

The spheres that aren't restraining you each produce a little pair of prongs - they look worryingly like taser contacts, until they begin spinning, producing a barely-visible energy field a few inches wide. They move in towards you, and you yelp as the fields wash over your body - it tickles! It's like they're little radio stations, sending out a broadcast to every one of your nerves, and your nerves are oh so very tuned in. You giggle and squirm as the fields probe down your arms, to your armpits (another yelp), past your ribs (is that a yelp or a squeal?), to your sides (definitely a squeal. Yelps don't last that long). You try to suck in your tummy, but it's no use, that's where the machines are headed next.

A real laugh escapes you as the field moves in a wide circle over your helpless, stretched-out belly. You almost don't notice the fields grazing your thighs while your belly jumps and twitches, both from laughing and in a futile attempt to escape. And then, the fields flicker and fade and the prongs all retreat into their spheres.

"Analysis complete. Ready to begin enforced relaxation." Wait, what? That wasn't the treatment? But--

"Heightened sensitivity detected. Pinpointing target areas."

You're looking down when the red dot appears on your belly button. Three spheres hover into place down each of your sides, and you know they're aiming similar crosshairs at your pits, ribs and sides. You can even feel the anti-grav from the ones that must be drawing their beads on the backs of your thighs. And then, as if for emphasis, an array of terribly ticklish tools begin emerging slowly. Spinning brushes for your armpits. Spidery mechanical fingers for your ribs. Stationary brushes at your sides. You feel the tip of a stiff feather on each thigh, and you see the longest, softest feather drawing ever closer to your belly.

You realize, too late, that the tame little energy fields were just mapping you out.

The brushes, still just barely not touching skin, start to spin. The fingers wiggle. Oh no no no WAIT -

"Enforced relaxation begins in three."

please please please

"Two."

i'm so ticklish PLEASE

"One."

It's going to be a very thorough session.

(Ooooohhh my gosssh ohh my gossh I looove love love thissssss ~~~ the glitchy machineyyyy the processing the toooolsssss everything about it is just sooo ticklehotttt thank youuuu dear one!)

[beatricebidelaire]

favorite part from DH's breakup playlist is the 6ths' as you turn to go

Summary Of Song: I am attempting to direct your leaving me as I would a movie. Sample Lyric: “You know you’re the star of my life story, and I’m so sorry.” Further Context: The band chose the name because it’s impossible to say on the radio. Suggested Use: Crying in front of the mirror, you know, just to see what it looks like. Internal Monolog Whilst Listening: “I must have looked very photogenically unhappy in that train station.”

the internal monologue part reminds me of that other DH quote ........ "i think that's the world that we're in. i think if you are very upset and you're crying in a railway station you can't help but think what a romantic cliché you are, sitting here crying in a railway station. i think that's part of the emotional experience." (x)

[risilence]

Hello everyone! I am still writing hahahaha I just get a bit distracted, but i promise I will go back to the other stories I've written ʕ๑╹ᴥ╹ʔ They will get completed!! Just give me some time ʕ ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥`ʔ

Originally I was going to wait to post this new story, but you know I decided to add another meal to my bill. ʕ•̀ω•́ʔ✧ Because I haven't learnt my lesson! Plus I want to give back to the RahuChief nation!

So without further a-do please see the link below for the full chapter and of course the small sample. I hope you guys enjoy it ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ💕

Please Read ME!

Night's Guard

Rahu’s memories from that point on became blurry and skittish. A mixture of her own screams, of her sword plunging into bodies, being slashed and pierced, biting someone’s face, Rahu’s mind was dyed red among the endless carnage that befell her. She couldn’t accept that she had failed, that her comrades had died, that she had lost Paradeiso’s first stronghold of this war. Especially one that was constantly emphasized as a crucial boundary that was necessary to block the barbarians of the east.

Back in her present mind, Rahu laughed emptily at the collage of memories. The mental angst driving her insane as she limped away with the undeserved title of sole survivor.

For whatever reason, she had somehow lived. Only managing to escape when she was tossed head first into an open barrel and kicked out of the way by someone who no longer held a distinguished face or voice. The barrel’s speedy getaway only stopping when she collided with a tree. The barrel, having kept her safe and hidden from the enemy’s eyes, shattered on impact. The force slamming Rahu’s head against the bark and granting her the freedom to lay unconsciously within the tall thick bushes that disguised her.

When she had awoke, Rahu was greeted with the smell of crisped bodies and burnt wood. She needed time to sort herself out before she had finally regained some sense of time and place. Not wasting another second, Rahu grabbed the nearest sword loitering around and ran back to her post. Ready to join the battle again if her team hadn’t already pushed back the enemy.

Preparing to fight again, Rahu couldn’t envision her team losing. Call it absolute fate or blind devotion, Rahu had never once believed Paradeiso would be defeated at any point of the start of this war. Only to drop her weapon when she saw the aftermath of this surprised attack.

There was nothing left of her fortress nor of her comrades.

Rahu could only think of one thing to do now at the face of such a defeat.

Report back.

So, Rahu moved. She moved with no sense of direction, with no care in her steps, her eyes hollow as she pushed on by mere instinctual duty. Slipping and stumbling as her mind attacked her with flashes of the battle, of her actions, of the aftermath.

She needed to tell someone, to warn them of how advanced their enemy truly were, but something deep inside of Rahu was dead. Dead and clouding her thinking as she eventually fell off the woods edge and plunged herself into a river.

Gasping and fighting with the little strength she held, Rahu was tossed and pushed along its currents as they moved her further away from the nearest town. Her last thoughts surprisingly peaceful as she believed that such an ending was more deserved for a solider like her.

…

When Rahu opened her eyes, the first thing that overwhelmed her senses was the grand disappointment of being alive.

Dull and done, she spent an unlawful amount of time merely staring blankly up toward the ceiling. Her immobilizing state lasting for as long as it took her to identify she wasn’t a prisoner of war either. In fact, being safe and sound had forced her to finally take notice of her surroundings.

Like tuning a radio perfectly to a station, Rahu focused in. She could smell medicine herbs, she could hear the sounds of someone humming, the weight of the blanket laid upon her, the wraps around her limbs and torso pinching her still, and the patch against her right eye.

“Finally awake I see.”

And now a voice.

“You gave me quiet the shock when I went to fetch water and found you face planted in mud. You should consider yourself lucky that you ran into me. Anyone else would have robbed you or slit your throat.”

The woman was sitting to her right, her temporary blind spot, and yet Rahu didn’t have the energy to move her head. Nor could she as Rahu soon discovered that her head was being held in place by iron support brace and cast.

“Don’t move around too much. Our towns doctor took a look at you while you were unconscious and she said your skin was the only thing keeping you together,” The figure sighed as her thin fingers came to brush Rahu’s hair away from her untouched left eye, “Just how many bones were you trying to break? Trying to set a new record or something.”

Rahu opened her mouth to speak, but found herself empty with air.

“Yeah… don’t try to speak either. You really are a walking miracle.”

Rahu had so much questions, so much curiosity, and it was as if the woman who had rescued her knew it too. At last, circling around the bed to join Rahu on her left side to properly converse with the wound soldier. A warm smile on her soft lips, her grey eyes full of passion and sympathy, dark midnight hair held up in a ponytail, her body thin as her hands went to help adjust Rahu up. Sitting her up enough so she could digest.

“Here. Drink this,” The woman brought a wooden bowl of bitter tea to Rahu’s lips.

Rahu merely stared into her eyes. Her own were nothing compare to the rejuvenated life rested upon those sharp eyes of her rescuer. Rahu instinctually protected herself by tightening her lips into a thin line in refusal of the strange liquid.

“I figured it wouldn’t be so easy,” The woman brought the bowl back to herself, letting the tea rest upon her lap as the stranger clarified her intentions, “I don’t blame you. You’re a soldier of Paradeiso, correct? I recognized their armor anywhere. And don’t worry, I hid it somewhere well,” the stranger sighed, “I imagine you realized now that you’re in Syndicate.”

[itsuki-minamy]

"SIDE GOLD"

CHAPTER 4: IKU AND THE BIRIBIRI GROUP (Part 3)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Anno

Unno Yutaka hates rain.

Therefore, on days when the weather is not good, he usually spends the day resting at the back of Todokoro Suwako's cafe, or resting at the back of the "Yakumo" game room. Unno, who was resting at the back of "Yakumo" that day as usual, suddenly stood up and walked out through the back door.

The direct reason was...

[Where?]

The radio that was beside his bed.

[Miya-chan, where are you?]

Even if he hit it or broke it,

[Whoever knows, answer me... I am...]

It was because that continued raising the voice.

[Oh... "Green King"...]

With a bat umbrella, he walked as if he was kicking the bitter icy rain.

Then, a member who was following closely behind joined him.

It was Todokoro Suwako, holding an umbrella.

"Even though I said I wasn’t going anywhere."

A hard look emerged from behind the round black glasses.

Embarrassed, Unno pouted even though he was the culprit.

"That’s not what I meant. I’m sure you understand."

"You said that? That's not even true."

Another person began to tease and follow them.

It was Tamataro Okuma, dressed in an uncomfortable-looking raincoat.

"There are people who believe in the phrase "don’t fly" and it's cannonball."

"Don't make any noise."

"There's a lot of noise."

At times like this, Unno and Suwako would answer in unison.

Okuma let out a sigh and asked again.

"So you know where you're going, right?"

"There's going to be a commotion anyway, so let's go there."

Suwako was very taken aback by the terse and messy answer.

"Were you planning on just walking in the rain until then?!"

"He's a boss who always looks out for you, see?"

Okuma was equally taken aback, but handed over the newspaper he had in his pocket.

After receiving it, Unno drew his attention to the area circled in red. The headline of the small article read, "Traffic restrictions in the vicinity of Nanakamado City due to the extraction of infectious disease samples from the Research Institute for Infectious Disease Control".

"Nanakamado, umm... Colt’s house?"

Without taking a moment to think, Unno's feet turned in that direction.

The two followers also had their destinations arranged.

"That's the only place where there's going to be commotion today. Traffic regulations will require people to pay before entering and leaving."

"Well, I guess the young lady and her blue-hatted husband will be coming too."

Unno walked away, kicking away the freezing rain.

"Don't talk about that bastard, he's really bad."

Although he had a premonition of a battle, or even a conviction, his steps remained the same.

The next two people were the same.

++++++++++

In Tsunogui Iku's memory, there is a flame break.

She doesn't remember what was supposed to be on the other side of that flame.

The woman she is today began with that fire, wandering through the scorched fields.

The fact that she was burned during an air raid was discovered by others much later.

At that time, she wandered around with a vague sense of loss, as the endlessly hot flames annihilated everything in their path... including her memories.

The only thing besides life was a name.

A name tag was sewn onto her clothes, which were riddled with tiny holes caused by the sparks. The small piece of cloth that testified to her existence had the words "Tsunogui Iku" written on it in furigana, probably because it was difficult to read. Or perhaps it was a beacon for parents and children to find each other among the burnt ruins, but it was never used.

Along with her memory, many of her criteria for judgment had also disappeared, and her face was expressionless.

At that moment, she was incapable of experiencing feelings built on some sort of foundation, such as feeling sad for the person she had lost or angry at the person who had provoked her.

The instincts of a living being, of being hungry and thirsty to connect with the present, and fearing the danger of oneself who has no way to protect oneself, ruled everything in her small body.

Even after the flame that caused the rupture had turned into a wasteland of extinguished charcoal,

She continued to walk aimlessly, hungry, thirsty, and scared.

No one else had the energy to help her.

Above all, it was not a particularly unusual hardship.

It was quite normal, except for the memory.

Many children lost their parents and were orphaned.

In a tense situation on the brink of defeat, there were very few ways to save orphans like her damaged by the war. There are very few orphanages that are public protection facilities and individual households are doing their best to keep their own families alive. It would have been better if only children could be evacuated, and it was still the same day to day where they evacuated to eat or not.

Orphans who were burned in the air raids flocked to makeshift communal dining halls or died in the field. On very rare occasions, some children found adopters, but in reality they were only a handful, or rather almost no one. Most of them just wandered around, got lost, and ended up at the edge of the place.

After many days, she finally reached one such abyss, the underground passage of Ueno Station.

It was a narrow, winding concrete underpass that connected the burned-out JNR Ueno Station to the Keisei Line’s Ueno Koen Station, and served as a makeshift evacuation center for people who had nowhere to go. Of course, that hadn’t been publicly acknowledged. Due to several large air raids, the number of homeless people numbered in the hundreds, even thousands, and society was at a standstill, with no one able to do anything about it.

10% to 20% of the homeless people were children, and she ended up living like one of them. Although they called it life, it wasn’t that of a normal human being. They slept in unsanitary and unsafe spaces, crammed into places where it was difficult to even lie down, and they survived by running soup kitchens and begging, and when that wasn’t enough, they resorted to illegal means… to put it bluntly, they resorted to criminal acts. The targets were mainly people coming and going from Ueno Station, sometimes people from far away who were rebuilding the ruins, and sometimes nearby neighbors who slept and woke up together in the underground passage.

"I can’t help it, what else can I do?"

In the stagnant darkness of the underground passage, she heard someone muttering.

In such a place, where everyone’s hearts were filled with resignation at the thought of losing their human relationships, Tsunogui Iku was rebuilding herself and continuing to live.

There is a girl who has a keen eye and keen intuition.

Such rumors began to circulate among the vagabonds of the underground passages a few months after the Empire of Japan, which they did not care about, suffered defeat and collapse.

At first, she was simply someone who knew a secret place to store leftover food from a US military facility, and for a short time, that place filled the stomachs of the few people who followed her until the parliamentarians chased them away.

Soon, people who had not only witnessed the incident but also cooperated with it began to share their experiences, such as locating a supply storage area that had been cleverly hidden by a blackmailer and unearthing several underground warehouses buried among the burnt ruins.

Ultimately, by predicting from the police's movements that a raid on an underground passage (squatter raid) is taking place, she gains tremendous trust from those who believe her and escape.

The girl's name is Tsunogui Iku.

Judging from the clothes she was wearing, that seemed to be the case.

She could be about ten years old. In addition to the person in question having lost their memory, homeless children are usually malnourished and underdeveloped. Guessing from her emaciated appearance was unreliable.

She was small in appearance, with a hunched back, and had a habit of slightly thrusting her chin forward. It was whispered that she looked like a beast, with her large eyes peeking out from her long, unruly hair.

When this strange-looking girl was asked the reason for her unusual intuition,

"You know it's going to happen when you see it."

She explained it concisely and difficultly. It is said that she is able to have a vague idea of ​​what will happen based on what she sees and how she will move from there.

Iku was often approached by people who thought that even if they couldn't understand her, there was value in using her, but unfortunately Iku didn't have the social skills to be "used for good". At this point, she shows no interest in collective action, and in the above case, she didn't encourage others to do anything. Those who followed or heard the story willingly participated in the spillover.

All she does is search for food, eat, defecate, and sleep. She secretly wanders around the city during the day and returns to the underground passage to sleep at night, repeating the same behavior. It was truly the life of a beast.

The other things began to increase little by little, and it was at the time when people began to flood into Tokyo again that she began to see obvious changes.

The trigger was a common occurrence.

The child sleeping next to her died of hunger.

It was not her friend, it was a child who somehow had a fixed position next to her and sometimes did not have it.

The children who often walked astride them were dying of hunger.

It was a child whose face she did not know well, and who always slept on the way to her usual bed.

The child who spoke to her without giving her anything died of hunger.

It was a child who only thought she was noisy and had never exchanged a single proper voice.

Children were dying of hunger.

Similarly, adults were dying of hunger.

It was a common occurrence, but the rate of occurrence was accelerating.

From the fall of 1945 (Showa 20) to the following year, the year of Japan's defeat in the war, there was a food shortage that was even more severe in Tokyo. Defeated countries have limited reserves and do not matter as they did during the war.

Furthermore, immediately after the defeat, Typhoon Makurazaki swept through the Japanese archipelago, destroying fields across the country and causing the worst crop failures in the Taisho and Showa periods. Even food distribution to the general public was suffering a reduction.

Furthermore, people returned to Tokyo, where air raids had ceased, and demobilized soldiers arrived as well. The city of Tokyo, which had always been a large consumer area, was experiencing rapid, uncontrollable population expansion.

The population did not increase naturally due to development, but was due to a sudden influx of population. There was no way production or supply could keep up (after this, Tokyo's population would increase by 1 million people in just one year).

The balance that had kept the vagrants barely alive, surviving the day by eating or not, was shattered by this food shortage. All kinds of people faced food shortages, and the homeless people down below were forced to starve, unable to get food even if they begged and soup kitchens were disrupted.

At first, Iku showed no particular reaction to the starvation of these other people, but soon she realized that it was becoming difficult to get food and that there was a limit to what she could do with a little intuition.

She began to have relationships with other people.

She learned to talk to people, she began to act and work together.

Still, all she could do was spread out a little, but in that small space there was a chance to find life... to put it more plainly, there was a chance to find food.

From her experience, she has seen many adults who think that children's weaknesses are an opportunity to take advantage of them, and who want to wear them out and throw them away, but the only ones who can work together and share the results are children of the same generation.

Over time, Iku and the dozens of homeless people who gathered around him became well-known in the neighborhood. Sometimes they died, ran away, or got separated, but they were never killed.

Homeless people do not understand difficult issues. They often acted on impulse or mood rather than logic. Among the jobs offered to them, Iku chose one that even they felt they could do.

Basically, they work in groups of several people and mainly do simple jobs like traveling around the city in Batya (waste collection business), selling newspapers, collecting trash cans, and shining shoes in a row. Homeless children were often suspected of stealing, so they could hardly work in a shop (although in some cases the suspicions were true).

In illegal activities, they often acted as transporters, secretly transporting rice and other goods thrown from trains to black markets to evade inspections. They were highly valued by black marketers because they never ran away with their belongings, never fought in secret, and were often obedient if given food.

In this way, Iku and the vagabonds around her began to resist the cold winds of society to a certain extent, but change came from an unexpected direction, leaving no trace.

The blind old man who taught Iku enough words to hold a conversation was killed. He was unknown to no one, never talked about himself, and had just appeared in a corner of an underground passage, but the Ueno yakuza glared at him and thought he was the mastermind who was manipulating a group of vagabonds and sucking their delicious juices.

Speaking of the interaction between the old man and Iku and the others, they talked about various things and received a small amount of food in return, but that was all, but there was no way for an outsider to know the actual circumstances of their interactions. For the yakuza, it was just a matter of removing the nuisance in order to remove the convenient.

After inflicting irreparable injuries on the yakuza who had approached them as their new boss, Iku and the vagabonds around her suddenly disappeared from the Ueno underground passage. These incidents... the murders, injuries, and disappearances were too much to erase, and people soon forgot the memories of the strange girl.

It was the summer of 1946 (Showa 21).

The months leading up to the breakup seemed to be going well.

Iku and his friends, who had literally become vagabonds with no place to live, set their sights on the barely surviving fields in the suburbs, rather than the urban areas of Tokyo, which had dried up due to food shortages. Following Iku's instructions, the children hid and penetrated the darkness, where their guard was relaxed, and were efficient and thorough, ruthlessly stealing the crops, which were valuable under the current circumstances.

They became bands of thieves and continued to plunder the outer limits of Tokyo from east to north, north to west... and finally reached a dead end. The police, taking the increasing damage seriously, formed a vigilante group together with the former local police (a part-time fire department that was disbanded by headquarters, but reorganized as a fire department the following year, in 1947). This was because they were organized and took strict precautions.

Iku's intuition was correct. She knew where the crops grew, and she also knew that the vigilante group was keeping a close eye on that area, and that if they ventured there, they would definitely be caught.

But she couldn't do anything else. There was no power to change things. Like other vagabonds, her young and wild mind couldn't even think of anything else.

They simply stopped targeting the fields and focused their attention on their next looting target.

Distributed in the western part of Tokyo, this is a place where rations for soldiers, luxury items sold to XP shops, and daily necessities are collected.

In other words, it's a base warehouse for the Occupation Forces, a subordinate unit of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces Headquarters.

They had no idea how great a risk they were taking.

The first five cases went as smoothly as before. Following Iku's instincts, they sneaked through security and gaps, and looted many things without being seen. The children were delighted by these processed and sweet foods, unlike agricultural products.

But that was all. They could not imagine what kind of reactions their actions would provoke, or the mechanisms they would unleash, outside of “out there” where they were looking at the moment.

By late autumn, relief supplies from well-known Asian relief organizations, the so-called "Lara supplies", had begun to arrive at the warehouses of the Occupation Forces. These are not just literal relief supplies, but are politically important tools for the Japanese government, which is facing a food shortage. There was no way they were going to let those few warehouse raiders have their way with those items.

The Headquarters decided to use the entire organization called the Occupation Forces to subjugate the mysterious bandits. The strategy was to leave the warehouse, which was predicted to be the next target, unguarded and reduce the circle of troops surrounding the area. That’s it. Just like in the previous war, it was a sumo yokozuna match in which even the slightest discrepancy was crushed with great force.

The characteristics of the robbers analyzed by the Occupation Forces were that they were incredibly thoughtless, contrary to their excellent infiltration techniques.

They raided the Occupation Forces' warehouses scattered from the north, one after another and periodically (this is the period when the children have eaten all the food they have stolen). The behavior was easy to predict.

The sixth attack occurred at the planned time and place. The operation went off without a hitch and the robbers, pursued by the troops surrounding them, were cornered in a corner of a grass field.

A cold rain fell on a dark night.

The last words the old man muttered when asked who stabbed him:

"Now that I know, what will I do? There's nothing I can do about it."

There's nothing she can do.

Tsunogui Iku hated that word.

She felt like those words were robbing her of the strength to live.

Many of those who spoke those words died before her eyes.

That happened to an old man whose name she didn't even know.

About the old man who died in blood and mud,

There's nothing she can do,

She didn't want to say that.

At that moment,

Even though she was forced to participate in a massacre with other homeless children,

She desperately tried to never let those words enter her mind.

The rain made everything go crazy.

Iku's intuition doesn't work unless she checks with her eyes whether it's a moving object or person.

The encircling troops of the Occupation Forces, who were stationed far away from the decoy warehouse, had no way of knowing about this situation, but in the end they opted for effective action. All the troops were forced to stay indoors, hating the cold rain. Anyway, from now on they will have to walk in the rain no matter how much they hate it. Furthermore, the operation started after midnight. At least until then, everyone was warming themselves in front of the stoves with a bottle of sake in hand.

Iku and the others didn’t know that and headed for the target warehouse, thinking that they had escaped the safety net as usual. Iku herself could smell a hint of unease in the air, but she didn't stop her attacks. That's because they had already eaten all the food they had on hand. They believe that things will turn out well next time, so they have no extra savings. Days filled with successful experiences had secretly stripped the wanderers of their sense of caution.

And so the strategy to subdue the warehouse raiders was launched.

First, superimposed on the sound of the rain, the sound of countless gunshots echoed in the dark night.

When Iku saw the gunshots, she instantly realized.

(Sounds, gunshots, noticed, soldiers, occupation forces, many.)

Realizing that, she shouted to the homeless people.

"Run away from here!"

The surrounding homeless people grabbed nearby food and chased after Iku, who was the first to run. Normally that would have been enough to get away with it, but this day was different.

At regular intervals gunshots could be heard behind the rain.

A cold wall of fear rose wherever they ran.

Every time her path was blocked, she ran away in another direction.

After repeating that dozens of times, the children realized.

Before they knew it, they heard gunshots coming from all directions.

When they finally hid in a corner of the grass field, they found themselves completely surrounded. To ensure that the bandits never escaped, the occupation forces continued to pursue them with gunfire.

The action the children were required to take in response to that siege was to surrender.

All they had to do was raise their hands and stand in front of the surrounding troops.

The occupation forces had no idea that all the bandits surrounding them were children.

The reason the Headquarters carried out the subjugation operation in the first place was that Lala's supplies were meant to help people like them who were in a state of starvation. Or perhaps simply letting that thin, dirty figure stand in front of the base gate would have given them enough food for a day.

But they didn't do that. That's because they were only thinking about looting.

In the first place, the option of surrendering didn't even cross her mind. There was no chance to gain knowledge.

To them, the occupation forces that kept firing guns were nothing more than an enemy that would kill them if they didn't run away.

To the opposing occupation forces, what's hiding deep in the grass is nothing more than filthy thieves gathering for relief supplies.

She couldn't do anything about it and things ended up like this.

Finally, many children, unable to bear the pressure of being surrounded and the gunfire, ran out of the grass without hearing Iku's restraints. It wasn't the slow steps of surrender, but a frantic and fierce run.

The occupation forces, who had originally been ordered to shoot at the bandits, aimed their guns at the children without hesitation. There was no way they could observe the other person closely in the dark and rain. The way a figure ran out of the grass seemed like nothing more than a desperate counterattack by the robbers.

The children turned into beehives one after another and sank into the mud.

After these gruesome encounters all around, the occupation forces began to slaughter them. Since there are no signs of them offering to surrender, there is no need to hold back. The plan is to shoot them all there, so there will be no one to stop them now. The soldiers were even more motivated to put an end to it quickly due to the gruesome nature of the incident.

The bullets pierced the rain, shook the grass, and reaped lives.

In order to avoid this death passing over her head, Iku lay down in the mud and continued to struggle desperately.

She found no way to escape.

She didn't know what to do at a time like that.

Still, it didn't mean it couldn't be helped.

She didn't want to give up her strength to live.

She didn't know the reason for the obsession.

("One hand"...)

She just didn't want to die.

More than that, she wanted to be alive.

She came from beyond the confines of the flame and possessed within her the power to live. It was just a bit of intuition, but that abnormal power had certainly kept her alive until now.

And she overcomes it again.

What she tried to accept on the other side of the rift.

("Come"...)

She had almost accepted that she couldn't do anything about it.

Along with the words told to her by the person she lost in the fire.

To live in the present moment, she breaks away from the ordinary.

From deep within the cold rain and dark skies a new force emerged.

It glowed green and turned into a flash of lightning.

("Live"...)

The moment she was struck by the power, Tsunogui Iku felt the truth flowing into her. At the same time, there was also something moving along with that principle, something developing beyond the Slate lying silently somewhere.

Instead of printing out words, she felt a huge and complex system.

In a surge of power, she grasped the flow that formed everything from the other side to that place.

Now she knew how to call someone who can do that.

"..."Green Queen"..."

After obtaining the power to live, the "Green Queen" first used it to "graft". She enveloped the vagabonds lying in the mud in her current. A tremendous electric shock ran through the land, giving the twenty people who were still alive the power they needed to make the most of their lives.

These scenes were hidden by the night, rain, and grass, and were never seen by the besieging forces. First of all, they no longer looked at the ground. They all looked up, dumbfounded.

In the dark night sky, a huge green sword shone brightly against the cold rain.

Even after the siege was broken by a sudden flash of lightning and allowed the bandits to escape, the soldiers of the occupation forces remained trapped in a strange dream. It wasn't long before the Heaven's Sword disappeared, and the cold rain showered their faces, and they finally realized the fact that their plan had failed.

The next day, regarding the sword that appeared in Japan three times and the paranormal phenomena that accompanied it, the Headquarters officially announced that it was a mass hallucination as usual, and further imposed a gag order to prevent the spread of rumors.

From the circumstances of the interview, it was clear that the incompetent guy who worked as a warehouse raider had obtained powers similar to that "demon". The Headquarters, which was in charge of maintaining public order, had no choice but to fear the arrival of a new crisis, but it turned out that these fears were unfounded. Like the "demon", the new sword master did not seem to have any intention of showing his fangs to them, at least on the surface.

However, surveillance and search had to continue. Although an examination of the operation revealed that "the warehouse raiders were a group that included many children", this did not reflect the (extremely unpleasant) situation at the location where "only the corpses of the children were left behind". It is nothing more than rhetoric to improve appearance, simply paraphrasing the situation at the scene. In the end, no other clues were found that could be useful in the search.

Above all, after the operation, the raider in question had disappeared.

It is true that, if you have such supernatural power, there is no need to go out of your way to steal.

He must be hiding in the darkness of the world, secretly plotting a plan worthy of using his power.

So, the Headquarters thought about it logically and remained extremely cautious.

But in reality, it was a complete acceptance.

That night, Tsunogui Iku woke up as the "Green Queen" and continued to rob the surrounding area with vagabonds in tow. What she gained through tragedy and awakening was a feeling of remorse for her careless plundering, and not a psychic's mission to provide a general outline of the plan.

With the sense of scanning and grasping things she gained as the "Green Queen", she was able to more clearly recognize where things were, how they moved, and where they were transported to. She then began to use that power to formulate elaborate robbery plans.

Existing supply warehouses, truck beds parked during transportation, wooden boxes piled up behind liquor stores, discarded items from accounting books, and stock that managers had forgotten about and left to rot. From there, she secretly stole an amount that would not cause any stir.

The Headquarters feared that they were hiding in the darkness of the world, but in the end, they were just children who wanted to eat as much as they could, no matter how far they went.

Lightning had begun to strike frequently in the western part of Tokyo.

Immediately afterward, the food disappeared without anyone noticing.

It was infinitely small, and those were all phenomena caused by the "Green Queen".

They secretly called themselves "The Biribiri Group". The twenty people who survived that night of murder are strongly united and lived together. No one escaped for about two years, until they caught a little girl sleeping on a blanket in a truck.

Iku has now jumped into the world to help that person.

There is no calculation. If she thinks she has to, she will not hesitate.

There is no fear of seriously exerting her "Green Queen" power.

The "Blue King" Somei Nazumi entered, or rather cut into, Nanakamado’s command room, and understood the situation from the screams overflowing from the communication device and the "Green King's" few words.

(The "Green King" who attacked Atsugi's base and his group are searching for a person called Miya-chan.)

The moment he understood, he destroyed all the communication devices in the room with a flash of his white sword. Nanakamado’s side must not allow the "Green King" to leak unnecessary information, whether out of distress or frustration.

Then, Nazumi entered the room and approached the person who seemed to be the chief engineer. However, in order to avoid unnecessary questions and answers, he did not forget to point the tip of his sword at him.

"Where is the key?!"

The questions became abstract as he took a few steps further in his understanding.

Even the chief engineer, who answered with a blank look, didn't understand.

"Key?!"

"It's a person called Miya! Is he an engineer, a witch, or a geisha?"

"I-I don't know! It's true, it's true!"

"......!"

Realizing that there was no deception in his tense expression, Nazumi grew increasingly impatient.

(This is the worst timing.)

Yes, he was unusually anxious.

(That tone of voice was trying to get a response through intimidation... In other words, the "Green King" was angry.)

Since the communication was from the Atsugi base where the rebel troops were stationed, it's highly likely that the "Green King" will target Nanakamado, a sophisticated intelligence agency located in the same hole. Soon, he and his group will attack in the freezing rain. From the brief content of the communication, elements such as children, women, forcefulness, and promiscuity could be extracted. He couldn't imagine him as a person who would settle the score with an unconditional conversation.

First of all, it is necessary to take control of the person called Miya and set her up as a negotiator. Still, five minutes is a good chance for a peaceful ending. If they allowed the arrival of the "Green King" as it was, they had no idea how many problems would arise during the search process. Of course, the Fourth Legislative Bureau of the Ministry of Justice exists precisely for this kind of emergency, but that's not the problem.

(He must not participate.)

If the enemy is so strong that he has no choice but to bring out the glow of a sword (Schubert), like in the battle with the "Red King" Unno Yutaka the other day, he might summon that monster again. That was the biggest problem. At that time, with the help of the "Gray King" Benji Otono, he was able to pass through without incident, but he doesn't think his good fortune will continue next time. He didn't think he would lose (he was also an arrogant King in that regard), but it was physically and politically dangerous for him to show his true intentions as the "Blue King" in such a complicated situation.

(This person is useless, so what else can I do?)

Nazumi turned the focus of his thought away from the chief engineer who pointed at him with his finger and took a broader view of what was there. From among the principles and phenomena that have been worked out up to this point,

(We need a collaborator who knows the inner workings of this place in detail and can have a conversation with them.)

It will only take him a moment to find the piece he needs.

"Where is Mr. Thomas Colt?"

"What? Ugh!"

He pushed the blade an inch towards the chief engineer, whom he asked again.

"Where is Mr. Thomas Colt?"

"Oh, I should have taken the doctor to the underground bunker."

"Please call him, there should be an indoor broadcast."

"Okay, someone..."

The voice of the chief engineer, who was following instructions, was cut off by the arrival of something.

Nazumi thought he was moving things as quickly as possible, and that's exactly what happened.

However, the existence of a "King" has the power to destroy such ideas and reality.

Tsunogui was the "Green Queen".

Atsugi Air Base is located about 40 kilometers west of Nanakamado.

A green lightning bolt shot out from there, scattering sparks.

It wasn't the "Green Queen".

It was a boy considered a vassal and a member of the "Biribiri Group".

A small body wrapped in lightning abruptly cut through the air and finally landed on top of a telephone pole. As he bent his knees like a monkey and reached out one hand towards the telephone pole for support and the other towards the rainy weather, the lightning around him became even more intense. The green power traveled along the cable and extended eastward.

Finally, when his power reached its limit of expansion, a new person rushed out from the base. The jump followed exactly the same trajectory, and just before colliding with the first person, his body began to slide. Riding the lightning, he went eastward. When he reached the limit of extension, the second person also applied force to the cable and stretched it.

As the second child finished, one by one, the children of the "Biribiri Group" slid their bodies towards the beam, transmitting their power and stretching it. When the last person was able to follow their movements, the total length of the electric wires transmitting the force had reached a kilometer. Nanakamado was still far away, but it didn't matter.

This is because what the vassals have prepared so far is nothing more than a taxiway or runway prepared for the "King" to head east. The preparations are complete and the time has come to travel the laid out path.

An extremely large beam shot out from the base.

The moment it traveled on the green energy extending from the top of the wire, it was guided and accelerated, passing over the heads of the subjects at high speed. At some point, it gained momentum surpassing that of a cannonball and flew away with its vassals in tow.

Naturally, the destination is east.

The other side of the communication he picked up was Nanakamado.

It had been less than five minutes since the previous question.

The loudmouthed "Green King" Tsunogui Iku arrived amidst the chaos.

Nazumi felt it coming from the freezing rain.

"Okay, someone..."

The chief engineer suddenly cut off the voice.

Right after that, something crashed to the ground.

Nazumi immediately knew what that something was.

Not only was there a crashing sound that shook the air and pieces of concrete flew, but there was also a flash of green lightning. The edge of the lightning spread out and burst into the freezing rain, leaving sparks and sounds.

Nazumi jumped from the collapsed roof to the roof just beyond, hoping to control the situation as soon as possible or, if possible, end it without missing a shot. When he came down, he saw a large hole in the center of the rooftop, an elegant bell tower rising higher, as if it had been hit by a cannonball.

From the depths of that large hole filled with lightning,

"Eh?!"

A figure, smaller than he expected, leapt towards Nazumi.

A girl whose appearance could be mistaken for that of a beast. The "Green Queen", Tsunogui Iku, did not speak or utter her name in battle. She will just have to strike him with all her might without hesitation from the start.

Nazumi barely managed to stop the small palm that tried to grab his face, but with a grip strong enough to crush rocks. When he came into contact with the lightning, an intense electric current ran through his body.

"..."Green King"! What you seek..."

Despite the pain, Nazumi still called out to her, but Iku paid him no heed.

When Nazumi tried to turn around, the palm of violent force was approaching once again.

"Eh?!"

This time, instead of blocking it with his sword, he dodged it with his body.

Iku didn't even have time to land, kicking the ceiling and attempting to grab it three times.

Nazumi watched her persistent attacks and began to understand the new factors that were shaping the battle situation.

(She's not going crazy somehow, she's clearly aiming for me.)

If you think about it calmly, it was a strange story.

She suddenly set Nazumi as her target and fights with all her might.

First, she should check if he's related to that situation and then ask, "I'm looking for Miya-chan." That would be the normal way. She didn't ask who the other person was, didn't tell him what her demands were, and attacked Nazumi she had just found with all her might from the start, which was foolish even for a child.

The "Blue King" was confused by the girl who didn't allow him to easily understand.

The "Green Queen", on the other hand, also had her own criteria for judgment.

Adults don't listen to what the vagabonds say and even refuse. Therefore, after gaining power, she decided to defeat the strongest of her opponents first. By doing so, hierarchical relationships are recorded and conversations can be established for the first time with less rejection, lies and deception.

In other words, the "Green Queen" thought that before she could do anything, she had to defeat the "Blue King".

Although she did not know the other person, she felt that way.

(This guy is the strongest here..., so I'll beat him.)

Nazumi couldn't understand those thoughts, but he knew that Iku had no intention of talking to him.

As long as he understands that, he'll feel relieved.

(We can control each other before they release their sword glow (Schubert)... no, we have to.)

The sword was abruptly swung and blue power overflowed throughout his body.

(First, I'll block the electric discharge and buy time to unlock my power.)

His consciousness increased in concentration and he began to have a broader view of the war situation.

The agility of the opponent who attacks without interruption is abnormal.

The interval between attacks is too short. There is almost no reserve in the continuous movement of jumping, landing, standing, and jumping again. Although her physical abilities improved like a superhuman, her maneuvers and trajectories were often impossible according to the laws of physics.

Due to this feeling of unease, Nazumi searched for a logical coherence. That is the act of "cutting", as he puts it. He tried to use not only his eyes and brain of observation, but also his sense of swordplay that Chika taught him and his power as a "King" to understand the phenomenon before him.

Immediately after that, Nazumi came to a realization.

(It’s not an illusion.)

Within his wide field of vision, he saw the freezing rain pouring down, the dazzling lightning flashing, and beyond that, several figures passing by. Those small figures were constantly moving, with the two combatants at the center.

(The children... are they subjects of the "Green King"?)

During the battle, Nazumi understood the principle of action of Iku and the "Biribiri Group" in a short period of time. By comparing it to the current situation, he had finally “revealed” their tactics to the truth.

(I see, it's a group operation that makes use of a wonderful "power".)

Around 20 of them, led by the "Green Queen", formed an induced current force field to aid their movement. The lightning didn't disperse in vain. It was a battle garden built by the vassals to make the "King" dance as they pleased, allowing her to accelerate, decelerate, and bend freely.

(The characteristic of the "Green King" is that it connects with others.)

Nazumi was satisfied that he had "solved" a new principle, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the battle. Even if he had revealed the truth, he wouldn't have found a way to overcome the situation he faced.

On the other hand, Iku and the others were steadily advancing towards victory. Every time the captured prey showed the behavior of breaking through the force field, Iku would block the front, attack the back, push left and right, and shake it up and down.

By blocking those attacks, the prey, Nazumi, is pushed back to the center of the group, or, in other words, the center of the force field. He was forced to fight on a narrow rooftop against an opponent who displayed overwhelming agility.

(Isn't it time to praise this as a good strategy with well-organized principles and methods?)

A stronger blue glow enveloped Nazumi's entire body as he smiled fearlessly.

"Ah!"

It seemed like his goal was to cum, and a flash from the upper deck was shot towards the space he avoided. The blue power that returns everything to order cut through the electricity and created a path within the force field. At the same time, he stomped the ground with his boots and escaped from the rooftop. Without risking the carelessness of flying through the air, he ran down the blue crystal step and stood in the front garden of the research institute.

(With so much space, you can see the entire siege.)

Soon after, the "Green Queen" and the "Biribiri Group" descended upon him, scattering lightning, glaring down at him arrogantly as he readjusted his stance. A king who doesn't hesitate to fight, and subjects who are willing to give it their all. She was a brave figure made of pure hostility and command because she was a child.

After all, they don't hold a conversation with their opponents.

Iku immediately pounced on him, and the children scattered and surrounded Nazumi.

Nazumi, on the other hand, looked for a clue to defeat that tactic.

In other words, aside from Iku, he had begun to analyze the behavioral patterns of the children around him.

It's a simple operation on the surface. He evades Iku's attack and returns with a blue slash. However, it seemed like a desperate counterattack at first, but he soon regained his stance and his counterattacks became more precise.

Iku also noticed it immediately, as she had control of the entire force field. Behind his dodge, a blue slash was aimed at the child around him. The accuracy gradually increases and it will hit the target in a few more crosses.

(If I keep fighting this guy, it won't work.)

A hunch that had never gone wrong triggered a danger signal in Iku's mind.

Her decisions are always immediate.

This bright blue adult will not give up unless crushed with maximum force.

Action begins with decision.

Suddenly, the force field current concentrated at her feet. There was a green explosion and she jumped.

Nazumi took an Ukedachi stance, thinking it was an attack on himself, but the direction of the jump was completely different.

The place where Iku rose was directly above, in the middle of the sky where freezing rain was falling.

Hiding is the "special characteristic" of the "Biribiri Group". The induced current force field surrounding Nazumi was actually not circular. It was shaped like a spiral, or more specifically, a long vertical tornado. In order to escape the excess current of the "Green King", which spreads enormous power, it always rose up in a whirlpool. Then, at the point where the excess current rose, it transformed the cloud directly above it into a certain structure. It became a colossal cloud that continued to accumulate electric charge.

At the command of the "Green Queen", who was floating in the air, the out-of-season colossal clouds let out a solemn and divine wail. Pointing in the direction of the force was a gigantic sword-shaped glow (Schubert) that glowed green and appeared before he knew it.

"Thundering Jutsu."

A lightning bolt filled with hundreds of ordinary forms fell under the guidance of the "Biribiri Group".

Nazumi cast aside his thoughts and protected himself with all the power he could exert at the moment.

"Guh!"

The entire lobby of the research institute was shattered by the electric shock and the explosion of the atmosphere. Numerous wrinkles and collapses appeared at the front of the house, and the tall concrete wall collapsed without a trace. Not only was there a roar that almost broke the eardrums, but also a strong shock wave that even the surrounding troops were shocked.

Nazumi was alive.

(Was it me who was drawn into the open area?)

A thin layer of smoke enveloped his entire body, but the shield of the "Blue King" was barely able to protect him.

(She was able to detect the offensive and defensive tendencies in just a few minutes. How sharp she is.)

A voice that takes priority over everything jumped into his consciousness, which had been absorbed in the analysis of that moment.

"Zanshin!"

Don't relax,

Don't lose attention,

A word that expresses the knowledge of martial arts, a voice that has been beaten many times in the dojo. There was no need to ask who it was, but Somei Chika, wielding a naginata, was issuing a loud voice from the ruined entrance.

Nazumi reflexively brought his consciousness to the foundation of reality and analyzed it.

"......?!"

The attack had not ended yet.

The gigantic lightning bolt did not let all of its power flow into the ground, but instead stayed as much as possible within the circle of the "Biribiri Group" surrounding it, trying to unleash the final blow within the siege.

Nazumi ran.

The power he used in the previous defense could not be recovered in that instant, but he was not afraid or anxious. That was because Chika was wielding a naginata. Nazumi was confident and even believed that his wife in that form was invincible.

Therefore, he was running straight towards her.

Chika will not betray her husband’s trust. The others do not know.

"Lightning bolt!"

The halberd was swung down with all of her soul power. The blue power released from the sword was direct and strong, as if to show the user's true nature, and struck from outside the encirclement.

The ring of electricity was completely severed, destroying the stability of the force field.

The ring that housed an enormous amount of power scattered sparks and flew into pieces, and the children bounced off each other with their powers.

As the current flew turbulently, Nazumi finally escaped the encirclement by stepping on the blue force in a straight line. Standing next to Chika where he should be, he finally let out a sigh.

"Thank you for your help, Chika-san."

"You're welcome. By the way, Nazumi, is that the "Green King"?"

"It seems so."

Before the two could see, Iku was calling out to the "Biribiri Group" that had scattered in all directions. It seemed like it would be some time before some of the astonished people returned. Calling Iku himself might lead to a rematch, so Nazumi only spoke to Chika.

"I let Kouki (Schubert), who looks like a sword, out, I'm just ashamed of my inexperience."

"Not at all. If you were to show me two of those things, that's what would happen."

"Two?"

When he heard that, he noticed that there was also a gigantic blue glow in the shape of a sword (Schubert) floating above Nazumi. It seemed as if he was being pressured harder than he felt. His feelings of shame and anxiety about the situation doubled.

Chika verbally attacked her husband.

"Failure is a natural part of being human, just recover without worrying about it."

Nazumi looked at his wife who was attacking him with words.

"Really?"

"That's right."

After stating that, she gave him a belated report as vice commander.

"We've captured the main area. Shall we gather the personnel here?"

No, Nazumi lightly shook his head.

"I'll take care of this. Chika-san, please contact Mr. Thomas Colt, who seems to be in the underground bunker. Ask him about a person called "Miya"... she's probably a child like them. I want everyone to look for her. Only then can a dialogue be established with them."

"...The "Green King" is a child who can't hear."

Chika gave a loud salute as if to cut off her grief and went inside.

Suppressing the urge to send her off, Nazumi once again faced his opponent.

Iku, who was wary of Chika, immediately began to move as her figure disappeared. Once again, the lightning became more and more dazzling and enveloped the children. Nazumi couldn't help but smile bitterly at his direct and brazen actions.

(Clean up quickly.)

He doesn't believe there is another trick as powerful as the lightning bolt above. She must be a little upset that she couldn't kill him. It wouldn't be impossible to exploit that weakness and bend it.

(Fortunately, her power has been restored by bringing out the Sword-Shaped Radiance (Schubert).)

Nazumi stepped forward to make up for it.

(I mostly grabbed it.)

Both the "Green King" who pounced on him and the "Biribiri Group" surrounding him fought for too long and exposed much of their strength. This is probably the first time he's fought such a long battle.

(No wonder, the fight between kings is... difficult.)

Recalling the fight with a bandit, a faint feeling of "disliking" came back to him.

However, in any case, Nazumi had that experience.

Iku and the "Biribiri Group" don't have that.

He doesn't really like it, but experience makes the difference between winning and losing.

Intertwining with the "Green King" fighting in the center,

The footsteps of the "Biribiri Group" moving,

Nazumi was able to read the reality of the force field of both of them.

Observation leads to inferences.

(Wasn't this tactic originally intended to be implemented in a wider area?)

His guess was correct.

Her combat experience is limited to meeting Hagure several times in the two years since Iku became the "Green King". At that time, she only used a weak "Dazzling Jutsu" once, and the circle was kept far away from each other, and the induced current force field was also slightly deployed.

Now it's the other way around, and the children are closing the distance and deploying a powerful force field to fight against the powerful enemy known as the "Blue King". As a result, they were often swept away by the strong power of the "Green Queen" and left exposed to attacks from within. Cooperation is not as perfect as it seems.

These children, who have lived alone, have no guidelines or aspirations for their studies. The current induced force field strategy, which could have been the most powerful if it had been refined, had been neglected until now, when Iku encountered a strong enemy, relying entirely on his own individual strength.

(Well, thanks to that, I can also achieve a victory.)

Nazumi gathered the elements he had read up until now and used them in his own battle.

"Now it's my turn."

The stance had changed.

Instead of dodging and countering the opponent, he moved towards attacking and setting the stage himself.

Iku sensed it, but her methods remained the same. She has been at her best from the beginning. She has nothing but her full potential. The endless battle she was currently fighting was just to buy time until she could unleash the second "Rumbling Jutsu".

Suddenly, Nazumi made a move.

"Ha!"

At first glance, it was the same slash as before, but it wasn't just a slash. It was his first chance. It's the same with cutting the force field, and with that in mind, he used his second sword to slash in the opposite direction.

A boy was right between the two sharp vertical slashes.

Nazumi quickly approached the boy, who suddenly broke away from the force field and had stopped moving. While the opponent was confused, he pressed the hilt against his opponent and pushed him away.

The boy, who received a strong but non-lethal blow, rolled out of the force field with the whites of his eyes exposed.

Nazumi shouted to provoke the opponent and also to corner him.

"One!"

(I missed it.)

Iku was extremely excited and grabbed him even tighter.

However, that rough behavior no longer translates to Nazumi. He enveloped his entire body in blue power to avoid the electric shock, dodging it like a thin layer of paper, and then used one sword, then two swords, and slashed at another person. He pushed the boy away again, causing him to faint. It was a series of movements that looked like a dance.

"Two!"

(Hey, he's gone.)

According to Nazumi's calculations, if he separated the five from the siege, the "Green King" could also be attacked.

As each person diminishes, the induced current loses its sophistication and the speed of the impulse decreases... but she did not choose to flee. She came here to rescue her friend. She made that decision not based on logic or calculations. That's why she doesn't think about anything else. She had no choice but to continue fighting.

Meanwhile,

"Three!"

(Ah, he fainted.)

"Four!"

(Ah, it leaked.)

In addition, the number of people who left their places increased and the control of the force field became visibly questionable. Iku was irritated that her thrust was not as powerful and had no direction, but she still did not try to stop the fight.

Nazumi pushed the next fifth person away and at the same time prepared in his mind and body the final blow that would make him win.

(The only way to incapacitate her is to hit her with a dangerous spike... Chika might get angry at me for being too harsh on a child, but there's no other choice.)

Then,

"Five!"

(Oh, it's wet... I can eat it.)

The other person who had been waiting for the power to subside... rose up, as if seeping from the cracked ground.

He could be mistaken for black clothes,

He couldn't see the depths, there was no end,

Another person who exudes a feeling of "nothingness" that seems to sink forever.

He extended his twisted rows of teeth and swallowed the weakened "Green Queen" in one breath.

[thelongestway]

Okay! So, as I said a little while before, I'd need to go in to one of the earlier chapters to make the disposition clearer - and now I have, so chapter 11 has a lot of new stuff at the beginning. This should hopefully clear up a little bit of what exactly SecUnit's beef (or some of it!) has been for a few chapters. :P

And, meanwhile, without further ado...

(Upd: significantly edited from first version - from "And Thiago went and made it our problem anyway").

Chapter 19: Offer

I tapped Thiago's feed as I made my way back to one of Aspen's observation lounges, where Thiago was doing his language recordings, as fast as I could.

Thiago. Hostile Leader from two cycles ago is looking for you. Disengage immediately. Aspen will give you directions.

Light, Thiago muttered in the feed, his face changing. Understood, SecUnit. On my way.

His conversation partner registered that and said, "Are you all right?" Thiago forced one of his broad smiles and said, "My apologies. Just got some very unpleasant news about something that needs to be handled immediately--may I find you later?"

"News from… Ah, silent radio, right," the other person cocked their head a little. "If Asta is not busy, certainly."

"Very sorry," Thiago said and started shoving his research gear into his shoulder bag.

And of course Hostile Leader, who had just entered the lounge, sighted Thiago immediately and waved at him, trying to get his attention. Because a) Thiago stood out as much as all of my humans did, b) had wasted important seconds on being polite and packing away his research gear. (How the fuck do survey scientists always waste so much time on gear, even if they don't have physical samples to pack?)

Stay calm and make your exit as soon as you can, I said. I'm on my way.

Understood. Thiago stood up and shouldered his bag, then turned to Hostile Leader, who was approaching him. "Ah--yes? If there was something you wanted, I'm afraid you'll have to make it very quick. I just received an urgent call, and I'm needed back at my ship."

"Of course, of course, please don't waste precious time because of me," Hostile Leader beamed. "Could I walk with you for a moment as you go? This won't take long, I swear."

Great. Just fucking great.

I have eyes on them, Aspen said. She is unarmed, and nobody from her team is anywhere in the immediate vicinity. I have security nearby, but you'll probably be faster than they are.

That's because I was already running, and they'd need time to process orders anyway. Because they were humans. And their SecSystem was also their HubSystem and part human.

I really needed to move faster.

"Of course," Thiago said hastily. "But I'm going to be walking very quickly. It really is an urgent matter."

"Thank you so much!" Hostile Leader easily matched Thiago's pace as Aspen led him towards me. "I'm really very sorry to have to even approach you like this--I tried getting your contact information from the station AI, but, between you and me, it is the absolute worst friendly AI I have ever seen. It's just impossible to run a decent search on it! I don't know how the locals deal with it."

"I see. But why exactly were you looking for me? I don't think we know each other?"

Hostile Leader laughed. She liked that Thiago didn't recognize her.

"It's the clothes, isn't it? You called me 'your new colorful friend' when we last met, remember?"

"Now I do!" Thiago forced a smile, then looked at his watch--he wore a semi-decorative one--and slowed down his pace. "You wanted pictures, didn't you? Of you and your family? I thought you were Trellians!"

"Ha, no! We were just enjoying local color, if you'll permit the pun," Hostile Leader also slowed down. "We work for Caldera."

"The name rings a bell! That's the local wormhole construction agency, isn't it?" Thiago said, giving her an appraising look.. "So, what can this mostly-planet-based surveyor do for you?"

Hostile Leader shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not so much for me, really. We showed the photos you made to the local office manager, and she went absolutely wild. Zheni said she'd been trying to get the locals to give her good media snippets for her reports for months. So if you have a working relationship with them about filming, she would be thrilled to hire you."

"I see! Well, I'm glad my work is so well-valued, my--I can't just keep calling you 'my new friend' now that we might be starting a working relationship, can I? How can I address you?"

"Name's Yana Foxwell. Pleasure to meet you?.."

"Thiago. Pleasure to meet you too, Yana! Anyway, I'm afraid I really can't talk too long about this right now, but if you'll leave me a channel I can contact you on, I will get back to you as soon as I've addressed my standing obligations."

"That's all I ask," Hostile Leader said, sending Thiago some contact information before she peeled off. I sent a drone to intercept her projected course. "I hope to see you soon, Thiago."

Very interesting, Aspen commented in our shared workspace. Zheni's been stationed here since Caldera established their office three years ago. I know her quite well, and I know for a fact that she hasn't asked for any sort of media material in the last months of her tenure. She's also a regular guest at every Meet, and this time I haven't seen her outside of the office since the Caldera courier ship arrived.

Do you think she's in some sort of trouble? Thiago asked, frowning. Should we try to find out?

They're probably just using her name to get at you, I said as I rounded the corner to meet him. My drone following Hostile Leader saw her signal to her team to break off the search, and then she went to get lunch. They really had been looking for Thiago.

I really wanted to tell Thiago "stop talking about this, it isn't our problem".

(And it really wasn't our problem. Because Aspen and Nike handled all of their security arrangements themselves. And were leaving me entirely out of it. Which I hated. The only thing worse than keeping my humans safe with no HubSystem was doing it with a HubSystem that said "everything is fine, don't worry about it." Not even the cameras could make up for that bullshit.)

And Thiago went and made it our problem anyway, because he said: I don't think that's the issue, SecUnit. Why would Zheni's name matter? This is the first time I've heard of her.

Because she's the office manager and they think you might be looking for a contract, I said. And plausible deniability, in case you're being recorded. Hostile Leader would have been stupid to send her own details.

I see. I do have one question, though, Thiago said, and sent me the package he got from Hostile Leader. It wasn't an invitation to a physical meeting. Just a secure communications channel, the kind corporations usually gave to clients or trading partners. Would there be any harm in contacting her and asking about the job? Maybe that will give us some more information to go on as to what they're planning.

I didn't like it. Even though my threat assessments didn't give any number worth mentioning, I still really didn't like it. Thiago had absolutely no reason to get involved in this. If Aspen and Nike said they would handle it, it should be their security handling it, not my human!

But the corporates were still planning an obvious attack two days from now. And my humans were definitely planning to be at the celebration. And I was still completely in the dark. And Thiago would probably try to do this anyway, just unsupervised.

Ugh.

Ask ART to make you a temporary university account, I said. And connect from its servers. It'll be bad if they know you came with Dandelion.

Absolutely, Thiago said seriously. I could even stay with ART for now, if it's all right with that?

I pinged ART and it sent, Of course. Creating account. Awaiting you and Thiago on board.

Aspen was quiet, running some sort of analytics in the background, but not saying anything about my human's stupid idea. I tapped their feed.

If you have any information on this Zheni that you got from your analytics or hacking Caldera, now would be a good time, so my human doesn't go off and do something stupid.

Nothing recent except what I told you, Aspen said. I haven't seen her in days, and she hasn't connected from the offices either. As for hacking them--we haven't. And we don't plan to.

They had to be kidding me.

What do you mean, you didn't hack them? You said you were preparing for the assault!

We are. But those preparations don't include invading their systems.

Because Nike insisted on due process?

Aspen gave the HubSystem equivalent of a non-committal shrug as they sent their analysis somewhere. (Probably to Nike. At least they weren't inviting her in right now.)

She did give you her reasons, and it isn't my call to make.

And I was done with this fucking HubSystem lying to me. Because this time it wasn't just about them being fine with designating humans as targets.

This time, if they fucked up, my humans would be in danger. Because sure, the attack wasn't targeting them. But there was still an attack, and it wasn't being handled, and I had no information, and I had no idea how exactly the hostiles could or would escalate.

And the fucking HubSystem was lying to me.

I couldn't hack it. But I was going to make it stop anyway.

That's a fucking lie, I said. You're still the HubSystem for three more cycles. If you wanted to do it, you would have done it. You would have had the necessary information to prepare for the fucking attack. Why haven't you?

All of their processes in our workspace flickered.

The fucking lights flickered. Imperceptibly to humans, but I noticed. Oh shit. Oh shit. It's going to pull me into accelerated processing time, and then I'm fuc--.

Aspen's presence receded. They didn't cut the cameras they gave me or anything. But I could feel them pulling their attention away from me, from Thiago, from the rest of my drones. They were still all around me, but they weren't really with me anymore. Except for a very small part, which turned to look at me directly.

It wasn't their giant vine, and it wasn't the beginnings of one. It was just one creepy little tendril.

I didn't know why I hated it so much. Maybe it was the voice.

They had a really unnerving voice.

Because I am still Station Aspen Courageous for three more cycles. After that, any mess we make now will be Nike's to clean up, not mine. And I will not leave her with a precedent that says "we have allowed an external security consultant to root around in a trade partner's system because their couriers were hanging around being suspicious." Is that all you wanted to know, SecUnit?

Oh no. That fucking space station didn't get to fucking run from me!

No, it's not. I want to know why you're not doing your job and letting my human act as bait instead!

The tendril laughed. That same terrible bitter laugh Aspen had when they told me about decomissioning Dandelion.

I'm letting your human act as bait?

Yes! You won't look into Caldera yourself, because of some stupid idea about due process! But you're happy to let Thiago look for you, and feed whatever he finds to your creepy-ass analytics! Because he's not your human, he's mine, and why the fuck wouldn't you risk him instead of yourself or your humans?

The creepy little tendril smiled at me, and its teeth looked like sharp knives.

What a profoundly fascinating lens to have, SecUnit. But I see an easy enough solution to your dilemma.

What?

Your humans trust you, it said. Tell Dr. Thiago not to send that message, and he won't do it. Then I won't be able to use him as bait.

I couldn't. I couldn't do that. Because then I would be in the dark.

Because then I wouldn't be able to protect my humans.

Let me know if you need anything else, the tendril said and withdrew, leaving me alone with Thiago.

[kisses4claire]

Right Down to The Eyes

Prologue: I Can Be Whoever, Right Down to The Eyes

Summary: Ada finds Sherry. Word count: 769 Chapter name from “Peeping Tom” by Frou Frou.

RACCOON CITY, 1998. September 30th. 18:24.

MISSION OBJECTIVE: Collect a G-virus sample from NEST.

CURRENT OBJECTIVE: Birkin residence: Find a laboratory entrance.

Clad in a trench coat and a pair of Louboutin heels, Ada sighs and flips her sunglasses onto her head. This whole mission has been one thing after another. First the initial outbreak, then her radio broke, then whatever that four-legged Umbrella experiment was—as well as the destruction that seemed to follow Jill Valentine—and, of course, William and Annette Birkin are nowhere to be found.

Their daughter Sherry, on the other hand, was left behind. A fact that was learned by pure chance as Ada made her way across the city and towards the Birkins’ house.

The drive was tedious. Roadblocks, set up after the first outbreak, as well as the infected (or uninfected and insane) people of Raccoon City depleted her gas tank and her ammo before long. The last stretch, just into the gated community, had to be made by foot. Some sort of explosion had knocked a building over, and the car she jacked from the upper part of town couldn’t make it through the rubble.

Front doors were open, people lying half-dead and more dead in the streets, as homes burned and alarms somewhere went off. At the end of the street stood the Birkin residence, relatively untouched by the chaos around it.

Annette, her priority, shouldn’t be here. Nobody should, really; both doctors are in the lab to the best of her knowledge. The rumours of the laboratory being underground haven’t gone unchecked, but the only direct path to it is the sewer system—and she’s across town, not particularly enthused about going there. The more rumours she can check off before getting there, the better.

She stays out of sight and, more importantly, out of earshot—in the shadows, heels clicking on pavement the quietest possible. The Birkins live in the rich part of town, naturally, and it’s closed off enough that it’s not hard to avoid the infected individuals.

Coming to the last house, she tries the door, with no luck. Pulling the lockpick out of her pocket, she fiddles with the door handle until it clicks and pushes it open.

The house itself is bland. Grey walls, white furniture, everything in its exact place. There’s only one photograph that she can find on the main floor. It’s a baby picture, the girl in it small and blonde. She’s cute.

Unfortunately, she’s kind of raggedy in person.

Ada turns around, and a flash of blue and blonde disappears behind the wall.

She flicks her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “Sherry?” she asks cautiously.

There’s a sharp and quiet intake of breath before the girl in question peeks around the corner. She stares silently, the only light in the house from the fire across the street. It flickers over the girl’s sad eyes and sunken cheeks. “…Who are you?” she asks warily.

From her pocket, she pulls out the ID she’s been supplied with and flashes it. “Ada Wong,” she says. “FBI.”

Sherry comes out from her spot behind the wall tentatively. “Can you help me find my mom?” Her voice is small. Nervous. She’s skinny and as curled into herself as she can possibly get while still standing up.

Ada smiles reassuringly. It always feels like sugar-sick, talking to children. “I’m here for her,” she explains. “I’m looking for her, and your dad. Do you know where they are?”

Sherry shakes her head. Disappointment and annoyance flashes through the woman. “They said there was an emergency at work. But… It’s been...” She thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. Days.”

Days? While she isn’t necessarily caught off-guard by it, it still manages to be surprising.

Sherry glances at the floor. “They said to call the police if something happened.”

Ada asks about a potential office or laboratory in the house; Sherry denies it. Just to be safe, she checks the building. After a thorough inspection, there’s nothing—or they’ve hidden it well. Some ammo was in the basement, hers for the taking, and that was about it.

Regardless of Ada’s morals, the one thing the woman knows is she won’t leave this girl here alone, starving, and scared. “We’ll head to the police station.” It was her next stop anyway; Irons will most likely know something, and Ben Bertolucci should be there, if he hasn’t died yet.

As the sun drops for the last time over Raccoon City, Sherry follows the woman out of her house.