#and now he appears to be trespassing on her lawn with the man he took an engagement announcement out with in the hawkins post

[hitlikehammers]

there is a tree as old as me

rating: teen tags: future fic, outside POV, trespassing, established relationship, engaged steddie💍 ✨for @kallisto-k at my BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST for the prompt: To Build A Home—The Cinematic Orchestra: 'and now, it's time to leave and turn to dust // out in the garden where we planted the seeds // there is a tree as old as me

She catches the trespassers by chance, really.

She’s awake early even for her routine, age doing nothing for the capacity to sleep in on a good day but her hip’s been a trial, and she needs buy a new mattress but Richard’s insistent he can’t bear to sleep on a stone slab, Patricia, good god—she wants to get one of those Select Comforts that splits their settings between two sides as a compromise; he argues those are for lesser mortals, which she’s long learned has evolved in recent years to mean not just that he thinks he’s above something in general, but more now that he thinks he’s better than technological advances.

And Patricia Harrington has standards, certainly, but she can also recognize when

She’s also old enough to remember when ‘new’ was an opportunity to throw her Black Card and gloat a little in the rush of the novelty, the momentary shine until the next new thing appeared to repeat the cycle.

She might be feeling her years, but she doesn’t understand when her husband got so damn old.

At least he’s still savvy enough to the time that they’ve got an airtight security system for the house itself, given the trespassers—more likely would-be-burglars, given the evaluation they’d just paid taxes on for the property—that she spies out the window, hears where she cracked the window in the kitchen to light a cigarette as she brews an early coffee.

Maybe Richard will agree to motion sensors for the yard, if she tells him about these…miscreants.

They’re moving carefully, like they don’t want to be seen, or more likely caught—suspicious, obviously—but they’re also moving like the know where they’re headed, as if they’re familiar with the space they’re traversing even in the pitch dark: even more suspect, really, and she wonders if they’ve cased the home, adds full-property camera surveillance to her list of proposals for reevaluating their security.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to—“ she barely catches the hiss from one of the criminals from across the yard, but it doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last because the second party drags the first close and: the lighting’s horrible, the moon’s crescent at best, but there’s really only one thing to be doing when two bodies press close, and then break apart with a pop she makes out on the breeze and, well. She was young, once.

“Believe it, baby,” the second trespasser rumbles low, and, oh, good god: “we gotta hit all the landmarks.”

They’re men. They’re both of them men and they were just—

“Landmarks?” the first one hisses sharper, this time, and Patricia…she doesn’t care nearly as much as Richard does about what people do in their bedrooms that she personally doesn’t agree with.

But this isn’t anyone’s own bedroom. This is her lawn.

“Of our story,” the second one, he—he—has got such curly hair she likely would have assume it was a very tall women, if it weren’t for the voice; “all our highlights.”

“What, exactly, was—“ the first man, he sounds a little exasperated as he whispers, but…fond. Fond like Patricia hasn’t heard in…well.

A very, very long time, at least.

“Here,” the curly haired fiend traipsing her property stops at a redbud tree Richard had always despised, said it looked tacky, common. Patricia canceled every removal service he’d had whichever secretary he instructed to send.

The second man turns, moves slow toward the tree before reaching, placing a hand on the trunk almost carefully, reverently. There’s something…familiar about him. The shape of his face, the way the the coif of his hair catches in shadow—

“My nanny used to tell me this tree was planted the year I was born, that it grew up with me,” and oh, oh, that’s, he’s—“so that I’d have to eat my vegetables and stuff, if I wanted to see it grow.”

He sounds so nostalgic, so soft at the edges; Patricia doesn’t know if she’s ever heard her son sound like that.

Because that’s who it is; why he seemed familiar even at a distance.

Even if she hasn’t seen or heard from Steven in nearly twenty years.

“And look at you both,” the other man, with the curly hair, he’s holding Steven by his arms, and the motion, the body language is…tender even before she hears the words filter over:

“Big and strong,” the man says, and then he’s cupping Steven’s cheek and Steven leans in so quick, like he trusts deeply, here: “fuckin’ beautiful.”

She can’t see it, not in the dark, but something tells her Steven’s smiling for the words. It makes her feel…uncomfortable.

Because it’s not as if they hadn’t seen it; she doesn’t know where Steven’s moved, where he ended up when he moved out while they were gone, left his key and a simple, terse little note about the furnace needing looked at—she only knows he’s nowhere near here, anymore, and she suspects there are some, like the former police chief and his wife, who know where he went but she never asks. She’s too proud for that.

But the point is: Steven doesn’t live in Hawkins anymore, and likely lives nowhere near Hawkins. But when The Post ran the engagement announcement it had only been implied, she’d never have been able to place is, but: when and S. Harrington and E. Munson announced their happy news in print, in a town that didn’t house people by those initials, even if it still housed residents by those family names?

Well. Patricia had suspicions. And she remembers the Munson boy largely because his hair was an unmistakable mess.

Apparently some things didn’t change.

“This,” the Munson boy, because that’s who it is, that’s who’s still cradling her son so close and so gently: “this was the first place I knew you wanted me.”

Steven’s head, she sees, still tilts just so when he’s baffled.

“What?”

“I knew you loved me like I love you, I knew that way before but you,” and the Munson boy, he pulls his hand across his face like the night isn’t doing the hiding for him. Preposterous, really.

“The urchins were inside, we were going to grab more pop to bring in and you pushed me up against this very tree,” and the boy—man, they’re men, they’ve long been men and Patricia doesn’t want to pry up the implications of how she saw no part of the becoming part of that process with her own eyes—but the man’s voice is so warm, so…smitten.

It should be nauseating. Another thing she doesn’t want to pry at is why it…isn’t. At least not quite.

“Couldn’t wait, you said, couldn’t keep you hands off me,” and he’s turning Steven, walking him back against the tree as he speaks the words, like he’s reenacting something nigh-sacred.

“And I knew that I was out of my mind with wanting you like that, on top of loving you more than fucking life baby, but,” and Munson, she can see the way he breathes in his deep for the heave in the line of his back, and she can see the way he…brushes the line of his nose back and forth against Steven’s.

Who still has her father’s nose.

“You were hard as soon as you pinned me,” and Patricia frowns at the glass, when she hears that; and she barely hears is, in fairness, it’s pitched low even as they think they’re alone which is the least they can do but they are not alone and Patrician does not need to be subjected to—

“And it was like a light switch, or a lightning bolt,” the Munson boy—they’re boys they are still boys—but the Munson boy whispers it, and sounds like he’s wondering at it;

“He loves me,” he breathes, the line of his back breathing so deep again; “and he fucking wants me.”

And no, Patricia does not need to hear that at all, but.

There is a part of her, buried somewhere, who…does miss the idea of wanting. Of being wanted. In the abstract.

“You’re absurd,” Steven snorts and oh; oh, she remembers that tone, that testy little snark that always riled Richard enough that he’d largely stomped it out of the boy but oh: Patricia did love when Steven failed to rein it in.

Because it always reminded her that Steven was her son.

She doesn’t intend to start rubbing at her chest, but it…it feels kind of tight, there, just now.

It aches, there. Just now.

“I love you,” and Steven’s voice, she’s never heard him speak with that much feeling, and it’s difficult not to…to react to even just overhearing, to eavesdropping, though in fairness: it is, again, her property.

“And I want you,” Steven leans in, and kisses at Munson’s cheek with such affection, a devotion that’s obvious, near-blinding even in the dark; “just as much now as then,” and then Steven, Steven—

He laughs.

He laughs and it’s such a light and carefree sound and it’s so foreign to Patricia’s ears that it almost makes her anxious, or something of the like.

“But then so much more, baby,” and the warmth in those words: those are foreign too.

Those feel strange to hear, not least in Steven’s voice which…

She thinks she may not have recognized, if the first thing she hear were these words, in this tone.

She’s not wholly sure how to sit with that suspicion.

“Ten days,” the Munson boy’s hands go to Steven’s hips and he rocks them back and forth a bounce in the motion, a levity.

“Ten days,” and Steven…no.

No: she would not have recognized that voice.

She would not have known her son.

“You’re gonna be my husband,” the Munson boy whispers, Patricia only hears because she’s trying to, now, she…she wants to even if it hurts unexpectedly, the tightness under her hand in her chest a pain, now, a small little stab when this man cups her son’s cheeks, cradles him so careful and so…so loving, undeniable even like this, and says what she suspected from that notice in the paper.

Steven is getting married. Steven is getting married and he is proud enough to flaunt it in a town who could never prove it, where he no longer has tied; to a a partner who is proud enough to do the same just as brazen, and she doesn’t know if she’s proud or put-off, but she does know here, now—

Steven is in love. And he is loved deeply in kind. And the person who loves him sounds in awe at the idea of pledging forever not as a contract, but maybe more as a privilege.

She wasn’t paying attention for a strand of seconds as she acknowledged this, and decided ultimately to stop trying to do anything deeper than just that.

But she sees them pull apart; they’d been kissing the entire time she’d been thinking it through.

She isn’t even interested in acknowledging the…niggling little feeling of that kind of prolonged affection, let alone the way they reach for each other, steady each other in the coming apart, as if they have no desire to wholly come apart.

The idea of trusting another pair of hands like it looks as if they do, in the dim of these early hours, is…another foreign thing.

“Okay, okay,” the Munson boy laughs, no, giggles; “let’s get out of here before the owners notice.”

And he turns, would meet her eyes if he could see her; she knows he can’t, knows she’s standing just beyond the capacity to be caught and how absurd, caught inside her own house.

But then he’s turned away again; the house, and whatever it holds, far less compelling than the man at his side.

“Wayne’s place?” Steven’s asking and the Munson boy grabs his hand, lifts it to his mouth.

“Yeah,” the Munson boy says so low, so soft and sweet; “we can hit some more landmarks before that bagel joint he likes opens, we can take him breakfast.”

“More landmarks?” Steven sounds baffled, but so very fond and his partner doesn’t let go of his hand once, reels him in to peck his cheek.

“Of course, sweetheart,” the Munson boy nearly…purrs, how ridiculous; “so many. Because we’ve got one hell of a story.”

But ridiculous or no: the moon shifts out from the clouds as they make to scamper off the lawn and Patricia sees her son’s face for the first time in decades, now, and oh.

Oh: she’s never seen him smile like that. Not…not once.

She turns away, because the sting in her chest burns behind her eyes, a little; because the joy on Steven’s face is…

It feels private; like something she’s not meant to see.

She goes to pour herself the coffee she’d largely forgotten, and, well.

She’s still going to talk to Richard about security, but maybe…

Maybe not just now.

permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

[eene-fangirl]

Monster House-Ed Chapter 1

Here is the first chapter of my story Monster House-ED! Monster House was one of my favorite animated Halloween films as a kid. I always laughed at the kid's interactions. I am looking forward to writing more of this story. Enjoy!

“You can’t catch me, Sarah!” Jimmy challenged his friend as they rode on their tricycles through the cul-de-sac.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Jimmy! I’m right behind you, you slippery rattlesnake!” Sarah smiled viciously as she peddled along. 

The children’s laughter filled the neighborhood. Orange leaves fell from the trees into piles. People were just setting up last minute decorations for the exciting night that was just around the corner. Witches flying against the door. Graves. Or strobe lights for extra special effects.

Kids couldn’t wait to dress up and travel around their neighborhoods for candy. It was one of the best nights of all. Except, all but one enjoyed the night. Alerted by the happy shrieks of laughter outside, the old man retreated into the darkness, resting a hand against the wood of his old house, easing his nerves.

“Hey, Jimmy, I’m right beside you! I’m gonna beat you!”

“The last one there makes hot cocoa!”

“Uh-huh, the last one has to give the other their Halloween candy!” Sarah challenged.

“Eat by dust bubbles!” Jimmy raced off on his trike, narrowly avoiding hitting a tree.

Just then, Sarah yelped. Alerted, and cautious that it may be a trick, Jimmy slowed and turned around. His friend was still sitting on her trike having difficulty spinning the wheels but she couldn’t get them to comprehend.

“Sarah, are you okay?” Jimmy called out, turning himself around on his trike.

“Yeah! But, this grass won’t let my tires go!” Sarah struggling, gritting her teeth, trying to pull her bike to make it go.

From the looks of it, the grass looked as if it knabbed Sarah’s trike. Impossible. Grass didn’t have hands. The grass was just tangled around the spokes of the wheels.

“I don’t understand this!” Sarah grumbled.

“Maybe we could pull it together?” Jimmy said getting off his trike.

“No, I think I got it!”

Just then, an orange leaf flew onto the spokes of the wheel. It wasn’t like it was anything out of the ordinary, but the kids stared at it, watching it move, floating daintily, until the wind took it, pulling the leaf through the grass, towards the old house that menacingly stood over the children. 

Until now, the kids didn’t realize that they were in front of the lawn that all the kids talked about in the school. The monster lawn. The house of no return. Suddenly feeling intimidated by the gigantic house, the children felt as they heard breathing. A growl. Glancing at the windows, Jimmy was sure that he saw... no, it was only...

The door opened.

For a moment there was nothing except eerie darkness. Followed by ominous growling. Through the darkness the outline of a menacing old man appeared out of the shadows and shouted. “Get off my lawn!”

Jimmy screamed in terror. Sweating, Sarah tried to get her trike to go but the tires were stuck to the grass. Jimmy even tried to give her a push but even that didn’t help. It was too late anyway as the old man, who was surprisingly very agile despite his age, ran out, waving his fists in the air.

“Trespassers! Do you want to be eaten alive?!” He shouted as spit flew off his mouth.

Sarah and Jimmy shook their heads, their lips trembling. “No!”

“Then get outta here!” The old man pointed down the sidewalk.

Obeying, Jimmy started running away, screaming, when Sarah grabbed his arm. Gaining some confidence, Sarah stood her ground, trying to be more intimidating than the old man. “You and whose army?”

Taking another challenging step, the old man snarled. “Get outta here before your bones are lying on the ground!”

The children ran for it. But Sarah stopped Jimmy again. “We want our trikes!”

Picking up the trikes with little effort, the old man’s strength was something to be admired. However, that changed when he broke the wheels off the trikes.

His heart shattering at such a cruel act, Jimmy sobbed as Sarah walked him away from the scene. Still feeling confident the little girl spat a raspberry at the old man.

“Stay away from my house!” The old man shouted after them. And that was that. With a huff, the old man walked back to his house. Why couldn’t any of them listen?

Having a feeling that he was being watched, the old man turned around and snarled at a boy, who was just across the street, spying on the events.

Gasping, Eddy immediately stepped away from the telescope, tripping over a heap of his laundry to the floor. Did he see him? Aw, man, he was cheated out again! The old man was always one step ahead of him. Ah, who cares! It’s not like the old man ever walked passed the walkway that led to his house. 

“Eddy!” Eddy’s mother called out to him from outside. “Your father and I are leaving soon, come say goodbye to us!”

Jotting down the most recent activity on a crumpled piece of paper with shaking hands, Eddy went through all the developed photographs of what the old man stole now. Even the photo of the man sinisterly staring at him from afar. The image gave him shivers. Taking a breath, he had to remind himself that it was not... him.

The old man stole a lot of toys from the neighborhood kids for twelve years. Eddy still didn’t understand why his parents wouldn’t buy him a cell phone yet. He had to pretend to have one in front of the other kids in school. It was embarrassing using a polaroid camera to take pictures! Oh, what was he saying it was his Grandfather’s!

“Eddy!” Eddy’s mother called out, this time more as a warning. He could hear his mother mumble something to his dad.

“Listen to your mother, son!” his dad called out.

Rolling his eyes, Eddy raced out of the house. Once outside in the driveway, his mother was just putting away the last suitcase of three others stored with his dad’s lone bag sitting in the corner of the trunk. It look as if it were hiding out in a cave. They were only going away overnight and yet his mother acted as if they were going to be gone for a whole week.

“Mom, he did it again!” Eddy announced, flailing his arms at the house across the street.

“Who did what again?” His mother asked, worried for a moment.

“Didn’t you see? He’s right across the street! Old man Jonny stole another trike!”

Eddy’s mother shook her head. “Eddy, how many times have I told you not to call your neighbor by that insulting name? And this spying shenanigans has to come to an end!”

“And the scamming, too,” his dad added closing the trunk of the car.

Not this again. “Ed and I aren’t scamming! We’re making business!”

“You and Ed should do better things. Why don’t you two ever sign up for sports in school?”

Eddy groaned. Nobody understood! Why even bother trying to count on his parents? Stuffing his hands inside his pockets and sulking, Eddy caught sight of the house across the street. Where did the old man store all the stolen toys? 

Once when he was a little kid he and Ed rode their bikes by the house. He’d never been so scared in his whole life when the old man chased them down, taking away their bikes. It was scarier than... than... 

With a sharp pat on the shoulder from his dad, Eddy yelped, drawing back.

“Eddy?” his mother asked, alerted.

Grasping his heart, Eddy tried to act normal, like his throat wasn’t closing up. “Do you have to sneak up on me like that?”

His mother raced over, falling to her knees. “Eddy, your complexion looks odd. Are you feeling alright? Have you done your breathing exercises today?”

Pushing himself away, Eddy groaned. “Mom, I’m fine! Never been better!”

His mother frowned. And then she turned to her husband, shaking his hand. “Harold, maybe we shouldn’t go. Or you could come with us?”

“Enough, Barbara,” Eddy’s father waved a hand to make his wife calm down. “It’s just overnight! Besides, Marie is already on her way.”

Scoffing again, Eddy would have told them how he didn’t need a babysitter for one evening, but he’d obviously lose that bet. Even the thought about being alone made him feel uneasy.

When his mother walked away, Eddy’s dad bent down to his side, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulder. “You know son when I was your age I spied for a different reason,” his dad said changing the subject. 

“Who says I’m spying?” That was when Eddy realized. “Oh, well...”

His father pat him on the back, this time, more softly. “Yeah, I spied on your mother all day until the day I eventually got a date with her!”

“Yes, at least he survived me punching him in the face after he fell out of that tree,” Eddy’s mother approached from behind, starling her husband. Smiling, the couple nuzzled together, kissing. The sight only made Eddy want to barf.

Now it was time for the goodbyes. Dreading this part, Eddy washed his face good and clean from all the lipstick.

“Marie will be here in an hour,” his mother said getting into the passenger seat of the car. “Be good!”

“Why don’t ya tell her that?”

“That’s enough, son. We’ll see you tomorrow night.” Just when his dad was pulling out of the driveway a big thunk against the back windshield made Eddy’s mother cry out in a panic.

It was only Ed. Wearing what looked to be a monster-chicken mask. “My bad! I can’t see a thing with the mask on!”

“Then keep it off, Ed!” Eddy threw off the mask, throwing into the pathway of the car in the driveway.

“Have fun tonight, boys!” Eddy’s mother called out again.

“I heard you the first seven thousand times, Ma!” An annoyed Eddy said back to her.

“Eddy!” Eddy’s father warned. Then he closed his window. That only made Eddy’s mother angry and for a fight to happen inside the car.

“They’re never gonna leave!” Eddy whispered to Ed. The taller boy snickered.

Finally, Eddy’s mother reached over her husband and put down the driver's window. “We both love you!”

And then the car pulled out of the driveway as his parents continued to gripe over blowing Eddy more kisses.

Eddy groaned, letting out his steam to the heavens. Why did it always have to be like this? Out of all the parents in school, nobody else had embarrassing parents who covered their child with kisses every morning! His mother was just one of those parents. Especially since... what happened. 

“It’s okay, Eddy. Cheer up! It’s almost Halloween!” Ed tried to cheer his friend up. “Ooh, look what I got!”

“What did you get, Ed?” Eddy asked. He didn’t mean to sound uninterested. Why couldn’t he have slept over Ed’s place? Oh yeah, Sarah hated him. And Eddy’s parents weren’t too fond of Ed’s parents. How ironic when they loved Ed to pieces.

“A new basketball!” Ed presented the orange ball.

Eddy looked at with an ‘are you serious’ expression. “But you don’t play basketball.”

“Yeah, but my dad watches basketball all the time! I could start playing and get good! Watch this!” Ed dribbled the ball trying to mimic all the moves of a basketball player. Eddy did find it humorous.

“Maybe this is what I should be when we go trick-or-treating tomorrow night!”

“Uh, Ed...”

“Ooh, ooh! I got it! An alien basketball player!”

“Ed, I...”

“No, I got it! What about...”

“Ed!” Eddy hollered to get his attention.

“Yeah, Eddy?” Ed asked. He stopped dribbling the ball.

Eddy sighed, finally looking up at Ed. “I don’t think I’m going trick-or-treating this year.”

Ed’s face broke. “What? But you love trick-or-treating! We stayed out for four hours last year! Halloween is your favorite holiday!”

And the reason they were out for four hours was due to a misleading map from his brother. He wanted to kick himself for how stupid he was. Why did he fall for that? As if he really changed. 

Brushing a hand through his hair, Eddy struggled to find an answer. “I know, Ed. Trick-or-treating just seems like a... kid thing.”

“We are kids!”

Why was this so hard to explain? Once he loved Halloween and now it was just a big trigger for him. He couldn’t find the words to tell Ed even though he knew he’d understand.

“Let’s just watch monster movies this year.”

Pouting, Ed pounced the ball around, charging at Eddy and then backing off. “He lunges, he knocked over the shortstop!”

“That’s baseball, stupid!”

“He throws! Score!”

Unfortunately, the ball Ed tossed into the air, smacked Ed in the face. He rolled onto the ground in pain.

“My nose is in my brain!” Ed shouted frightfully.

“Let me see!” Ed unshielded his face so Eddy could look at him. Then his eyes grew and Eddy recoiled. “Oh, no!”

“What?”

“You’re a lump!” Eddy joked and laughed in his friend’s face. 

“Haha, Eddy!” Ed laughed sarcastically. 

“You shoulda seen the look on your face!”

Forgetting about the joke, Ed looked around. “Where’s my ball?”

An awful feeling washing over the two Eds, they turned around to see that Ed’s basketball landed right on old man Jonny’s front lawn. Running across the street, the boys stopped right on the sidewalk before the walkway started as if it were lava right in front of them. It was so close and yet so far.

Eddy pat his friend on his shoulder, turning back. “Sorry, Ed.”

“Wait, Eddy, can you get it?” Ed begged his friend.

“Why me?”

“Because... you own me!” Ed said sheepishly.

“What? No way! You owe me!”

“But I covered for you!”

“So did you! Please, Eddy, I need to impress my dad! And plus I asked my mom a dozen times for one more quarter. And Sarah got so annoyed that she threw a dime at me! I didn’t find the last quarter until I saw it in a drain!”

Unable to resist the dog pouting, Eddy groaned. Why did he always get himself into these situations? Taking a quick look around at his surroundings, there was no sign of old man Jonny.

“Old man Jonny has to be asleep,” Eddy studied the area. Since he kept a close watch on this house every day from the moment he returned home from school until he had to go to bed, it was kind of funny how he memorized this house routine. Wow, that was dumb! “I got one chance.”

“Thank you, Eddy!” Ed squeezed his friend tightly.

“Yeah, yeah...”

“I’ll never forget this. Hurry!” And Ed pushed Eddy over the danger line.

No turning back now. And Eddy ran across the lawn. No one yet. Was this his lucky day? No, of course, something bad was going to happen! 

Right when he was about to pick up the ball, the door opened. Out stepped Jonny who pointed at him with a threatening finger. “You!”

Eddy was stuck in place, afraid to move. Just then, the old man charged at him. Tripping over his shoelace, Eddy kicked up some of the dirt onto the walkway.

The old man stared, horrified at the sight as if someone had been wounded.

Then he picked up his head, staring menacingly at Eddy. “Look what you’ve done!”

“I.. uh... it was...” Eddy couldn’t gather his words together. His throat was tightening. No, focus your breathing! Be a man!

“Run, Eddy!” Ed hollered from the end of the sidewalk. He grabbed at his hair, grabbing at it, struggling to go help Eddy or stay in his place. Was there anyone around to help? No! Of course not, barely anyone ever came out of their houses on this street. 

Running as fast as he could, Eddy didn’t dare look back. The old man reached for him, trying to grab at Eddy’s shirt. No, don’t think about him. You can do this.

But then, the old man grabbed his shirt. Eddy reached for Ed who was only a foot away.

Picking him up into the air, Eddy stared into the old man’s menacing eyes. 

“You want to be dead?!” The old man screamed, shaking him.

Eddy shook his head. “No!”

“Then stay away from my house!” He hollered, his voice shaking.

“Got it!” Eddy just wanted this to be over, having a horrible flashback.

“Why can’t you all just listen and stay away from...”

The old man fell silent. A horrifying silence as his entire face paled. And then the old man slumped over, falling on top of Eddy. He wasn’t moving.

If Ed and Eddy were paying attention they would have seen the house move for a brief second. And then smoke rose out from the chimney.

[grailacademy]

Welcome To Grail Academy - Chapter Twenty-four: Little Secrets

Hari watched out the window of a cafe on the street corner. He was wrapped in a parka, sipping on a warm cup of coffee. Atlas was indeed cold. He didn’t like big cities, they were always so crowded. Too many people, he could barely move. Buildings were too tall, there was no way to be able to see the sky, day or night. The only reason he tolerated Calicem was because, while there were plenty of skyscrapers and towering office buildings, the population was barely 300,000. Everyone left him alone, nobody bumped elbows with him, the idea of personal space actually meant something. Here, the people were loud and obnoxious, and cheap. So, so cheap. Even though they were all rich, upper-class elites, somehow Atlas garnered the reputation for being one of the stingiest places in Remnant. Hari was glad he would only be here for a day.

An old woman pulled the hood of her coat up once she stepped outside her house across the street. She used her scarf to shield herself from the cold as she walked down the block towards a series of shops. Hari saw. He stood up, finished his coffee, and headed out the door.

It wasn’t hard to pick the lock. Despite the cutting-edge Atlesian technology that was installed around every corner, this house seemed to be the only modest building on the street. It was tilted to one side since it had been constructed on an incline, painted a dull sky blue with wood paneling along the exterior. When Hari entered, the house was dark. A layer of smoke settled around the entire building, meeting him at his waist. The windows were open, which helped clear out the smoke. He could smell something burning. Past the living room was a humble kitchen, a bunny hutch by the wall, a stove in the corner, a square dining table with two chairs in the center of the room. The smoke was thickest here, wafting up from a skillet full of burnt and charred remains of what he could only assume was some kind of omelette. Hari flung the cabinet doors to the bunny hutch open, rummaging through it to find anything of importance. He scoured the entire house, being careful to put everything back the way he found it afterwards.

The attic was cramped, with ceilings so low that Hari had to hunch over, lest he hit his head. Dusty cardboard boxes littered the space, and furniture with faded white sheets draped over them that gave the appearance of vague ghosts and spectres. He found a crate full of old issues of The Blue Inferno, a closet that housed a wedding dress with a plastic cover over its hanger, toys that were most likely stored here once the child had grown out of them, and a box of VHS tapes and photo slides. Hari brushed dust off the tapes, reading the labels written in marker on the sides. They were all regular home movies, a baby’s first steps, someone blowing out candles on their birthday, a school musical, a child opening his holiday presents, a science fair, a vacation at the beach, a wedding.  The photo slides were inky and smudged from weathering, but the images were clear enough to tell that they were family photos. A rolled up packet of papers, crinkled and stapled together, rested at the bottom of the box. This was what intrigued Hari the most. It was an old police report, it had photographs attached to its corner. He snatched one of the tapes, a handful of photo slides, and the police report, and stuffed them all into his parka. Hari thought for a long time about cleaning the skillet sitting on the stove with the burnt gunk slowly crusting and sticking to it as he walked past the kitchen. He closed the front door behind him, reversed his handiwork and locked it, and fled the scene.

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

The clocktower struck 3 o’clock in the morning when the remainder of EBNY returned to the campus of their school. They tried to be as quiet as possible when they snuck around the corner of the academy entrance and used the foliage of bushes and trees dotting the landscape to hide their shapes. If there were teachers out patrolling during the curfew, they didn’t want to get caught. Soil, now hard and ridged from snow that froze into an icy layer on top of it, crunched under their shoes. The world was different at night, quiet, intense. It made it easy for Esmerelda to notice the shouting in the distance. They were about to sneak back into the dorm building when she heard the yelling. At first, they thought it was because someone had caught them after curfew, and Nico moved faster to pick the dorm hall lock. But nobody was chasing after them, there were no signs of flashlights bouncing from the ground to the walls that gave the impression of running. On the other side of the campus, past the building where any of them could see, Kismet and Pearl were facing off against a trio of much more dangerous trespassers.

“Hands where I can see them!” Kismet roared, his eyes falling on the figure of a woman, well-dressed and hair tied back in a bun, her back turned to him while she worked on something faceted to the door of the clocktower. The butt of his musket rested firmly under his arm, the barrel aimed and ready. The woman did not acknowledge him. She simply waved a hand, sighing out “Take care of them.”

From beyond the shadows stepped Aurum, who cracked his knuckles. Pearl readied herself for a fight, just as Kismet was doing the same. Without warning, Aurum charged forward and swung a heavy right hook into Kismet’s side, a hearty smile on his face. He relished the feeling of his brass knuckles connecting with a worthy opponent, but it seemed tonight was not that night. The professor slid across the academy’s lawn, only stopping himself from falling over completely when he cocked his weapon and fired a shot in the enemy’s direction. It nicked Aurum on the shoulder, and before he had time to react, Pearl was on him.

An alien object quickly spun through the air to imbed itself in the ground, dangerously close to Aurum’s feet and...other regions as it struck down right between his legs. It was about a yard high, the size and shape of a small hula hoop ring, and made of gold. The razor-sharp portion of the chakram was (thankfully) hidden mostly in the snow, but the exposed handle portion of it showed an elaborate pattern of a twisting vine with fairies plucking flowers off it. Pearl glowered at the man, tapping another chakram against her hip. Aurum laughed, tugging the chakram out and tossing it back to her. “Oh, please. Hit me with your best shot!”

Kismet sprinted, gun at the ready. Lolanthe was his target, her figure clear in the moonlight. As the snow settled, he spun the musket around and jabbed the butt into the back of her head. But, instead of collapsing, falling forward, or even reacting to the attack, Lolanthe stood perfectly still. As she did, Kismet watched in horror as the butt of his weapon slowly absorbed into her head. Her body was glossy, and slowly deforming itself, almost as if it was melting around the gun. “Ugh!” He let go of his musket as Lolanthe dripped down into a puddle of hot wax. “What is…” He grumbled, turned around, finding Lolanthe standing a few yards behind him. She pulled a pair of candlesticks from her dress pockets, setting them neatly in the snow upright. It was an odd sight, to be sure. But, the symbols she made with her hands, twisting her fingers through the air, were almost hypnotic. The candles slowly grew and rose, writhing until they matched her height and shape. Even the puddle of wax that his gun was trapped in, moved in the same way. In a few seconds, Kismet was surrounded by four Lolanthes.

The moment Pearl launched off in his direction, Aurum lazily leaned to his right to avoid the blade, and raised his arm just in time for his fist to go straight through the middle of the ring. Then it was just a simple matter of twisting his wrist and turning the chakram to spin the weapon out of Pearl’s hand and letting it topple to the ground. Once her chakram was out of the way, Aurum twirled around on his left heel and knocked her in the back of the neck with his elbow in an attempt to throw her off balance. Pearl ducked down and swept her leg into the man’s shin, toppling him. After that, her attention turned to the chakram that lay dormant in the snow.

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

Yorick flipped through an old comic as he sat anxiously on the loveseat in what most considered to be Sable’s office. She had many dens to hide away in on the property, the smoke stacks, the freezer, the observation deck. But she was nowhere to be seen tonight. Yorick took it as a sign that this was a night off from his training, but it didn’t calm him down. The comic he held in his hands was one familiar with him, the series that had launched because of his grandmother’s work as a hunter. He was always fond of the Blue Inferno comics, but it did not cause him the relaxation or rest that it usually did. He read the words on each page, but his mind did not process the dialogue. His brain was too busy screaming at him that something was wrong, and because he couldn’t comprehend what the problem was, the logical conclusion to make was, of course, that the world was ending and this internal panic attack was the universe giving him one final warning. But again, there was the question of what exactly that warning was meant to be.

He had been feeling like this more often ever since that fateful night at the hotel. Something bad was happening. The voice in the back of his head was screeching at him, telling him that there was no future, that he was a fool for sitting idly by with a stupid comic book, just waiting for the end, like a blind sheep. He knew this was not the case, but his anxiety never relented. The voice was especially active tonight, though. The images of a powerful and charismatic caped heroine saving the day, stories that once brought him solace and nostalgia, did nothing but torment him. Yorick stood and made his way to a small opening between two sheets of paper on the wall, where the window was exposed. He watched the floor manager, with his combover and potbelly, packed up his things and left for the night. Rettah and Scarlet gossiped with one another by one of the garage entrances, and Queenie paced back and forth with her hands folded behind her. The door to the office suddenly opened, with Sable and Hari on the other side. Hari held a cardboard box under his arm. “We have a surprise for you.”

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

Three students cautiously peered around the corner of a building, to see their mentors under siege. Kismet, already small in stature, and therefore easily susceptible to attack, was immobilized by a prison of waxen maidens, whose bodies melted around his and hardened so that all that could be seen was half of his face, and part of his arm reaching upwards towards the sky, his hand grasping for escape. Pearl grimaced as Aurum lifted her up, both chakrams were yards away hidden in the snow. His hands gripping her wrists, his arm span made it easy to pull her off the ground and restrain her, like a crucifixion.

“You know, this seems really out of our league, so I’m just going to go....” Nico whispered and started to back away, but Esmerelda reeled him back in by tugging on the lapel of his jacket.

“We may not have our weapons,” She hissed, “But this is still our school. We have to help.” Bernard nodded with a grunt, and rose to his feet. Esmerelda and Nico followed suit, but the group’s confidence didn’t last long, for only seconds later, a shroud of darkness consumed their figures. A shadow that blocked out the light of the moon, darkening where they stood. None of them wanted to turn around, every instinct they had were telling them to run, keep running, and never look back. And yet, damned by their duties as hunters, they turned. The mountainous man, whose features were too hidden in the umbrage cast by the hood of his boarskin cloak to give the children any idea of who he could be, flared his nostrils as he loomed over them.

Esmerelda, Bernard, and Nico were thrown across the campus quad with one swift movement of the man’s arm, leaving them to land at Lolanthe’s feet. “Ah, I see you’ve found some unwelcome guests” said Lolanthe, irritated. The man lumbered towards them and mumbled in a low, gravely voice, “More meat.” The comment made Aurum laugh.

But the voice. That tone. Those words. There was a familiarity to them, something that Nico recognized. Nico slowly turned his head around to get a clear view of their attacker, sharing an expression that read shock and excitement. Before Esmerelda was dragged off by Aurum via the back of her coat, before Bernard was pinned down by Lolanthe’s wax copies, and before Nico was clocked in the jaw by the herculean man’s right hook, he squealed out one phrase with glee, “Blitzkrieg Butcher!?”

[newstfionline]

Hunting a Killer: Sex, Drugs and the Return of Syphilis

By Jan Hoffman, NY Times, Aug. 24, 2017

OKLAHOMA CITY--For months, health officials in this socially conservative state capital have been staggered by a fast-spreading outbreak of a disease that, for nearly two decades, was considered all but extinguished.

Syphilis, the deadly sexually transmitted infection that can lead to blindness, paralysis and dementia, is returning here and around the country, another consequence of the heroin and methamphetamine epidemics, as users trade sex for drugs.

To locate possible patients and draw their blood for testing, Oklahoma’s syphilis detectives have been knocking on doors in dilapidated apartment complexes and dingy motels, driving down lonely rural roads and interviewing prison inmates. Syphilis has led them to members of 17 gangs; to drug dealers; to prostitutes, pimps and johns; and to their spouses and lovers, all caught in the disease’s undertow.

“Syphilis doesn’t sleep for anyone,” said Portia King, a veteran Oklahoma state health investigator. “We have 200 open cases of sex partners we’re looking for. And the spread is migrating out of the city.”

It took months for investigators to realize Oklahoma City had a syphilis outbreak. Last fall, the juvenile detention center reported three cases--a boy and two girls, the youngest, 14. The center had never had a syphilis case in seven years of testing for it.

Investigators were mystified: The teenagers did not know each other, live in the same neighborhood or attend the same school.

Then, in February, a prison inmate tested positive. In interviews, he listed 24 sex partners--some his own, others the so-called pass-around girls for gangs, usually in exchange for heroin or methamphetamine. Contact information from the Entertainment Manager, as he called himself, pointed the way to a syphilis spread that, by March, led health officials to declare an outbreak, one of the largest in the country.

Although syphilis still mostly afflicts gay and bisexual men who are African-American or Hispanic, in Oklahoma and nationwide, rates are rising among white women and their infants. Nearly five times as many babies across the country are born with syphilis as with H.I.V.

Syphilis is devilishly difficult to contain, but may be even more so now. Because most doctors haven’t seen a case since the late 1990s, they often misdiagnose it. The cumbersome two-step lab test is antiquated. Although syphilis can be cured with an injection, there has been a shortage of the antibiotic, made only by Pfizer, for over a year.

And funding for clinics dedicated to preventing sexually transmitted diseases is down. In 2012, half of state programs that address sexually transmitted infections experienced reductions; funding has largely stayed flat since then. The Trump administration has proposed a 17 percent cut to the federal prevention budget.

Nearly 24,000 cases of early-stage syphilis, when the disease is most contagious, were reported in the United States in 2015, the most recent data. That was a 19 percent rise over the previous year. The total for 2015, including those with later-stage disease, was nearly 75,000, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

The way to shut down an outbreak is to locate all the sex partners of people who are infected and persuade them to get tested, treated and disclose other partners. That task has fallen on a handful of the health department’s disease intervention specialists.

This most recent wave of infections, spread through gang networks and prostitution rings, has made their jobs not only difficult but also dangerous.

Erinn Williams, the lead field investigator for the Oklahoma City outbreak, drove slowly down a one-lane gravel road curtained by overgrowth and bristling with barbed wire and “No Trespassing” signs.

Ms. Williams, 39, life-seasoned by an Alaska upbringing, Air Force training and two small daughters, usually makes these visits alone. She keeps her baby’s car seat in the back, to allay suspicions that she may be an undercover police officer.

“What you do is your business,” she tells the wary. “I’m here because I care about your health.”

She is accustomed to stopping by houses with locks punched out; to being warned off by drug dealers; to wearing comfortable shoes, the better to run away in.

She pulled up to a clearing. Across a ragged lawn, she could see a battered blue trailer surrounded by pickup trucks and a stand of trees. Access was blocked by an iron fence, monitored by video cameras.

Ms. Williams pushed a call button. “Hi, I’m here from the health department. Can I talk to you? I have some news.”

A young woman hesitantly crossed the grass. For months she had avoided health workers. Once, an investigator spotted her slipping in through a side entrance to her mother’s house; at the front door, the mother denied that her daughter was there.

Fresh-faced, her blonde hair in a ponytail, the woman looked healthier than most people Ms. Williams visits, with their grayish skin, abscesses and mottled veins.

Ms. Williams was gentle but direct: “Your blood test results came back. It’s positive for syphilis.”

The woman buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” she sobbed. (Bound by confidentiality rules, Ms. Williams did not disclose her name.)

“Is that why my baby died?” she asked.

Ms. Williams nodded affirmatively.

“Can my kid get it? We sometimes share the same glass.”

No, Ms. Williams said. Just your sexual partners.

The woman insisted she had slept with only two men that year--her boyfriend and her ex, the father of the baby who had died.

Ms. Williams, who knew the woman’s Facebook page revealed many friends in a gang central to the outbreak, asked her to think carefully about whether there were more. We never reveal your name, she said, just as we cannot tell you who gave us yours.

The woman shook her head.

It was time to coax the woman into treatment. Just an injection and you will almost certainly be cured, Ms. Williams said, offering to drive her to the clinic. Her boyfriend too, Ms. Williams added.

He wasn’t around, the woman said, but she promised they would be there in the morning.

Are you sure you don’t want to go now? Ms. Williams asked.

Again, the woman shook her head.

Reluctantly, Ms. Williams got in her car and drove away.

Syphilis, caused by bacteria, has been well known for centuries, chronicled as a scourge since at least the 1400s.

In 1932, the United States government began the ignominious “Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male” to observe the progress of the disease in black Alabama sharecroppers. Although penicillin had become accepted as the cure by 1945, Tuskegee researchers left the men untreated until 1972, when the study was shut down.

By then, largely because of treatment and public education, syphilis was disappearing. A generation of physicians rarely learned to recognize it firsthand.

But with the AIDS epidemic, syphilis surged, peaking around 1990. It was most common--and still is--among men who had sex with men, often those whose H.I.V. status made them vulnerable to other sexually transmitted infections.

Once again, public health campaigns sent syphilis into retreat. By 2000, only 5,970 cases were reported in the United States, the lowest since 1941, when reporting became mandatory.

But in the last few years, it has crept back.

Here in Oklahoma City, 199 cases have been connected so far this year. More than half the patients are white and female. The youngest girl is 14; the oldest man, 61. Three stillbirths have been attributed to syphilis and 13 of the infected were pregnant women.

Rare permutations are now more common. Ocular syphilis, which can strike at any stage of infection, often appears as blurred vision and reddened eyes. Congenital syphilis can cause deformed bones in newborns.

Many people never suspect they have the disease. Early symptoms, including genital lesions and, later, rashes on palms and soles, have led patients and health care providers to mistake it for herpes or allergic reactions. The disease can lie dormant for decades and then affect the liver, joints, blood vessels.

Once people are treated, though cured, they will almost always test positive. It is difficult to know whether a positive result indicates a new infection. After transmission, the bacteria may take three months to register. Those who test negative may have the disease.

The cure for syphilis--usually two injections of Bicillin L-A, a type of penicillin--is relatively simple. But supplies have dwindled. Recently in Oklahoma, there were only seven doses statewide. Pfizer announced that stockpiles would be replenished by the end of 2017.

After several months, dispirited Oklahoma investigators acknowledged that old-school tactics for locating contacts, like knocking on doors and cold-calling, were not very effective. Many people they sought are transient and use disposable phones.

“But they want to stay connected to their friends and their drugs,” said Ms. King, a supervising investigator. “So they’re all on Facebook. That’s where we’re finding them.”

Through Facebook, investigators memorize faces and gang tattoos, and follow the flare-ups and flameouts of relationships. As gang members and dealers post partying plans, the sleuths determine where to point their investigation. They send potential patients messages through Facebook.

Ms. Williams’s team realized they were tracking a spread that reached back to last summer, involved members and associates of 17 gangs, and had infected young people from stable backgrounds who had used prescription opioids, then heroin. Patients often had symptoms that were a signature of this outbreak: weeping genital warts, called condylomata lata; patchy hair loss; and mucosal oozes inside the mouth.

The office created a chart of the outbreak, coded with symbols. Diamond: drug user. Blue heart: pregnant. Strawberry: prostitute.

They have come to understand why more than half of this outbreak’s victims are women: “The men give up the women’s names,” Ms. King said. “But the women are too loyal or afraid to give up the men. “

But recently investigators persuaded a gang leader to text members, ordering them to contact Ms. Williams.

Every day, the team checks arrest reports for people they are seeking. Chloe Hickman interviews inmates. Wearing glasses and no makeup, inclined toward modest cardigans, she doesn’t come across as someone who chats up gang members about their sex lives.

“I don’t cuss in my real life,” she said. “But in the jail, I flirt. I wear tight pants, a low-cut top and I use the F-word.

“Most of them don’t know what syphilis is. When I say it’s curable, they relax. And they’ll give me names.”

Usually such efforts lead to sagas of unrelenting grimness: mothers who prostitute daughters, and men who forcibly inject runaways with drugs to hook them, a practice known as guerrilla pimping.

Acquaintances of the investigators often dismiss their work as disgusting. For support, the women call each other daily, to laugh and vent.

Ms. Williams, on the job for eight years, said it gets to her, but she cannot let it go. “I remind myself that I’m not trying to fix all their problems,” she said. “Just one.”

By 10 o’clock the next morning, Ms. Williams had arranged to pick up one person for treatment, been stood up by another and was texting with a man who refused her offer of a blood draw, claiming that needles made him anxious. She had driven a woman to the clinic, after waiting outside her house as, apparently, the woman was getting high on meth.

Now at the clinic, the woman seemed to have fled. Ms. Williams and nurses ran through hallways, looking for her.

One victory: The woman from the trailer was in the waiting room. But she was alone. In the parking lot, her boyfriend sat out the appointment in his pickup truck, motor idling. He would not come inside for treatment.

He would almost certainly reinfect his girlfriend. And Ms. Williams would have to persuade her to be tested and treated, yet again.

[exo-tic-reactions]

The Strain part 8 | Kai

Hey guys! Damn it’s been a long time hasn’t it? Sorry to keep you all waiting school has just been piling up the stress but here’s part 8 for you lovelies! Enjoy!

You turned to her and gave her the what-are-you-doing? Look. She didn’t respond aloud instead she nodded her head toward the cabin once again. There was someone patrolling the deck and the main lights were on inside. Somebody was occupying the cabin.

Your eyes darted back and forth across the area, inspecting each square foot slowly. The ‘guard’ as you’d call it wasn’t trained in the slightest. His posture was stiff and he held his gun with an iron grip. He was slightly experienced as the way he held his gun showed but he was probably expecting zombies, not people.

Through the window you’ve seen 3 tall figures but you couldn’t make out their features from your position. You slowly stood up as silent as a panther and stepped one step, two still unnoticed.

Your heart pounded and you silently counted to three before leaping across the field only to duck down short when the guard turned in your direction. You stayed low controlling your breathing cursing softly. You peeked back around the bush to see the guard turning the other way and walking around the corner of the deck disappearing. You wasted no time waving your friends over.

“Okay the deck isn’t that large, but it’s decent. We’re gonna need to time him to see how long he takes to patrol the whole thing and then we’re gonna have to sneak past him when his back is turned.”

“But how do we get in? There’s probably more people inside.”

“There’s a back entrance near the kitchen. We can sneak in that way. The only downside is that that door is quiet loud so we need to be really quiet and discreet about it.” Y/f/n whispered.

You all turned back to the cabin waiting till the guard reached the end of the deck. You counted the steps until he turned and disappeared and came back around again.

‘45 seconds. That’s more than enough time.’ You thought as you waited till he tuned back and you put the plan into action. You jumped up and slinked through the shadows silently. You watched the guard disappear around the corner and May appeared at your side just 2 seconds later; followed by Jen and y/f/n.

The back door was just 7 yards away, 21 steps. You breathed in slowly and out. In and out before taking the risk and taking off across the open field with no hiding spots. You felt the adrenaline in your veins as your foot slapped the ground repeatedly. 6 yards away breathe. 4 yards now almost there. 2 yards. 1 yard stop. Hold your breath. You stopped yourself barely in time and let out a sigh of relief.

“We made it.” You whispered. You turned your body around to face the three people who should’ve been behind you but you found only Jen had followed.

“Come on!” You mouthed to May and y/f/n waving them over quickly.

May’s eyes darted from you to the guard back and forth until she took the chance and bolted out into the open with y/f/n in tow. You held your breath as you all pressed as close to the wall as you could get and only released that breath when the guards footsteps wandered off.

You slowly gripped the icy handle of the door and it freaked open loudly. You winced at the sound and then motioned May to go first followed by y/f/n and Jen. You brought up the rear of the pack slowly closing the creaking and whining door without it slamming.

The room was dark with little light flooding beneath the opposing wooden door. The breeze from the outside winter hill carried voices from each corner of the room. Our footsteps were slow and calculated as random squeaks would emit from the floorboards beneath us. Finally we reached the door pressing our ears against the wood, trying to listen to any footsteps lurking near.

One beat passed and then another still silence made itself known. The pounding in your chest had spread to the veins tiny blood and throughout your body making it a beat like a mantra releasing the pent up pressure just as quickly as it was filled back up again. Your delicate fingers reached for the handle and grasped it feeling the cool metal sigh at the warmth of your palm.

Ever so slowly you turned the knob and pulled it open just barely an inch. Peeking through your vision focused on a crackling fireplace the same one you had used to warm up just months ago. A little further you saw the old couches that looked worn but used. Another step there was the den you had hidden up in the day Kai and the boys showed up.

Kai.

Where was he?

What had happened after that night? After the attack? Did they escape? Or did they submit to the inevitable death that were to occur if you let your guard down.

Now the door was open a whole foot as you were transfixed on the living room that was yours. That you called home for some time.

Oddly enough not much had changed in the months after you disappeared. The couches were still in their original positions, the den still had that little ladder you had used to climb, the door that led outside was still the same old chipped brown color.

The only thing new was the shoes placed by the door. Pairs of combat boots, sneakers, even sandals were sat neatly.

There were coats hanging on the old dusty coat rack except now not dusty. There were gloves stacked neatly side by side as if in an order from A to Z. The only thing was that there wasn’t any shoes that looked like they belonged to a female.

The room itself was illuminated brightly, the couches rustled like somebody had just been sitting there. Not a soul was in sight and you felt cautious. If they weren’t in here now they would be soon. You had to move along.

You scattered the room not touching but looking for anything useful. Food, drinks, blankets, weapons anything to survive.

You’d only taken a single step toward den when you heard the distinct click of the safety being pulled down. You froze in place hands held at shoulder level.

“Don’t move.” A deep voice growled as he slowly approached you.

You kept your head down eyes casted to the floor. Ears strained, listening to the sounds of the floorboards creak in protests under the male’s weight. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you heard him begin to get closer and eventually he was circling your frozen figure.

Your heart pounded as you heard the footsteps fall silent and a pair of black boots sat in your line of sight.

“Who are you? Why are you trespassing?”

You swallowed shakily, eyes scanning the floor. You were genially scared at what this man would do if you didn’t answer so you decided to go along with it in a surprisingly confident voice.

“My name is-” ‘think y/n think gotta come up with a lie.’ “Ember. My name is Ember and I was looking for someone.”

A pregnant pause passed as he absorbed your words before a chuckle escaped his lips creating a dark atmosphere kicking your heartbeat up.

“Who is this someone Ember hmm? Are you sure you were looking for someone or just stealing supplies?”

You were silent hoping he’d leave it if you didn’t talk. Oh the irony. The male crouched down slightly putting the cool tip of the gun under your chin and tilting your head up.

“I don’t like being lied to sweetheart. So why don’t you tell me your real name.”

You gulped trying to look away but he had forced you to stare at him. Messy pitch black hair greeted you. Vicious and determined mocha eyes scrutinized your form, analyzing your next move rendering you unable to make a move.

His eyes stared at you intensely, waiting for your response.

“I’m not going to ask again. What’s your real name?” He snapped pushing the cool metal into your skin deeper.

Defeated you responded angry that you had appeared weak and at the mercy of this male who’s eyes glared fiercely at you and black mask concealed his identity.

“That wasn’t so hard was it? Now why don’t you be a good girl and tell me the real reason you were here.”

No. You couldn’t reveal that information to this man. You didn’t know who he was or what he was capable of doing. You prayed you could get out of this. It in this life you knew prayers were pitiful little pieces of hope that were crushed every single time. Apparently the universe was full of surprises.

“Yah! Josh! Get your ass in here!” So that’s his name. A sigh of relief fell from your lips as he growled slightly under his breath and pulled you to the couch pushing you harshly down onto the leather.

“Stay.” He hissed before stalking off into the kitchen.

You internally scoffed. “What am I a dog?’

You scanned your surroundings eyes landing on a small backpack in the corner. You heard an almost silent 'psst’ and snapped your head to attention. May made eye contact with you. You shook your head silently as she took a step forward. Instead you motioned to the bag in the corner and she wasted no time scurrying to retrieve it.

She glanced from you to the kitchen doorway to you to the kitchen and then ever so slightly motioned for you to get to the front door and book it. Yes it was a risk but you had to take it. You’ve only seen two people but by the amount of coats and shoes there was more than just those two.

You slowly stood up holding your breath as you carefully stepped on the floorboards toward May. Once in range she gripped your wrist and the four of you bolted out the front door startling the guard.

You wasted no time and broke records on how fast you had gotten from the front door to halfway across the front lawn.

“Yah! Guys! There’s 4 girls out here and they have our supplies!”

The pounding of definitely more than 2 pairs of bots startled you into releasing the adrenaline into your bloodstream pushing out faster than before.

You whipped past trees, feet pounding into the earth as the bags rustled on your shoulders.

It felt like hours but it was only minutes that you realized you had gotten around a mile and half away from the cabin. You bent over your knees gasping for air, heart pounding loudly in your chest. It was quiet for a second then shouts were heard and you ducked behind an old blue Mercedes.

“Where did they go?”

“They couldn’t have gotten far.”

“It’s too silent.”

“Check the area.”

They all scattered the junk yard. Your heart was beating a hundred miles minute hands clammy and your nerves peaked as high as Mount Everest. You slowly crawled to the rear of the car and peaked out.

Definitely outnumbered. You gulped as you slid back by May as she glanced at you expectantly.

“They outnumber us.” you whispered.

“By how much?”

“Give it take there’s about 10 of them.”

She gulped leaning back against the car. “Shit. What do we do?”

You gave her the I-don’t-know look and dared another peak catching eyes with Jen. Y/f/n was nowhere in sight and you double triple checked.

Jen suddenly locked eyes with someone across from her out of your line of sight and you gave her a confused look.

“It’s y/f/n.” She mouthed to you point at the car in your blind spot in the other side. You slowly crawled over and confirmed that it was indeed her behind a white jeep and she was dangerously close to being found.

“Yah! Chanyeol quit messing around!”

“Oh come on Suho hyung! Look at how nice this jeep is!”

Her eyes widened in fear as the footsteps came closer to her.

You froze as your mind processed the names.

Chanyeol.

Suho.

“Chen come check this jeep out!”

Chen.

“WAE? We need to keep looking.”

“Technically it is looking.” Chanyeol sassed.

“Hyung we need to look around everything here not stare at this jeep.”

That voice. The deep husky tone that sent shivers down your spine. The perfect form of syllables flowing from his tongue with precision. There was no way in hell it was them.

You resisted the urge to look for a solid minute,but you couldn’t resist the feeling that deep down it was them.

Your head barely peaked out seeing the figures backs facing you except for one. Tall, fiery red hair, big ears, deep baratone voice aka park Chanyeol was facing you.

A silent gasp left your lips as you quickly recognized Chen’s signature outfit, Suho’s mother-scolding-a-child stance, the blonde color of Lay.

You thought your eyes were playing tricks but Y/f/n’s gobsmacked expression confirmed it was indeed exo and Josh, your old group and companions.

You suddenly lurked back pressing into the meters controlling your breathing. It was them. It was them. They were here. They were alive. All these positive thoughts filled your mind.

'Josh tried to kill us.’ Ran through your mind and you were filled with dread. You couldn’t just walked up to them, but you couldn’t just run away either.

You dared a glance at the guys and then flickered your gaze to Jen who was not where she was 5 seconds ago. May’s gasp snapped your gaze to the boys where you saw Jen sneaking behind Josh,the only one who had a gun visible on him, and she darted from car to car reaching y/f/n’s side a second too late.

Her cry of pain alerted everyone within a 30 ft radius as Josh had gripped her ankle and forced her out of her hiding spot throwing her to the ground harshly. As soon as one weapon was aimed at her we simultaneously aimed our own at the single target who glared down at her.

Suddenly realizing this was a bad idea as more clicks flipped and weapons were pointed at your group. You gaze stayed on Josh as flickered to y/f/n who gazed at you in horror.

“Drop your weapon.” You didn’t even recognize Jen’s voice as she growled out the order again. “Drop your damn weapon.”

Josh glared at her in return and a chuckle escaped his lips. “Sweetheart. I do t think I should be the one to drop my weapon.”

Jen’ glare intensified. “I think you should because logically speaking you have 3 weapons rained on you and safety already pulled down. So one wrong move and you can say bye bye .”

“I wouldn’t get so cocky love. You see you may have 3 weapons pointed at me, but there’s more weapons pointed at the 4 of you. So why don’t you be a good girl and put the weapon down hmm?”

Jen glared but threw the weapon down as he wished, you doing the same. May was the one who rebelled. Josh raised an eyebrow at her bravery and motioned for her to drop it.

“Wow Josh. I never knew you could be this heartless. Throwing down one of your best friends, aiming a weapon at her, and then threatening not only her but us too? Damn you’ve changed a lot since this thing first started.”

Josh blinked at her in surprise. May continued breaking down his steel wall and revisiting recognition in its place.

“Remember when you vowed to never hurt me? Never hurt your group? You had stayed by our side for months but the second we went missing and appear in front of you looking for supplies and shelter and just barely looking different you break all your promises.”

Josh looked speechless. His mouth was slightly gaped and the others weapons had lowered as they came to realization as well.

“Recognize us now Josh? Recognize y/f/n you so harshly threw down and put on display. Jen who asked you to put your weapon down not once but twice with politeness and a firm undertone. Y/n who you ordered around and interrogated all while threatening her life even when she told the truth. And me Josh. You lied to me and broke your promises. How does that make you feel?”

“M-may?” He stuttered stepping forward.

He turned to you. “Y/n?” Turned to Jen. “Jennifer?” Lastly to y/f/n who stood up herself brushing off her clothes in disbelief.

“You-you’re alive? I’m not imagining this? You’re really here?” Without warning Josh crushed y/f/n into a hug as she was the closest to him.

~Allie

[lx-5point0-blog]

BULLIES ON THE BLOCK: CHRONO 2016

The Entire Stalking PIE, bite by bite. (This was my first draft of the June 8th HARASSMENT) I'm terrified! This is all just craziness! I have been targeted. I have not committed any crime, and I am an innocent victim, that is being punished without Trial. Wait a minute, who the heck is that guy, anyway? •••••••• 20 years ago... (I know a little about the "craziness and irrational.") Life is like a wheel. Sooner or later, it comes full circle.-Stephen King, Author But, this time I have a witness and Love on my side.-JL •••••• Today... What: Bait and Smash? Aggressive Disruption of Serenity and Peace, using Covert tactics of Harassment with Psychological GASLIGHTING abuse, manipulative tactics, enabled by the Rationalization of happenings. I refer to these "happenings" as Bites. The collective of bites compose a Terror Stalking Hate Crimes "Slice of PIE." The PIE has 5 juicy slices and whip cream and a cherry on top. The topping is the innocent victims, a Disabled single mother of two, and another resident, an American Man, being punished without Trial. Add in the cherries, to dab of Whip Cream, an aggressive neighbor with skills, a completely Corrupted Ex Military Deputy Sheriff, and a wife that owns a fly by night Theater company in Menifee. Why: I would like to be able to say that I am a very well versed Martial Artist that has elevated to the degree of energy and kindness... I have... but, I am a realist and I realize what my perception is to most others, it's a reputation of a maniacal 12 foot tall people eater. On my journey I have heard a lot of my reputation and some of my character. I bring with me daily my entire folder of reference letters for new clients to view. And, yes, some will use my past reputation of 20 years ago against me. It's Only speculation by me, but My self published book BLOOD BOOZE & UFC may have inspired revenge or something similar, one thing for sure, the CORRUPTION is clear, and by this mans hate and energy being brought to my steps, he has exposed his "Gaming" of the system. He is an artful liar with a false sense of Honor behind him. I am a self published author since 2014. I am also a YouTube partner since 2006. My freedom of speech, creative collective, and satirical entertainment, have inspired many, to do many things. If reading is your thing, perhaps a quick read over, or a sit down, with BBU, will saturate you in the details of what Lisa and I are involved with. A surface investigation will paint the parallels of our aggressive, skilled, and, deceptive neighbor, with his M/C, frequent trips to Arizona in his KSI work truck, and his extravagant status and image extravaganzas on Kepler st., with his personal parking lot for his 6 vehicles, with the latest, Audio, for his Wifee, Ana L., who is self employed in a theatrical company "Spunk Entertainment," and shows no other financial earnings listed. Multiple addresses and even one in Kennesaw, GA. . When: June 8th, 2016 5pm first contact. Surveillance was seen prior to this date, but was rationalized as just someone parking their truck in the front yard and not sure if the tool box has been stolen or not. But, the trash can vandalism is clear. Where: 27185 Kepler st., Menifee, Ca. John and Lisa sat in the car In the driveway. Who: The aggressors, Mario D. Garcia, 43M, Willie Ramirez, & Ana L. Garcia. Reside at 27207 Kepler 3 doors down. The Victims, John T. Lober & Lisa M. Traudt •••••••••••••••••• What is Happening NOW... Isolated and Vulnerable. Cries for help ignored. She has been lied to by Law Enforcement. 10/27/16 Lisa has been isolated and I'm no longer able to care for her at home. I drove her two days to finalize her taxes then 10 hours at Kaiser while she had her semi annual treatment . Over one week ago Lisa had her B cells, she's been in bed sick, watching two young kids, and trying to make her own food and take care of her self, by her self. She is isolated. I'm not allowed over the house. She was miserable. Mario has been throwing parties and becoming a nuisance, since I have moved out of my room at Kepler. •••••••••••••••• Who is involved... CIVILIAN ON CIVILIAN OR IS IT? TERRORSTALKING BY THE GARCIA FAMILY IN THE BADLANDS MENIFEE this place is the wild Wild West. The victims: John Lober - white male, late 40’s, a father of 2, a grandfather of 2, a son, a friend, a pioneer of the MMA fight scene pre-Y2K/pre-9-11/pre-current day UFC/pre-consciousness shift of 2012/pre-Trump for president, who presently earns a living in transportation and security or whatever odd job presents him the opportunity to earn some cash. Yes, his past is colorful and holds a criminal record. He has paid his debt to society. Yet appears to be guilty until proven innocent based on his past reputation, rather than the facts of actual events that took place from a June 8th incident to present day. A protective companion/ fiancé to Lisa Traudt. John is a Former Santa Ana firefighter reserve, a licensed minister, and a Mentor for many clients with achieving their goals. John is of the one percent of the population of males with a distinctive and nearly complete level of colorblindness. Past traumas treatment accelerated by these events has him in a new treatment for PTSD, and travels with a companion dog daily. Lisa Traudt - white female, mid 40’s, disabled, a mother of 2, a daughter, a friend, a neighbor, a sufferer of MS, walks with a cane due to a limp. Lives two doors down from Mario G. Garcia in Menifee, CA. A friend/ Companion/ a wife, to John Lober. Together they lead a modest life style, of love and respect. A witness and a victim. The antagonistic aggressors: Mario D. Garcia - latino male, late 40’s, husband, father, son-in-law, water technician, motorcycle rider, associate of the Metal Mulisha Death Squad. Lives 2 doors down from Lisa Traudt in Menifee, CA. an enforcer of neighborhood trash code violations. also a violator of neighborhood trash code violations. a trespasser, a bully, an intimidator, a schemer, a stalker, an abuser of the justice system and local police to terrorize and victimize John and Lisa initially inciting a small issue regarding ‘trash.’ Mario is or was narcotics Cop, but, works for KSI, inc. today. I felt it, but, I denied it, when nobody verbalized it. But now, I have seen the light. And, I've seen just about everything there is to see, now. An undercover LA County sheriffs deputy decides to use his militarized tactics on a civilian and set him up criminal style. There's enough appellate court papers for appeal to explain everything there is to explain about Mario D. All my best friends are cops, and now they're going to lock arms when I expose a corrupt sibling of theirs. I detest liars. A man with a lack of character, a black heart that pumps lies like piss. And one that is sworn to uphold the law and protect my family and yours. You cannot lie to me. You cannot set me up. The Jedi mind trick does not work on me. The facts do not disappear. You will not get away. My character is my current see. My freedom is my strength. It makes sense that he wants to attack me there. He mimics me. Even wears the same socks as me. Stalks me. Obsessed about me. It makes him horny. It is a Narcopathic man crush broke back shit show trilogy. A little research and I know your entire history. Now we are even, it's time to get even, your record will become in even. You have awoken the GOD of Combat. http://www.courts.ca.gov/opinions/nonpub/B238121.DOC Ana L. Garcia - latino female, mid 40’s, wife, mother, daughter, photographer, motorcycle rider. wife of Mario D. Garcia. follows husbands tactics of intimidation by verbalizing false claims and a death threat to John and/or Lisa. abuser of 911 calls. Willy - father and grandfather. father of Ana. gun owner. blocker of driveways. New form of violence: the Tactic/ The Crime is the TRO This is a weird Celebrity TerrorStalking by a Narcopathic type. The crime MDG has committed is not gaslighting. Gaslighting is a collection of covert acts, which together create abuse of the mark. Gaslighting now proven by MDG s paint a picture of his true character, which is a liar. The day he wrote the supplemental court document and submitted it under perjury of law, he was in contempt of court. I understand he has the TRO. And I have obeyed the letter of the law. I will not be in contempt of court. I will always comply. Montes told me to stay away. Montes asked how do I tell who is lying? He said get your day in court and tell the judge. Every story has already been told. The important part of the story is the beginning and the end, or right now. Any investigator worth his salt , knows that the filler is usually the same old shit. That being said, what do I have right now? Well, I have video of Mario on June 8th, and he states," that's fine. You can video me all you want, sir." And, I have a witness of the entire shit show. I have the entire audio of Mario's testimony to the commissioner, I haven't received the transcripts yet. The reporter is not returning my emails. But I will begin to pound him from alternate emails and get them. I have Pete Scalisi and Kathleen Jacobs respects him in the Hemet court. I have a complete journal and documentation of the entire shit show. And, I have, I Mario's own type written word, a script, of the entire narcopathic and now to be determined, Mario's motive is mimic jealousy hatred and maybe man love envy of this guy and his awesomeness. I'm so humble. Hahaha oh, and I am editing it and over laying everything right now and it will be complete in the am, so, Pete , you can convince Kathleen that she fucked up, and she was played by that d bag, and she has put my life in turmoil for the past 150 days. She owes me lunch or um maybe drop it now so I can charge dips hit with all the retro active crimes it protected against and Montes can stuck brown suger up his pinata. And I can mow the lawn on ANY street in America. •••••••••••••••••••••••••• (One version of the timeline) The Set Up - June 8, 2016: Imagine a man and woman sitting in a car parked in the woman’s driveway talking. An unknown man approaches the pair in an aggressive manner to talk about trash that flew into his driveway. No "Hello, my name is… If you have a moment, may I express a concern I have as your neighbor regarding your trash?" Instead, the unknown man, without identifying himself, aggressively makes claims directed at the man, who is not the homeowner, about the trash flying into his yard. The trash can lid is broken, man in car reveals that the trash can is actually registered to the unknown man’s address. Unknown man shrugs this information off and continues to bully the man in car. Three times, the unknown man is asked to leave the property that belongs to the woman in the car, or the man in the car may feel the need to defend himself against this unknown man creating an antagonistic/threatening situation. Meanwhile, the unknown man’s father-in-law, drives up to the driveway, blocking the driveway so that the man and woman in the car cannot flee the situation. The unknown man states ‘I can do whatever I want’ then walks toward the woman in the car to attempt to intimidate her about her ‘trash.' In a defensive state of mind, the man in the car strikes the unknown man to get him to back off. Unknown man now says he is calling the police, but when his phone is revealed, it is not 911 on the phone but another phone number he’s talking to about what is going down in the situation. (Who was he talking to if not the police?) The man in the car approaches the unknown man’s father-in-law blocking the driveway to tell him to move his car and then sees a GUN in the father-in-law's lap. Confused and fearful by the confrontation of this unknown man, the man and woman in the car go into the woman’s house. They come out and tell the father-in-law to move his car or his blocking the driveway will be considered kidnapping. The man and woman flee the situation out of fear for their safety. Police show up and leave a card on the door to the ‘white male’ in the confrontation in the driveway to call officer XX. The man in the car calls the police twice to tell them his version of the story. The police NEVER return man in car’s call. The Harassment - ongoing June 9th, 2016 to present day: Imagine the following events occurring after a random encounter with a man you never met before who initially confronted you about some minor trash issue… -June 9th: Unknown man blocks man in car on Facebook. (How did unknown man know man in car's name?) -June 22nd: Unknown man files for temporary restraining order with photos of man in car while washing his car in woman’s driveway. (Was that photo criminally threatening? How long was he stalking man in car) On the recorded court form, a 10-year old indictment against man in car is noted. (How did they know about that? What business was it of their’s to look up?) An incident that takes place on June 27, 2016 is noted on the file stamped by the court on July 22, 2016. -June 27th: actually June 22nd: Wife of the unknown man approaches the man in car, with woman in car and man in car’s son, while parked in woman’s driveway, again. She verbalizes aggression, does not introduce herself, and makes false claims against the man in the car. She takes photos. Man in car drives everyone away from wife of unknown man. -Date (tbd): Hearing takes place for permanent restraining order against man in car. Did not listen to man in car. Did not believe mani in car , and did not want to hear or see video and witness of man in car. Commissioner lets unknown man tell his exaggerated story in full. Man in car is asked only one question ‘Did you hit the unknown man, yes or no?' and was not given a platform to disclose his perspective on the story, the fact that the father-in-law blocked them from fleeing the situation and that the father-in-law had a GUN and they felt intimidated and threaten by this individual they had NEVER met before June 8th. Commissioner judges man in car as ‘GUILTY’ and grants permanent restraining order against man in car. What did unknown man say to the commissioner prior to "Hearing?" -Date (tbd): Long Beach PD finds man in car parked in empty marina parking lot illegally. Someone called police to report man in car parked as ‘suspicious’ behavior. -Date (tbd): Man in car, with help of a friend, finds a tracking device on his car. -Date (tbd): Man in car files separate restraining order in Orange County for his protection. Names woman in car and his son as additionally protected individuals. -Date (tbd): Orange County judge grants restraining order to man in car when he states his case and reveals the unknown man had an accomplice with a GUN. The unknown man does not make an appearance to the hearing. (THE ORDER CH-130) -Date (tbd): Restraining order served to unknown man -Date (tbd): Woman in car receives a municipal code violation for her trash issues with fines threatening her home ownership unless she resolves the issue. -Date (tbd): Man in car helps woman in car clean up trash since her disability limits her abilities. Man in car befriends a couple other neighbors while cleaning up the yard. Neighbors share that the unknown man has been a nuissance in the neighborhood. -Dates unknown: Multiple calls made to police to cite man in car being in proximity of unknown man’s house. Man in car has no business or interest with unknown man or his family and is only near him due to circumstances of woman’s residence being 2 doors down. Fact: All/any encounters have occurred only when unknown man or his wife approaches the man and/or woman in car on or around the property of the woman in car. -Date unknown: Police show up to woman’s house. They were called saying a ‘neighbor’ heard screams coming from her house. Woman was home alone. -Ongoing: Unknown man parks work truck in front of woman’s property. Surveillance cameras in truck focused on woman’s property. -Ongoing: Unknown man’s wife using flash photography to document man in car whenever she can catch him visiting woman. -Date unknown: Woman’s jewelry box is missing. -Sept 20th: Man in car is driving away from woman’s house. Unknown man’s wife yells a death threat to woman. -Sept 21st: Fed up with the police not interceding to keep the peace, man in car sends letter to NBC investigative team reporting that the unknown man and his wife have been terrorizing a disabled mother of 2 and the local authorities have not stepped in to keep the peace and now there is a death threat that has been verbalized. -Sept 21st: Woman forwards email sent to NBC to Menifee PD. Deputy Montes responds within an hour of the email being sent when it is noticed that the media has been contacted. Police state that they know about the unknown man and have stated they will not arrest man in car for violation of restraining order when visiting woman. Unknown man is revealed to be a nuisance to police dept. Deputy Montes calls department managing the trash violations to disregard the violation filed against woman. Police warn unknown neighbor on his behavior and to clean up his own yard. -Oct 1st: Man in car finds a video posted on YouTube by unknown man claiming that man in car and woman are stalking the unknown man. -Oct 2nd: Woman writes another email to Deputy Montes reporting the harassment and false claim on YouTube video. -Oct 2nd: Man in car thinks unknown man is positioning to set man in car up for violation of restraining order with all the surveillence photos and videos obtained to get the court to issue a warrant for man in car’s arrest. -Oct 3rd: Another email sent to NBC pleading for investigative help on a situation that is beyond normal understanding. Now imagine that all these things listed above are actually happening in real life with real people being affected, because this is really happening in Menifee, CA. Questions to ask: -Why was the original issue of ‘trash’ such a burden resulting in the events that followed? But, has now disappeared as any or no problem at all. -Why is so much time and effort being exerted by the unknown man and his family to get man in car arrested? What has inspired this relentless desire? -Why is the unknown man financing this effort? Does he have expendable income and time for this harassment? -Why is the woman, who is a disabled single mother, being targeted for a trash violation just weeks after her return from being away from her house? Who broke into her property while she was away? Who has stolen the tool box from inside the home? -Why was the unknown man’s father-in-law blocking the driveway on June 8th? Why did he have a gun? And, why did he say,"You're lucky he (unknown man) didn't kick your ass." -Why was a tracking device placed on man in car’s vehicle? -Why were the Long Beach PD notified of suspicious behavior when man in car was parked in an empty parking lot? -Why are the Menifee Police Dept not investigating this properly before someone gets seriously hurt? -Why does the woman need to fear for her and her children’s safety around this neighbor? Why has the Children Service Investigator, dismissed her concern for the children's safety from unknown man? -Why does the woman need to fear losing her house because of this unknown man’s reports about her trash? -Why does the man in car need to fear losing his freedom for trying to help and protect the woman from this unknown man’s claims and predatory behavior? -Is there a hate motivation? Race? Disability? Jealousy? Is he threatened by the man in cars presence? -Are these tactics consistent with Gang Stalking? GASLIGHTING? Bait and bash? Has this ever happened to anyone else before? -Could they be after the woman’s property? Or, are they attempting to isolate her by removing man in car? -Could there be an unknown 3rd party involved motivating the unknown man’s behavior and aggression? Has he read something that has inspired him to be so relentless? -Is money a factor? What do these two men have in common, that would affect unknown mans CASH FLOW? I know... Why is the justice system and police authority not serving the victims when the evidence shows a pattern of abusive, intimidating and predatory behavior by an individual that was unknown to the victims until June 8th, 2016. •••••••••••••••••••••••••• (Second version of the timeline) The first PIE is out of the oven and here it is, by the slice: 1. I have consistently maintained an uncomfortable feeling that someone has or is trespassing on or in Lisa's home since the first day we met on may 25, 2016. 2. On January 1, 2016, Lisa and I moved to the San Fransisco area for her new employment at Spectra Labs. 3. House was vacant for 5 months. Trash cans were vandalized. Backyard was trespassed upon. Couldn't prove any entry inside. Buckets and pots were missing from the backyard. Lisa states, " some things are missing from inside as well." Tools. 4. Charlie next door offered to "keep an eye out for squatters, like, Chauncey." I gave him my business card. Charlie then gave that card with my identity and Book information to Mario D Garcia. 1. The lady on the other side, Theresa, who claimed to be the cousin of the owner, not verified, offers to rent the property and continues to text me, at least 6 times. She says she cannot afford $2700 a month. Lisa says she does not feel comfortable with her and declines. I have not seen or heard from her since May 5, 2016. Nor have I seen anyone go in or come out of the house next door. The yard is kept well, in fact , better than all of the rest of the homes yards, the windows are all covered and sealed , and the AC unit and another sound as well are in full affect inside the home. We believed that Theresa was attempting to perform some illegal activity in the residence and that she would be a serious problem renter and we eventually denied her. 2. Reoccupied 27185 Kepler on May 23, 16. I receive mail here since the previous May. 3. BAIT AND BASH June 8th, 2016 #me161600118 27183 Kepler street, Menifee ca. 2 men unknown identities. 1 older guy in Toyota RAV 4 with a pistol. 2nd Latino 43yoM aggressor. 1. July 27, the Neighbor street theater about "minors and some man and escalate a problem restraining orders" she gets real mad. Me my son and Lise are in my car. Ana L Garcia verbally aggressive in a street theater, almost as if it is scripted, accuses someone at this address of "mad dogging her minors .." My son, 14, and Lisa are with me, in our car, in front of our house. It was a premeditated scenario that just did not happen. 2. 1:20pm July 28th I am served in my driveway by a serious dude in a white Ford Focus. A restraining order from a man named Mario D. Garcia. The TRO is filed on July 22nd. 3. 1:30pm Mario D Garcia 43M , pulls up recklessly in a red ford pick up truck and calls the cops that I am violating his Tro. I drive away immediately. 4. July 29th, the next day, I am awarded a temp TRO in OC. 5. 8/09/16 Hemet court hearing. Mario D Garcia commits perjury and is awarded TRO 1 year 6. 08/22/16 OC court awards me TRO 1 year. 7. Multiple 911 calls of a violation. Police knock my door. The accurate number of calls tbd with paperwork, but, later informed by Montes that it was abuse. I am cleared to continued occupying my second place of residence and give care to Lisa and repairs to house. 8. A new 911 call of "screams" coming from inside the house. Fictitious. 9. I have not made one call to911. Made three attempts to contact deputy Moore to file a report about June 8th. No response. 10. 9/26 The first municipal code violation on Lisa's house with her name on it. Then a second. 11. Ana L. Garcia begins to aggressively follow and document with a flash camera in my face. I leave for work. She returns and threatens Lisa to kill her. Ana owns a business "Spunk entertainment", a theater acting type. 12. I sent letter to capt FORD and NBC news . Deputy Montes appears at Lisa's house within the hour. I state this is a HATE crime. Montes rips up the violations. Ignores our claims. Says I can stay at the house. 13. A few nights later, Mario attempts to ram us with his 350 FORD work truck at the foot of my driveway. We escape, phone 911 and I am told he is going to jail, only if I want to go. 14. 9/29 Next morning Montes has a change of heart. 15. Lisa is missing her jewelry box. 16. Since 9/29 I have not been on my street. 17. Montes calls me for the first time. Mario has been surveillance me from his truck he parks at our front door. Makes other outrageous and unknown accusations about me. Montes tells me he is in charge and it is a clean slate from here. Stay away from Kepler street he tells me. Isolating Lisa. Mario is stalking me on YouTube. I have been receiving paychecks since '07 from YouTube. I also published a book and lines from it were it the TRO paperwork. 18. One week later, Lisa receives a call from child services investigator that a YouTube video has John Lober verbally abusing her son outside a school from an anonymous school official. He interviews the kids on Friday. Clears Lober shows a desire to come Tuesday to discuss the neighbor. 19. Tuesday he changes attitude and denies Lisa's concern of further harm. He is grossly negligent. 20. I fax Pete of the real crime. TRO from Hemet obtained under perjury. 21. Lisa has B cells removed during an 8 hour session at Kaiser. 22. Court reporter finally emails me back and wants $51 for the transcripts. 23. Garcia parking a raging parties are a nuisance. Buys a new Audi for wife's birthday. ••••••••••••••••••••••••• A new form of Violence GASLIGHTING. What the fuck is that. (Yawn.) HUMAN NATURE IS TO RATIONALIZE EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS. The Essential ingredient, in the transition, from a PERP of a CRIME, to being, the VICTIM of a CRIME. Enlisting SYMPATHY with manipulation. Gas lighting is a disruptive behavior of a Rational Innocent Victim. GASLIGHTING is a title of a movie, but, does not accurately depict the seriousness of the amount of destruction, nor the Manner in which it is performed and accomplished. It is a DISRUPTOR. It is effective by assuming the others cannot rationalize these events, that are happening to them, and attempt to dismiss them or believe the perpetrators pathetic solicitation for sympathy. The AGGRESSIVE PERPETRATOR(s) use an indirect attack of touch less violence that is perceived to be nothing by authorities. Human nature 101 ensures a large number of sympathizers against the victim(s), who remain confused, until it is usually too late to explain the abnormal events, which are covert operations crimes against them directly, in an indirect manner. Only when others are the victims of this crime, are they truly able to digest and comprehend the level of mental anguish that is occurring in a victims head. An innocent victim, unskilled in immoral methods of predatory tactics solely for MONETARY GAIN AND PROFIT, and does not possess the skills to elaborate articulately, the entire scheme. Only an extreme NARCISSIST and a PROFICIENT LIAR is capable of the absence of Empathy to perform such tasks, or crimes on others. Perhaps a combination of disorders, narvopathic or socionarcopathic. A man. An extreme narcissist with a hint of sociopath. Perhaps an inner gender conflict as well. Who has a man crush on me an mimics my behavior down to my low cut black socks. He is Ex military. Through appeal papers on courts.gov he is Ex Law enforcement narcotics unmarked. Now a pool boy supervisor for KSI, inc. in Santa Ana, CA.. He has a Harley MC with "homies" at least 6 deep from AZ. Possesses 5 car and parties till morning without any sense of responsibilities. Wife has a fly by night "theater" company front, no other real means or accountability for any earnings. She is a Gold-digger, and is the type that uses pussy as currency. They Posses skills that normal civilians do not. Uses skills on targets or the Mark to disrupt and obtain profit. He is a skilled and artful lier. He is willing to take a punch to obtain his ultimate goal. Murder or Profit by proxy of the authorities. He gets a thrill out of it by the smirk he has on his mask. My analysis: There is NO real explanation, that can rationalize, an ability for MG to possess and lead, the image and status driven life he leads. It is all a show and deception. In my life experience, I know what it means for people to "party" till early morning hours. This is a display or show, I could give two cares to involve myself with, mainly because it is pathetic to my character. There is more than meets the eye here. This disruption has brought to the surface, like an iceberg, a taste of the level of corruption that is a reality, not seen by others. It has been forcefully perpetrated upon myself and my family. The long arm of the Law is being manipulated to torture and prowl innocent victims, multiple victims all around, whilst a criminal lucrativeness is be obtain through the AZ M/C element. And possible the house next door on both sides are involved in a bigger "drug" distribution and or theft ring. Mental Abuse on Humans that by nature attempt to rationalize everything. ra•tion•al•ize (răsh′ə-nə-līz′) v. ra•tion•al•ized, ra•tion•al•iz•ing, ra•tion•al•iz•es v.tr. 1. To explain rationally: "Philosophy ... is essentially the endeavor of the human mind to rationalize the universe" (Francis E. Abbot). 2. a. To explain or justify (one's behavior) with incorrect reasons or excuses, often without conscious awareness: răsh′ə-nə-līz′) v. ra•tion•al•ized, ra•tion•al•iz•ing, ra•tion•al•iz•es v.tr. 1. To explain rationally: "Philosophy ... is essentially the endeavor of the human mind to rationalize the universe" (Francis E. Abbot). 2. a. To explain or justify (one's behavior) with incorrect reasons or excuses, often without conscious awareness: rationalized his poor academic performance by claiming the teacher was incompetent. b. To dismiss or minimize the significance of (something) by means of an explanation or excuse: "He could not rationalize the loss of some thirty thousand American lives in an unsuccessful war" (Robert Dallek). •••••••••••••••• The Lying Piece of Paper: Supplemental 10th slice of PIE: He who controls the words, controls the people who use the words. Often, a liar, will twist a statement about the victim to make the victim the perpetrator in the eyes of others. They will give away that they are the one guilty of the accusation . For instance, I am thinking a lot lately about "Tacos." Nine- Juan - Juan... I have a TACO emergency. It's a joke to me and GIZMO. So, if I was asked to describe some event I saw about another guy, by authority, I would say, he was at the food place getting TACOS, probably. I wouldn't know what he was getting exactly, so TACOS are on my mind. RATIONALIZing. When Mario says,"John Lober is a Bully. He possesses skills that others do not, and uses them to Bully." Well, I have been enlightened in many ways of the world as a moderately "Youthful" soul. And, it puts me in the center of the gap between, Good and Evil. It is lonely, only, I am everyday, realizing just how god damn lonely it really is. It has been over 4 months, and what I knew and felt to be true, others are just now coming to understand. I am cagey and clever, as well, to a degree. And because I am NOT incarcerated, because of this OMEGA male, and because I never give up at anything, because of my genetics and amazing parenting, I am about to completely dissect, piece by piece, the entire Machine of CORRUPTION and Crimes of Bullying, polish each one, accurately organize it, BLUEPRINT it in a schematic, and re construct it. Because, it was forced upon me, and, it's what I do. ••••••••••••••• I have concluded, that July 27th, was a meaningful deception. A purposefully perpetrated typographic error, on the part of the wife, ANAL Garcia. I have confirmed that the July 27th is impossible, due to my son being in another state at that time. The exact date will be confirmed to be June 22, or, July 3rd. I have the metadata on my external storage. ••••••••••••••• 1st slice of PIE fresh out of the oven: May 23rd, 2016 11:30am 27185 Kepler st. house has been vacant for 5 months. Driving down a road a long hwy. Pull in the driveway Kepler. The house next door is sealed tight, no more motorcycle rallies like before.(worried that I was taking a pic of them) Trash bins. I open the lid. The other is broken. Inside I see cigarettes butts. -"I don't smoke" I walk the perimeter, I feel as if they have as well, I know they have been inside... no signs of entry... "they are good."(self talk) The tool box is missing.... only. Next day, 2nd slice of pie: after the movers have gone. "Hey, Lisa! Who the Fuck is parking that goddamn surveillance truck in your front yard. Look it has compartments. It's camera' d up."-Lober. "...."-Lisa (rational thinking just took place) 4 months later: 14th slice of pie: "See this surveillance video on my cell phone that Mario illegally shot of John Washing his car in your driveway..." Deputy Montes, Riverside County Sheriff. After I cc an email I sent to NBC news of a Hate CRIME on a Disabled Single Mother of Two. My 15th slice of pie: Then, rips up the 2 municipal code violations that Mario bullied the city in to writing. No one asked if she was disabled or needed assistance, just attacked. And MG was in violation himself "Garcia possesses skills to bully and inflict pain and turmoil on innocent civilians who have no such skills." ••••••••• 10/06/16 Good morning, Deputy Montes. Mario has once again, targeted me, and my children, for harassment in order to hurt John Lober. This is the definition of HATE. Mario came to my house on June 8th, with Willie, to provoke John into an altercation. That being said, again... 10/06/16 9:00am I awoke this morning to a phone call, by a man named Mike, from Child protective services. I returned his call immediately, and left a message. At this moment, I am awaiting his return phone call. I am informing you of this outrageous information, in light of our last conversation. I will leave the detective work up to you, but, I think we can safely assume the origin of this complaint, on a disabled mother of two, who IS without a doubt in my mind, a target of a hate crime by Mario D. Garcia. I am frantic, scared and my pulse is rapid right now, because I have absolutely no idea what could possibly happen to my children. It is scary. This is an atrocity and a terror tactic that can potentially change the course of my life and the serenity of my family, once more. I am trusting that you, and your word as a police officer, that you will take action, finally, and put an end to this harassment by Mario D Garcia. I believe that, once a crime has been observed and reported by the authorities, it must be addressed. The 911 TRO abuse, the multiple municipal election code letters, the attempt to ram us with the work truck, and now this, has laid out a pattern of predictable actions, and actions to come, by Mario D Garcia. John did not have to explain this to me. And, furthermore, I do not believe that you can assume to represent me and my needs, to apply for a restraining order against John, the only man that has done that has done so much for me. The problem is with Mario, making John, and I, the target for his malicious and childish campaign, of pure HATE. Which has been, unsolicited in anyway, by John, or I. 9:20am I just hung up the phone with child protective services. An anonymous report, John "Lorber", is bullying one of my children, and called him an asshole. Apparently, a school official, reported that there is a video link, of John calling my son an asshole. I am attempting to navigate the current waves of change with careful attention so as to adjust my course to a safe destination. There is in fact, a video. The video is benign. I believe Mario poached it from Johns YouTube channel, and reposted it. He then, anonymously called child services, posing as a school administrator, who wished to not give out their identification. We appreciate his insincere concern for my kids safety, and I assure you, I have addressed this, and I have talked to both of them in regards to their family squabbles. This action taken my Mario does violate our agreement, that you discussed with John and I. That I am am NOT included in this situation. It is between John and Mario. Well, this can be proven that Mario D Garcia, did in fact stalk us with Malice. My fear of further malicious acts by Mario D Garcia are now warranted, and, because he has included my children in his campaign, I fear that my children may be harmed and or abducted by Mario D Garcia. This is a man with no conscious and believes that he is above the law, or just plain does not have any care for the repercussions or the consequences may be to anyone. 1. I have never had child services called on me before. 2. Mario has poached and reposted another video of John, recently, along side of his home video, where he assumes and narrates that John "Lorber", (note the mispronunciation of Lober) and I are following him. 3. The anonymous school official, that reported this video to child services, mispronounced Johns last name, precisely the way Mario has in his self shot and narrated video, that is next to the previously poached video of John. It is a unique mispronunciation of his last name, according to John. 4. The new site that this video has been reposted on has an IP address, or metadata attached to it, and can be followed and traced back to its origin. 5. That school the boys are at, was in Milpitas, and not in Murrieta, like it was reported. There is no location information on anything John posts, for exactly this reason, and his protection. 6. We know Mario has made calls of violation of a municipal code about my residence, which I am the name on the deed. Whether it was a violation, or not, he called. It has effected me. 7. John has a restraining on Mario. If, In fact, it is discovered, according to the letter of the law, and or the spirit, that Mario is forensically stalking and reporting this personal information, that is protected under freedom of speech, he must be charged with a crime. Otherwise, any attempt to contain Mario and his aggression has failed. Additionally, John and I are fully prepared to defend and counter, any and all claims against John and or I, and will provide bona fide proof, of Mario D, Garcia, by the use of his own words, in writing on a legal court document, that Mario D. Garcia has committed perjury, and defamed John Lober in an attempt to cause great bodily harm, or at least, have him punished by the courts, without a trial. That is my offering to this situation, in an attempt to be fair to you, Deputy Montes, as a sworn peace officer, in your attempt to protect and serve the community at large. I apologize, again, if I have in anyway, "blown up" your email or been inconsiderate in any way. I want to be clear that, I am not reporting that a video is posted on YouTube or that the content or accusations are true or false. Social services shall decide that, they are investigators and I am confident in the decision they will come too. I am reporting that this is a terror tactic directed at myself and my children in an attempt to hurt or break up my family. And for what? Not why, but what. Thank you for your time, Lisa Traudt *Mike at child services direct phone line 9516006666 •••••••••••••••••• (Insert comments from Blessed Day YouTube channel giving the identity and military credentials in Arizona.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeOhZ9PXB6E&feature=share MasterMG decided to repost a copyright protected video. But more importantly is the narrative on the first video and the pronunciation of John Lober's name. Additionally, we can prove how Mario D Garcia came to "actually" discover the identity of John MACHINE Lober, the author, and when. Ana L Garcia is definitely involved in this HATE campaign and it is undeniable. Aggressive Violent and a deadly weapon is used in this altercation with Mario D Garcia. John T Lober has a 1year TRO against Mario D Garcia. Mario did not even show up at the hearing. The fact is, Mario reported me twice. He was guilty of the same violation. HATE makes you blind. Aggressive Surveillance for what reason? Lisa Traudt This could have all been avoided if Dep. Moore would have called back and asked John his side of the bait and bash incident. NO CHARGES were ever filed on the case number. It has become a huge disruption of our lives because it was not properly given the attention every one deserves. (A few weeks later, copyright infringed took down my video fro this site, and he then put up a new video of a truck accident that Mario was at as well. Connection. Jeremy Scarberry, who is former military. (It doesn't matter if she was or was not in violation.... by calling the city to complain about Lisa, is a violation of my TRO. She is protected under that. Mario is not even allowed to whisper her name in Ana's ear. He called 20's. And Montes just rips them up and flings his cape over his shoulder and denies and rationalizes it. States it is not harassment. He is wrong. Then states this has nothing to do with her. He is grossly negligent and clearly a corrupt cop that is sided with Mario. They drink coffee together and watch illegally surveillance tapes of me washing my car. Then shows them to Lisa on his phone.) •••••••••• 10/05/16 To Deputy Montes. I would like to take a minute of your time, to discuss an event, that Lisa and I experienced last Wednesday 10/05/16, exactly 7 days after our phone discussion. I agreed to follow the letter of the law, as per Mr. Garcia's TRO. You stated to me that the Garcia family would lay off, and, that Lisa is NOT included in this "neighbor dispute." None of what I say to you in this letter is to be construed as anything but my fullest respect for law enforcement and authority, it is no way to be taken as to create anxiety, fear or intimidation. It's just my freedom of speech, and way of expressing to you the extreme anxiety, I , am experiencing from Mario and his associations. That being said, you would be correct to assume that I do not fear Mario or his army. I can take care of myself. But, He does scare the hell out of me, though. I can prove to you that he is lying, with every single breath of air that he takes, in writing, on video, and with his spoken word. I have done nothing to Mario, Ana, and, their 14 year old son (I know the age according to TRO). I am being picked on and I have elicited no such action, let alone, such a determined and dedicated campaign of surveillance, of me, the relentless and taxing phone calls to the emergency 9-1-1 system, and, the other bizarre events that have been happening at Lisa Traudt's residence at 27185 Kepler st. In Menifee, ca.. Furthmore, I do not wish to take any action, whether, aggressive or passive, to the Garcias, in anyway. I am a humble guy, a protective guy, and, maybe not the most intelligent, but, I am an experienced guy. I am always looking for the good in everybody, give all of my heart to assist them any way I can to make them better, and I am always there to offer my kindness, no matter the outcome. I have worked together to build many people up to be champions, or achieve, champion status at their own level. I have an innate ability to judge a persons character instantly, within a 99% chance rate, I can rate the ability of athleticism by body type and gait evaluation, and, I can gage the level of bullshit by mainly, believe it or not, by what they do not say. Talking now, about the recent phone call that Lisa received from child services, about a YouTube video, that was my video, and a concern from an anonymous tipster, a school official in Banning, in fact, that I called Lisa's son Jacob an "asshole." I know what your saying. I've already heard the discussion from the other side of the "anonymous" phone caller as well. A fact about YouTube, I have been a partner since '06, I collect revenue from Google Adsense monthly, since '07, and I am not the most savy IT guy in the world, but they are, and they are associates. I assure you, I do you use foul language, I am an adult, and, I assure you, YouTube would never stand for anything such as that, or an atrocious act similar to this accusation, to be posted, for any period of time, on the channel. They are swift and decisive when they deactivate someone that misuses the site. I've seen the videos. Metadata and IP addresses, and all that, will be Lisa's neighbor, or it will not be. But, because of my hard evidence of the history of actions of Mr. Garcia, that are clearly fueled by HATE, without conscious of consequences, just as my reputation of 20 years ago, as a competitive cage fighter, that is 12 feet tall and eats people, (I know. I don't make this up. Someone actually used that as a joke once)is being blown up by my Nemesis, with whatever outrageous accusations he is ,so, eloquently and articulately effortlessly riddling out of his malicious mouth about me, it is safe to say he may have been the perpetrator of forensically analyzing my library of over 1k edited episodes of John Driver and miscellaneous storage of stock footage, all shot, chopped and scored by, with my iPhone 6, then downloaded it in Hi-def, then violated copyright infringement laws by reposting on sept. 29, 16, titles the channel "have a blessed day", then also had a little extra time to create some Spanish dance playlist beats, then a week later... decided to report the video to child services, with all of the exact location and information that is no way in the video, to the department, and by the way , this particular school was in Milpitas, where Jacob and I became best friends for life, because I watched him, for over two weeks, without asking for a penny, until that school was ready to accept him, while Lisa worked long hours at Spectra laboratories for a six month period, and the caller could only state it was banning. The lies will always surface, the harassment will continue, and I will sit here and observe and journal. I recently did some research on events and bizarreness I was sensing, then observing with Lisa's home. One thing recently, is her very sentimental and very closely kept in her private home in which only three individuals now, enter and leave, has come up missing. She even asked me if I may have moved it. I use bad words, I can defend myself, but I am not a thief of a kind woman's sentimental belongings. So, whoever is, would have to be in close proximity, know her location with surveillance , and HATE her fucking guts, or mine, and have a minor enter the home, and ONLY remove that item. She is unsure what really happens. Does not want to make a frivolous call to police, n her mind, so, confusion sets in. I know who calls the police, and heart pumps piss, and wouldn't bat an eye at lying like a sibling to the cops in hopes of destroying a disabled mother of two small children, in a beautiful , and safe as Huntington Beach, Menifee. Yah, far fetched. It's called Gas-Lighting. Her home sat vacant for 6 months. I know how and when Mario actually found out my identity. I know what did, and what was getting ready to go down at her vacant home. And, I know, this for absolutely sure, 100%, that, I had no clue, who Mario D Garcia,43M, was on June 8th, 2016, when he ambushed Lisa and I, and shattered our serenity and complete and utter joy , at 5:20pm. Today, I know just about all I need to know, about everyone involved. I will stay away. And Lisa will remain isolated. And Mario will continue to be aggressive, tactical, and , malicious. Trash, and minors, and trash, and now Child Services. He will eventually achieve his goal. He will perhaps innovate some new improved methods of terrorstalking. And because I was told to stay away, I will be able to journal everything to detail without bias , and gross negligence won't even come up. Thanks for the time, John T. Lober, a concerned boyfriend of Lisa Traudt, oh, I mean, did anyone ever look at the description I wrote on the TRO I have from OC, it says "Wife." John Lober, Author ••••••••••••• 10-05-16 restricted phone call. Deputy Montes calls me direct. (Recording) He is trying to tell me something. I do not hear him. I am a little bit kinda like a mutherfucker that will keep pounding you with dumb ass shit until you break and say it. "I just want to tell you, I mean I talked to, Mario and Lisa, and I am going to be the sole cop in charge of this situation." Montes bullies me with this statement. ( he is gonna be a Barbara Streisand in drag) I reply,"okay."(he did not receive anything foul or aggressive from me because I do not care) We are starting over from square one today. Every deputy in the office has been made aware of that Deputy Montes is the man in charge of this situation from today forward. He does not care what has happened in the past. I do not agree with everything he was saying, but I agreed to comply, and said I am phantom ghost, the cartoon character. I will obey the TRO and will not enter Lisa's home for a period of one year. I am, however, allowed to pick up Lisa at the school around the corner. (That's a set up) Montes stated, that if he has too, he threatened to obtain a TRO on Lisa's behalf, because he stated, " she says , John says." Therefore, she is not qualified to be a witness to Mario and his lying.( he really knows something and is pretending she and the kids are in danger of me) He said I can pick her up at the corner and not be in violation. Mail at that address does not constitute residence. And in his words, he said in Lisa's word, "John does not live there full time."( no shit) He agreed this is ridiculous and wants to take us out for a beer to squash it. I agreed and offered a peace offering.(oh, you fags are drinking buddies? I would piss on either of you two if you were on fire. My urine is more valuable than your suffering) Lisa says that she feels as if Montes does not really know what he is doing.(he knows but he does not know) I recorded the conversation .(he was recording me as well) Montes could not promise that DBAG would NOT file civilly against me. "It is his right to do." He offers this,"I've been charged with a crime, and found not guilty... then sued in a civil case. I was... " click. My phone went dead. I stated that in that cAse, this conversation will be cause for his violation. I am still in possession of a TRO against DBAG in OC.( and I am gonna use it) I conclude that, in this, "new" start, DBAG will devise a new set of tactics with the original goal of getting me in jail, and a civil suit to get a judgement. I will have Pete devour him in that case. He may decide to become passive rather than more aggressive. I doubt that seriously. I warned Lisa to be aware of her surroundings .( he anonymously phone called child services) I think I was just threatened, bullied, and, he was charged with a crime, found not guilty(because he lied), and sued civilly, and lost, just like our connection. Montes can change the rules of engagement at any moment because he looked bad. I was allowed at the house and DBAG was showing him surveillance of me washing my car. It supposedly, was a department joke. Surveillance of a civilian is a crime, fucker. And proves again that he has equipment that he may have been using since may. Today, no explanation, just John you cannot come to Lisa's house ever again or I will arrest you. I suppose for proximity and that's enough for them to operate. That is his solution. He is adamant that Lisa is NOT being harassed and she is NOT in any of this. Then he mentions I hit him. Well guess what. I believe I may get to hit him again. Montes completely dismissed my attempt to file a complaint against Mario and Willie for bringing a gun to his "trash" dispute. John Lober, Author HATE and Satan. Is it better to be loved or feared. Both are equal as long as you are not hated. Hate is a behavior which Remove the limits of conscious rational cognitive reasoning and causes a catabolism within the soul of the subject. The target of hate is usually injured, bewildered, or, just is unaffected in anyway, and may just crack a sarcastic joke when discovered. Satan: I felt your level of hate calling me to this mortal plane; I will violently claim the souls of the bastards who crossed you, but in return, you can never, ever go to Disney World, in this life or the next. To be honest, it really is hard to describe hate in a universal term. Everyone has a different point of view on a definition for hate. Hate is what drives some people, it has taken over their conscience. We know these as serial killers, psycopaths, terrorist, dictators, tyrants, warmongers etc. I do believe there is a big difference between anger and hatred. Anger is mostly caused from a brief period of frustration and you get over it eventually. Hate is sort of like a disease that's take over your mind and body. To behave in a childish, belittling attitude towards something/someone superior to oneself. This is often done when one is jealous of the superior thing/person. Everyone hates something or someone there's no denying that, but don't think about it or you will snap one day. You will want to kill that person because they are crossing the street, and you will not give a shit about the consequences. No conscious. That is where Marios head is at right now. Montes has no clue, or , Mario is an informant, friend, or an epic manipulator, the likes of a heroin addict. H.A.T.E. Highest Anti-Terrorism Effort. An organisation formed to combat terrorism. It is based in the Aeromarine, equally at home in air or underwater. Not much is known, except that the leader is an evil brain-damaged man with silly hair. And they have a flair for ridiculous but effective weapons. Usually associated with War, Jealousy and greed. A lack of understanding and fear. The true motivator of society. Also refers to a very strong feeling of animosity and resentment, often times leading to violence and atrocities. Hitler encouraged his people to hate the Jews. He is often times regarded as a symbol of evil, even the Anti-Christ. But as for Germany, there was never EVER a time in its history when it was more united and PERFECT. The common thin thread that ultimately unites mankind together, beyond the faith in a GOD, and a Samaritan act, is HATE rage. A bundle of rage beyond human imagination. Beyond criticism... The straight forward, non-pussified version of "dislike" for people who don't have time for modern rainbow and unicorns pc bullshit that plagues today society. GoC: 09-22-16 BAD NEWS LISA says… the Main Point of the MS. Bullets Points 09/22/16 The Mario situation HATE-REVENGE-PROFIT Plan A: SelfDefense. Plan B: Killed in jail. Plan C: provoke again. Plan D: direct violence. facts today: #1 A conspiracy to Murder. I can connect Larry Linkogle directly Mario Garcia with how obtained the knowledge of a 9 year old case. Larry lied and produced the case like he did this for Mario. Premeditated. Conspiracy to commit a felony murder. Motive: Hate/ Profit #2. A covert act. Willie presented the gun barrel from the car when Marioi? did not get assaulted excessively, the plan was to use the gun on Lober when he attacked Mario, but, Lober who is a for sure thing according to Larry to Mario, did not ACT OUT. The gun was not used. This implicates Willie as a conspirator to commit murder under hire. This was a HIT on John Lober. The beat filed NO charges. #3. The Motives. Mario is ultimately looking for profit, status and image. Possibly to squat in the Kepler house for illegal activity("you told me that you do not live here. I can do anything I want."), impress his associate death squad homeboy Larry, and possibly cash payment for assisting Larry with revenge. •I tried to apologize to Mario at the moment, his response,"nope. You're going to jail." •Willie had a pistol in his lap. •I found a gps taped to the Focus. •I saw Larry Linkogle at the ARCO 08/19/16. •The 911 system was purposefully exhausted, to the point that, no police officer is going to respond at all, when Lisa really needs the help. Mario called the police 100 times. •He is stalking us. • DAILY • WEEKLY • MONTHLY Someone may be picking on you today and it doesn't seem fair because you haven't done anything to elicit such a critical response. Nevertheless, the perfectionist Virgo Moon in your 7th House of Others is opposing distressed Chiron in your sign, reminding you of a previous failure. Keep in mind that you might be supplying more emotional charge to the situation than actually exists in the current moment. Acknowledge your memory without letting it distort the present. There's no reason to allow the past to ruin the future. Get Your Complete Cosmic Profile •She threatened us and follows me. •surveillance for sometime prior to June 8. •Harassment has increased, in order to jail John, for unknown reason. •His persistence is unprovoked by John. •He is extremely focused, deliberate and persistant, like there is a deadline. •911 to arrest you, lied to an official, and exaggerating John reputation which is 20 years old. •He fabricating actions and setting a precedence in the officers minds and putting their state of mind in a ready to shoot state. I mean who wouldn't. •Then when they realize and talk with John they realize he is not what Mario told them. •Their last resort is violence with murder. GoC: more bullet points MARIOSPRO OUTLINE This home is owned by Lisa Traudt." At 1:40pm the aggressor, John Lober, made degrading comments about her appearance and threatened her. 1:39 Ana storms into the house and immediately begins to retaliate to John Lober, and starts typing the ch-109 for Mario to sign," because John would not engage with her fucking amazing hair and communication skill zzz. Ana made a terroristic threat, using the word, "escalate," which means increase, only leads me to believe, Violence from her." And by the use of a restraining order, and the abuse of the police department.... And she could have just had the roots colored and her anus bleached , and she could have avoided losing her temper. Tisk. "Recently I learned of his identity through Pictures my wife captured." These led to his identity. Ana has been surveillance and tapping the residence for awhile. Over a year. Did you see the size of the camera? Is she a photo journalist for la times? "...did not know his name at the time, but knew of him..." Someone told him of me. "..as I began to speak to her and look down to point at the trash, he punched me in the jaw..." Oh, didn't pick it up like you told the commissioner. Lie "...the aggressor elbowed me in the face. I reacted by socking him. He laffed and stepped on my shades..." I flipped your phone, you threw a punch, I was too quick for your burrito fingers and you missed. You gave up you little bitch. Then I told him to pick up his trash. Then filmed him as he calmly communicated that he was alright and he did not smell alchohol, but that I may be on drugs.... I replied ," I'm on vagina." Now, what would have really happened, if reputations were true character, would be, mario, face down in a puddle of teeth as he gasps trough the clotting Crimson and blows a big blood bubble. It pops and flubbles and deflates and he head drops like a sack of batteries when his fighting spirit and will to live send themselves to Valhalla or the great big tortilla bender in the sky. Or... Atleast his hair would have been messed up or some grass on his shirt or I mean I would have bled just so he wouldn't look like such a cunt and depreciate my value. Now that's defamation. ------ This email message, including any attachments, is intended for the sole viewing and use of the individual or entity to which it is addressed, and may contain confidential and privileged information, which is prohibited from disclosure. Any unauthorized review, use, disclosure, distribution, or the taking of any action in reliance on the information contained in this email, including attachments, is prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any dissemination or copy of this message, or any attachment, is strictly prohibited. If you have received a copy of this email in error, please notify the sender by reply email immediately, and remove all copies of the original message, including attachments, from your computer.