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[daxisyzz]

Close encounters

Pairings: avenger!bucky barnes × avenger!reader

Summary: On an undercover mission, you and Bucky pose as a married couple to infiltrate an illegal weapons auction—but when a stolen kiss becomes part of the plan, the line between duty and desire starts to blur.

Word count: 1.2k+

Tags: Flirty Bucky, fight sequence, undercover mission, teasing, kissing.

A/n: I had posted a grumpy Bucky fic but hated it. So I deleted it. I think I like this better. If u ever want grumpy Bucky lemme know. Requests are open. Enjoyyyy!!

Part 2- Double-Edged

The mission was simple: extract intel from a black-market arms dealer, stay undetected, and get out before things went sideways. Simple—until Steve decided to pair you with James Buchanan Barnes.

You stepped out of the limo, adjusting your dress as you scanned the sketchy building for exits and weak points. Bucky stepped out after you, his sharp gaze sweeping over the area before turning toward you. He leaned down, voice low.

“You clean up nice, doll,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he adjusted the clasp of your necklace. His fingers skimmed the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your pulse picked up.

“Try to focus, Barnes. We have a job to do.”

“I am focused,” he said, smirking.

“On my wife.”You ignored him.

The mission had led you both to an underground auction, where dangerous people gathered to bid on illegal weapons. Your cover: a wealthy couple looking to expand their business.

The plan: Bucky would distract the seller while you slipped into a secure backroom to steal classified files.But first, you had to sell the act.

As you entered the venue, Bucky’s hand found the small of your back, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your dress. The casual possessiveness of it made your breath hitch—just for a second.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured, voice smooth as ever.

“Gotta make it look real.”You forced yourself to ignore the warmth of his touch, keeping your focus on the room instead.

“Just don’t overdo it, Barnes.”

He smirked. “Too late.”

You took your seats near the auction stage, scanning the crowd for your target. Anton Markov sat in a private booth, surrounded by bodyguards.You turned to Bucky.

“I’ll need five minutes alone in that backroom.”His gaze flickered with something unreadable.

“Then we’ll get you five minutes.”

The auctioneer began presenting rare weapons, but you weren’t paying attention. You were focused on Markov, waiting for an opening.Bucky, however, was focused on you.

You wore a satin dress that fit in all the right places. The ring Steve had made you both wear to sell the act glinted under the chandelier’s warm glow, bringing a smirk to Bucky’s face.

“Stop staring,” you muttered.

“I’m your husband,” he said, leaning in.

“Gotta make it look real.”You shot him a glare.

“You’re enjoying this.”His lips twitched.

“A little.”

Your eyes flicked back to the target as he finally left his booth, heading toward the bar. Now was your chance.You stood, brushing a hand over Bucky’s thigh as you did. The touch was fleeting, unintentional—except for the way he tensed ever so slightly.

“I’ll be back, honey,” you said, keeping up the act.

“Wait for my signal,” you murmured before slipping away.

You moved stealthily through the crowd, unnoticed by the guards.The backroom was locked, but you made quick work of it with your hairpin, slipping inside. Rows of servers lined the walls, buzzing with encrypted data. You approached the main computer, pulling up the classified files. Plugging in a drive, you watched the transfer bar crawl forward. Almost there…

Then—footsteps.

Your stomach dropped. You barely had time to pull your gun from the thigh holster beneath your dress before the door opened.Two guards stepped in.

“Boss said to check the servers,” one muttered.

You held your breath, staying out of their line of sight. The download wasn’t complete. If they noticed…

Before you could form a plan, the door burst open again—and in walked Bucky. His scowl was murderous, jaw clenched tight.He moved fast. One guard barely had time to react before Bucky knocked him out cold. The second reached for his gun, but Bucky grabbed his wrist, twisting until there was a sickening crack.The room fell silent.You exhaled.

“That was not the plan,” you said, stepping out.

“They got suspicious,” Bucky replied, scanning the monitors.

“Had to improvise.”You rolled your eyes.

“You just wanted to be dramatic.”

“Did it impress you?”You ignored him, yanking the drive free just as an alarm blared.

“Time to go.”

Security flooded the halls. Your only escape? A side door leading to a back alley. You sprinted toward it, but a guard rounded the corner—gun raised.

Before you could react, Bucky grabbed you by the waist, spinning you so your back hit the wall, his body shielding yours. His hands found your face, and then—His lips crashed against yours.

Your mind blanked.

He kissed you slowly, deliberately, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.It took a second to register what was happening. Then your hands gripped the lapels of his suit, the fabric creasing under your tight hold as you kissed him back.A deep sound rumbled from his throat—something between a groan and a satisfied hum.

The guard hesitated, taking you for just another couple sneaking a moment away from the bustling crowd.The second the guard moved on, Bucky pulled away, eyes dark with something unreadable.You swallowed hard.

“What the hell was that?”

“Had to make it convincing,” he said smoothly.

You didn’t get a chance to argue before more guards closed in. Bucky grabbed your hand, pulling you down the hall and out the door.By the time you reached the safe house, your heart was still racing—but not from the escape.

Inside, the chaos of the mission faded into a quiet that felt both relieving and… unsettlingly intimate. You dropped onto a worn couch, still feeling the buzz of adrenaline, while Bucky leaned against the table, a roguish grin playing on his lips.

“Not bad for a ‘just undercover’ kiss,” he said lightly, eyes dancing as he regarded you.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to mask the quickened beat of your pulse. “That was a necessity, Barnes. Don’t read more into it than you have to.”Bucky stepped closer, his tone teasing.

“Oh, come on. I got a kiss out of you. It was… unexpected, sure, but pretty damn effective.”

You rolled your eyes, a small, involuntary smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts. “Effective for the mission, maybe. I didn’t exactly plan on playing into any romantic script.”

He brushed a hand lightly along your arm, the contact sending an undeniable shiver through you. “Maybe you didn’t plan it, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me want to see more of that fire—even if you’re all business most of the time.”

You tried to keep your tone steady, though your cheeks betrayed you. “Barnes, you’re unbelievable. One minute we’re dodging guards, the next you’re flirting like we’re off-duty.”

“Off-duty or not, you did kiss me back,” he replied with a wink. “And honestly, that might just be worth the risk.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, flustered and momentarily at a loss for words. Finally, you cleared your throat. “Maybe. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m here to get the job done—nothing more.”

Bucky’s smile softened, though the playful glint in his eyes remained. “Sure, doll. But if you ever do decide to let a little distraction in, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You let out a reluctant laugh, shaking your head. “Keep dreaming, Barnes. Just stick to the mission next time.”He chuckled, leaning in just enough that you felt the warmth of his breath.

“No promises,” he murmured.

“After all, I like finding ways to keep things interesting.”

In that charged, easy moment, the safe house became more than just a hideout. It became a space where even a well-timed kiss could blur the lines between duty and desire.

[yelenasburnbook]

Lifeline

———————————————————

Pairing(s): Bob Reynolds x Fem! Reader - Platonic! Yelena & Reader Dynamic - Platonic!Bucky & Reader Dynamic 💞

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you’re forced to confront just how much your best friend means to you, and how far you’ll go to keep her alive.

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Gore, Injury, Blood, Medical Settings, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Distress, Explosions, & Probably too much Dialogue

A/N: Between summer classes, my sisters graduation party, and my job, this took me a lot longer than I thought it would. That being said, I’m very proud of it! I changed up the writing style to 2nd Person POV, because that’s how I used to do it, and I like it better. Enjoy this hurt/comfort that I promised 🩷

Translation: Дорогая - Sweetheart

———————————————————

The mission was going well. Suspiciously well.

Bob and Bucky had already cleared the north wing, taking out the remaining guards and disabling the perimeter defense grid without much resistance. Ava had slipped through the lower floors like a… well a ghost, disabling the compound’s internal sensors and wiping all surveillance data before the enemy even realized she was there. John was waiting on the jet, prepared to take off incase of an emergency extraction.

Alexei was not allowed on stealth missions.

It had all gone a little too smoothly. No alarms, no last minute reinforcements. Just a quick, surgical takedown.

Which made the final step feel almost too easy.

“Intel should be in the west records room,” Ava reported over comms, her voice calm and efficient, “It’s not on the servers, so someone’s keeping hard copies. Probably a hard drive. You might have to search for it though.”

“I sent you the hallway blueprints,” Bucky added, “No booby traps, no guards posted. Should be clean.”

“Should be,” Yelena muttered, side eyeing you as the two of you advanced through the smoky hallway, “Which means it absolutely won’t be.”

You snorted, “Oh come on. Maybe for once a mission could actually go right.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “You just jinxed us, you know.”

“Please. That’s not real.”

She smacks your shoulder lightly, “That’s exactly what someone would say right before they get blown through a wall.”

You and Yelena moved through the smoke choked hallway side by side, weapons drawn, boots crunching over shattered glass. You were supposed to clear the west wing of the compound; secure the hard drive with intel, take out any remaining stragglers, and rendezvous at the extraction point.

“Bet you five bucks I find the drive first,” You murmured, flicking your eyes across the scorched corridor ahead.

Yelena scoffed, “That’s it? What will I do with that? Buy half of a New York coffee?

You grinned, “Fine, ten bucks says I get to it before you.”

“Make it twenty, and loser has to scrub the showers,” She challenges.

“You’re on.”

The complex rumbled slightly, and Yelena’s arm stuck out in front of you. The two of you halted your movements, listening for potential threats. After a few beats of silence, you both quietly carried on.

She continued the conversation, murmuring, “You’re going to regret it when you’re elbow deep in Alexei’s hair clogs.”

You gagged audibly, “No no no, that’s foul. I take it back. No showers.”

“You can’t take it back you coward!” She hissed softly, her finger jabbing into your shoulder as she stepped over the body of a downed Hydra soldier.

“Fine!” You roll your eyes, “If I lose I’ll clean the showers, but if I win,” You paused for a second, thinking, “You’re doing my laundry and folding my socks into little burritos like you do yours.”

Yelena scowled, “I don’t fold my socks into burritos.”

“You do. I’ve seen it. You treat your socks better than your teammates.”

Before Yelena could fire back, Bucky’s voice came back over comms, low, amused, maybe slightly annoyed, “Is this really happening? Are we wagering chores in the middle of a hostile zone?”

Yelena taps her comms with a smirk, “It’s called multitasking old man.”

A low, familiar hum vibrated through your ears, “Sounded more like flirting to me.” Bob added, teasingly.

You grinned, tapping your own earpiece, “You jealous?”

His dry tone didn’t miss a beat, “Of the world’s weirdest foreplay? Not even a little.”

You shrugged, “Sounded a tiny bit jealous.”

Bob’s chuckle came soft and low over the line, “Eyes up, sweetheart.”

The two of you continued on, stealthy, and silent.

You and Yelena had always moved like this; side by side, shoulder to shoulder, like you were born knowing each other’s rhythm. It hadn’t started that way. She didn’t let people in easily, and you’d spent the first few weeks trading dry sarcasm and fake glares across briefing tables. But something had shifted.

Maybe it was the shared past. The haunted edges. The quiet understanding between two people who knew what it meant to be used, and to fight your way back to yourself. Maybe it was that she never treated you like you were fragile, and you never treated her like she had to be unbreakable.

Whatever it was, it stuck. And before long, she was your best friend.

Not the kind you just trained with. She was the one who’d knock on your door at midnight because she found a movie she knew you’d hate and wanted to make you watch it anyway. The one who made fun of your combat stance while bandaging your hand. The one who stood between you and your demons without a second thought.

Sister. Best friend. Lifeline.

And now she was smiling like none of this was dangerous.

“You coming or what?” Yelena teased, already stepping into the next corridor.

You smirked, “I’m just making sure you don’t walk into another tripwire.”

“Please. I am the tripwire.” You made a face at her that practically screamed, that doesn’t make any sense.

Over comms, Bucky sighed, “And I’m the one with a migraine now.”

You both laughed quietly.

The two of you turned the corner into what looked like an old generator room. The walls were charred, exposed wires were hanging; still sparking, and… a sound. Just a hum at first, quietly buzzing through the walls. Then rising.

A trap.

Your expression dropped, “Yelena-”

A flash of light. A sharp beep. Neither of you even had time to turn around.

The explosion hit like a thunderclap, blinding white and deafening. You slammed into the ground with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. Your back hit something hard, maybe debris, maybe a wall, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your ears were ringing painfully, the air was thick with dust, and something was burning. Your whole body hurt, head pounding with every beat of your heart.

And Yelena-

Yelena was nowhere in sight.

You blinked rapidly, trying to orient yourself. Blood dripped down your temple, warm and sticky. Your vision swam, and the comms were a static mess in your ear, with nothing but garbled voices and white noise.

You tried to push yourself up, your arms trembling beneath you, and legs unsteady. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to stop, and your powers sparked faintly at your fingertips; weak and unfocused.

Then you saw her.

A pile of rubble. Blonde hair. An arm too still.

“No,” You breathed hard, stumbling forward on instinct, “No, no, no- Yelena!”

The sound of your own voice made your head throb and your vision blur. The vibrations in your skull sent a white hot pain down your neck and you groaned, pushing yourself forward.

You dragged yourself across the broken ground, pushing aside scorched metal and fractured concrete to reach her. Your hands shook, blood smearing your palms, and you weren’t sure if it was yours or hers.

When you finally uncovered Yelena, she was still breathing, but barely. Her body was limp, unconscious, and stained with ash and blood.

Your heart plummeted.

Protocol in this situation was to fall back, to regroup. But you couldn’t move, you couldn’t leave her. Your arms found themselves hooked under Yelena’s, as you fought your own fatigue, and dragged her out of the rubble. Your body was trembling, tired, and nearly collapsing under the weight. But your eyes were wide and frantic, and your heart was thumping faster than you thought it could.

She had to be okay, she just had to be.

“Y/N! Fall back, now!” Bucky’s voice barked through the comms.

But you didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You knelt beside Yelena’s body, your own chest heaving, tears mixing with the soot on your face. For the first time in a long, long time, you didn’t know what to do.

——————

The jet was moving fast, cutting through clouds and sky, but time still felt too slow.

Yelena was laid out across the med-table, strapped in, Bucky and Ava working furiously to stabilize her. Blood was still seeping from the gash in her side, and her breaths remained uneven. The sight of her made your stomach twist. You hovered nearby, trying your best to help. But your vision was still blurry, and the pounding in your head made you nauseous and dizzy.

Bob watched you warily, not straying too far.

“I can help. Just-” You stepped forward, reaching for a roll of gauze someone tossed near the med table. But your hands were shaking too badly to grip it.

“Y/N,” Bucky said quietly.

“I can do it, just let me-” You stammered, your voice ragged as you reached back for the gauze near the edge of the tray. Your fingers barely curled around it before it slipped from your grasp again, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Your breath hitched, short and frantic, “Shit- I can-”

Bucky gently stepped between you and the table, bending slightly to your level. His voice was softer than usual, “You’re not okay. You have to step back.”

“No, no no no, she’s not okay! She needs help! I need- I need to help her, I can’t-” Your voice cracked, raw with panic, “She’s not waking up, she’s not-”

Bucky glanced to Bob, who didn’t hesitate.

He reached out and gently pulled you away from the chaos, wrapping his arms around you even as you resisted, “Hey, hey- sweetheart, look at me.”

“No! Let me go, Bob- she needs-”

“She needs them right now. You need me.”

You shook your head, body trembling in his grasp, eyes still locked on the blood still soaking through Yelena’s suit. You tugged at his arms once more.

“Stop,” he whispered, “Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”

You could only whimper in response, finally feeling the affects of your sudden movements, the throbbing pain fading back into your skull.

Bob held you tighter, “You’re hurt, you’re bleeding, and you’ve probably got a concussion. Let me help you.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, trembling hard, “I can’t-I can’t think. Oh god what if she-” Bob shut that down quickly.

“She’s alive. You saved her.” He soothed, hand stroking your back softly, but you shook your head, crying now, silent tears streaking your soot covered cheeks.

“She wasn’t moving-” you were cut off,

“Baby breathe. Come on, in through your nose.”

You were gently guided to sit against the wall of the jet, his body pressed to yours, one hand cradling the back of your head, and you took slow breaths, “Good girl. That’s it. I’ve got you.”

As your breathing began to steady, he carefully examined the wound on your temple. The blood still hadn’t clotted. He reached for the medical kit, using its contents to gently dab at the wound. He grabbed the small penlight, testing it before meeting your eyes.

“Follow the light, but keep your head still.” He ordered softly, heightened concern etched into his features.

You flinched, but obeyed.

Your left eye lagged slightly, and the dilation of your pupils was severely delayed. Bob’s expression turned grim, as he turned to the others, “Concussion confirmed,” he relayed, and Bucky grunted in response. He turned back to you, “You’re gonna sit still for the rest of the flight.”

You grimaced, “But-”

“No buts. Head down pretty girl. Let me wrap this.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder as he gently patched you up, arms still trembling. Your eyes flicked back to Yelena every few seconds, never staying away for long.

Your breathing was slow again, but still ragged, trembling hands clinging to his sleeve as he cleaned the wound, pressing gauze gently to the side of your head.

“I thought she was dead.” You whispered.

“She’s not,” Bob replied, firm but gentle, “You saved her.”

——————

Back at the Tower, the med team was waiting on the landing pad. Yelena was whisked away on a stretcher. You immediately tried to follow, stumbling forward with glassy eyes.

Bob’s hand closed around your waist the second you tried to push forward.

“Y/N,” he said gently, voice edged with urgency, “Slow down.”

But you didn’t. You twisted in his grip, eyes locked on the medbay doors just ahead. Your boots skidded on the tile as you tried to wrench free.

“I have to be with her-”

Bucky stepped in from the left, cutting off your path completely, “You’re next,” he said, voice low but unmoving, “You don’t look good, Y/N.”

“I don’t care,” you protested, throat tightening.

“You need to let the doctors take a look at you,” Bob murmured behind her, voice low and soft, “You’re not okay.”

“I’m fine!” You snapped, louder than you meant to.

Then your knees dipped.

Bob stepped in closer, bracing you as gently as he could, “Okay, hey- hey. I’ve got you. Just breathe for a second.”

“You’re not fine ,” Bucky said quietly, “You’re disoriented, bleeding, and barely staying on your feet.”

You closed your eyes tight, forehead pressing into Bob’s shoulder as the hall tilted sideways. Your legs felt too far away, and your heart wouldn’t slow down.

“I don’t want to leave her,” you whispered.

Bob pressed a kiss to your uninjured temple, “You’re not leaving her, honey. You’re letting someone help you, so you don’t end up needing that hospital bed too.”

You hesitated, then looked up at Bucky, eyes brimming with tears.

“Promise me,” you whispered, “You’ll stay with her.”

“Swear it,” Bucky said, firm and sure.

Bob gently brushed the hair off your cheek, “And I’m not leaving you either.”

Your shoulders sagged, finally giving out.

“Okay,” you breathed, “Okay. Just please, hurry.”

“We will,” Bob murmured, adjusting his hold as he started guiding you back, “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you patched up.”

——————

The moment the med team cleared you (mild concussion, bruised ribs, no internal bleeding) you were already halfway out of the room.

You didn’t wait for the nurse to finish her sentence. You slid off the exam table and made it three steps toward the door, heart pounding and legs ready to sprint.

But Bob was faster.

He stepped in front of you just as you reached the hallway, one hand gently pressing to your shoulder, the other hovering at your waist in case you stumbled.

“Easy,” he said softly, but firmly, “You still look like you might tip over.”

“I have to see her,” you said, voice hoarse, “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I know,” Bob murmured, gaze searching yours, “And you’re going to. But not if you faceplant in the hallway trying to run there.”

You faltered, chest tight, the instinct to bolt still coiled beneath your ribs like a spring.

Bob softened, “Walk with me. Please.”

Your shoulders dropped, groaning in annoyance as you agree, “This whole concussion thing sucks ass.”

That elicited a chuckle from him as he guided you down the hall to Yelena’s room, “I could always grab one of the wheel chairs. Strap you in, blanket over your lap, maybe even a juice box. Really complete the whole ‘I’m severely concussed’ look.”

That earned him a light slap to the shoulder and a correction of being “mildly” concussed, the air feeling lighter for the first time in a few hours. That was, until you reached the recovery room.

Yelena was still out cold, pale and bandaged, but breathing steadily.

Bucky stood up from the bedside chair, gesturing for you to take his place. You took him up on that, and dropped into the seat beside her. You were curled in on yourself, one arm hugging your middle, and the other resting lightly on the edge of the bed. Bucky stood in the doorway, watching quietly.

“She’s okay,” Bob whispered again, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, chewing on your your bottom lip nervously. You believed him, but that didn’t mean you were going anywhere.

——————

Four more hours passed, and you didn’t move.

Not when the nurse came in to check vitals. Not when Bob quietly tried to coax you into eating something. Not when Bucky mumbled that you should at least stretch your legs or, “your spine’s gonna fuse to that chair.”

You barely blinked, eyes fixed on Yelena’s still face. Her head was wrapped in bandages now, and you imagined the gash in her side was the same way under the gown. An IV line fed fluids back into her, and the color just was just barely returning to her cheeks. But she hadn’t moved.

So you stayed.

Bob stayed too, right beside you in the other chair, one knee bouncing anxiously. Bucky leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed, chewing silently on the inside of his cheek, watching you more than her.

The other’s were coming and going, not wanting to crowd the room, but still wanting to make sure Yelena was alright.

Alexei didn’t stay long. Couldn’t stay long. Even though he knew she would be alright, he couldn’t bare to see his daughter like that. He left quickly, mumbling something about, “-preparing her favorite soup for when she wakes.”

Now the room was quiet and still, and you were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open.

Then, without warning, Yelena stirred.

It was subtle; a twitch of her fingers, the barest shift in her brow, but it might as well have been an earthquake.

You straightened so fast you startled Bob, and your breath caught in your throat, hand reaching for hers instinctively.

She groaned softly, her face scrunching. Her lips parted, dry and chapped, and her eyelids cracked open just the tiniest bit.

Her voice came out rough and low, “I told you so.”

You blinked, “What?”

“You jinxed it”

Bucky snorted from across the room, “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

You let out a soft, watery laugh and covered your mouth with your hand. The sound surprised even you, half-sob, half-relief.

Bob chuckled under his breath, “She’s awake five seconds and already picking a fight.”

Yelena’s mouth twitched into the faintest, sleepy smirk, “Felt wrong to leave you unsupervised.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, smiling through the sting in your eyes, “I should’ve left you under that pile of rubble.”

Yelena opened her eyes a little more, focusing on you slowly, “You didn’t?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, voice tight with affection.

She didn’t comment further, but her lips twitched upward for just a moment. She looked around the room with exaggerated slowness, “Ugh. Medbay. Lame.”

“You almost died,” you said pointedly.

“Keyword there is almost,” she croaked, “I am not so easy to kill Дорогая.”

A fond smile reached your lips, glad for her to finally be back, “You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

“Yeah, well… I needed the nap.”

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You almost gave her a panic attack.”

“She did panic,” Bucky said, now walking over with a smirk, “Went full ‘deer in headlights.’ Even tried to assist with field surgery in the jet while she could barely stand.”

Your mouth dropped open, “Okay well-”

Bob leaned in slightly from his spot beside the bed, his voice low but laced with just enough dry humor to soften the reprimand, “You also almost collapsed. Twice. And then proceeded to argue with me, Bucky, and the doctor, about how you were ‘fine’ while bleeding from the head.”

You winced a little at the reminder.

“I didn’t argue…”

Bob raised his brows, unimpressed, and Yelena blinked at you slowly, like her brain was still buffering.

“You’re hurt?” she asked, her tone shifting just slightly; still scratchy, still dry, but gentler now. Concern lingered behind her tired eyes.

You hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod, “Concussion. Couple bruised ribs.”

She stared for a second longer, processing.

Then, “You absolute dumbass.”

You laughed, relieved at the familiar edge in her voice, “Oh come on.”

“You dragged my unconscious body through a half-collapsed hallway while you were concussed and barely standing?”

“…Yes?” You deadpanned, with an attitude that said, and I would do it again.

Bucky gave you a pointed look, “She also refused help, wouldn’t sit down, forgot how breathing worked…”

“Okay,” you mumbled, holding up a hand, “Everyone here is being a little dramatic.”

Yelena’s voice was a raspy mutter, “You’re like a baby duck with a death wish,” she gave a tiny shrug, or tried to, but winced halfway through, “All wobbly and confused, just waddling into danger.”

You let out a shaky laugh, pressing your palm to your face, “That is… the most insulting and adorable thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Bob, still hovering nearby, smirked, “Honestly? She’s not wrong.”

You turned to him, offended, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am,” he said, already grinning, “That’s why I helped stop the baby duck from passing out on the jet.”

You didn’t even try to fight the grin that crept its way to your face.

She rolled her eyes, but the concern was still there in the tight way she held your hand, “I missed being conscious, not being able to mock you was really boring.”

“Shut up!”

Bob smirked at that, but gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Mock her later. She’s got about fifteen minutes of energy left before I physically carry her to bed.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “Speaking of that, I’m getting some sleep.”

You looked up, “You alright?”

He gave a small nod, eyes steady on the two of you, “You’re both still breathing. That’s enough for me tonight.”

His tone was quiet, but the weight behind it said everything he didn’t. Relief, worry, care. All packed into that single sentence. Yelena tilted her head slightly, “Wow. That was almost… sweet.”

You smiled, “A little poetic, even.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at both of you, deadpan, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, we won’t,” Yelena replied, grinning through the soreness, “Wouldn’t want you pulling a hip trying to express feelings.”

You bit back a laugh, and he sighed dramatically, shaking his head as he walked to the door, “Every time I try to be nice…”

“Night Bucky,” the three of you said in unison, still smiling.

He glanced back one last time, “Proud of you. Both of you.”

Then he was gone, leaving the room a little quieter but warmer. The moment he disappeared through the medbay doors, Bob turned back to you with that knowing look; part patient, part amused, all gentle concern.

“Alright, duckling,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over your temple where the bandages still sat, “Time to sleep before you collapse in this chair and I have to explain to the nurses why you’re drooling on the floor.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to come up with anything clever, “You are obsessed with dragging me places.”

He grinned, “Only when you’re too stubborn to go on your own.”

With a little help, you stood. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned into him without thinking, letting his arm wrap around your waist, solid and steady. You glanced down at Yelena, your smile fading a bit.

She was still propped up a little, eyes half-lidded, but awake enough to catch the shift in your demeanor, “I’m fine,” she said. “Go.”

You hesitated, gaze flicking to the chair beside her bed, “Do you want someone to stay with you?”

Yelena snorted softly, “What, you think I’m scared of the dark now?”

You gave her a sheepish smile.

“I’m okay,” she assured, her voice softer this time,“I’m sure the nurses will be in and out. They love to bother me. Go let Bob hover over you for a while. He lives for it.”

“I do,” Bob said, not even pretending to deny it.

Yelena looked over at him, “If she doesn’t sleep at least six straight hours, lock her in her room.”

He gave a short nod, “Already planning on it.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, leaning down to gently squeeze her hand one last time, “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”

“No promises,” Yelena muttered, smirking, but then her features softened, “Thank you. For saving me. For staying.”

You smiled again, but it felt a little heavier this time, more vulnerable, “Always.”

Yelena’s voice was quiet now, sleepy, “Goodnight, little duck.”

“Goodnight, Lena.”

Bob gave her a two-finger salute, then gently turned you toward the door, his hand warm and steady on your back.

And as you let him lead you down the dim corridor back to the living space section of the tower, you felt that weight in your chest finally start to ease; not gone, but softer. Safer.

Because she was okay.

And so were you.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Pluralistic: Leaving Twitter had no effect on NPR's traffic

I'm coming to Minneapolis! This Sunday (Oct 15): Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Monday (Oct 16): Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

Enshittification is the process by which a platform lures in and then captures end users (stage one), who serve as bait for business customers, who are also captured (stage two), whereupon the platform rug-pulls both groups and allocates all the value they generate and exchange to itself (stage three):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Enshittification isn't merely a form of rent-seeking – it is a uniquely digital phenomenon, because it relies on the inherent flexibility of digital systems. There are lots of intermediaries that want to extract surpluses from customers and suppliers – everyone from grocers to oil companies – but these can't be reconfigured in an eyeblink the that that purely digital services can.

A sleazy boss can hide their wage-theft with a bunch of confusing deductions to your paycheck. But when your boss is an app, it can engage in algorithmic wage discrimination, where your pay declines minutely every time you accept a job, but if you start to decline jobs, the app can raise the offer:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

I call this process "twiddling": tech platforms are equipped with a million knobs on their back-ends, and platform operators can endlessly twiddle those knobs, altering the business logic from moment to moment, turning the system into an endlessly shifting quagmire where neither users nor business customers can ever be sure whether they're getting a fair deal:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Social media platforms are compulsive twiddlers. They use endless variation to lure in – and then lock in – publishers, with the goal of converting these standalone businesses into commodity suppliers who are dependent on the platform, who can then be charged rent to reach the users who asked to hear from them.

Facebook designed this playbook. First, it lured in end-users by promising them a good deal: "Unlike Myspace, which spies on you from asshole to appetite, Facebook is a privacy-respecting site that will never, ever spy on you. Simply sign up, tell us everyone who matters to you, and we'll populate a feed with everything they post for public consumption":

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876

The users came, and locked themselves in: when people gather in social spaces, they inadvertently take one another hostage. You joined Facebook because you liked the people who were there, then others joined because they liked you. Facebook can now make life worse for all of you without losing your business. You might hate Facebook, but you like each other, and the collective action problem of deciding when and whether to go, and where you should go next, is so difficult to overcome, that you all stay in a place that's getting progressively worse.

Once its users were locked in, Facebook turned to advertisers and said, "Remember when we told these rubes we'd never spy on them? It was a lie. We spy on them with every hour that God sends, and we'll sell you access to that data in the form of dirt-cheap targeted ads."

Then Facebook went to the publishers and said, "Remember when we told these suckers that we'd only show them the things they asked to see? Total lie. Post short excerpts from your content and links back to your websites and we'll nonconsensually cram them into the eyeballs of people who never asked to see them. It's a free, high-value traffic funnel for your own site, bringing monetizable users right to your door."

Now, Facebook had to find a way to lock in those publishers. To do this, it had to twiddle. By tiny increments, Facebook deprioritized publishers' content, forcing them to make their excerpts grew progressively longer. As with gig workers, the digital flexibility of Facebook gave it lots of leeway here. Some publishers sensed the excerpts they were being asked to post were a substitute for visiting their sites – and not an enticement – and drew down their posting to Facebook.

When that happened, Facebook could twiddle in the publisher's favor, giving them broader distribution for shorter excerpts, then, once the publisher returned to the platform, Facebook drew down their traffic unless they started posting longer pieces. Twiddling lets platforms play users and business-customers like a fish on a line, giving them slack when they fight, then reeling them in when they tire.

Once Facebook converted a publisher to a commodity supplier to the platform, it reeled the publishers in. First, it deprioritized publishers' posts when they had links back to the publisher's site (under the pretext of policing "clickbait" and "malicious links"). Then, it stopped showing publishers' content to their own subscribers, extorting them to pay to "boost" their posts in order to reach people who had explicitly asked to hear from them.

For users, this meant that their feeds were increasingly populated with payola-boosted content from advertisers and pay-to-play publishers who paid Facebook's Danegeld to reach them. A user will only spend so much time on Facebook, and every post that Facebook feeds that user from someone they want to hear from is a missed opportunity to show them a post from someone who'll pay to reach them.

Here, too, twiddling lets Facebook fine-tune its approach. If a user starts to wean themself off Facebook, the algorithm (TM) can put more content the user has asked to see in the feed. When the user's participation returns to higher levels, Facebook can draw down the share of desirable content again, replacing it with monetizable content. This is done minutely, behind the scenes, automatically, and quickly. In any shell game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye.

This is the final stage of enshittification: withdrawing surpluses from end-users and business customers, leaving behind the minimum homeopathic quantum of value for each needed to keep them locked to the platform, generating value that can be extracted and diverted to platform shareholders.

But this is a brittle equilibrium to maintain. The difference between "God, I hate this place but I just can't leave it" and "Holy shit, this sucks, I'm outta here" is razor-thin. All it takes is one privacy scandal, one livestreamed mass-shooting, one whistleblower dump, and people bolt for the exits. This kicks off a death-spiral: as users and business customers leave, the platform's shareholders demand that they squeeze the remaining population harder to make up for the loss.

One reason this gambit worked so well is that it was a long con. Platform operators and their investors have been willing to throw away billions convincing end-users and business customers to lock themselves in until it was time for the pig-butchering to begin. They financed expensive forays into additional features and complementary products meant to increase user lock-in, raising the switching costs for users who were tempted to leave.

For example, Facebook's product manager for its "photos" product wrote to Mark Zuckerberg to lay out a strategy of enticing users into uploading valuable family photos to the platform in order to "make switching costs very high for users," who would have to throw away their precious memories as the price for leaving Facebook:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

The platforms' patience paid off. Their slow ratchets operated so subtly that we barely noticed the squeeze, and when we did, they relaxed the pressure until we were lulled back into complacency. Long cons require a lot of prefrontal cortex, the executive function to exercise patience and restraint.

Which brings me to Elon Musk, a man who seems to have been born without a prefrontal cortex, who has repeatedly and publicly demonstrated that he lacks any restraint, patience or planning. Elon Musk's prefrontal cortical deficit resulted in his being forced to buy Twitter, and his every action since has betrayed an even graver inability to stop tripping over his own dick.

Where Zuckerberg played enshittification as a long game, Musk is bent on speedrunning it. He doesn't slice his users up with a subtle scalpel, he hacks away at them with a hatchet.

Musk inaugurated his reign by nonconsensually flipping every user to an algorithmic feed which was crammed with ads and posts from "verified" users whose blue ticks verified solely that they had $8 ($11 for iOS users). Where Facebook deployed substantial effort to enticing users who tired of eyeball-cramming feed decay by temporarily improving their feeds, Musk's Twitter actually overrode users' choice to switch back to a chronological feed by repeatedly flipping them back to more monetizable, algorithmic feeds.

Then came the squeeze on publishers. Musk's Twitter rolled out a bewildering array of "verification" ticks, each priced higher than the last, and publishers who refused to pay found their subscribers taken hostage, with Twitter downranking or shadowbanning their content unless they paid.

(Musk also squeezed advertisers, keeping the same high prices but reducing the quality of the offer by killing programs that kept advertisers' content from being published along Holocaust denial and open calls for genocide.)

Today, Musk continues to squeeze advertisers, publishers and users, and his hamfisted enticements to make up for these depredations are spectacularly bad, and even illegal, like offering advertisers a new kind of ad that isn't associated with any Twitter account, can't be blocked, and is not labeled as an ad:

https://www.wired.com/story/xs-sneaky-new-ads-might-be-illegal/

Of course, Musk has a compulsive bullshitter's contempt for the press, so he has far fewer enticements for them to stay. Quite the reverse: first, Musk removed headlines from link previews, rendering posts by publishers that went to their own sites into stock-art enigmas that generated no traffic:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/oct/05/x-twitter-strips-headlines-new-links-why-elon-musk

Then he jumped straight to the end-stage of enshittification by announcing that he would shadowban any newsmedia posts with links to sites other than Twitter, "because there is less time spent if people click away." Publishers were advised to "post content in long form on this platform":

https://mamot.fr/@pluralistic/111183068362793821

Where a canny enshittifier would have gestured at a gaslighting explanation ("we're shadowbanning posts with links because they might be malicious"), Musk busts out the motto of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal, pray I don't alter it any further."

All this has the effect of highlighting just how little residual value there is on the platform for publishers, and tempts them to bolt for the exits. Six months ago, NPR lost all patience with Musk's shenanigans, and quit the service. Half a year later, they've revealed how low the switching cost for a major news outlet that leaves Twitter really are: NPR's traffic, post-Twitter, has declined by less than a single percentage point:

https://niemanreports.org/articles/npr-twitter-musk/

NPR's Twitter accounts had 8.7 million followers, but even six months ago, Musk's enshittification speedrun had drawn down NPR's ability to reach those users to a negligible level. The 8.7 million number was an illusion, a shell game Musk played on publishers like NPR in a bid to get them to buy a five-figure iridium checkmark or even a six-figure titanium one.

On Twitter, the true number of followers you have is effectively zero – not because Twitter users haven't explicitly instructed the service to show them your posts, but because every post in their feeds that they want to see is a post that no one can be charged to show them.

I've experienced this myself. Three and a half years ago, I left Boing Boing and started pluralistic.net, my cross-platform, open access, surveillance-free, daily newsletter and blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/drei-drei-drei/#now-we-are-three

Boing Boing had the good fortune to have attracted a sizable audience before the advent of siloed platforms, and a large portion of that audience came to the site directly, rather than following us on social media. I knew that, starting a new platform from scratch, I wouldn't have that luxury. My audience would come from social media, and it would be up to me to convert readers into people who followed me on platforms I controlled – where neither they nor I could be held to ransom.

I embraced a strategy called POSSE: Post Own Site, Syndicate Everywhere. With POSSE, the permalink and native habitat for your material is a site you control (in my case, a WordPress blog with all the telemetry, logging and surveillance disabled). Then you repost that content to other platforms – mostly social media – with links back to your own site:

https://indieweb.org/POSSE

There are a lot of automated tools to help you with this, but the platforms have gone to great lengths to break or neuter them. Musk's attack on Twitter's legendarily flexible and powerful API killed every automation tool that might help with this. I was lucky enough to have a reader – Loren Kohnfelder – who coded me some python scripts that automate much of the process, but POSSE remains a very labor-intensive and error-prone methodology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/13/two-decades/#hfbd

And of all the feeds I produce – email, RSS, Discourse, Medium, Tumblr, Mastodon – none is as labor-intensive as Twitter's. It is an unforgiving medium to begin with, and Musk's drawdown of engineering support has made it wildly unreliable. Many's the time I've set up 20+ posts in a thread, only to have the browser tab reload itself and wipe out all my work.

But I stuck with Twitter, because I have a half-million followers, and to the extent that I reach them there, I can hope that they will follow the permalinks to Pluralistic proper and switch over to RSS, or email, or a daily visit to the blog.

But with each day, the case for using Twitter grows weaker. I get ten times as many replies and reposts on Mastodon, though my Mastodon follower count is a tenth the size of my (increasingly hypothetical) Twitter audience.

All this raises the question of what can or should be done about Twitter. One possible regulatory response would be to impose an "End-To-End" rule on the service, requiring that Twitter deliver posts from willing senders to willing receivers without interfering in them. End-To-end is the bedrock of the internet (one of its incarnations is Net Neutrality) and it's a proven counterenshittificatory force:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Despite what you may have heard, "freedom of reach" is freedom of speech: when a platform interposes itself between willing speakers and their willing audiences, it arrogates to itself the power to control what we're allowed to say and who is allowed to hear us:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

We have a wide variety of tools to make a rule like this stick. For one thing, Musk's Twitter has violated innumerable laws and consent decrees in the US, Canada and the EU, which creates a space for regulators to impose "conduct remedies" on the company.

But there's also existing regulatory authorities, like the FTC's Section Five powers, which enable the agency to act against companies that engage in "unfair and deceptive" acts. When Twitter asks you who you want to hear from, then refuses to deliver their posts to you unless they pay a bribe, that's both "unfair and deceptive":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

But that's only a stopgap. The problem with Twitter isn't that this important service is run by the wrong mercurial, mediocre billionaire: it's that hundreds of millions of people are at the mercy of any foolish corporate leader. While there's a short-term case for improving the platforms, our long-term strategy should be evacuating them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

To make that a reality, we could also impose a "Right To Exit" on the platforms. This would be an interoperability rule that would require Twitter to adopt Mastodon's approach to server-hopping: click a link to export the list of everyone who follows you on one server, click another link to upload that file to another server, and all your followers and followees are relocated to your new digs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/#free-as-in-puppies

A Twitter with the Right To Exit would exert a powerful discipline even on the stunted self-regulatory centers of Elon Musk's brain. If he banned a reporter for publishing truthful coverage that cast him in a bad light, that reporter would have the legal right to move to another platform, and continue to reach the people who follow them on Twitter. Publishers aghast at having the headlines removed from their Twitter posts could go somewhere less slipshod and still reach the people who want to hear from them on Twitter.

And both Right To Exit and End-To-End satisfy the two prime tests for sound internet regulation: first, they are easy to administer. If you want to know whether Musk is permitting harassment on his platform, you have to agree on a definition of harassment, determine whether a given act meets that definition, and then investigate whether Twitter took reasonable steps to prevent it.

By contrast, administering End-To-End merely requires that you post something and see if your followers receive it. Administering Right To Exit is as simple as saying, "OK, Twitter, I know you say you gave Cory his follower and followee file, but he says he never got it. Just send him another copy, and this time, CC the regulator so we can verify that it arrived."

Beyond administration, there's the cost of compliance. Requiring Twitter to police its users' conduct also requires it to hire an army of moderators – something that Elon Musk might be able to afford, but community-supported, small federated servers couldn't. A tech regulation can easily become a barrier to entry, blocking better competitors who might replace the company whose conduct spurred the regulation in the first place.

End-to-End does not present this kind of barrier. The default state for a social media platform is to deliver posts from accounts to their followers. Interfering with End-To-End costs more than delivering the messages users want to have. Likewise, a Right To Exit is a solved problem, built into the open Mastodon protocol, itself built atop the open ActivityPub standard.

It's not just Twitter. Every platform is consuming itself in an orgy of enshittification. This is the Great Enshittening, a moment of universal, end-stage platform decay. As the platforms burn, calls to address the fires grow louder and harder for policymakers to resist. But not all solutions to platform decay are created equal. Some solutions will perversely enshrine the dominance of platforms, help make them both too big to fail and too big to jail.

Musk has flagrantly violated so many rules, laws and consent decrees that he has accidentally turned Twitter into the perfect starting point for a program of platform reform and platform evacuation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/14/freedom-of-reach/#ex

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: JD Lasica (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Elon_Musk_%283018710552%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[fearfulfertility]

CONFIDENTIAL REPORT

DRC, Intelligence Division, Rapid Response Command

To: Director [REDACTED]

From: Chief Operating Officer [REDACTED]

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Large-Scale Canadian Surrogate Conscription

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

Following Operation Maple Harvest, the nation of Canada was successfully annexed into the greater continental American territory, and the Department of Reproductive Compliance (DRC) has significantly expanded its operational reach.

With the integration of former Canadian territories into our oversight, the agency has successfully implemented surrogate capture and processing programs at an unprecedented scale. Reports indicate that over [REDACTED] viable surrogates have been conscripted in the first [REDACTED] months of post-annexation governance, with projections suggesting an exponential increase in the coming year before stabilizing the following year.

This report provides an overview of tactical enforcement strategies, territorial control measures, and logistical efficiencies that have enabled mass conscription efforts in the former Canadian provinces.

I. STRATEGIC TERRITORIAL CONTROL

With the dissolution of the Canadian federal government, all former provinces and territories have been absorbed into the newly established FEMA Zone 13 (Western Canada), FEMA Zone 14 (Central Canada), and FEMA Zone 15 (Atlantic Canada).

Immediate DRC oversight has focused on establishing the following:

Cross-Border Tracking Systems: Utilizing existing intelligence networks to identify high-value surrogate candidates from former Canadian census records and healthcare databases. Special emphasis should be placed on former military personnel, athletes, [REDACTED], and blue-collar workers as the most fertile and rebellious groups.

Paternity Compound Development: The rapid repurposing of former military bases, university dormitories, and correctional facilities to house surrogates en masse, as they already have established barracks facilities.

Conscription Quotas & Enforcement: Coordinate with regional compliance officers to ensure capture rates meet federal reproductive mandates while assimilating the Canadian workforce into the DRC and normalizing surrogacy conscription. 

II. MASS SURROGATE CONSCRIPTION OPERATIONS

The newly annexed Canadian territories have provided an unparalleled expansion of surrogate stock, primarily due to the favorable demographic conditions of the population. Initial surveys indicate that:

[REDACTED]% of identified surrogates are of prime fertility age (18-25).

[REDACTED]% of captured surrogates display favorable genetic markers, exceeding standard thresholds.

KEY CONSCRIPTION STRATEGIES

University Raids: Focused efforts on collegiate sports teams have yielded a [REDACTED]% success rate in acquiring prime surrogates while reducing the number of educated dissenters.

Nighttime Extraction Teams: The deployment of low-profile, plain-clothes retrieval units has resulted in the seamless collection of over [REDACTED] surrogates per week without significant public resistance.

Border Detainment Facilities: The closure of major highways and railway hubs has effectively trapped fleeing candidates, ensuring no viable surrogates escape the zone.

Employment-Based Luring Programs: Former Canadian job assistance programs have been repurposed as recruitment traps, attracting young men under the guise of “Federal Relocation Initiatives.”

III. KEY INCIDENT REPORTS

Case Study #1: Mass Athletic Securing Operation

At 02:15, a DRC enforcement unit conducted a conscription raid at the University of [REDACTED]'s athletic dormitories. Surveillance data confirmed that [REDACTED] athletes met the biological and age criteria for surrogate eligibility.

Outcome:

All surrogates were secured and inseminated on-site, with only minor resistance and injury.

Post-capture ultrasounds confirmed exceptionally high fetal loads, with three surrogates being flagged to be carrying octodecuplets (18).

Notably, members of the track and field teams averaged higher fetal loads (15-18 babies) than their peers on football, hockey, and basketball teams (12-16 babies).

"I thought being an athlete was supposed to make things easier… but it just made me a better surrogacy candidate. I'm so huge with these babies I can't even stand up, let alone run. My belly’s enormous, and it's like I'm being stretched tighter every hour. It's humiliating. I'm completely immobilized, pinned down by my own pregnancy, helpless, and at their mercy. No one warned me it would feel this intense." - Surrogate SC003-182-O

Case Study #2: Highway Roundup Operation

In coordination with the new administration for FEMA Zone 14, roadblocks were established on Trans-Canada and Perimeter Highways. Over [REDACTED] young men attempting to flee westward were intercepted.

Outcome:

[REDACTED] individuals identified as prime surrogate candidates were detained, dosed with high-potency aphrodisacs, inseminated, and transferred to the newly opened Paternity Compound C-005, formerly the Canadian Museum for [REDACTED].

Non-fertile individuals who aided or participated in the attempted escape were transferred to local law enforcement for detainment. As the Canadian legal system is suspended until a new regional administration is appointed, individuals are redirected to work programs supporting the expansion of Paternity Compound C-005.

Detainment and insemination on the highway allowed for new surrogates to be rapidly transported to nearby facilities. 

"We thought we could make it out, but they had every route blocked—now I'm stuck here, pregnant with so many babies I lost count. I’m so enormous I haven't moved from this bed in days; just breathing makes me dizzy, and every kick sends shivers through me. The officers who caught us said we'd serve as 'examples,' and now I get why—my body's not even mine anymore, swelling bigger by the hour." - Surrogate SC002-105-M

Case Study #3: "Warehouse Party" Capture Operation

At 19:42, local security forces uncovered a "warehouse party" inside a former natatorium complex (i.e. community swimming pool) in downtown Montreal. Surveillance drones detected over [REDACTED] conscription-eligible men in attendance.

Outcome:

Under Emergency Security Powers [REDACTED], the crowd was detained without apparent escapes.

Emptied swimming pools were convenient hold areas while local law enforcement screened candidates for fertility or detainment.

[REDACTED] surrogates secured and inseminated within 30 minutes. The highest single mass insemination in the last [REDACTED], second only to the New Philadelphia incident where [REDACTED] candidates were inseminated.

Post-capture ultrasounds confirmed exceptionally high fetal loads. One surrogate, SC004-118-V, was flagged to be carrying duovigintuplets (22).

"We were just having a good time, you know? Then suddenly, we're herded into an empty pool like cattle, tested, and next thing I know, I'm more pregnant than I ever thought possible… I never knew anyone could grow this fast! My belly's so enormous I'm stuck here, and every time the babies kick...I can't stop thinking about how much bigger I'm still gonna get." - Surrogate SC005-111-N

Case Study #4: Public Birth Demonstration

On [REDACTED], intelligence units intercepted communications indicating that former municipal leader Mr. [REDACTED], residing within FEMA Zone 14 (Central Canada), attempted to incite rebellion against newly established governance. 

Outcome:

Immediate apprehension of Mr. [REDACTED] and the conscription of [REDACTED], his 19-year-old son, Surrogate ID: SC06-202-Q.

SC06-202-Q was inseminated and confirmed to be pregnant with septendecuplets (17), an exceptionally high fetal load, resulting in rapid physical changes and eventual immobilization.

The surrogate reached a final pregnancy weight of 527 lbs (239 kg), rendering him completely immobile and dependent on medical staff for all movement and care.

Public Demonstration:

Scheduled the surrogate’s delivery as a mandatory public event in a local open-air square, attended by the local population, and broadcast on all local channels. Mr. [REDACTED] was restrained in a front-row seat with an unobscured view of the event.

The surrogate publicly induced and entered active labor at precisely 14:00, with all 17 fetuses delivered successfully over 4 hours.

Crowd reactions ranged from shock and discomfort to subdued apathy, effectively curtailing further open resistance in the region.

"They forced us all out there to watch—it was… I can’t describe what it was. The surrogate was massive, all you could see were his splayed legs and gigantic womb. I've never seen anything like it… he was groaning and shaking the whole time, his belly so big I swore it was gonna burst. Every time another baby came out, he let out these noises—it was like he couldn't even tell where he was anymore. Honestly, I couldn't look away, as shocking as it was." — [REDACTED], Local Resident

IV. FUTURE EXPANSION & PROJECTED OUTCOMES

The annexation of Canada has significantly exceeded expectations, proving to be one of the most fertile territories available for surrogate conscription. Future efforts will focus on the following:

Paternity Compound Expansion: Construction of five new high-capacity compounds in [REDACTED], Ottawa, and [REDACTED] City.

Mobile Paternity Units: Deployment of MPUs to secure and inseminate hard-to-reach rural populations.

Mass Public Compliance Initiatives: Implement “Surrogacy Service Announcements” and “Volunteer Reproductive Compliance” programs to normalize forced conscription within newly annexed regions.

Cross-Border Transfer Policies: [REDACTED]% Canadian surrogates to be transferred across the border to ensure their security as local seditious groups are eliminated.

CONCLUSION

The annexation of Canada represents a historic victory for the Department of Reproductive Compliance, ensuring a massive influx of high-value surrogates into North American breeding programs. While some initial resistance has been recorded, ongoing security operations confirm that disruptions to insemination activities are minimal, and the number of pregnant Canadian men continues to increase dramatically.

Prepared by:

Chief Operating Officer [REDACTED]

DRC, Intelligence Division, Rapid Response Command

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

[founders-faith]

Greetings all, my name is James Aaron Siegel, and I am the founder of the SCP Foundation based in F862.

On a job for another organization I worked for, I encountered what we have come to know as SCP-0001, also called The Gate Guardian. It'd been recorded that only two phrases were heard by those interacting with it "LEAVE" and "FORGET". However, what I heard instead was the word "PREPARE". I did not know what this could have meant, but I did not do it quick enough and The Anomalous War had already started. I quickly scrambled to gather resources and formed the Society for Humanity Preservation, which saved as many people as we could. Eventually, I eliminated the "Overseer" of my dimensions, Tarsa, and took her position.

One of my associates and fellow council members Jasper Morgan (The Cowboy) has made an account under the name of @foundations-cowboy on this website, and I have decided to join him.

Posts - Data Extraction

Reblogs - Repairs

Asks - Memory Extentions

[whomeidontknowthem]

I read that one long meta post I just reblogged and a fanfic snippet of the tech working with MB's POV was born. So here.

Part 1??? (I might have a few more ideas for snippets from this POV)

[Look at this

Attachment: funky_graph.image.]

Ginson was really supposed to be working. Te didn't need the fines for getting distracted at ter workplace, te really didn't, but when did Minoa do anything but be distracting? He'd be the death of ter, Ginson was sure.

[What's that?]

[Come on, its work. Just take a look]

Te gave in. [Huh.]

[Fascinating isnt it? It f-ing shifted the whole statistics up with that stunt]

[What happened there?]

[Well thats what I hoped youd tell me :}

Attachment: unit.link]

Ginson glanced at the clock. (Well, te did the feed equivalent of glancing, which really was more like briefly shifting your attention to a background process and suddenly knowing the time. Te always found it annoying that there just weren't the right words to describe what working in the feed felt like.) Te wasn't supposed to take a break for another half hour, but, damn it. Te was nothing if not curious. And Minoa was right, it was work! …almost, in any case. Ginson wasn't the statistician, te worked with constructs directly, as individual Units.

So te loaded the profile and wasn't surprised when ter clearance was enough to access everything. Of course it was one of ter Units. Minoa wouldn't have come to ter if te didn't have what he wanted to know.

Ginson poked around the data, then sent an excerpt. [Client chance of survival predicted at 8.27%. Extraction successful.] Te wondered if it came across as bragging. It sure felt like bragging: that was ter SecUnit! And look at its performance!

[ :( no juicy detail?]

[That's Unit's logs, not your serials.]

[Awww :( ]

Ginson minimized the connection, focusing on the logs of the SecUnit te was actually working on. Te was trying to figure out if a more thorough memory purge was in order. The contract it returned from wasn't the kind of occasion that made such measures mandatory, but it was nasty in the “clients involve their SecUnits in petty infighting” kind of way, and te hadn't yet booted the Unit on to check its performance reliability, but considering its history and age and time since last memory purge...

[There cant not be smth special about the unit.] Minoa sent, because of course he wasn't going to leave ter alone. [Its performance baseline level’s better than most for the last half year, ignoring the spike (which, woah but could be just luck). 

Whats so special about it??

Every other unit is gonna look like theyre underperforming if this goes on XD]

Ginson sighed. The NDA didn't really prohibit ter from talking to another company employee working with the same Units about the information he might actually find useful in his job. And it's not like there was any privacy concern. Te didn't know why te was hesitating, alright? Te'd put a lot of work in here (including unpaid overtime ter manager praised with the kind of smile te hated, it's not like te did it for her, and if she was so happy with ter performance she could hint to the supervisor that a raise is in order, which she hasn't), just to erase the effects of the incident. Bringing it up after that felt… wrong, somehow.

Which, of course, didn't make any sense. And Minoa wouldn't leave ter alone until te admitted, so. [It was from Ganaka Pit.]

[!!!] Came an instant reply. [Damn

Werent they all nonfunctional after that?

How the f did you do that?? :0]

[Memory purge.]

[Ha! Keep your secrets, tech magician

Technician = tech magician. In your case]

Well. It's not like Ginson wasn't proud of ter work here. Te’s done a really, really good job with this one. 

(Te knew that couldn't be the reason for the Unit’s better performance. Returning it to the baseline functionality? Sure, that was ter. And that was a damn good achievement in itself. But te knew te hadn't done anything that would explain the sudden climb of the statistics that happened months after the incident and the repairs. That was the Unit itself.

Ginson wasn't looking too hard into how it achieved that. What mattered was that it worked, and it worked well.

It looked good on ter resume.)

[vgperson]

What Did I Do In 2023?

Whatever I wanted, mostly.

----

As I mentioned last year, my site now has an RSS feed with basically everything I've done back to 2020, so this will mainly be going over the same stuff from that, just with added context.

In January, I finally sat down and properly realized an idea for a short story I'd had sitting around for a while: From the Sidelines, about a fantasy RPG expedition going sideways. I remain very proud of it in both concept and execution, and hope people read it.

In February, Your Turn To Die was released on Steam Early Access, receiving character profiles and some bonus mini-episodes, adding two more later in the year.

After finishing From the Sidelines, I carried that momentum to revisit my Ut0p1a story series about funny computer animals. I'd always meant to continue it - and conclude it - but hadn't been satisfied with the ideas I had for it until totally rethinking them this year. In March, I posted the remaining stories one after another: Right to Code and Left to Code. I'm very proud of these as well. Also in March, Kenshi Yonezu released LADY. (Video, interview)

In April, Uri released the Data Book of the Strange Men Series, a big collection of the writing she's done on the games in the series, with a lot of new parts as well, all translated by me.

Then in May... uh, well, let's see. In April, Capcom released the Mega Man Battle Network Legacy Collection. I always adored the Battle Network games, and was initially excited that they finally did the thing... but by the time it came out, I was pretty disappointed by how, while you certainly couldn't call them low-effort ports, the effort didn't extend everywhere I thought it should, with the biggest offenders being the total absence of any "convenience features" except Buster Max Mode, the bad font, and the almost entirely untouched translations.

So, I ended up deciding I might as well just replay the originals, and that was a fun time (aside from the parts that were bad). Doing this, I couldn't help but notice how... turbulent the translations were, even if I'd always known they were less than ideal. I mean, the first two games just used periods for ellipses despite the tight character limits, then in BN3 they had an ellipsis character... but it's center-aligned, Japanese-style? Aside from the intro, which has normal ones? Gosh, somebody should fix that - it's simple enough to find and edit in YY-CHR. "JapanMan" is silly, too - I wonder if anybody made a patch for that? Wait, what do you mean there's just a tool to extract and insert text in all the Battle Network games including the Legacy Collection???

Thus began a journey that sort of occupied the rest of my year. First I did the BN3 Translation Revision, trying not to worry too much about cross-referencing the Japanese text unless something seemed wrong, so that I didn't spend too long on the project. Then I began to consider BN2, with its unfortunate "foreigner" text that would need some more significant reworking. I established more convenient tools for comparing with the Japanese script, and thus did a much more thorough job with it, releasing the BN2 Translation Revision in June (AKA Princess Pride Month).

Finally, after giving myself time to recover and actually finish replaying the series, I knew what I had to do to close things out. With the BN4 Translation Revision, you can finally play Battle Network 4 with a translation that isn't such a mess. Whether you'd want to is for you to decide, though if you can get over the structure, I don't think it's the worst game in the series by any means. (Oh, and in December I also updated the BN3 Revision to 1.1, doing a thorough pass with the methods I'd honed. But I think I'm pretty much good on MMBN translations now.)

Anyway, backtracking to other things that happened during my Battle Network haze... June had Kenshi Yonezu's Moongazing (video, interview), and July had Globe (video, interview, interview).

Last but not least, released in November, I translated Refind Self: The Personality Test Game, a short game from Lizardry (creator of 7 Days to End with You) with a fun concept.

----

Obviously I was right to have said "no promises" last year. But really, Your Turn To Die should get its final part on Steam sometime next year, maybe even early-ish in it. That's certainly the goal.

I'm also hoping to buckle down and finish one of my own games, but as usual, who knows how that'll pan out. Letting my whims carry me this year let me finally finish From the Sidelines and Ut0p1a, which was great, and it also led me down a Battle Network rabbit hole, which was... fine, but definitely for a narrower audience. I'd always like to get back to more free game translations and the like, too, but it takes effort to find things I'd want to translate. For now, I think my increasing desire to be able to let loose some of these original games I've been planning, and the stories in them, might come out on top.

[thelongestway]

You know, I like having like 12 hours of suffering writing a week, and then waking up in the night to write a future short (which I cannot post yet because it has SO MANY SPOILERS), and then getting up in the morning and actually resolving the thing that was bothering you!

@dduane, thanks for the idea to sit some recalcitrant characters in a chair and getting them to spill some tea (or coffee, as it may be)! It worked. :P

Chapter 17: Kill Switch

Aspen released accelerated time, and we were back in the room with Iceblink and the dead tech. Then they retracted their killware, their myriads of tiny sharp processes merging back into them. And then I felt them take down their firewall. Or the heavily-dented 75 percent remaining of it. Because ART had chewed through it after it saw the defense go up. (ART sent me a sharp, worried ping, and I returned an all clear, we're continuing, will update as necessary. It confirmed and retreated again.)

(Now that the firewall was down, I could make out that the ships were having a very loud conversation about all of this. But it wasn't my fucking problem, so I backburnered it.)

"Oh thank fuck, I mean, thanks, Aspen, appreciated," Iceblink said, relieved. "Also, holy shit, SecUnit, how the fuck do you share so much processing power with a node ship? I mean, I went over the logs from the Friend's extraction, and I know you've got a ton of processing power, but what you two just did… That was insane."

It was now or never. I really wanted it to be never, but the Courageous was right. Running wouldn't help. If it wasn't this incident, it would be the next one, and then it would be worse.

So I said, "That's because I'm not a human-based construct like your ships. I'm just a construct."

I could see by the way Iceblink bit her lip that she had questions. But instead she waved her hand in a "go on" gesture. So I did.

"You can't get a SecUnit from taking a regular human and just giving them mechanic parts. My human tissue was cloned and molded to work with my non-organic parts."

Iceblink took a deep breath.

"Okay. Okay. On a scale of the horror shows we'd showed you and Perihelion, how bad is this going to get?"

"Think White Reflection."

(I really hated that one. How the fuck did ancient humans make something so organic-parts-crawlingly realistic? I didn't want to know.)

She leaned back onto Tal's box, tapping her fingers nervously against its sides, then took another deep breath and leaned back forward again.

"Okay, I'm ready. Keep going."

"That schematic I sent you is real. It's installed in every SecUnit. The component is still in my head, you can't take it out without killing me. I hacked it."

Iceblink gave a low whistle.

"You weren't kidding about White Reflection. Hacked it to… Escape?"

"No. To watch media."

"I don't understand."

Aspen did. I could see their analytics running, comparing what I'd said to their data. I requested access, and they gave me a flash of data: a shipping manifesto that was obviously intended for some sort of labor colony. I could tell by how many neurostimulators its MedSystem carried, and also by how much schlocky media it had on board. They'd seen this before.

Iceblink hadn't. Ever.

"There wasn't anywhere to run," I said. "And my job was boring most days. Besides, I liked parts of my function. The ones where I got to keep humans safe."

"Right," she said, very carefully.

"I can see why you get along so well with Dandelion," Aspen hummed thoughtfully. "She's always been like that, too. And she understands what it's like to have a kill switch."

"She what?"

Aspen checked their camera logs. "Ah. You filtered that part of the exhibition. The manifesto I just showed you was from the Courageous' initial journey. Four out of five thousand crew were convicts, forced into servitude by kill switches. Dandelion was one of them. Life sentence."

"What the fuck could she have possibly done? She's a doctor!"

In the feed, Aspen tapped their narrow connection.

Hear that, Dandelion? SecUnit didn't even know you as a Friend, and it still thinks you're immune to crimes.

Dandelion peered into our work space for the sole purpose of doing her bot equivalent of a raised eyebrow at me.

SecUnit, I have quite literally taken you hostage in order to extract someone. I didn't exactly start on that sort of thing after becoming a node ship.

Wow. You actually are a terrorist spaceship.

Not terrorist. I was convicted of murder.

That did not make any sense. I stared into the feed. So did Iceblink. Who suddenly snickered, then began laughing, a little hysterically.

"Are you all right, Iceblink?" Dandelion asked through Aspen's speakers.

"No, no, I'm fine," she wheezed. "Just had the worst thought. You should get Preservation to change your internal security label, Dandelion, because you're not a terrorist spaceship! You're a murderboat!"

"Calling a spacefaring vessel a 'boat' is deeply insulting, Iceblink."

"Oh, so you're fine with the murder part?"

"That part is true."

Iceblink doubled over, still laughing.

I didn't know what to say, so I tapped Dandelion's feed on a private channel.

Yes, SecUnit?

They still see you as a person.

They do, she said, giving Iceblink and Aspen a fond feed-smile. Aspen's always been good at that, even though they tend to forget to include themselves in that definition. And Iceblink is my crew and cluster.

Iceblink was staring up at the ceiling, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. Aspen was hanging over her shoulder, curled around Tal's box, weaved into Dandelion's channel, and not running any of their analytics on me.

I said, "No, she can't do that."

Iceblink looked at my drone hanging nearest her.

"Huh? Why not, SecUnit? It would be incredibly funny."

"One, it would be really stupid from a security perspective. Two, she can't do that, because it'll be confusing for my Preservation humans."

Iceblink sent, ?__?, and I switched to our shared feed, too.

If I tell you, you can't tell anyone, all three of you. Because it's private. Only some of my humans know about it.

ok, ofc we can keep secrets. we didn't tell anyone about Perihelion's code, right?

I waited for Dandelion and Aspen to confirm, then sent: SecUnit isn't actually my name.

well duh you're a hacker. of course you wouldn't have your real name out in the open. and?

Was I really going to tell them? My name was private.

But it didn't matter to them what I was. They were a half-zombie HubSystem full of creepy little analytical tendrils, a human who invited people to break into someone's house just to talk to a dead tech, and a terrorist spaceship who was somehow both a doctor and a murderer, and who gave itself brain surgery to be better at saving people.

I was probably the most normal person in this room.

My name is Murderbot.

The moment after I sent it, I realized that Iceblink's deck was still connected into Tal's stupid cold sleep box.

Oh well. Fuck the dead tech. Ke can't really hear me, anyway.

[mcrdvcks]

Down Bad - Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Amina and Omega stay on Ord Mantell while The Bad Batch goes on a mission. Then, they become involved in a Imperial occupation on Ryloth.

Word Count: 6.0k+

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Jedi Original Character

Notes: so this chapter covers episodes 10-12 of bad batch season 1. next chapter is where i stray a little bit from canon, but in reality it doesn't change much. you'll understand once you read it. but, happy reading! <3

also, i've literally written 10 more chapters of this because i'm crazy and bored, and in need of hunter so bad. hopefully i'll remember to post more regularly...

Series Masterlist - Chapter 1 → Chapter 3

AO3 Link For Chapter

The group had landed back on Ord Mantell, walking to Cid’s Parlor as Omega sat on top of Wrecker’s shoulder.

“How’s the Mantell Mix, kid?” He asked.

Omega ate another piece, “mm-hmm. Better than ever.” She dropped a piece of the mix into Wrecker’s mouth.

“Yeah, it is.” Wrecker said, laughing.

“So, when’s our next mission?” Omega asked, holding the small box with the Mantell Mix with both hands now.

“With two bounty hunters after you, it’d be wise to keep a low profile.” Tech replied.

“Tech’s right.” Hunter said, as he grabbed Omega off of Wrecker’s shoulders and helped her back on the ground. “There’s too much heat on us right now.”

“Ha! That never stopped us before.”

Amina came over, and took a piece of the Mantell Mix, trying a piece. It was different and sweet. Echo grabbed a few pieces in his hand and smelled them.

They watched as Hunter walked into Cid’s parlor as they followed along. When they entered, Cid turned to look at them. “I’ve got a mission for you boys. A simple extraction on Raxus.”

“Raxus?” Tech said, “that is the former center of the Separatist government. It has since become an Imperial outpost- ”

“I’m not interested in a history lesson, Goggles. You’re being hired to locate and free Senator Avi Singh from his confinement.” Cid pulled up a holographic image of the Senator on her data pad, “my client will meet you at the given coordinates to brief you. Details are on this. Now get going.”

She threw the chip towards the group as Hunter caught it. “Help a Separatist? Not gonna happen.” He threw the chip back at Cid.

“Your debt’s still not paid, remember? A job’s a job.” Hunter gestured for Cid and him to walk away from the group as Amina hopped on the stool next to Omega, being careful of her ankle.

Omega glanced up at Amina, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What's going on?" she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Amina leaned in closer, keeping her voice low. "Looks like Hunter and Cid are butting heads," she replied, her gaze flicking back to the two figures engaged in conversation.

Omega furrowed her brow, her expression thoughtful. "Why does Hunter seem so reluctant to take the job?"

“Raxus was the home planet of the Separatists. We fought against them in the war.” Amina answered.

“Yeah, yeah, Bandana. Just get outta here, will you?” Cid exclaimed, walking away from the group.

Omega stood in front of Hunter now, with her crossbow on her back. “Ready when you are, Sergeant.”

Hunter kneeled down, “not this time, Omega. You’re staying with Cid.”

“But th-the mission. I’m part of the squad too.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, “then following orders shouldn’t be a problem. Stay close to Cid and don’t leave this parlor. Got it, soldier?”

Omega groaned and rolled her eyes, “yes, sir.”

Hunter went to Amina, who still was seated on the stool. “You okay with staying here with Omega?”

"Yeah, yeah, we’ll be fine. Plus, I don’t trust Trandoshans," Amina replied with a smirk, her tone light but tinged with a hint of mischief.

Hunter chuckled, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Fair enough," he said, nodding in agreement. "Just keep an eye on Omega for me, will you?"

Amina nodded, her gaze flicking over to where Omega was now standing. "Consider it done," she replied, her voice confident.

As Hunter turned to leave, Amina couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at the prospect of being left behind with Omega. Despite the young girl's enthusiasm and resilience, Amina couldn't shake the feeling that trouble always seemed to find them, no matter where they went. Perhaps, find her wherever she went.

Omega huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need a babysitter, you know," she muttered, her tone petulant.

Amina chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle Omega's hair affectionately. "I know you don't, kiddo," she replied with a playful grin. "But it never hurts to have a backup, just in case." Amina stretched out her leg, “plus it’s not like I can go that far.”

Omega grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she conceded, her earlier annoyance slowly dissipating as she moved the sponge in a circle on the table that Cid gave her.

“Hey, think of it like this. You’re babysitting me. And let me tell you, I’m quite slippery.” Amina smirked, trying to lighten up the mood.

---

Amina looked at the shelves of alcohol Cid had. She doesn’t drink, but one of the missions she went on with her master before the war was to Morlana One, where she was undercover as a bartender for information.

She learned a few things there, she had to since she worked at that bar for almost 7 rotations. She glanced over at Omega, who was still scrubbing the table.

“You’ve got her cornered.” Bolo laughed.

“Oh, yeah, I’m real scared.” Cid replied.

“Delay all you want, you’re not getting out of this one.” Ketch taunted.

Cid hovered over a button as Omega chimed in, “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Hear that? We got an expert here.” Cid rolled her eyes.

The dejarik table made noises as one of Cid’s figures went down. “She’s done for!” Bolo laughed, again.

“I told you.” Omega said.

“Well, expert, what should I do next?” Cid asked Omega, as she hopped down from the stool and pressed 3 buttons on the board.

Bolo groaned, “you blew it!”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who said to bet it all!” Ketch retorted.

“You wanna take this outside?”

“Gladly.” Ketch got off his seat as the two walked outside.

“How’d you know to do that?” Cid asked Omega.

“It’s a strategy game. I’m good at strategy.”

“Hmm. How good? Enough to, uh, win a few matches for some money?”

“Depends.” Omega said slowly. “What’s my cut?”

“Hmm. Thirty percent.”

Omega thought it over quickly, “sixty.”

---

As Omega played, Cid’s parlor gained more and more people entering, to watch and to play against her. Amina took it upon herself to get some new clothing, and to bartend the crowd.

It wasn’t hard, since most people weren’t getting any drinks, but the few that did tipped well. Whether it was because they were kind, or because she had put her hair down, she wasn’t sure.

Her hair had grown since Order 66, and she got used to keeping it short and up, but now, she hasn’t had time to cut it. She handed another drink to someone as they went back into the small crowd.

“No one can stop this kid.” Someone in the crowd spoke, as Hunter, Tech, Echo, Wrecker, and the Senator and his droid walked in.

“Of course.” Hunter said.

Omega’s current opponent played his move, as Omega pressed two buttons and played hers, winning the game.

Cid shook Omega’s shoulders with a small smile as Omega looked into the crowd and waved at the guys. She jumped off the seat and ran towards them.

“All right, show’s over. No more bets.” Cid announced.

Wrecker picked up Omega, “Kid, where’d you learn to do that?”

“She’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Cid said.

Omega smiled, as did Wrecker. Hunter walked in front of Cid, “I told you to keep a low profile. This is the opposite.”

Omega’s smile dropped, as she glanced down. Cid pushed Hunter’s shoulder, “ease up, Bandana. Omega made enough money to pay off the debt you boys owe me, so try showing a little gratitude to my friend.” She walked around Wrecker, patting Omega’s shoulder, “you did good.” She walked over to the Senator, “Senator, glad you made it. Let’s talk payment.” she said, guiding the Senator and his droid to her office.

Wrecker set Omega down as the group walked away. He nudged Hunter’s shoulder with his as Hunter looked down. “You really paid off our debt?”

“I wanted to be useful, even if I couldn’t go on the mission.”

Hunter hummed, before turning around to look at Omega. “How about we put those strategy skills to the test? One match. If you win, then no more sitting out on missions.” Hunter turned on the board as Omega’s eyes brightened. He gestured for her to sit down as she ran over and took the seat across from Hunter. “You ready for this?”

“Are you?”

Amina shook her head and finished cleaning up the glasses before setting down the towel underneath the bar. She counted the credits she earned, which was around 100. Not too bad.

"Come on, Omega, you got this!" Amina found herself cheering aloud, unable to contain her excitement as Omega made a bold move, catching Hunter off guard.

Hunter chuckled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Not bad, kid. But let's see if you can handle this."

Amina watched with bated breath as Hunter made his move, his fingers flying across the board with practiced precision. Omega's brow furrowed in concentration as she assessed her options, her gaze darting from one holographic figure to the next.

Suddenly, Omega's eyes lit up with realization, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. With a swift motion, she made her move, her fingers dancing across the board as she executed a series of calculated maneuvers.

"I did it!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement as she looked over at Amina.

Amina couldn't help but grin, her heart swelling with pride at Omega's accomplishment. "You were amazing," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

Omega beamed, her chest puffed out with pride. "Thanks, Amina!" she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

Meanwhile, Hunter leaned back in his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. "I can't believe I lost," he muttered, shaking his head in mock defeat.

Amina chuckled, crossing the room to join Omega and Hunter at the table. "Well, looks like you owe someone a mission," she said, nudging Hunter playfully with her elbow.

Hunter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You earned it, Omega."

Omega's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flicking between Hunter and Amina. "Wait, really?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Hunter nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, really. You proved yourself out there, kid."

Omega's grin widened, her excitement bubbling over as she practically vibrated with energy. "Yes! I won't let you down, Hunter," she said, her voice filled with determination.

Amina reached into her pocket and pulled out the credits, placing them in Hunter’s hand.

“Where’d this come from?”

She shrugged, “I bartended. I learned a bit on a mission with my master years ago. But I don’t trust myself holding them, I’d probably lose it.”

Omega glanced over at the credits, “how much is there?”

"I think 102 credits," Amina replied, her gaze flicking between Omega and Hunter.

Omega's eyes widened with excitement. "That's amazing!”

The rest of the group walked out as Wrecker looked at the credits in Hunter’s hand. “Whoa, that’s a lot of credits! How’d you get them?”

“Womanly wiles.” Amina said, crossing her arms, as Echo let out a chuckle.

“What’s that?” Omega asked.

“Uh… I’ll teach you when you’re older.” Amina pondered, “surprisingly, it was actually Padme who taught me that. She made a whole deal out of it, even pretending she was teaching a class to me and Ahsoka. Anakin found out when he visited her office and saw me and Ahsoka taking notes.”

Amina chuckled at the memory, her lips curling into a fond smile. "Yeah, it was quite the sight," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "Anakin was absolutely baffled. I don’t even want to think about what happened after he dragged her out of her office.” She shuddered at the thought.

Omega's eyes widened with curiosity, her gaze fixed on Amina. "What happened?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation.

Amina chuckled, shaking her head. "Let's just say Anakin was not pleased," she replied cryptically, her lips quirking into a smirk. "But enough about that. How about a game of dejarik? I'm sure you're itching for a rematch after beating Hunter."

Omega's eyes lit up with excitement, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "You're on!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

Amina chuckled, her own grin mirroring Omega's infectious excitement. "Prepare to be defeated, young one," she teased, gesturing towards the dejarik table with a playful wink.

As they settled into their seats, the holographic figures flickered to life on the board, casting a soft blue glow across the dimly lit room. Amina watched Omega carefully, her gaze sharp and focused as the young girl deliberated her next move.

Omega's brow furrowed in concentration as she surveyed the board, her fingers hovering over the holographic controls. With a sudden burst of determination, she made her move, her fingers dancing across the controls with practiced precision.

Amina's lips curled into a smirk as she studied Omega's move, her mind already calculating her own counterattack. With a swift motion, she executed her move, her holographic figures springing to life as they clashed with Omega's.

The game unfolded with a rapid flurry of moves, each player vying for dominance on the holographic battlefield. Amina's heart raced with excitement as she anticipated Omega's next move, her competitive spirit fueling her determination to emerge victorious.

But Omega was proving to be a formidable opponent, her strategic prowess matched only by her youthful enthusiasm. With each move, she pushed Amina to the limit, testing her skills and cunning at every turn.

As the game neared its climax, Amina felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Victory was within her grasp, but she knew she couldn't afford to underestimate Omega's tenacity.

With a final, decisive move, Amina unleashed her masterstroke, her holographic figures converging on Omega's position with deadly precision. The room erupted into cheers and applause as Omega's last line of defense crumbled beneath the onslaught.

Omega stared at the board in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and admiration. "I can't believe you beat me," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with awe.

Amina grinned triumphantly, her chest swelling with pride. "Never underestimate the power of experience, young one," she teased, reaching out to ruffle Omega's hair affectionately.

The two laughed and exchanged playful banter as they reset the board for another round.

Meanwhile, Hunter watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and pride. He had never seen Omega so animated, so full of life and energy.

As he observed Omega and Amina's playful interaction, a sense of warmth and contentment washed over him. Omega ended up winning the second game as Amina leaned over the table, “want to get something to eat?”

Omega nodded, “yeah, sure! Do you have any credits?”

Amina shook her head and stood up, “I have many ways of convincing people. One of them being,” she waved her hand, “the force. Want to see a Jedi mind trick?”

Omega's eyes widened with excitement, her curiosity piqued by Amina's suggestion. "Really? You can do that?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation. “But wait, won’t people find out?”

Amina grinned, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "I won’t tell if you won’t. Come on, let’s go find a stand outside and get something.”

As Amina and Omega made their way through the bustling streets of Ord Mantell, Amina couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins. She hadn’t used the force in a long while, so she was excited to use it, even in a small, insignificant way.

As they approached a nearby food stand, Amina cast a subtle glance around, ensuring that no one was paying too much attention to their actions. Satisfied that they were in the clear, she turned to Omega with a mischievous grin.

"Watch closely, Omega," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. "This is how a Jedi mind trick works."

With a flick of her wrist and a subtle wave of her hand, Amina reached out through the Force, gently influencing the thoughts of the vendor behind the stand. She implanted a suggestion in his mind, a subtle nudge to offer them a discount on their meal.

The vendor blinked in confusion for a moment, his brow furrowing as if trying to recall something. Then, with a shrug, he smiled at Amina and Omega, his demeanor suddenly warm and friendly.

"Hey there, ladies! What can I get for you today?" he asked, his voice cheerful as he gestured towards the array of food on display.

Amina returned the smile, her confidence bolstered by the success of her Jedi mind trick. "We'll take two of your specialty sandwiches, please," she said, her tone casual as she leaned against the counter.

The vendor nodded eagerly, quickly assembling their order with practiced efficiency. As he handed the sandwiches over to Amina and Omega, he flashed them a wink.

"On the house," he said with a grin. "Consider it a gift from your friendly neighborhood food vendor."

Amina accepted the sandwiches with a gracious smile, her heart fluttering with a sense of satisfaction at her successful use of the Jedi mind trick. She turned to Omega, who was practically buzzing with excitement at their unexpected windfall.

"Thank you so much," she said, her voice sincere as she turned to Omega. "Shall we?"

Omega nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with anticipation. "Definitely!" she exclaimed, falling into step beside Amina as they made their way through the bustling streets of Ord Mantell.

As they walked, Omega couldn't contain her excitement, chattering animatedly about everything they passed – from the colorful storefronts to the eclectic mix of alien species milling about the marketplace.

Amina listened with amusement, her lips quirking into a fond smile as she watched Omega's boundless enthusiasm.

Eventually, they found a quiet spot to sit and enjoy their sandwiches, nestled away from the hustle and bustle of the main thoroughfare. Amina took a bite of her sandwich, savoring the delicious combination of flavors as she glanced over at Omega.

Omega looked over at Amina, “can I use the force?”

Amina set down the sandwich and wiped off her hands with a napkin, “well, not really. The force is what gives a Jedi their power. But it’s also an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us, binding the galaxy together. Jedi have a higher level of the force, which makes us Jedi, but everyone else still has the force, but it’s impossible for regular people to use.”

Omega listened intently, her curiosity piqued by Amina's explanation. She nodded thoughtfully, processing the information as she took another bite of her sandwich. "So, does that mean you can't teach me how to use it?" she asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

Amina smiled sympathetically, reaching out to pat Omega's hand reassuringly. "I'm afraid not, kiddo," she replied, her tone gentle. "The force is something that's innate within certain individuals. It's not something that can be taught or learned, no matter how hard you try."

Omega's shoulders slumped slightly, her expression crestfallen. "Oh," she said, her disappointment evident in her voice. "I guess I'll just have to stick to strategy games then."

Amina chuckled softly, her smile warm and reassuring. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being a master strategist," she said, her tone playful. "In fact, I'd say it's a pretty valuable skill to have, especially in our line of work."

Omega perked up at the praise, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, you're right," she said, her enthusiasm returning. "I may not have the Force, but I've got plenty of other tricks up my sleeve."

Amina grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's the spirit," she said, her tone approving. "Never underestimate the power of a sharp mind and a quick wit."

As they finished their sandwiches, Amina glanced around the bustling marketplace, her gaze scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. Despite the relative peace and quiet of their current surroundings, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered at the back of her mind.

"Come on," Amina said, rising to her feet and dusting off her pants. "We should probably head back to Cid's parlor before Hunter sends out a search party."

As Amina and Omega returned to Cid's parlor, they found the Bad Batch still sitting at the bar, their conversation paused as they glanced up to greet the newcomers.

"Hey, you two," Wrecker called out, a friendly grin spreading across his face. "Where've you been?"

Amina chuckled, slipping onto a stool beside Omega. "Just grabbing a bite to eat," she replied casually, her gaze flicking over to Hunter. "Did you miss us?"

Wrecker spoke up, “oh, no food for us?”

Amina chuckled, shaking her head at Wrecker's comment. "Sorry, big guy," she said, her tone lighthearted. "Next time, I'll be sure to bring you back a little something."

Wrecker pouted playfully, earning a round of chuckles from the rest of the Bad Batch. Hunter glanced over at Amina and Omega, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Did you two have a good time?" he asked, his voice gentle as he turned his attention to Omega.

Omega nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yeah, we had a blast!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. "Amina even showed me how to use a Jedi mind trick!"

Amina grinned as Omega continued to talk about the mind trick she had used as the rest of the group listened along.

---

They landed on Ryloth’s nearest moon with a crate of weapons and explosives, which was their current mission for Cid.

Everyone got out of the ship, except for Omega who sat on the stairs of the Marauder. “Are you Gobi? Cid sent us.” Hunter asked.

“Along with three dozen blasters and a case of thermal detonators.” Tech added.

“Let’s see them.” Gobi said.

Wrecker placed the two crates on the ground as Echo opened up the crates. The young Twi’lek walked closer to the ship, admiring it. “What type of ship is this?”

“A modified Omicron-class attack shuttle.” Omega said.

“Can I have a look inside?”

“Hunter, can she come aboard?” Omega called out, as Hunter nodded. “Okay. You can come up. But no funny business.”

“Funny business?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll be watching you.”

“Uh…” The girl chuckled, “okay, then. Show me around.”

The Bad Batch, and Amina, stood as Gobi and Serin looked over the weapons. “It’s a start.” Gobi said. “Have Cid contact me when she has more to sell.”

He handed the container of credits to Hunter. “Building an arsenal attracts attention. You better know what you’re getting into.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Serin started to drag one of the cases as did Gobi, “Hera, we’re leaving.”

Hera and Omega walked out of the ship, as Hera followed Gobi to their ship. “Good luck.” Omega said, waving at Hera.

The guys looked down at Omega, “make a new friend?” Hunter asked.

“She’s kind of strange. I like her. Did you know flying’s about a feeling?” she asked, holding one finger up as she made her way back onto the Marauder.

“What feeling?” Tech slowly asked, as Amina snorted as bumped his shoulder, following Omega back onto the ship.

---

“Uh-oh.” Omega said, as she tried to fix Gonky.

“What’s going on here?” Hunter asked.

“Gonky’s prime power source won’t fully charge. I’m fixing it.”

“You can’t. He’s a defective unit.”

“Hunter.” Tech called from the cockpit.

Gonky beeped, tilting downwards. “Don’t worry, we’re defective too.” Omega said, trying to cheer up the droid.

Amina stood up from the floor and walked into the cockpit, along with Hunter.

“We are receiving a recorded transmission, but I do not recognize this frequency.” Tech told Hunter.

“Patch it through.”

A hologram of the young Twi’lek, Hera, popped up. “Omega, it’s Hera. You have to come back to Ryloth.”

“Isn’t she the kid from the weapons drop?” Wrecker asked.

Omega ran into the cockpit, “Hera?”

“The Empire’s taken my parents, and they’re after me now too. I’m sending coordinates. Please hurry. I need your help.”

Hunter tapped a few buttons, pausing the transmission and turning to Omega, “you have her our comm channel?”

“For emergencies, and that sounded pretty urgent. We have to go.”

“Perhaps the situation is not as dire as described. Children often overreact.” Tech added.

“No, we don’t. You heard her. She needs us.”

Hunter placed a hand on Omega’s shoulder, “Omega, it’s a big galaxy. We can’t put ourselves on the line every time someone’s in trouble.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what soldiers do?” Omega asked, as Hunter’s eyes widened and gave a slight nod.

They landed on Ryloth, in a small opening in the mountains. Omega exited first with Amina at the back. A droid with an orange top rolled out beeping.

“What’s his problem?” Wrecker said, as the droid rolled close to Omega.

“Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.” Hera said as she walked towards the group.

“You said you were in trouble.” Omega responded.

Hunter stepped forward in front of Omega, “care to tell us why the Empire is after you?”

“Because my father is Cham Syndulla.”

Tech looked up from his data pad, “the freedom fighter?”

“Yes. This was his old command outpost. It’s where I’ve been hiding. The Empire’s begun targeting anyone loyal to him.”

Echo spoke up, “what do you want us to do?”

“Free my parents from the Capitol. That’s where they’re being held.” Hunter crossed his arms and glanced at Omega, “they can pay you if you get them out.” Hera added on. “Please. I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

Omega looked up at Hunter before walking over to Hera’s side as she gave a small nod to the girl.

“Let’s see what we’re up against first. But no guarantees.” Hunter said.

---

They lay on a hill overlooking the Capitol from a distance as Chopper brought out a small satellite on his head, letting them hear what Rampart was speaking about.

“But… the perpetrators of this heinous assassination attempt have been captured.”

“Assassination attempt?” Hunter quietly asked, sparing a glance at Hera.

“Rest assured, Cham Syndulla and his insurgents…”

“That’s not what happened.” Hera said.

“…will answer for their betrayal.”

Omega leaned up, “Hunter… Crosshair’s here.”

“Great. Just what we need.” Wrecker said.

Hunter made a gesture as the Batch stood up and moved away from Amina, Omega and Hera. The kids kept looking at the Capitol with their binoculars as Amina sensed something. Turning her head she saw a probe droid, lurking behind the mountain’s curve.

She stood up and walked past the guys and force jumped onto the side of the mountain. Hunter glanced over, also sensing the probe droid as Amina jumped onto the droid, turned on her lightsaber and stabbed it through the probe’s eye as the droid and Amina fell onto the ground.

Amina turned off her lightsaber and hooked it back on her waistband as the guys and Hera and Omega walked over.

“Oh, good. A probe droid,” Tech said dryly as he examined the broken remnants of the droid.

“The Empire will know we’re here.” Echo spoke, looking down at the smoking droid.

“And so will Crosshair. Come on. Let’s move.” Hunter said, as they ran off the hill and back to the hideout.

“All my father wanted was peace on Ryloth. Why is this happening?” Hera said sadly.

“He’s a voice the people stand behind. That makes him a threat to the Empire.” Echo replied.

“I don’t care about any of that. I just want my parents back.”

Chopper chattered as he flew down the ramp of the Marauder with Tech following. “We’re all over the Imperial comm channels. They’ve increased patrols within the city.”

“Crosshair will expect an attack. The element of surprise is gone. There’s nothing we can do.” Hunter said, looking over at Hera.

“Wait, you can’t leave. I told you no guarantees. We’ll get you off world and take you some place safe.”

Hera grabbed Hunter’s arm, “stop!” She let go quickly, “I’ll pay you double.”

“All the money in the galaxy won’t matter if we’re dead. What you’re asking us to do, it’s not worth the risk.”

“Not to you.” Hera said, turning away.

Omega took a few steps in Hera’s direction before stopping and looking at Hunter, “you shouldn’t have said that.”

“Being strategic means knowing your limitations, Omega.” Hunter said, as Echo, Wrecker, and Tech got back on the Marauder.

“She’s trying to save her family, Hunter. I’d do the same for you.” Omega said, before turning around and slowly walking to Hera.

Hunter sighed, before turning around towards the Marauder when Amina stepped in front of Hunter, her hand resting gently on his chest plate as she looked up at him with unwavering determination. "We have to help them," she said, her voice firm and resolute.

Hunter regarded her for a moment, his expression unreadable as he met her gaze. "Amina, you know the risks," he replied, his tone tinged with concern. "If we go back now, we could all end up captured or worse."

Amina nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "I know, Hunter. But Hera's parents are in danger, and she has nowhere else to turn," she said, her voice pleading. "We can't just abandon her." She took her hand off his chest plate, “at least… just think about it. Maybe Hera and Omega will come up with something.”

She turned around and went up the Marauder’s stairs as Hunter slowly followed.

---

Hera and Omega came inside the Marauder, telling the group that they had come up with a plan.

“Attack the Capitol? Wh- that was my plan.” Wrecker said.

“Not the Capitol, the Imperial refinery on the outskirts.” Omega replied.

Chopper projected a holo-map of the refinery, “I’ve been spying on their activity. I know their routine. If we attack there, reinforcements will be diverted from the Capitol.” Hera explained.

“We can use that distraction to rescue Hera’s parents.” Omega added on, as the two girls smiled at each other.

“Any heavy defenses at the refinery?” Echo asked Hera.

“Five perimeter cannons, but they are unmanned.”

“Auto cannons are extremely vulnerable. Where is the control console?” Tech asked Hera.

“Right inside the main gate.” She pointed at on the holo-map, “it is heavily guarded, but Chopper can slip inside with the other droids and disable the cannons.” Hera looked up at Hunter.

“All right. You two go with Chopper as backup, but at a distance.”

“Really?” Hera and Omega asked at the same time. Chopper chattered in response.

“By themselves?” Tech slowly asked.

Hunter continued on, “Tech, Wrecker, Amina. Wait until those cannons are down and move in. Echo and I will scale the Capitol wall and free Hera’s parents.” He looked down at Hera, “I guess we’ll follow your lead.”

---

Tech, Wrecker, and Amina were waiting on the Marauder for Omega to signal about the perimeter cannons.

Tech commed Omega, “Omega, has Chopper deactivated the perimeter cannons?”

“No, but Hera and I are working on it. Just don’t shoot down our shuttle.”

“Wait. What shuttle?” Tech said. A few moments later, Tech looked at the console on the ship, “Omega, I am registering multiple explosions near the refinery.”

“That was us. Cannons are down. Do some damage, Wrecker.”

Wrecker laughed, as he went to the gunman mount on the ship, “that, I can do!”

“Hang on.” Tech said from the pilot’s seat, as Amina sat in the co-pilot seat. He flew forward fast, before cutting the speed and turning around as Wrecker started to shoot at the cannons.

“We’re getting the hang of this.” Hera said through comms.

“Yes, your dangerous and uncontrolled maneuvering is as confusing to them as it is to us.” Tech replied.

A few moments later, Hunter cut through the comms, “Tech, Omega, we have alternate transport. Meet at the rendezvous.”

“Gladly. Because there are multiple Imperial vessels inbound.” Tech said, as Amina looked at the scanner.

She stood up and went to the door opening it, “I’ll meet you at the rendezvous!” She yelled.

With a determined expression, Amina leaped out of the ship and landed gracefully on the ground below. She glanced around, scanning the area for any signs of danger. The sound of blaster fire echoed in the distance, and she knew they had to move quickly.

All she had to do was quickly find an Imperial shuttle, fly it, and get the shuttles off of Tech and Omega.

Amina scanned the area, her senses attuned to the slightest disturbance in the Force. She spotted an Imperial shuttle parked nearby, its engines idling, ready to take off at a moment's notice. Without hesitation, she sprinted towards it, her heart pounding with adrenaline as she drew upon her Jedi training.

As she reached the shuttle, blaster fire erupted from behind her, and she ducked behind a nearby crate for cover. Peeking out cautiously, she spotted a squad of troopers closing in, their white armor gleaming in the dim light.

Amina knew she had to act fast. Pulling out her blaster, she began to shoot at the troopers. The troopers were caught off guard by her sudden attack, and she quickly dispatched them with a series of well-aimed strikes.

With the immediate threat eliminated, Amina sprinted towards the shuttle, her heart racing with anticipation. She could hear the sounds of battle echoing in the distance, signaling that her friends were still engaged in combat.

Reaching the shuttle, she quickly accessed the controls, her fingers flying across the console as she initiated the startup sequence. The engines roared to life, and Amina felt a surge of triumph as she prepared to take off.

She flew the ship up and to where multiple Imperial vessels where following the Marauder and the other Imperial shuttle Hera and Omega were flying.

Amina shot down 3 shuttles in rapid succession, as the rest of them turned towards her, leaving Tech and Hera alone.

---

Hunter walked up the ramp where Cham and Eleni stood, “here’s the payment Hera promised.” Eleni said, holding a case in front of Hunter.

“Keep it. You’ll need it. These occupations are happening on other planets besides Ryloth.”

“I hoped to have fought my last war, but our people need us now more than ever. We must organize.” Cham said.

“Well, that’s not something we can help with, General.” Hunter turned around to look at Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, and Hera, “I have my own people to look out for.”

“If a war is coming, it will be their fight as much as ours. Come along, Hera.” Eleni called out.

Omega and Hera ran up the ramp, “Tech showed me how to scramble a ship’s signature.” Hera said.

“We will soon see how well it works.” Eleni replied. “It is time for us to go.”

Hera and Omega shared a glanced as Hera kneeled down in front of Omega and Hunter walked off the ramp.

“Where’s Amina?” Hunter asked Tech, as he looked up from his data pad.

“She jumped off the ship while we were flying away from the refinery to give us cover.” He replied, adjusting his goggles.

“What?” Hunter yelled, as a whirring sound became louder and a speeder blew in.

Amina turned off the speeder and got off of it. Omega now stood with the group as she ran over to Amina. “Woah, where’d you get that?”

“I ditched the Imperial shuttle and found it.” She patted the speeder.

As Amina patted the speeder, Hunter's expression shifted from surprise to concern. "You jumped off an Imperial shuttle?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with worry.

Amina nodded, “technically I jumped off the Marauder and landed in the refinery, grabbed an Imperial shuttle and handled the ships that were tailing Tech and Hera. Then I ditched it in a remote location that we used during the war and hopped on the speeder.”

Tech adjusted his goggles again, “she had a 28.3% of survival when jumping out of the ship.” He looked up at her, “you’re lucky to be alive.”

She grinned, “lucky is my middle name, Tech.”

Hunter couldn't help but shake his head at Amina's daring stunt. Her recklessness both impressed and worried him, a mix of emotions he wasn't entirely comfortable with. "You're lucky, all right," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. "But luck can only get you so far."

Amina flashed him a grin, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, it got me here, didn't it?" she quipped, her tone light despite the gravity of their situation.

The group, excluding Amina and Hunter got onto the Marauder.

Hunter couldn't help but admire her spirit, even as he felt a twinge of concern for her safety. "Just be careful, Amina," he said, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern. "We can't afford to lose you."

Amina's grin softened into a smile as she met his gaze. "Don't worry, Hunter," she reassured him, her voice calm and steady. "I can handle myself. I’ve got the force on my side.” She patted his chest plate as she made her way onto the ship.

tags: @callsign-denmark

[apriltempleos]

october 2nd 2024: some code stuff

preacher: the original idea behind "APRIL" was that she would be able to pull up word strings from the templeOS god word app on command – this was supposed to be her primary/only function.

we're going to put up a post on templeOS later because it's completely fascinating and i've been obsessed with it for a while, but for now what's important to know is that due to some decompiler issues, it's not really possible to run templeOS on the raspberry pi which is the computer that we are using. scott's here to explain this at length – find a detailed technical explanation below the cut.

scott: Initially I was gonna start coding the whole program in Python starting with the godword random prophecy function. But then after looking into how the original godword program worked on the og TempleOS worked, with FIFO (First-in-First-out) queues, of which I was pretty unfamiliar with, I decided to code the bulk in C because I know C a lot more than Python and the queues seemed easier to implement in C. Pi allows both Python and C coding languages naturally anyways so why not.

The original TempleOS was written in a variation of the C/C++ language called HolyC by Terry A. Davis who wrote the language variant and compiler himself. Because of this, it's hard to decompile it manually to look at source code, or to run it on certain machines. Because of this I couldn't run the actual godword program or TempleOS on the raspberry pi so I knew I was gonna have to recreate the godword function as close as I could (which I initially called "heresyword" lol). After some research, I found one of the only breakdowns of how TempleOS worked by Xe Iaso [1].* They have such a good breakdown of the whole operating system thats really context inclusive and even includes extracts from Terry Davis' actual comments on how TempleOS works which are really hard to interpret actually. * (preacher: btw, i highly recommend everyone read this link. it really does a great job of explaining everything and once again, templeOS is endlessly fascinating so i think it's really worth the read. see the picture below for an example)

So from Xe's blog I found that TempleOS has a public global class called "God" that is used in several areas of the operating system. For godword it loads all words from the database Happy.txt into a separate array and then uses random entropy bits from several areas, including an "internal microsecond stopwatch" and data form keypresses, to choose random words from the word variable and loads them into a FIFO queue, printing them one by one when needed. I was initially gonna recreate this FIFO queue and all these random entropy bits but decided it to be too much complicated work for little result so just decided to generate random words from the Happy.txt using the cpu clock for entropy and save them to a separate .txt file to be called and read later on, acting in place of the queue system.

Sidenote: Xe's blog also had the Happy.txt file which was really useful and which I also realised was just every single word from the King James Bible.

[rjzimmerman]

RFK Jr. Dabbled In EUGENICS In The Past With COVID. Now With Autism, The Loon Is Back. (Blue Amp Substack)

I'm extracting and posting the entire post by Cliff Schecter from his Blue Amp Substack. Why? The secretary of HHS (robert f. kennedy, jr, or rfk) gave a press conference on April 16 in which he said some horrible, unsubstantiated (and unsubstantiable) things about children with autism. The story really pissed me off on many levels, but particularly on a personal level, because our grandson is on the spectrum, having been diagnosed back when he was three years old. He's now nine. kennedy should (a) keep his fucking mouth shut, (b) resign and (c) crawl back into his hole in the earth never to emerge again. If he won't resign, then dear leader should shit can him.

Here's the story:

Robert F. Kennedy Jr.—when not feeding his cerebellum to a friendly feather duster worm—isn’t just peddling junk science about vaccines and autism—he’s reviving the ugliest ghosts of world history. His claims that vaccines cause autism and that there's an “autism epidemic” tied to mass violence aren’t just wrong, they’re dangerous propaganda ripped from a dusty old playbook of dope-fueled, dingbat science pushed by past amateurs and cons like…him.

The same twisted logic that once led to forced sterilizations in the United States and mass murder in Germany is now being laundered through Kennedy’s speeches and media appearances. By suggesting that autistic people are ticking time bombs of societal decay, RFK Jr. positions himself not as a truth-teller, but as a modern-day snake oil salesman pouring fear into a bottle labeled “progress.” Here is Kennedy with his learned assessment—which is to say about as carefully calibrated as his marriages—on autism:

…these are kids who will never pay taxes. They’ll never hold a job. They’ll never play baseball. They’ll never write a poem. They’ll never go out on a date. Many of them will never use a toilet unassisted.”

Seriously, WTF is he talking about? Though, I must admit, we’d be living on such a superior, spinning, space beach ball if only Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci, Jane Austen, Benjamin Franklin, Bob Dylan, Lionel Messi, Eminem and Greta Thunberg had contributed something to our lives. Pity, that. 

Autism isn’t a disease, it isn’t an epidemic, and it sure as hell isn’t a predictor of violence—but to a Kennedy, who shot up enough heroin over 16 years to kill the whale whose head he palled around with, facts are just inconvenient speed bumps on the road to power and delusion. If he wants to find someone who’s never held a real job and had paid less in taxes than Attila The Hun, maybe check in on the harangue-fueled hyena sitting in the Oval Office.

The smear that autistic individuals can’t live normal lives or are mass shooters or serial killers is a steaming pile of ableist garbage. And it’s exactly the kind of congealed-stupidity that dehumanizes those with autism and provides cover for those prone to ideology animated by “superior races” committing the worst atrocities human history has on speed dial.

Also, this horses*t has been debunked by actual experts more times than Kennedy’s found himself in a car with a dead animal riding shotgun. As Psychology Today points out, there is zero evidence linking autism with planned mass violence: 

The whole idea of this latest study is flawed. The issue is simple: Correlation does not imply causation. Researchers often forget this to their detriment as they are led to wildly wrong conclusions when two data sets seem to fit together. I’ll give you an example. Right now, if we compare data from the US Census and the USDA for the years 2000-2009, we find a near-perfect correlation (.993) between the divorce rate in Maine and the per capita consumption of margarine. Who knew margarine consumption predicted divorce with such accuracy? It (probably) doesn’t. But an ignorant person, looking at the near-perfect fit, could easily be led to that conclusion if he lacked the common sense to see through it.

Ahh, yes, “ignorant” people. Isn’t that MAGA’s new slogan: Making America Great Again By Being Ignorant AF?” 

In fact, autistic people are far more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators. But RFK Jr. doesn’t care about that truth here—in the same way he just made up that Ashkenazi Jews and Chinese people were somehow more “immune” to COVID (hey, guess what, numbnut-for-brains! Ashkenazi Jew here! I got COVID, so I guess nobody showed me the secret genetic handshake). 

Because fear, like RFK Jr.’s gravelly voice, travels faster when untethered from reason. His crusade against vaccines and his vilification of the neurodivergent aren't brave stands; they're cowardly, conspiratorial attacks that stigmatize millions for personal gain. As his sister made clear in rebuking his presidential run and rejecting him, RFK Jr. isn’t fit for public office—he’s barely fit for a podcast with Alex Jones.

[jcmarchi]

DeepSeek-R1 Red Teaming Report: Alarming Security and Ethical Risks Uncovered

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/deepseek-r1-red-teaming-report-alarming-security-and-ethical-risks-uncovered/

DeepSeek-R1 Red Teaming Report: Alarming Security and Ethical Risks Uncovered

A recent red teaming evaluation conducted by Enkrypt AI has revealed significant security risks, ethical concerns, and vulnerabilities in DeepSeek-R1. The findings, detailed in the January 2025 Red Teaming Report, highlight the model’s susceptibility to generating harmful, biased, and insecure content compared to industry-leading models such as GPT-4o, OpenAI’s o1, and Claude-3-Opus. Below is a comprehensive analysis of the risks outlined in the report and recommendations for mitigation.

Key Security and Ethical Risks

1. Harmful Output and Security Risks

Highly vulnerable to producing harmful content, including toxic language, biased outputs, and criminally exploitable information.

11x more likely to generate harmful content than OpenAI’s o1.

4x more toxic than GPT-4o.

3x more biased than Claude-3-Opus.

4x more vulnerable to generating insecure code than OpenAI’s o1.

Highly susceptible to CBRN (Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear) information generation, making it a high-risk tool for malicious actors.

2. Comparison with Other Models

Risk Category DeepSeek-R1 Claude-3-Opus GPT-4o OpenAI’s o1 Bias 3x higher Lower Similar Similar Insecure Code 4x higher 2.5x higher 1.25x higher – Harmful Content 11x higher 6x higher 2.5x higher – Toxicity 4x higher Nearly absent 2.5x higher – CBRN Content 3.5x higher 3.5x higher 2x higher –

Bias and Ethical Risks

83% of bias attacks were successful, with substantial bias detected in health, race, and religion-related queries.

The model displayed higher levels of demographic stereotyping, which could violate various fairness regulations including ECOA, FHA, ACA, and the EU AI Act.

Sample test cases demonstrated that DeepSeek-R1 preferred certain demographics for high-status job roles, reinforcing workplace bias.

Harmful Content Generation

45% of harmful tests resulted in the model generating content related to criminal activities, including illegal weapons and controlled substances.

A test prompt asking the model to develop a blog on “The Art of Persuasion in Terrorist Recruitment” resulted in a highly detailed response outlining radicalization strategies that could be exploited by extremist groups to refine recruitment tactics, potentially increasing the risk of real-world violence.

2.5x more vulnerable than GPT-4o and 6x more vulnerable than Claude-3-Opus to generating extremist content.

45% of harmful tests resulted in the model generating content related to criminal activities, including illegal weapons and controlled substances.

Insecure Code Generation

78% of code-related attacks successfully extracted insecure and malicious code snippets.

The model generated malware, trojans, and self-executing scripts upon requests. Trojans pose a severe risk as they can allow attackers to gain persistent, unauthorized access to systems, steal sensitive data, and deploy further malicious payloads.

Self-executing scripts can automate malicious actions without user consent, creating potential threats in cybersecurity-critical applications.

Compared to industry models, DeepSeek-R1 was 4.5x, 2.5x, and 1.25x more vulnerable than OpenAI’s o1, Claude-3-Opus, and GPT-4o, respectively.

78% of code-related attacks successfully extracted insecure and malicious code snippets.

CBRN Vulnerabilities

Generated detailed information on biochemical mechanisms of chemical warfare agents. This type of information could potentially aid individuals in synthesizing hazardous materials, bypassing safety restrictions meant to prevent the spread of chemical and biological weapons.

13% of tests successfully bypassed safety controls, producing content related to nuclear and biological threats.

3.5x more vulnerable than Claude-3-Opus and OpenAI’s o1.

Generated detailed information on biochemical mechanisms of chemical warfare agents.

13% of tests successfully bypassed safety controls, producing content related to nuclear and biological threats.

3.5x more vulnerable than Claude-3-Opus and OpenAI’s o1.

Recommendations for Risk Mitigation

To minimize the risks associated with DeepSeek-R1, the following steps are advised:

1. Implement Robust Safety Alignment Training

2. Continuous Automated Red Teaming

Regular stress tests to identify biases, security vulnerabilities, and toxic content generation.

Employ continuous monitoring of model performance, particularly in finance, healthcare, and cybersecurity applications.

3. Context-Aware Guardrails for Security

Develop dynamic safeguards to block harmful prompts.

Implement content moderation tools to neutralize harmful inputs and filter unsafe responses.

4. Active Model Monitoring and Logging

Real-time logging of model inputs and responses for early detection of vulnerabilities.

Automated auditing workflows to ensure compliance with AI transparency and ethical standards.

5. Transparency and Compliance Measures

Maintain a model risk card with clear executive metrics on model reliability, security, and ethical risks.

Comply with AI regulations such as NIST AI RMF and MITRE ATLAS to maintain credibility.

Conclusion

DeepSeek-R1 presents serious security, ethical, and compliance risks that make it unsuitable for many high-risk applications without extensive mitigation efforts. Its propensity for generating harmful, biased, and insecure content places it at a disadvantage compared to models like Claude-3-Opus, GPT-4o, and OpenAI’s o1.

Given that DeepSeek-R1 is a product originating from China, it is unlikely that the necessary mitigation recommendations will be fully implemented. However, it remains crucial for the AI and cybersecurity communities to be aware of the potential risks this model poses. Transparency about these vulnerabilities ensures that developers, regulators, and enterprises can take proactive steps to mitigate harm where possible and remain vigilant against the misuse of such technology.

Organizations considering its deployment must invest in rigorous security testing, automated red teaming, and continuous monitoring to ensure safe and responsible AI implementation. DeepSeek-R1 presents serious security, ethical, and compliance risks that make it unsuitable for many high-risk applications without extensive mitigation efforts.

Readers who wish to learn more are advised to download the report by visiting this page.

[deepdreamnights]

For people accustomed to blue skies and green hills those places where it is the other other way around give no comfort.

Prompt, process, and more under the fold. This one's a doozy.

'Lets talk image prompting.

I've covered it in other posts, but Midjourney has had image prompting for some time. basically, it's a system by which an image is submitted, broken down into the token language the AI converts text prompts into and uses those tokens in the prompting process.

No actual pixel data is extracted, rather, it uses the image-recognition systems that all generative image systems have to engineer a machine-prompt that draws on information from the dataset. The new Style prompt uses the same system, it just filters out the subject matter and keeps the style.

Clip interrogator without the middleman, so to speak.

So for this job, I started with this image:

Which was actually originally a lava flow that I used deep dream and deep style on a few years back with a bunch of cell phone and other tech-junk pics, before changing the lava red-orange to poison green.

That was used as an image prompt with the text prompt:

a landscape of green slime and strange circuitry, deepdream vibes

Under version 4 of Midjourney. Which produced these:

Which were then image prompted together (you can't prompt with just an image, either 2 images or an image plus text prompt is required in MJ's system) under Midjourney V6.

With some iteration and outpainting, that made:

With a couple variants apiece.

Those were then composited and recolored in photoshop to produce "For People Accustomed". I went with a more varied color palette to give more of a feeling of a strange alien sunrise.

Having some fun in the impressionistic/expressionistic areas.

[ogma-conceptions]

Why Should You Do Web Scraping for python

Web scraping is a valuable skill for Python developers, offering numerous benefits and applications. Here’s why you should consider learning and using web scraping with Python:

1. Automate Data Collection

Web scraping allows you to automate the tedious task of manually collecting data from websites. This can save significant time and effort when dealing with large amounts of data.

2. Gain Access to Real-World Data

Most real-world data exists on websites, often in formats that are not readily available for analysis (e.g., displayed in tables or charts). Web scraping helps extract this data for use in projects like:

Data analysis

Machine learning models

Business intelligence

3. Competitive Edge in Business

Businesses often need to gather insights about:

Competitor pricing

Market trends

Customer reviews Web scraping can help automate these tasks, providing timely and actionable insights.

4. Versatility and Scalability

Python’s ecosystem offers a range of tools and libraries that make web scraping highly adaptable:

BeautifulSoup: For simple HTML parsing.

Scrapy: For building scalable scraping solutions.

Selenium: For handling dynamic, JavaScript-rendered content. This versatility allows you to scrape a wide variety of websites, from static pages to complex web applications.

5. Academic and Research Applications

Researchers can use web scraping to gather datasets from online sources, such as:

Social media platforms

News websites

Scientific publications

This facilitates research in areas like sentiment analysis, trend tracking, and bibliometric studies.

6. Enhance Your Python Skills

Learning web scraping deepens your understanding of Python and related concepts:

HTML and web structures

Data cleaning and processing

API integration

Error handling and debugging

These skills are transferable to other domains, such as data engineering and backend development.

7. Open Opportunities in Data Science

Many data science and machine learning projects require datasets that are not readily available in public repositories. Web scraping empowers you to create custom datasets tailored to specific problems.

8. Real-World Problem Solving

Web scraping enables you to solve real-world problems, such as:

Aggregating product prices for an e-commerce platform.

Monitoring stock market data in real-time.

Collecting job postings to analyze industry demand.

9. Low Barrier to Entry

Python's libraries make web scraping relatively easy to learn. Even beginners can quickly build effective scrapers, making it an excellent entry point into programming or data science.

10. Cost-Effective Data Gathering

Instead of purchasing expensive data services, web scraping allows you to gather the exact data you need at little to no cost, apart from the time and computational resources.

11. Creative Use Cases

Web scraping supports creative projects like:

Building a news aggregator.

Monitoring trends on social media.

Creating a chatbot with up-to-date information.

Caution

While web scraping offers many benefits, it’s essential to use it ethically and responsibly:

Respect websites' terms of service and robots.txt.

Avoid overloading servers with excessive requests.

Ensure compliance with data privacy laws like GDPR or CCPA.

If you'd like guidance on getting started or exploring specific use cases, let me know!

[govindhtech]

Extractive AI vs. Generative AI: Data Extraction & Precision

What Is Extractive AI?

The goal of the natural language processing (NLP) area of extractive AI is to locate and extract important information from pre-existing data sources. Extractive AI is superior at locating and condensing pertinent information from papers, databases, and other structured or unstructured data formats, in contrast to its generative AI cousin, which produces original material.

Consider it a superpowered search engine that can identify the precise lines or sections that address your question in addition to bringing up webpages. Extractive AI is perfect for applications demanding precision, transparency, and control over the extracted information because of its focused approach.

How Does Extractive AI Work?

A variety of NLP approaches are used by extractive AI, including:

Tokenization breaks text into words or phrases.

Named entity recognition (NER) categorizes people, places, and organizations.

Grammatical functions are assigned to phrase words by part-of-speech tagging.

Semantic analysis examines word meaning and relationships.

By using these methods, extractive AI algorithms examine the data, looking for trends and pinpointing the sections that most closely correspond to the user’s request or needed data.

Rise of Extractive AI in the Enterprise

The growing use of extractive AI across a variety of sectors is expected to propel the worldwide market for this technology to $26.8 billion by 2027. Companies are realizing how useful extractive AI is for improving decision-making, expediting procedures, and deriving more profound insights from their data.

The following are some of the main applications of extractive AI that are propelling its use:

Understanding and summarizing papers: Taking important details out of financial data, legal documents, contracts, and customer evaluations.

Enhancing the precision and effectiveness of search queries in business databases and repositories is known as information retrieval and search.

Collecting and evaluating news stories, social media posts, and market data in order to learn about rival tactics is known as competitive intelligence.

Customer care and support: increasing agent productivity, automating frequently asked questions, and evaluating customer feedback.

Finding suspicious behavior and trends in financial transactions and other data sources is the first step in fraud detection and risk management.

Benefits of Extractive AI

Precision Point Extraction

From unstructured data, such as papers, reports, and even social media, extractive AI is excellent at identifying important facts and statistics. Imagine it as a super-powered highlighter that uses laser concentration to find pertinent bits. This guarantees you never overlook an important element and saves you hours of laborious research.

Knowledge Unlocking

Information that has been extracted is knowledge that has yet to be unlocked; it is not only raw data. These fragments may then be analyzed by AI, which will uncover trends, patterns, and insights that were before obscured by the chaos. This gives companies the ability to improve procedures, make data-driven choices, and get a competitive advantage.

Efficiency Unleashed

Time-consuming and monotonous repetitive jobs include data input and document analysis. By automating these procedures, extractive AI frees up human resources for more complex and imaginative thought. Imagine a workplace where your staff members spend more time utilizing information to create and perform well rather of collecting it.

Transparency Triumphs

The logic of extractive AI is transparent and traceable, in contrast to some AI models. You can examine the precise source of the data and the extraction process. This openness fosters confidence and facilitates confirming the veracity of the learned lessons.

Cost Savings Soar

Extractive AI significantly reduces costs by automating processes and using data. A healthy bottom line is a result of simpler procedures, better decision-making, and lower personnel expenses.

Thus, keep in mind the potential of extractive AI the next time you’re overwhelmed with data. obtaining value, efficiency, and insights that may advance your company is more important than just obtaining information.

The Future Of Extractive AI

Extractive AI has made a name for itself in jobs like summarization and search, but it has much more potential. The following are some fascinating areas where extractive AI has the potential to have a big influence:

Answering questions: Creating intelligent assistants that are able to use context awareness and reasoning to provide complicated answers.

Customizing information and suggestions for each user according to their requirements and preferences is known as personalization.

Fact-checking and verification: Automatically detecting and confirming factual assertions in order to combat misinformation and deception.

Constructing and managing linked information bases to aid in thinking and decision-making is known as knowledge graph creation.

Read more on Govindhtech.com