#coding bootcamp what to expect your first week

[theboytatu]

2023 EXO WRAPPED

newton's 4th law states that for every "it's so over" there's an equally opposite "we are so back" so taking that into account i present to you the 2023 EXO WRAPPED so we can take a look at how truly insane EXO's career was this year

so we started out the year on a positive note. baekhyun was about to come back from the military - every other member was available, and the rumors of an EXO comeback were growing stronger. things were looking UP!

sadly - our first "it's so over" comes into play a mere month into the year, when news broke that lee sooman was being ousted from SM after a hostile board takeover resulted in him reaching out to hybe to get enough juice to fend off the witch hunt

no one knew what the fuck was going on - every idol in that company was sending out coded messages begging for help and all the scheduled comebacks got delayed, half assed or canceled. thankfully the succession plot got discarded quickly and hybe dropped out from the race, resulting in kakao investing in SM as major shareholder and lee sooman officially leaving the company.

after a few months of uncertainty EXO were finally reunited for their anniversary fanmeeting - we are so back!!! this was the first time the 8 members were together on stage since 2018 so of course everybody was losing their shit. and then we got confirmation that the comeback was finally happening.

this was it. it was happening. the FIRST full group comeback IN FIVE YEARS... we had confirmation, so they couldn't take it back - right? RIGHT??? except.... the weeks kept passing and as time went on we knew nothing else about the comeback. the members were radio silent and SM was still getting their shit together from the hostile takeover. both EXO and shinee's comebacks got delayed (among others) and no one knew what was supposed to happen. every day we got another news article about the EXO comeback but the EXO in question was nowhere to be seen - the full spectrum of the exol experience:

what happened next constitutes what experts have called the biggest "it's so fucking over" in recorded history so you better buckle up....

the comeback was first confirmed on social media by numerous music producers who were often seen working with EXO. SM was still radio silent but we KNEW the album was being made at the very least. expectations were building up and the members were seen practicing together in the SM building.... and then.

kai got notified that he had to enlist WITH ONE WEEK'S NOTICE.... the comeback wasn't even done shooting. kai was dying his hair a different color everyday to cram an album's worth of content in a couple of days. in hindsight this was truly our biggest L of the year

and then SM lied about how the military had suddenly changed the rules of enlistment so they didn't know kai had to go. AN ACTUAL MILITARY OFFICIAL had to go on the record to disprove this and it turns out SM had lied because they fucked up kai's paperwork and he couldn't defer any more. just your average SM fuck up

anyway. we'd facen worse right? an exo member enlisting has never been a problem to release a comeback - so after sending kai off to his bootcamp the rest of exo went right back to business. that album wasn't gonna record itself.....

and then on june 1st the second airplane hit the exo towers.

the amount of articles and updates we got every hour from different parties was insane. no one knew what the fuck was happening and SM was busy fighting this PR nightmare with a smear campaign against CBX and by association the rest of EXO

exoplanet was on fire but we had a silver lining: SM stock was plummeting to an all time low. it looked like EXO freedom was on the horizon, but in a classic EXO move the members had ghosted us. no one had heard from them except for legal statements from their lawyers - but hey at least SM was a dumpsterfire!

mind you the comeback hadn't even been announced.... at this point we assumed that was the least of their worries and then word got out that the members had been trying to film the MV in the middle of the lawsuit and SM hadn't allowed CBX entry to the set... which was later disproved but no one even questioned that cause it's literally something SM would do

and then in what constitutes the single most bizarre album rollout in kpop the comeback was officially announced - with two prerelease songs and three MVs! and three members in a legal battle! sounds very 2014 right? well exols didn't give a shit, and then we got our next we are sooo back. the hype was THERE

after a lot of 📈📉📈📉 the lawsuit against SM was settled and CBX decided to remain in the company for the sake of the group, and the songs they prereleased were actually good so it was safe to say exoplanet was on their WE ARE SOOOO BACK era.... but SM wouldn't let us have it so easy so of course this happened immediately after

they started cancelling albums and understocking distributors but nevertheless... WE PERSISTED. the album was finally released and once again EXO, true to their title of the cockroaches of kpop, managed to break several records despite SM sabotaging them left and right. they had ONE music show win and THREE streams but it didn't matter. EXO was back.

after their comeback promotions lasted a whopping SEVEN days and then dipped from the face of the earth exoplanet was finally looking back to normal

baekhyun drunk texted fans on bubble and held live spaces on twitter where he fell asleep and snored in front of 30 thousand people. kyungsoo dropped a mini album that had been recorded and ready to go for over a year and then rumors of someone leaving SM started circulating on korean foums again. exols were busy counting down the days to sehun finally hauling his ass to the military and every time EXO SC had a fanmeeting we were sure he was going to leave. and THEN....

surprising absolutely no one, kyungsoo didn't renew his contract with SM and left amicably in mid october. suho sent this bubble the same day the news came out btw

we were back in our it's so over era which at this point for EXO and exols it's closer to our we are so back era.... it's kinda hard to keep up but at least nothing else was gonna happen. it was already november, the end of the year was coming and no one expected anything else in exoplanet for at least 6 to 8 months. this is already longer than exo's career so i'll just wrap it up in a second part!!

[beyondxmeasure]

My collection of fics written for the One Direction fandom, most recent listed first. Subscribe here for new fic & chapter updates!

✨ Thanks for reading! ✨

♾️ Near You Now

Fic Post

Explicit | 8K | Larry | Strangers to Lovers | Neighbors | PWP | Grindr AU

When a leaky bathroom sink turns into a minor flood, Harry has to act fast. So, he thinks of the closest (and most unlikely) way to find home repair help… Grindr. The last thing he expects from this quick fix is to find anything long term.

Or... A Grindr AU inspired by this very real DM exchange as seen in this tumblr post.

♾️ Paint a Rainbow Inside My Heart

Fic Post

Teen+ | 22K | Larry | 5+1 Things | Queer Coding | Sexual Identity | Coming Out

A story about hiding in plain sight and the journey to revealing your truth, told in six acts. Or, the five times Harry queer coded with actions, behaviors or clothing and the one time he was too proud to hide it anymore.

🏳️‍🌈 Written for the @1dpridefest

♾️ The Habit I Can't Break

Fic Post

Explicit | 63K | Larry | Strangers to Lovers | Fitness Instructor Harry | Mild Kink (discovery)

While searching for a healthy alternative to fill the void that one habit left, Louis gets hooked on something and someone totally different. This new experience pushes him way out of his comfort zone, making Louis realize he’s capable of so much more than he could’ve ever imagined.

Or… The one where Louis quits smoking and tries to get healthy, and Harry is the fitness instructor who helps him achieve those goals while making him sweat in and out of the gym. In which Harry and Louis still meet at bootcamp, just not the one you’re thinking of.

Featuring Lottie as the supportive sister who drags her brother to bootcamp class, Louis as the grumpy (and very recently) ex-smoker, and Harry as the instructor with exhausting amounts of enthusiasm and one obnoxious pair of yellow trainers.

♾️ Forget About the World Outside, Because It's Just Me and You Tonight

Fic Post

Explicit | 4K | Larry | Post-Brit Awards Smut

Harry’s swept the Brits, bringing home four awards. He couldn’t be prouder and can’t wait to share his excitement with his favorite person, who he knows is waiting for him in the limo to take him home. He can’t help it if his mind starts to wander while the press snaps photos of him with his statuettes. All he can think about is the warm welcome he knows he’s bound to receive.

But first, Harry will have some repenting to do for a particular comment he made to the world about one, Stanley Tucci.

Or... The one where Louis didn’t care much for Harry’s acceptance speech for the Album of the Year award and needs to remind him that it’s Louis (not some bald American twat) who Harry loves more than anyone else in the world.

♾️ Let Your Heart Be Light

Fic Post

Teen+ | 77K| Larry + Ziam + Nashe | Enemies to Lovers | Advent Fic | Christmas Fluff | Slow Burn

Louis Tomlinson, a self-proclaimed holiday-hater, loses his job two weeks before Christmas. Broke and desperate to see his family back home in England, he takes the only job left at the mall as one of Santa’s helpers. Harry is an unconventional mall Santa, the youngest one they’ve had in years, but with as much holiday spirit as any other seasoned Saint Nick. He’s determined to un-Grinch the new guy in Santa’s Village if it takes until Christmas, then he finds out the devastating reason Louis has lost his Christmas cheer. Will Harry be just the thing Louis needs to help him get his sparkle back?

Featuring Liam as the manager at Santa's Village, Niall as an easy-going Irish elf and Harry's best friend, grumpy Grinch Louis and his best friend Zayn and one matchmaking Mrs. Claus.

♾️ Lazy Days and Pancakes for Two

Fic Post

Teen+ | 4K | Larry | Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff

They haven't seen each other in eighteen days. What better way to spend a much-needed tour break than having a lazy day watching shit TV and having breakfast in bed with your husband.

♾️ I Gave Up Hope and Found You Instead

Fic Post

Teen+ | 14K | Larry | Strangers to Lovers | Pirate AU | Fisherman Louis | Fluff/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

The entire village warned him not to go. Still, the peculiar boy from Eroda set sail on an odd-numbered day and, without knowing it, headed straight into the Our Flag Means Death universe. While being held captive aboard the pirate ship Revenge, the boy meets a fisherman named Louis.

Tasked by the captain to teach the reluctant boy to fish, Louis struggles to hide his frustration and hold his tongue. As difficult as it was to deal with this clumsy stranger, the skilled fisherman had worse assignments and more unpleasant partners, but none of them with a smile as bright as this peculiar boy had. A moment of unexpected distress catches them off guard, and both soon find out it’s much easier to catch feelings than fish.

Or, Where the "Adore You" music video ends and the Our Flag Means Death canon begins.

🐟 Written for @erodaficfest

♾️ I Was Born like This, Don't Even Gotta Try

Fic Post

Explicit | 2K | Larry | 2015 Era | Canon Reimagined | Fluff & Smut

A Gucci suit to get on your knees for… Louis and Harry return home after a long day of promo events and cocktail parties. They’re both exhausted, but that doesn’t stop Louis from keeping a promise he made to Harry in the limo earlier that night.

A certain geometric Gucci suit might have played a part in helping Louis’ keep that promise.

♾️ A Simple Twisted Fate

Fic Post

Explicit | 18K | Larry | Strangers to Lovers | Tattoo Artist Louis | Rock Star Harry | Kink Exploration

Global rock star Harry Styles has some time to kill between tour dates and stumbles into a Doncaster tattoo shop with a desire for some new ink. He has a few other desires as well, but those he must keep to himself.

Louis Tomlinson, owner of Twisted Fate Tattoos, has seen enough of the tabloids and thinks he knows everything there is to know about this world-famous rock star, and he’s not impressed.

Harry may be one of the world's biggest stars known for a lavish lifestyle, crazy parties and entourages of women wherever he goes, but he’s more than just what his image and wild reputation suggests.

Things take an interesting turn when Louis finds out he’s been helping satisfy Harry’s voracious pain kink. Bet he'd love to know that not only is Louis a gifted tattoo artist, but an experienced Dom as well. Perhaps they both have something to learn from each other, if only Louis would give Harry a chance. Maybe their paths crossing was more than just a twist of fate, but the universe’s plan all along.

Written for @subharryficfest

⚓ Update (11.1.22): New installment in the ‘Twisted’ universe coming soon!

♾️ Just a Little Taste Before I Go

Fic Post

Explicit | 4K | Larry | OTRA Tour | Kink Exploration

Just before showtime, Harry has a bit of nervous energy and needs help to settle himself before he and the boys hit the stage in Milwaukee. Louis knows just the place.

Or… The one where Harry and Louis just need to... ahem, blow off some steam in a storage closet and wind up dabbling in some unplanned kink exploration—and we find out what really happened before they took the stage that night of OTRA tour… you know the one.

Written for @subharryficfest

♾️ Climbing the Swells

Fic Post

Explicit | 6K | Larry | Enemies to Lovers | Surfer AU | Smut

One surfer out of his depth amongst some territorial locals makes a bold move and a very unwelcome entrance. After things go wrong, another surfer reluctantly takes mercy on him, offering some first-aid and unexpected hospitality aboard his Airstream. A couple dimples and a few wayward curls go a long way to soften one surly local, and what started out as a rough morning becomes a very sunny spot to the day.

Or… The one where a clumsy Harry and a stubborn Louis reconcile their grievances on the beach, with a heartfelt apology from Louis on his knees without saying a word.

🏖️ Written for @hlsummerfest2021

♾️ I Know You Rider (Gonna Miss Me when I’m Gone)

Fic Post

Teen+ | 9K | Larry | Strangers to Lovers | 1990s AU | Single-Rider Line AU

Waiting in line at the Big Dipper, one angsty skater punk gets paired with a chilled out hippy boy, by way of a single-rider line. Together, they ride one of Cypress Gardens’ oldest wooden roller coasters. Will this easy-going stranger in tie-dye make Louis forget his fear of heights, or turn their rickety ramble into a nightmare on steel wheels? Either way, it will be a ride Louis won’t soon forget.

Or… The one where Louis hates hippies and roller coasters and Harry tries to fix that with lots of fun facts, terrible puns and perhaps one very life-changing moment in a dark tunnel.

🏖️ Written for @hlsummerfest2021

🍋 Part 1 of Arcades & Lemonade. Part 2 coming soon-ish!

♾️ Freedom Always Comes with a Price

Fic Post

Explicit | 101K | Larry | Lovers to Friends to Lovers | Memory Loss | Non-Linear Narrative | Angst, Fluff & Smut

A shared dream brings them together onto the X-factor stage, but one decision changes Harry and Louis’ lives overnight. Thrust into a world of instant stardom, they're forced to live a lie to sustain their dreams, but years of living in the shadows and under strict management take its toll.

With the band's impending hiatus, there’s no better time for change, so they think.

Desperate for a solution, they turn to an unlikely source with a radical plan. An unfortunate accident sets everything in motion, but not how they intended, leaving Louis’ memories altered, Harry broken-hearted and full of regret.

Can Harry figure out a way to fix everything? Will he even want to once he sees how Louis moved on after the hiatus? Will Louis ever find out the truth of their past, and can he forgive Harry after all this time?

In the end, two friends find out that memories are elusive, trust is everything and love is the only antidote.

💥 Written for @onedirectionbigbang

♾️ Longing like a Searchlight

Fic Post

Explicit | 27K | Larry | 5+1 Things | Roommates to Lovers | Road Trips | Mutual Pining | Angst and Smut

Louis moves in with his friend Harry and soon thoughts of his new flatmate are anything but innocent. When it comes to acting on those urges while he’s alone, Louis has no control, and it doesn’t take long for his primal impulses to turn into deep, urgent longing the more time they spend together.

An unexpected family event takes Harry home for the weekend. Will it be the catalyst that finally brings them together, or what tears them apart when Louis overhears what Harry reveals to his mother about his true feelings?

Or... The Five times Louis almost gets caught during a salacious moment of self-care and the one time he did... a roommates-to-lovers fic with lots of feels.

Written for @1d5xfest

[astaroth1357]

I wanted to request but kinda shy😅

But uh, Barbatos and an MC who's had an experience of being a maid/butler?

(idk i've just had this in my head for a while shnshsn)

Oh Ley… I LOVE this kind of stuff, like you don't even know. Gimme that Barbatos brainrot 🤤

Barbatos Reacts to an MC with Some Maid/Butler Experience

Heads Up: I'm shamelessly re-tooling the Butler event here. For anyone yet to play it, the main premise is the Brothers are being trained to be the MC's butlers and it's Barbs doing the training. Don't need to know much more than that.

Well he was… pleasantly surprised.

He did have some suspicions that they had met or grew up around butlers before. They were always surprisingly respectful to him and always knew what small things they could do to make his life a little easier...

They'd tell him their preferences upfront and with perfect detail so he never had to guess what they wanted. They would also put things aside in convenient, easy to clear ways or jump in to help him with small tasks on occasion with well-practiced proficiency...

It was… nice. If not a bit odd for him at first. People don't usually concern themselves with easing his day-to-day struggles and he appreciated their awareness. He thought to ask about their background once or twice, but deemed it too rude to pry for a while…

He did eventually get his confirmation after the brothers approached him with an odd request… For whatever reason, they wanted to be the MC's butlers for a week. (Or more accurately, Lucifer was forcing them to do be so). Of course, Barbs had serious doubts about their capability - he didn’t refuse the favor.

He had fully expected to be the only one giving them instruction… but imagine his surprise when he showed up to the House and found that the MC had already gotten the lessons underway!

MC: "Mammon. Fix your collar, please…" *tugs at the unbuttoned neck of his outfit with a sigh* "It's important to maintain a professional image in case I have guest…"

Mammon: "There ain't nothin' wrong with my out-Ow!!" *throws his hands over his nose after the MC flicks it* 

MC: "Dress code is dress code, Mammon. And Levi, don't slouch like that." *they go over to the thirdborn and push his back up straight*

MC: "The proper stance is a straight spine with your left hand at your midsection and your right behind your back. Chin up!" *they lift his head with a finger* "It makes-"

Barbatos: *steps into the room* "-you look more attentive and ready to serve." *he smiles at the MC's surprised face, having been caught red-handed doing his job for once*

Barbatos: *comes up to a now very intimidated Levi, fixing his tie* "And remember to smile…" *glances to the human with a subdued, but present grin*

MC: "-because it puts the Master at ease." *smiles back to him and though it's rather clear they're having a moment Mammon looks between the two, confused*

Mammon: "Eh… Think we're missin' somethin', Levi?"

Satan: *put two-and-two together like an hour ago and sighs* "I'm pretty sure it's just you, Mammon…"

Turns out Barbs is a strict teacher and the MC's expectations were high… So from that point on, the boys had a truly hellish bootcamp ahead of them…

In all honesty, Barbs came to genuinely appreciate being able to vent about the job to someone with similar experiences... 

Butler work is hardly easy and not one that often affords the presence of self - wants, desires, and whims are usually subject to time, place, and approval which can exhaust even a demon like him.

Though he would never complain about Lord Diavolo (discretion is paramount) but if the Little D's were being obnoxious or he couldn't find an ingredient he wanted then the MC could expect the usually reserved butler to come to their door distraught and ready to rant talk... with sweets, of course.

He has considered convincing Diavolo to use "executive privilege" to whisk the MC out of the House of Lamentation and settle them into the Castle with him. He could really use an assistant for the chores and… other things... but the brothers would surely put up a fight if he ever tried.

Unfortunately for them, his desire to have the MC close gets a little stronger with every late night meeting… Give it another month or two, and he may not be able to help himself - so sorry, boys. 😏

[selfcareparker]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request something for Peter and female!reader (it's kind of AU because it would change the date Peter gets bitten at Oscrop). So, pre-Sider bite reader and Peter are best friends (and reader is crushing hard obv). Reader leaves for the summer to visit family and doesn't see Peter until the first day of school. She's expecting her regular asthmatic, glass wearing bff/crush. When she gets there, however, gone are the glasses and holy crap he has muscles!? WTF?! 😋

Hii I loved this as a concept so I didn’t have too much to add 🥺 so I just wrote this little scene on the first day of school

+

You walk down the hallway, passing a tall handsome guy while making your way to your locker.

The guy calls your name and you turn around with your eyebrows pulled together.

Do you know him?

He jogs over to you, giving you a bright smile and extending his arms to hug you.

That‘s when it clicks.

“Peter?“

He laughs, pulling you in for a hug. His arms firmly hold you - he‘s a little taller too.

You‘ve been talking on the phone every day since the last day of school, but somehow he forgot to mention that he‘d grown into a teenage version of the Hulk.

Where did your scrawny best friend go? You liked him then, but seeing him now is simply too much for you.

You realise you‘ve just been staring for a while, Peter‘s awkward stance is still there, but now it‘s being overshadowed by his wide shoulders and chest.

It seems like he tried to hide them under his oversized hoodie, but you‘ve always payed attention to his body, and now is no different.

“You-you look nice,“ he comments, “I like your top.“

Since your body also changed throughout the summer, you decided you wanted to accentuate your chest a little more, going all in with a rather low cut top, as teachers have more important stuff to do during the first week of school than pay much attention to the dress code.

But still, he‘s complimenting you while he looks like that?

“Thanks, but what about you? We‘ve been talking every day and you forgot to mention that you went to a bodybuilder bootcamp over the summer?“ you add a chuckle, to make it seem like he‘s not affecting you as much, like you‘re just making a neutral comment about him.

He bites his lip, blushing, as he looks down at himself and shrugs.

“Oh- I- I didn’t but I just... became interested in exercise and nutrition and yeah... guess it’s been successful so far.”

“Definitely has.”

You both look around, standing there awkwardly until Ned calls you two from the other end of the hall.

The moment between you is over for now, but with both of you complimenting each other like that, you feel like this could be a step in the right direction. Maybe your crush isn’t one-sided after all...

[irarelypostanything]

Software engineers make a lot of money, but…

The average annual salary for an American software engineer is $86,000; the average annual salary for an American is $48,000.  The above figure may be seriously skewed by Techlead, who makes a million dollars every time he comments on YouTube, and Silicon Valley, where it costs $3000 a week to live in a broom closet...but those are the statistics.  So, compared to the average, software engineers make a lot of money.

Is that a lot, when you account for the amount of money it costs to become a software engineer?  This is where things get interesting.  Coding bootcamps are springing up, and some are good and some are borderline scams.  Colleges themselves tend to be incredibly expensive, so the argument becomes more of a “computer science pays better than most majors” than a “computer science is worth it,” in my opinion...though actually, if you work out the math, student loans might be worth it if you major in computer science, MAYBE.  Another interesting thing is comparing it to other majors, in a cost-benefit sort of way.  Do doctors make more than software engineers?  On average, definitely.  Do you have to pay more for school to be a doctor?  Probably...maybe…

This post wasn’t supposed to be strictly economic, but I still think about this from time to time.  College for me is over - the question isn’t “Should I have majored in computer science?”, but “should we keep encouraging anyone and everyone to major in computer science?”  There’s been a massive push to get more people into computer science.  Anyone who’s watched “What most schools don’t teach” knows exactly what I’m talking about.

And it’s probably good, but what I take issue with is when money becomes the opening statement.  I saw some people burn out of computer science in college - not that many, I’ll be honest (some of our classes weren’t tough, but we were Davis...not Berkeley), but some.  One commenter on Piazza/Facebook complained that people come into computer science thinking it’s an easy route to money, when in reality it’s as rigorous as other fields of engineering and math.  I think Cal Newport said it best: If you know in your heart that you’re in this major because YOU CHOSE IT, yourself, you’ll find the motivation to keep going.  If someone chose it for you, then you might burn out.

Actually, I don’t even remember if he was talking about computer science.  Maybe it was a general statement, or something crazy like astrophysics.  

I knew a math major in my dorm.  She loved math as both a hobby and a career - that alone should give you pause, and I don’t know why she never saw the campus therapist, but let me continue - and she decided to take on a little coding for a possible minor.  I wrote out a study guide (admittedly irrelevant because the class changed) for her and tried to make sure she stayed motivated.  For her, as it turned out, this was all a non-issue.  She told me she loved it.  It was her first time coding, coding was hard, and frustrating, and took forever, and she absolutely loved it.

In the actual field, we had an intern whom I shall leave unnamed.  To be honest, working with him was pretty frustrating in some respects, or at least stressful.  We planned out his task and vision.  We knew his experience level, or his supposed experience level, and so we plotted out exactly when we expected each milestone to be completed.  I was prepared to give him a better experience than what I had - just empathy, and motivation, and making sure he had the resources he needed.  

Then he started, he came up to speed in a day, and he blew each task out of the water within days.  Half-way through his internship and he was done with everything we thought he would complete, and then some.  He apparently hadn’t worked with any of our various technologies before, but he picked up on each one, excelled, asked tons of questions, and then dominated.  After learning our system through some walkthroughs on day one, he barely needed any sort of help at all.  I think the best parting gift I gave him was leetcode frequencies, because God forbid a software engineer of that potential ever pay $14 a month for Leetcode premium.

So...for some people...there’s no need to motivate.  They’d probably be engineers even if engineers were paid average salaries, and they’d probably do this even if it were just a hobby.  Is software engineering for everyone, though?  What about people like me, who have brains that were probably better suited to major in something like English, or history?

Well...they can be, I believe.  I think we get wrapped up in this idea that software engineers, like my insane dorm mate, have to love coding so much that they relish the opportunity to sort names in C.  But there’s a lot more in coding than just sorting names in C.  There’s also C++, and then there’s this thing called Java, and then there’s that one language everyone swears will be the future.

We start people with C, and a lot of normal people like myself look at it and think, “Wow, this is confusing and boring as hell.”  Then it kind of grows on them when they realize how far they’ve come, but for some people it doesn’t.  They stick around for C++, maybe for the intellectual challenge, and they learn data structures.  Then comes all the extraordinarily useful theory, and algorithms that will definitely come up in extremely relevant interviews, and if you get to the very end of your college career without failing (since it’s a ladder) you might just get to take the boring stuff like hacking, graphics, AI, bioinformatics, and that one class where you actually build an app for a real company or campus client.

And we sure as hell don’t start people off with frontend, where they can reap the benefits of their efforts in days instead of weeks.  I actually see why this part makes more sense, but...there’s a lot of coding out there.  Even if you realize you despise most coding, there’s a whole world of UI/UX that...I admittedly have not seen in a while because we’re back in middleware.

But then in middleware, there’s that whole world of stock trading, where every nanosecond matters, and books explaining why every nanosecond matters, and infrastructure with applications that...that…

...there’s a lot to coding, and there’s also money.  But you can make money doing anything.

[eternalcantarella]

Entropy - Chapter 2: Horseman of The Apocalypse - Joker/Reader

Entropy

  Summary: We all seek for some measure of uncertainty. Working against the mob is a dangerous game, you might as well be signing a death warrant. You would think it was all by a stroke of chance, the multiple run-ins with Gotham’s Jester of Genocide. When crooks begin to make more sense than do-gooders ― that’s anarchy. He’s no ordinary crook, however. And he’s still wrong. At least that’s what you'd like to tell yourself.

Word count: 17.9k

  A/N: Medical specifics - I know the rod of asclepius is more for professional healthcare usage and caduceus is for commercial usage, but I chose to use a hybridisation of both asclepius and caduceus rods instead because its symbolism was slightly more in line with what I want to portray. Sorry for the inconsistency with practical usage! This chapter took me a while to write, and I didn't expect it to turn out this long. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it! 

  Inspirations: Trafalgar Law’s speech on the new era (One Piece), Amaya & Aiko no Akatsuki's Deisaku writing - Pinky Bruiser (Deisaku fans should totally check this out), Town of Salem's Plaguebearer role.

Available to read on AO3! Check my blog description for link to my AO3.

###

He sat in the long corridor, his legs crossed. His posture was laid back, with his tablet propped up on his lap. He tried to get used to the stiff teal plastic seat, secured to the wall behind him, but it was extremely uncomfortable and he kept readjusting his position. He tried to distract himself with the forthcoming plans for the week ahead with Gotham Press Holdings, refreshing his email to check for updates from his superiors. Unfortunately, he could not find the urge to open those mails. He leaned forward in his seat, his hand instinctively searching for the familiar spot on his chin.

  The thin and bitter smell of antiseptic and cleaning products was invasive, acrid and stinging as it caused him to look away and stare at his other hand, twisting and knotting it as if doing so would hold back the unrest threatening to break within him. A man was whisked on a hospital bed right past him down the narrow corridor, and he was greeted with the disturbance of coughing, hacking and wheezing in the Emergency Department waiting room. He found the closest antibacterial hand dispenser, which was fortunately right beside him, and started working it like a gambling addict hitting up a VLT machine.

  In a disorienting ambulance ride earlier, claustrophobia had closed in on him. He stood hovering over the stretcher, trying to rationally articulate the details surrounding your predicament, trying to discard feelings of his rising worries for you. However, with every bump the ambulance made, his unease peaked higher. As expected, the paramedics had briefed him that prompt delivery to the Emergency Department should be a priority, and had administered their prehospital care procedure onto you. 

  While otherwise appearing to be asymptomatic, the fact that you lost consciousness was alarming. They had secured the airway as required, delivering high-flow oxygen by cupping a respirator mask over your face, obtaining IV access simultaneously. There was a tenseness to his muscles, his head a violent whirl of confusion, trying to organise the newly found chaos in his life. They had also administered a beta-antagonist as a nebulised treatment for bronchoconstriction, a paramedic explained to him as she spritzed short bursts of liquid spray up your nostrils. 

  And here he was, waiting. A suspense ate at him internally while he awaited the ED doctor’s examination results.

  While he was willing himself to check on instructions from Gotham Press Holdings, his hands betrayed his line of thought, and he instead found himself looking through his archived emails. His eyes glossed over the subject title.

  ‘Application for Blake Accounting Consultancy - Junior Data Analyst Applicant; Resume Included’

  He crinkled his eye, his lips stretching against his index finger resting against it. He always found himself unknowingly going back to this fateful letter, at different, random times with no real reason connecting them with each other. He didn’t like to express it, both visually and verbally, to you that he had come to care for you deeply. And he was wondering if he was regretting ever holding back and hiding his actions to show that care. With the current uncertainty, and your life at stake, it’s always easy to see in hindsight that there were many things he could do differently. He clicked onto the email he archived, going through the motions that took him back to simpler and more pleasant times. He indulged himself in the light breeze of familiarity and nostalgia. He would always have a sentimental longing and affection for the past, especially when it came to you.

  He remembered looking at your application and how absurd he thought it was at first glance. He vaguely recalled the contents of his job listing on Craigslist, having clearly stated that a bachelor’s degree in Computing or Data related fields was a prerequisite and lowest qualification one must have at the very least. Yet your highest form of education was trade school and coding bootcamps.

  This was almost ludicrous in his eyes, that he found it to be amusing. He was about to dismiss your application to sift through the others, without even looking at your resume. However he felt compelled to click on it, probably out of some sick sense of curiosity and humour, he supposed. He wanted to see what laughs or kicks he could get out of this.

  A condescending sense of jest bubbled in his chest when he started reading it. Perhaps this was just a joke applicant, he thought. Well, humour me. However, he found that the more he read into it, the more his smile started to falter. Being a data analyst requires very specific skills. You had recorded a very all-encompassing list of individual qualifications from courses painstakingly taken and they were all relevant to the job scope. Technical, analytical, math and creative skills. This was impressive for a non-uni graduate. You had also taken the initiative to contribute to opensource projects, demonstrating a fire and drive for the role. Not to mention the attention to detail and the amount of work put into organising this resume, to frame and market yourself in the best way possible. You had done a lot of research into this, evidently.

  From this, he could sense that being a data analyst was something you wanted to be strongly at this point in time. And while strongly wanting to be one is often not enough for a data analyst, you had the puzzle pieces arranged and chops to back it up. Perhaps what sealed the deal to offer you an interview over coffee was the thing that set you apart from other applicants. Other candidates wrote about what they wanted from this job. No one cares what they want. No one cares that they want to “leverage their skills working with a highly effective team”. Yours was focused solely on the employer’s benefit, rather than for personal gain. And one thing in particular had caught his eyes to show you were perhaps a best fit for the company.

  ‘To build an ethical and positive culture for the company from the ground up and inspire change in Gotham.’

  Given the current legal and political climate in Gotham, especially with the battles between parties of power going on, no one would care to write statements like this. No one even knew if they were submitting applications to companies deep within the mob, entrenched in corruption, or held hostage after having had debts to repay them. The mob had an iron grip on affairs at every nook and cranny of Gotham City. These types of statements were too fluffy, too idealistic, and often were not considered on job offers. However, things were changing. In a world where caped and masked vigilantes were jumping off roofs and Falcone was locked up in Arkham, he had hope. Politics were becoming more transparent, as candidates like Harvey Dent stepped up to the plate. And he would stop at nothing to make the most of this hope for a better Gotham. He had to believe in a better Gotham. He clenched his wrists and swallowed. He wanted to realise this idealistic vision he had. 

  “This mask for the anger I’ve been hiding… It’s not enough.”

  “Then channel that anger to something good, I dunno. Frankly speaking, it’s not that hard.”

  You two were sitting around a mahogany coffee table, with two plush sofas clad in burgundy fabric offering you two the luxury of sinking back into the comfort of its softness. However, you two were on the edge of your seats, not allowing yourselves to be lulled into its false sense of security and let your guards down. Your eyes were trained on each other, the air electrifying. You took a sip from the mug of your macchiato, eyes never leaving his as you tilted your coffee mug. You looked at him through your lashes, hiding behind a coy smile. Intrigued by your boldness, he quirked a brow in amusement. He sighed and pushed his laptop away from him on the table, finding no real need for it.

  “Charming. If you’re so impressive, why don’t you tell me why you hadn’t attempted college?” 

  This definitely did not feel like a job interview. He leaned back, arms folded, a smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was challenging you. You sure as hell weren’t one to back down.

  “Well, maybe it’s because some of us aren’t so lucky to have our parents afford our college fees, just so we can chase our dreams.”

  In a saccharine voice, you leaned forward, tilting your head, no longer smiling. Your lips showed the hints of a pout. John Blake stared at you, slightly confused for a moment. Was this a personal attack or something?

  “That’s very valiant of you. However, Miss, if I had to remind you of something,”

  He maintained his composure, leaning forward with a slight tension in his jaw, his smirk not falling.

  “You don’t know the first thing about me, darling.”

  You remained neutral, staying in the same position.

  “Well, I’m sorry if I offended you.” 

  He had been the one to poke you first, you thought, slightly indignant. You bit your lip and spoke again, treading dangerously.

  “If I had to take a guess, I would say you feel threatened by me.”

  John Blake raised his brows at you, possibly in disbelief at your brazenness. He lightly clenched through his teeth. Were you perhaps right?

  “Far from it, kid.”

  You glared at him for this obvious condescension. If you were anyone else, the blatant disrespect you showed him earlier would have immediately gotten you rejected. But the chemistry between you two was palpable, even then. His eyes looked at the laptop in front of him. His eyes avoided yours. He looked away, and nonchalantly he asked you.

  “Don’t you think it’s impossible to really foster an ethical company in Gotham? I mean, it’s a pretty corrupt city.”

  He stirred his coffee to feign apathy. This question wasn’t important to him. You furrowed your brows and shook your head, your voice raising in tone. You felt your indignancy rise. Affronted and outraged. What kind of question is this…?

  “What? Gotham is full of people ready to believe in good and compassion.”

  You had his attention now. And he stared at you, his eyes hard.

  “Hey, don’t you think that’s pretty naive of you?”

  “You can say that all you want about me. I don’t gain much from being an idealist, but I have to do the best I can.”

  Your voice softened towards the end. This was perhaps the first time you allowed yourself to be vulnerable in this… “Interview”. The man in front of you shifted his weight in his chair and stood up. This prompted you to stand up as well, befuddled and just mindlessly mirroring his body language.

  Satisfied with his find, he stared down his nose at you with an unreadable expression. He stuck his hand out towards you.

  “Well then kid, I believe we have a deal.”

  Dumbfounded, you took his hand hesitantly, and he gave your hand a firm squeeze, bobbing it lightly in the process. Your jaw was slightly ajar and you were confused. After all that, you were in a state of doubt. Did you really just pass this… interview?

  “Check your email for updates.”

  He picked up his coffee, downed the rest of it and held his cup up towards you, a last gesture signifying his leave. He set it down against the table with a clink and left swiftly with his laptop. 

  You will become my weapon. My tool. You will fight for me, and in exchange, I will ensure that you realise your vision, and sate your burning desires.

  He smirked. A diamond in the rough indeed.

  He was stirred out of his daze when he heard the sound of the sliding doors of the emergency ward. It revealed a doctor dressed in blue short-sleeved scrub top and pants, with a white lab coat. She held a clipboard and wore a surgical mask. The mask could not hide the sunkenness in her eyes, fatigued from being overworked during her residency. Blake stood up immediately seeing her, desperate to know the outcome of your medical evaluation.

  “Sir, I’ll cut to the chase. She will have to remain under our observation for the next forty-eight hours, and we will periodically image her with serial chest radiographs.”

  Taking a moment to take this news in, he nodded, signalling for the doctor to continue.

  “We seek your understanding, patients may develop significant signs and symptoms for as long as thirty-six hours after exposure. We checked for burns in the nasal cavity and tested for particles.”

  She sighed and stared at her clipboard, shifting her weight onto her other foot. Her tennis shoes squeaked.

  “Burning was spotted, but minimal. Her airway functions are still relatively stable. Our test results revealed in her system a complex of zinc chloride and the fear gas toxin compound found in our water supply months back.”

  “I understand. Her condition is stable enough and she will recover, right?”

  He looked her in the eye, searching for any signs that would betray her jaded features.

  “I’m afraid nothing in this world is certain, sir.”

  Her voice was somber. His brows knitted. What was that supposed to mean? Realising what she uttered out, she quickly switched her expression to mask what she just said, to a more amicable one for professionalism.

  “But of course, nothing is likely to happen to her. We have databases storing synthesised antidotes and counteragents to the compounds we found.”

  He sank, his muscles losing their tension as he deflated. At least there was some solace in this situation.

  “You can check back around the same time after two days, if you’d like. She will be placed under our care til then.”

  He nodded and took that as a sign to take his leave. He grabbed the laptops from the seats and gave himself another couple of pumps of hand sanitiser solution. He sighed and felt the tension in his forehead subside a little. You always had to cause trouble for everyone involved, didn’t you? He turned his head and looked at you through the glass panes, lying unconscious on a hospital bed. He gave a snort and didn’t slow down his pace. 

  Luckily for you, you had someone who didn’t find you to be more trouble than you were worth.

###

He found the darkness strange. In the heart of Gotham city, he had grown used to having the warm, yellow-orange glow of streetlamps outside his window, light filtering in through the gaps in the curtains and seeing them whenever he walked down the street. It felt safe. Come to think of it, it was a privilege. When he took a first drive through the Narrows, there were no such safety blankets in the form of regularly spaced streetlamps. He continued staring up at the Bat-Signal, its rays projected an emblem. 

  It was shrouded in darkness. Gotham City is a bustling, urban metropolis. The signal was alone in the night sky, not a single star there to accompany it. Light pollution makes us unable to see stars in big cities. The bat was cursed to be alone in the dark. It was the only way he could exist, anyway. After all, most sightings of him caught on tape were filmed around the Narrows.

  He combed a hand through his honey blond hair, while the balmy breeze smeared against his face. He heard footsteps. Immediately, he whipped his form around, hands affixed tightly on his hips.

  “You’re a hard man to reach.”

  He walked forward, trying to seem cordial, as much as he could be. His posture was strained, however, his neck craned forward from waiting too long. He walked forward, closer to the figure and swung one arm loose, by his side. He sized him up. This was the first time he had seen him up close, and he simply remained silent. They regarded each other for a cold moment. He couldn’t expect much from him, even a response would be too much, not without Gordon around.

  He almost blended in with the darkness. His suit mirrored the plated armour of specialised jousters, but with a much more modern and practical design. He looked rigid and reminded him of a man from medieval times, a mounted warrior with ideals of chivalry and a code of conduct befitting for a nobleman. The difference was, he did not work with the state, and was in no way a perfect courtly Christian warrior.

  I believe in Harvey Dent. People needed to believe in something, just as he believed in the Batman.

  His presence, despite being mostly subdued and shadowed, did invoke a bearing to be idolised. If he weren’t Gotham’s District Attorney or the up-and-coming choice political candidate, he might have even been star-struck and giddy-headed at the sight of him. He scoffed at this. They were of the same standing in the city of Gotham, on equal footing, and they both knew it. He could feel it in his stare.

  They waited.

  The jarring sound of the door clicking open broke the uncomfortable silence. He studied Gordon, who looked just as miffed as he did. He tried to get Gordon’s attention.

  “Lau’s halfway to Hong Kong.”

  Gordon ignored him, storming forward to switch off the Bat-Signal. This rubbed Harvey Dent the wrong way. He was a little vexed.

  “You’d asked. I could’ve taken his passport―I told you to keep me in the loop.”

  Gordon was aggravated by his unpleasant overbearing insistence on being involved in the Gotham City Police Department’s investigations. He raised his voice.

  “All that was left in the vaults were marked bills. They knew we were coming, as soon as your office got involved-”

  Gordon was motioning with his hand. He waved it around temperamentally, emotion clearly clouding his judgement and choice of words. Dent felt his blood pressure rise and he definitely would not stand for these accusations against his team. He felt a vein jutting in his neck, tensing as he matched his voice level to reach Gordon’s.

  “My office? You’re sitting there with scum like Wuertz and Ramirez and you’re talking-”

  He jammed a strained finger at the ground as he stressed his words. He paused for a moment. Realisation in a recent finding gave him the upperhand. He sneered. This was turning into a full-blown argument.

  “Oh yeah Gordon. I almost had your rookie cold on a racketeering beat.”

  He jabbed more accusatory fingers directed at Gordon. God forbid his argumentative habits from the high court show through now. This was making things a lot worse.

  “Don’t try and cloud the fact that clearly Maroni’s got people in your office, Dent.”

  Gordon’s statement was final and harsh. They stared each other down. This was going nowhere. The night breeze blew against them. The Bat was silent. Quietly, he stood and analysed whether he could really trust both of these men to solve crime in Gotham together. The wariness and doubt was palpable. What makes them think they could make him trust them, when they couldn’t even trust each other?

  Dent didn’t know how to respond to this. He went silent. He couldn’t dispute or disprove this. The Maronis’ got their reigns deep within all walks of this city.

  Gordon sighed, giving up. If they couldn’t have transparency at this point, they could forget about asking for Batman’s help. He would not accept this if they were to only hinder his goal. It was embarrassing, to say the least. They would only appear to be a joke to the man. He had to relent, for starters.

  “We couldn’t detain him. He has too much power. We can’t conclusively accuse Lau at this point, and we were denied prior warrants on him. We have no data on him aside from pure speculation.”

  Looking down, Gordon bit on his bottom lip, his facial hair caught between his lip. He tugged at his pocket with exaggerated movements, looking like a jovial dad who thrived on telling dad jokes, pulling out a scrap of notes. He skimmed through it. Harvey Dent’s hands were still on his hips, gripping at his hipbone. He turned to look at the man in the dark suit.

  The three of them stood in formation, on the rooftop of the Major Crimes Unit, circling each other. They formed the three pillars of justice in Gotham. All unyielding in their beliefs of their methods of crime fighting, and their ideals. Coming to a compromise seemed near impossible moments ago.

“We need Lau back. The Chinese won’t extradite a national under any circumstances. Not that we even have the right documents to prove his involvement with the mob.”

  Batman took this chance to respond, for the first time.

  “I have no jurisdiction. I believe I personally have enough proof to track that rat down.”

  Harvey Dent raised his brows a fraction. The gall of him to talk about legal power or authority having no control over him, right in front of the DA no less. If he didn’t know better, he would say he was boasting about operating outside the law. Even if he was a vigilante, that was a bold statement. He liked that.

  “If I get him to you, can you get him to talk?”

  Batman’s voice was deep and raspy. Dent did not expect his voice to be like this. The corner of his mouths tugged a bit. This was his area of expertise.

  “I’ll get him to sing.”

  Nodding for further assertion and poise in confidence, he said so knowingly. Gordon unfolded the scrap of notes handed to him by his officers. They had brute-forced their way into the systems of the recent bank heist at Gotham National Bank. Apparently, they had digital tracks of code and graphs as potential sources of evidence for this case from a foreign system. The department, however, was not specialised enough to interpret this data definitively.

  “The GCPD only recently uncovered leads to prove Lau’s dirty work in the mob, but I suppose it’s better late than never.”

  This caught Harvey Dent’s attention. He signalled for him to elaborate.

  “We traced the source to be devices registered under the Blake Accounting Consultancy company.”

  Bringing a finger to his lip, Dent bit against it lightly. He pondered

  “We can do this concurrently while Batman forcefully extradites Lau. We need to do this fast, however. Set up an interrogation with this company, as soon as possible.”

  Dent and Gordon looked at each other. For once, they saw each other eye to eye. Gordon took in a deep breath, and nodded, this time with a lot less hesitation than before. The Bat looked at them, his focus flitting between the two, and pressed his lips together. Maybe there was hope in this after all.

  “We’re going after the mob’s life savings, things will get ugly.”

  Gordon inclined his head, indicating the urgency of this harsh truth. Gordon gave Dent a hard stare, a direct warning to the man. A pretty-boy working high up in the office, who had never gotten his hands dirty like that in the life of a city cop. He had to know what was in store for him, and Gordon wanted to see if he really was all that serious about this, rather than being purely concerned with racking political points.

  “I knew the risk when I took this job, lieutenant.”

  Harvey Dent leaned back, seeming a tad bit offended by his warning. As if he didn’t know already. Hell, someone had even pulled a gun on him in the courtroom. In Rachel’s words, as Gotham’s DA, if you’re not getting shot at, you’re not doing your job right. He decided to let it go.

  “How are you getting back in-”

  He directed his attention back onto Batman. He vanished into thin air. Dent was at a loss for words. How dysfunctional this agreement between the three of them seemed. He dared Gordon to give him an explanation. Do I really want to know, he scoffed. Gordon cocked his head derisively, a wry smile in place.  

  “He does that.”

  Pretty crude sense of humour, even for someone flying from building to building with a cape. He relaxed his upper body, hands still on his hips. He looked at the ground. He gave an audible groan. He was going to need a cold shower after all this―This absolutely baffling and absurd confrontation. It almost seemed comical. Well, he couldn’t complain. After all, he did ask for it.

###

It had been a while since you’ve woken up from your blackout. You could only see darkness. 

  Distant static noises from the television muffled in and out through your ears. When you cracked open your eyes, they still felt raw and fluttered back shut repeatedly from your drugged up state. You had no idea where you were.

  “-according to eyewitnesses, each man wore a clown mask.”

  You gripped the bed sheets. This news was… unsettlingly familiar. You felt a mild stinging pain on top of your hand with the restricted movement. It felt like plastic taped against your hand.

  “-used grenades to intimidate the hostages into submission.”

  Suddenly everything came flooding back, the feeling of fear re-imagined. You tore your eyes which were sealed shut open. You remembered the clowns. And the clown beneath the clown mask. And the sight of a live grenade beside you. You stared up at the ceiling wide-eyed, the whirring sound of a ventilator a droning hum beside your ear. You reached up to your face and touched the plastic sterile respirator cupping over your nose and mouth.

  Oh. You were in a hospital. It took a while for you to register this.

  You looked at the television and saw Gotham Tonight News. Your thoughts immediately shifted to John Blake. He had saved your life. Your eyes desperately searched the room, darting around all corners. You only saw other patients as you were in a public ward, and in your movement you unknowingly hit a button on your hospital bed with your elbow. Distant beeping noises of machines could be heard, with the occasional coughing and hacking. The feeling of grogginess was slowly subsiding. You heard footsteps coming.

  In your silent hope, you half-expected it to be John Blake. But much to your dismay, it was a doctor. She held a clipboard and wore a mask that was tucked under her chin, and a white clinical lab coat. She offered you a warm, hospitable smile, despite the tiredness that dragged down her sunken eyes.

  “Miss, I see you have woken up. We can let you rest for a while before we discharge you, you slept for longer than we have expected.”

  Longer than they had expected? How long were you out? You needed answers. You resisted and slowly tried to sit up. You gestured towards your respirator and flailed your hand around slightly. She seemed to understand you.

  “Ah, I understand. Eager to get out?”

  She continued smiling tiredly. She dislodged the mask from behind your head and took it off your face. You felt a drastic change in pressure as you tried to adjust to the current atmosphere, taking even deeper breaths and sputtering slightly. You suddenly felt breathless. She let you take a while to get used to this before working on the tube that went up your nose and down your throat. She pulled it straight from your nose, much to your horror, and you felt the friction of it sliding against your pharynx. You could have sworn you felt blood trickling down your throat. Excruciatingly, you let out a prolonged sob the more she pulled onto it. When she was done, you panted, using the back of a hand to wipe against the saliva that dribbled around your mouth.

  She took your other hand in hers and tore off the IV access, effortlessly and with little pain around that area. You stared at her behind tearful eyes. Nurses and doctors were so amicable yet did actions like this with that much intention and precision. It was daring, courageous and you guessed it took a lot for them to not be squeamish. You licked your chapped lips and proceeded to thank her.

  You looked at the golden badge pinned on her breast pocket. It was the Caduceus symbol. The omnipotent Staff of Hermes. A staff once carried by Hermes in Greek mythology, slender and splendid, entwined by a serpent coiling around the body of the staff in a downward spiral. The wand of healing. It was beautiful, magnificent, if not a bit eerie and otherworldly. You sucked in a breath. You were lost in thought. Must we really fall prey to the deceptive trickster of Eden in order to achieve greatness? Medicine is a holy tome, the all-encompassing, for the most glorious knowledge in the world. 

  Break the rules.

  To achieve greatness, you must know the truth, and to know the truth, you must take the forbidden fruit for the knowledge of all things good and evil.

  And that means walking away from the lies you were told your whole life.

  Your eyes glazed over, starry-eyed over the dreams of a past life. You stared at the healthcare worker with eyes of green. 

  No, that dream simply isn’t possible.

  Disillusionment tore at your eyes. No, it really wasn’t.

  She returned you your set of clothes from before and you changed out of the hospital gown. You were given a brief rundown of your condition, as well as pictures and radiographs of chest scans. You had suffered minor burns down your air passages and suffered from acute zinc chloride and fear gas poisoning, but the counter-agents had already been administered. Luckily for you, the actions taken against the fear gas were swift and that prevented long-term effects from creeping into your system. You would hate to be plagued with images of that darned clown for life. Soon, you found yourself at the counter, ready to be discharged. You groaned inwardly at the hospital bills this stay would rack up. You would experience mild discomfort and difficulty breathing for a while, but it wouldn’t be anything serious. You guessed that you really did owe Blake one for this time.

  Speaking of whom, you would have expected him to at least pay you a visit this one time, seeing as it was in fact a weekend. If you hadn’t gone through that terror that previous day, you would have felt a petty disappointment in him, for you felt that you were important enough for him to do that much for you. But this time, you felt a bit worried. You chewed at your cracked lips, hoping that nothing bad had happened to him while you were out. 

  You signed the relevant documents and walked towards the entrance, ready to head out when you suddenly saw a head of familiar, clean cut chestnut hair walking towards you. He wore a navy suit with a cool-toned pink tie. You felt a warmth bubble inside of you when you smiled at him. Boy were you glad to see him, and he had made it to visit you after all. You were about to reach out to him and say something, but he stopped you in your tracks only to turn you around and walk you in the same direction as him.

  “Hey kid, glad to see you’re out and all, but we have no time right now. You’ll understand when we get there.” 

  His jaw had a greater tension to it than it did normally, and his dark features were serious and silent. He didn’t really have a smile gracing his lips, but his eyes showed a hint of relief seeing you well and recovered. You were confused by this and felt a slight dejection constricting at your chest. What was with him and wouldn’t he be happy seeing you? You furrowed your brows for a moment and avoided his gaze. He handed you your laptop he stowed hastily by thrusting it into your hands. You fumbled with it and nearly dropped it. You felt your blood boil slowly, you thought to yourself, oh no you’d better not expect me to work overtime like this. You stopped in your tracks.

  “Hey―You really think I’m going to work for you at this hour, under these circumstances? You’re out of your mind.”

  He simply continued walking, not slowing down his pace. He only turned his head behind indifferently, regarding you coldly, then returned his gaze in front of him.

  “You’re not working for me today.”

  Your jaw agape, you stared at his back that was getting smaller by the second, incredulous. You’ve had it with this caginess, he was tight-lipped. Why couldn’t he just tell you anything at all? You pulled at your hair and ran ahead to catch up with him, the heels of your pumps clacking against the hospital floor. At this, you felt a fiery burst pulsating down your throat and windpipe. You ran out of oxygen very quickly and sputtered for more, the friction of air against the burn marks up your nostrils raked mercilessly through your nerves. It was obvious you couldn’t do much physically for a while. Your footsteps slowed down, but Blake’s did not. You guys had perfect communication most of the time and today was one of the rare times you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You pleaded again, between agonising hacks, clearly vexxed.

  “Could you... at LEAST tell me what’s going on-”

  He stopped suddenly, at the west-wing entrance of Gotham General Hospital. You caught up to him, about to lose your mind at him. You gawked, your gaze landing on the sight in front of him. Your brain stutters for a moment and your eyes seem to betray you. To say that you were shocked was an understatement. You wanted to turn to Blake to confirm that you were indeed working for these people, but you couldn’t find it in you. There stood two of the most authoritative men in Gotham, hands on their hips, feet tapping impatiently. They weren’t facing each other. The vibe felt a little off. Gotham’s White Knight, Harvey Dent, and Lieutenant James Gordon. 

  “This is your Junior Data Analyst, Consultant Blake? I hope you had a speedy recovery, Miss.”

  Jim Gordon adjusted his spectacles and nodded at you, his brows frowning, a sorry expression written on his face.

  “We uh, apologise for bothering you on such short notice, but we hope you can understand.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, the name’s Harvey Dent. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,”

  Harvey Dent stuck a warm hand out, smiling affably as you took it to give it a firm shake, shifting his eyes onto Blake at the last sentence. He was charming, just like the clips of him you’ve seen on television. You expected no less, but this level of charisma was unprecedented. You introduced yourself and smiled hesitantly, unsure, before you turned to look at Blake, hoping for an explanation. He looked at you and nodded reassuringly, the first time he had shown any real emotion to you this whole time. That made you feel slightly more relieved. The two men still didn’t exactly look at each other. Did they have some kind of beef with each other…?

  “We’re not going to waste your time and get to the point,”

  Gordon ushered you out of the hospital and into a cop car. This was your first time in one, and you were sure that you weren’t in it for illicit reasons, after seeing how John nodded at you earlier. It still unsettled you a little bit, you couldn’t be too sure. You had a read on the atmosphere after your initial shock subsided, and it was grim and urgent. You did not like this energy, no one says anything unnecessarily, probably to save time. It’s no wonder Blake was acting so unusually secretive, and uncommunicative. You felt bad now for blaming him. Blake and Harvey Dent sat to your left. Gordon took the front passenger’s seat.

  You looked up outside the windows. It was dark outside much like the way the cop car’s leather seats and roof were painted black. A return back into the concrete jungle was imminent.

  “We need your combined efforts in decoding whatever work you had on Gotham National Bank.”

  You loosened your grip on your laptop. At least you weren’t in trouble for anything. You tried to maintain eye contact with Jim Gordon through the rear-view mirror, his kind yet profound looking eyes looking deep into yours. You could almost feel his burdens undoing into you. He had a weight on his shoulders and immense responsibilities you could not even dream of imagining. Gordon was the open-book type of person, evidently.

  “Oh, is it the one proving Lau-”

  “Yes, Lau’s fraudulence and involvement with the mob. He’s still in Hong Kong. Your data could really help us with his case and get him to talk. We need to take out the big dogs.”

  Harvey Dent interjected. You turned your head towards him, and you saw his profile with his strong nose and golden hair. The golden boy of Gotham. Normally, you would be rather bothered by someone who cuts you off like that, but it felt different with Dent. Even you would defer to such absolute authority and apparent righteousness at a pressing time like this. From all his campaigns and court hearings, you could tell he was sincere in his pursuit of goodness in Gotham, he just overflowed with integrity and honour. He embodied that All-American charm, handsome, deep blue eyes monumental with some form of knightly honour. A heroic presence, almost like the kind Robert Redford sort of had. He shifted his cleft chin in thought, a hand to his temple, before he looked at you.

  “Can you present us a full analysis of your findings and write out a report by tonight?”

  He raised his brows a fraction, looking at you pleadingly with his blue eyes, lips stretched slightly with a gentle half-smile. 

  How could you say no when he had asked you with such sincerity? While he appeared to be brash at times, it was a quality that came with the job of being the city’s persecutor. It couldn’t be helped, you supposed.

  After all, wasn’t this a dream of yours? To serve in the movement for change in Gotham.

  This city is dying. It’s rotting.

  No, it was rich land for the seeds in the car sitting right beside you. And you had a part to play too, a golden opportunity had presented itself.

  “I already planned to expose that little rat, I didn’t need to be told.” 

  You looked away, snorting. You felt a slight tightening in your chest, and you cursed at the breathing difficulties caused by the smoke bomb. Blake eyed you from the corner of his eyes, trying to hide that twinkle, and his cheeks aching from holding down the pull of the sides. Harvey Dent paused, lightly taken aback by your statement, quirked his lips downwards in an arc, nodding his head unexpectedly.

  “Well then, the youth these days never fail to surprise me. Welcome aboard, Miss.”

  “Listen Mr. Dent, you’re still considered a spring chicken compared to those insufferable old farts we tolerate on a daily basis.”

  You smiled. Harvey Dent let out a hearty laugh within his chest at this joke you cracked. It did well to ease the tension for critical times like these. You did consider him to be part of your generation, at the forefront leading this revolution. John Blake looked over at Dent, adding onto your statement.

  “She’s right, you’re cut from the same cloth as us, you’re our peer. And you are the cream of the crop, the very best of us. Gotham is changing because of you.”

  “Well, I feel very flattered, but I’m not the only one. It’s all thanks to the Batman.”

  You grunted, a rumble through your chest, ignoring the pain. You’d agree to a certain extent, Batman was just the beginning. However, Harvey Dent was the culmination of all this. He was the hero with the face, the hero grounded in reality and tangible change. Batman can only go so far without the help of Harvey Dent.

  “This is inspiring stuff and all, but are we forgetting something? Or someone? Or an entire generation above you?”

  All of you turned your heads to Jim Gordon in the front seat. On the rear view mirror, Gordon had an expectant look on his face, his lips underneath that mustache pressed together in a thin line. The three of you in the backseat felt a light feather ticking your insides, threatening to break free at your throats. You all chuckled weakly, subdued laughter as you all darted your gazes, looking away at all absent corners of the cop car. You hid the humour in your voice with a stinging cough. Heaven forbid you all make light of the situation at a time like this.

###

You cleared your throat, feeling the lingering effects of the smoke on your system, the noise resounding off the washed out concrete brick walls, frosted white with an almost steely-blue. The small room made you feel sick and oppressed, with its air-conditioner temperature set to an isolating sixty degrees fahrenheit. You stepped back, the soft clicks of your heels hitting the concrete, non-tiled floor as you brought up a finger. It shuddered slightly, and you raised it up to point to the projector screen fabric hoisted on the wall, the shadow of your hand looming over the makeshift light projector setup the GCPD had provided, sending ripples through the fabric.

  The room felt like a prison cell, almost deliberately designed to make you feel alienated and scrutinised. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, a fluorescent lighting irradiating through the room with a cool toned jarring brightness that made you squint a little, yet not completely illuminating the dark shadowy corners of the squarish room. A grey rectangular table sat in front of you, with Harvey Dent and Lieutenant Jim Gordon sitting back cross legged in their foldable plastic chairs, while John Blake sat hunched over on the other end of the table, furiously typing out a report on his laptop. You guessed you couldn’t expect anything too fancy from the Major Crimes Unit of Gotham. You needed to push through this presentation, despite the building physical discomfort following your predicament from the day before.

  You made eye contact with Jim Gordon, with a little bit of difficulty, but you still pressed on to make your point. He had his hands clasped together, sitting between his thighs, and avoided your gaze to favour studying the data presented on the screen. Harvey Dent had a hand wrapped around one side of his cheek, and an elbow propped on the table, resting his head against it and listening intently. You had been given unreasonable demands to give impromptu presentations rather frequently at work, but definitely not within an hour of getting discharged from the hospital. Your nerves fired off a little bit and you tried your best not to let your voice betray you. You tugged your blazer tighter around your waist, blaming the cold for this action.

  “I think we have a pretty strong case here. This is all the information you need, reallyㅡto charge Lau, especially with the insights from Mr. Blake. He was a forensic accountant.”

  Gordon and Dent shared a pointed look at each other, expressions unreadable, before Gordon turned back to you to nod a gentle ‘thank you’. You took this as a sign to give them ample space for their own discussion and consolidation, and you let out a huge sigh, walking swiftly over to John Blake after being granted the permission to be dismissed. You dragged another foldable chair and scooched over to sit beside him. You leaned over to look at his laptop, then at him expectantly. He ignored this and continued looking at his screen.

  “Little nervous there, weren’t you kid?”

  You puffed your cheeks and let a stream of air out. You were punished for this motion as you felt searing pain up your larynx and flaring at your nostrils. You were about to lose your mind on him but you remembered the presence of the other two justice hounds in the room. Blake snickered inwardly. You supposed two compliments in two consecutive days was unheard of from the man. You hadn’t been silly enough to hope for that. Yesterday, what he said to you at the bank was possibly the most acknowledgement you had ever gotten from him for your worth as his partner, and you will take that to your chest and run away with it.

  “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you try giving a presentation after literally being discharged from the hospital?”

  He decided to let it go and brush this off, his smile still not withholding however. He scrolled down the document he had impressively typed out. It seemed he had been working on it while you were out. It was way too detailed to have been put together in the short amount of time you were here, while you gave the presentation. You raised your brows, he was on his A game tonight, more so than usual. Working behind the scenes, after hours. You wondered what sparked this escalation in work ethic and quality. This little rivalry between you two felt slightly more visceral.

  Covertly, you stared over at Gordon and Dent, who looked cold and calculative under the subtle hue of blue-toned lighting. They seemed to be in some kind of disagreement, brows furrowed and stubborn towards each other. Did this happen often? You chewed your lips and tapped lightly at the table. You could see Blake at the corner of your eyes rubbing his chin again. While you two were confidently secure in your abilities as analysts and consultants, working with public servants required a different form of rigour. It required a different kind of convincing. Not one that was only concerned with profits and risk-bearings, like your previous clients, but something that held ethical weight and certainty. You two had done something that could be classified as immoral, and you weren’t sure if this level of convincing was enough to gloss over that fact. Judging from John Blake’s body language, he shared the same sentiments. You took in a deep breath, despite the pain, desperately needing the extra air to catch up on your shortness of breath.

  Gordon and Dent signaled for the two of you to come over and show them the written report. You could feel your heart beating quickly, hammering against your chest. The desire to please the authorities made your senses go wild, and it would only serve as a testament to your abilities if you could help the highest forms of justice in the city in these respects. Blake took this chance to explain briefly the navigation of the report, and to bring focus to the more important details of your presentation highlighted in the report. This would allow them to utilise the information more effectively and constructively should they ever need to take this to court. This once was his area of expertise, after all. Gordon and Dent gave each other another look and they looked pleased. Well, at least they came to a consensus on something. They had their attention on you again after the mutual confirmation.

  “Astounding work you two,”

  Harvey Dent smiled politely at you. Your erratic heartbeat calmed as you felt heat radiate off your face like a hot pan. Slowly the high of authoritative validation crept within your system. His words definitely felt like honey.

  “I’m gonna need you to come with me to County tomorrow, after hours, to account for certain data and ledgers regarding Lau’s case. Could you spare me some of your time, Miss?”

  You gulped. It was extremely hard to say no to this man. You weren’t going to turn down a request like this anyway, if it meant one step closer to saving Gotham City. A little sacrifice for something you love was nothing. You nodded tentatively at first, charting a rough impression of your weekly schedule in your head. You had work the next day and it would be very hectic for you. Blake looked impassive. You couldn’t get a read on him. Harvey Dent leaned back in his chair, threw the documents on his lap back onto the table and stood up to be eye level with you.

  “Well, that would be all for today. I need to rush back, so I thank you all for your hard work.”

  After Harvey Dent promptly left the room, Gordon shifted the laptop in front of him and stood up. The room felt significantly emptier with Dent gone, he had quite the presence. You looked around the room again, eyes scanning the white brick walls, squinting as your gaze briefly landed on the bare LED light bulb. You silently waited for Gordon to collect his thoughts.

  “Consultant Blake, you're not going off the hook so easily, I’m afraid. The GCPD needs your help in tracing the mob’s money while it is being stowed away indefinitely.”

  Blake pressed his lips into a thin line, giving a single nod of understanding. Gordon shifted his weight to his other foot, pondering. He cast his eyes downwards, then back onto Blake and you.

  “You know, you two enjoy fighting against crime, right? I see something very special in you youngsters. Well, I have a proposition for you... So, here’s some food for thought.”

  Gordon looked a little more intently at you two.

  “We really could use your skill sets for our ongoing and future investigations for our fight against organised crime. We-uh, don’t receive nearly as much funding as we need from the state… So our financial forensics department is not as developed as it should be.”

  He paused. You saw those worn down eyes again, beaten down by the world around him. He was an old soul, and he made no effort to mask the worry in his eyes, his forehead grazed with permanent crease lines, perhaps from constant frowning. You could see however, the silver lining behind his dark irises. The one thing not jaded, remaining pure and undiluted, was his hope in enforcing justice for Gotham City. That is where his true passion lies.

  “We don’t have enough people with the relevant technological or knowledge based capabilities. I know this is too much to ask of you… But the offer is always open―I could negotiate a permanent spot for you two on the team, if you were to change your mind in future. That is, if you want to, of course-”

  Gordon fumbled a little with his words, his hand waving about slightly. John Blake held a hand out, saving Gordon from his apparent awkwardness as he felt it unbecoming. Cops should at least have some pride. It would not do well for a lieutenant to be appealing to two private sector workers for help like this, it was almost completely undignified. Had the cops really been pressed thin to the brink? Pushed into a corner? Here, he had thought that the state of Gotham was improving immensely. Evidently, the fine balance of all powers in Gotham has been knocked over. Something was brewing. There was a storm coming. 

  You interjected.

  “We’re, uh, very flattered! Thank you, Lieutenant Gordon. We will definitely keep your words in our hearts, and keep your offer in consideration.”

  You all regarded each other for a moment, unspeaking―completely aware of the implications of all this. This whole agreement, and Gordon’s open proposal to you. John Blake stared hard, his jaws fixed in position. You sensed the energy in this room and it held an excruciating weight. You didn’t even know what you all were waiting for. You clenched your fingers at the hem of your blazer. You looked discreetly at John Blake, not really knowing what to expect. As if you didn’t want him to catch you staring.

  “It’s been nine months since the first appearance of Batman. Since Falcone’s incarceration.”

  Blake started, his voice sure and certain.

  “Did anyone actually accomplish anything?”

  His voice echoed through the room, piercing through everyone that stood. He stepped forward slightly. His gaze flitting down to the laptop in his hand.

  “All Batman did was end Falcone’s era. The Police Headquarters rounded up new forces. The mob replaced the figurehead at the top. Dent’s attempts to take down the top dogs have been, to no avail. The big-timers didn’t take any action.”

  You adjusted your collar, uncomfortable and unable to stare at him for any longer.

  “Sure, petty crimes have been reduced, one by one. Things have changed. But at the root of it all… Nothing’s been fixed.”

  He pondered wistfully.

  “It was like… everybody was just preparing for something.”

  Blake adjusted his tie.

  “...And now you’re here, Lieutenant Gordon―You and Harvey Dent. Asking us for help, knowing very well that this-”

  He waved his laptop around in his hand.

  “-data right here, was gained unscrupulously. And it’s not too far-fetched to believe you two are corroborating closely with the Bat, despite that official policy is to arrest the vigilante known as Batman on sight.”

  John Blake tilted his chin downwards, looking up at Gordon, a purse evident on his lips. You flinched a little.

  “You are resorting to outlawed measures to fight the outlaws. And you’re telling me.”

  Gordon could not find the right words to this. He responded carefully. He would have to humble himself and swallow his pride for the sake of Gotham’s future, and he had in fact pitched you all a rather unreasonable request. He hoped to be able to earnestly appeal to the parts of your hearts, no matter how small, that cared deeply for the city of Gotham. It had to be there, he assumed, otherwise you wouldn’t have aided in the investigations as readily as you did, at the drop of a hat.

  “The mob had… squeezed us to the point of desperation, as much as I hate to admit it. I realise the first step to having a successful collusion with all parties involved is to drop the act and acknowledge this.”

   You gulped, and finally said something. At this point, the tension in the room had made you forget the slightly debilitating pain in your trachea.

  “Frankly speaking, we crossed the line first. We aren’t the only ones, and soon they’ll be hammered to the point of desperation, Lieutenant Gordon.”

  Gordon grunted, a hum low in his chest.

  “I know very well.”

  John Blake, for the first time in this confrontation, allowed a smirk to grace his lips. He looked over at you.

  “You always told me, kid…”

  His gaze on you was unnerving, and compelling.

  “...that the new era of the daring ones is coming along with an unstoppable swell. Batman is just the beginning. He... broke the gear. And we’re not going to be the only side taking up arms, fighting back.”

  He shifted his gaze back onto Gordon.

  “Expect a storm. Expect escalation. Expect a resistance like we’ve never seen before. There’s no turning back.”

  You watched as their eyes locked, their hard expressions unyielding. Gordon was obviously not new to this line of thought, but perhaps no one had been courteous enough to engage with him in discussing the implications of such. He was at a loss for words, but not caught by surprise. His deeply emotive eyes stirred, and he spoke quietly.

  “I am well aware of all this Consultant Blake. It’s not anything new to me. But I am prepared for anything and will stop at nothing. I do the best I can with what I have.”

  Blake’s eyes softened a little, but still retaining their edge, knowing fully well what all of you had gotten yourselves into. The very moment you had engaged in these investigations and accepted the request in lending your contributions, you had placed all of your lives at stake. He stuck a palm to him out of habit, always one for the conditioned nicety. 

  “We have a deal, then. We will lend you our tentative aid. ”

###

Your teeth gnawed slightly at your lips as you made your rounds around the main office room in the MCU. The administrative office had been closed long since you arrived here. You reorganised your datasets you gathered from Gotham National Bank, and printed out the required evidence for your visit to County the next day. It occurred to you, with the impromptu presentation you delivered earlier, that you needed to revise the formatting of your work before it was court-ready. You stood by the printer, listening to the squeaking of ink running across paper and the whir and buzz of the mechanism inside. 

  You exhaled, the first time this night since being discharged that you could take a brief moment of respite. You had a newfound respect for crime fighters in Gotham, if this was what their lifestyles consisted of. Gordon hadn’t even left the MCU, he resolved to return to his private workspace at the top floor of this building. Justice never sleeps, you supposed. You looked out the window, groaning then pinching the bridge of your nose. It was a special kind of blackness out there, one you would probably only see during the witching hours. You wouldn’t be able to get the rest you needed to recover properly, since you probably only had a couple hours of sleep at best before you had to wake up to head for work. Then, when you were done for the day, you would have to rush over to County, grab a bite on the go for dinner if you were lucky, and turn in late again.

  Never would you have thought that you would find yourself working on the side of justice in this way, having a direct hand in adjusting things in Gotham for good. Although, it did seem like a sort of calling to you, in a way. Things were a little bit too convenient, and pieces fell into place together too easily. It was like a feasible chemical reaction in a way that was bound to happen at any given point in time, so long as time had stretched on. You tapped your fingers against your chapped lips, deliberating for a while.

  You did always wish you had a reliable way of measuring what was guaranteed and what wasn’t. It would provide you with a greater control over your life than what you had over the past few years, one that you sought after.

  Serendipity.

  You weren’t exactly too sure if you could call it that.

  Your thoughts wandered back to your coworker and boss, John Blake. He was pretty much done for the night and didn’t have much else to wrap up on. He would wait for you at the porch of the MCU. He had been acting rather strange. Ever since you first saw him, he had been pretty cold to you. But now, it was currently walking along a fine line of coldness and slight, dare you say, hostility. You supposed that he had always been pretty insufferable to you. God, since the start, he had been pretty provocative even when you were sitting round the coffee table at that one boujee cafe. But it had, well, mostly always been in playful jest, or friendly banter. You supposed you always did feel the strife of competition with him, always needing to prove something to him.

  You groaned again, feeling a pinch behind your eyes. You had to save all this thinking for later when you weren’t exactly sleep deprived. You ran a final check through all your printouts, languidly flipping through them with an index finger. Satisfied, you tapped the width of the entire stack a couple times against the surface of the wooden table, aligning the sheets within. You slotted it in an empty file supplied by the GCPD, and headed to the entrance with the large front doors.

  Harvey Dent and Gordon sure made the impression on you, though you did have your doubts towards them. Their relationship seemed… unnatural, kind of strained. You could even describe it as seeming dysfunctional. And it was obvious to you. You couldn’t really blame them, though. With corruption levels so high in this city, you wouldn’t know who to trust either. You would love to have faith in the system, but if they were so good, they wouldn’t be turning to you and Blake.

  You stepped out into lights cast upon the porch by the warm streetlamps, lost in your thoughts.

  John Blake.

  You squinted upon the intrusion of the flaring streetlamps. You saw two streetlamps in the spot where there should only be one.

  What the hell?

  You rubbed your eyes with your free hand. You couldn’t hear anything.

  Where is he… anyway?

  You strained your eyes open again.

  The streetlamps were like a desert mirage. You saw the two balls of light separate slightly, then start to converge.

  Your hair stood on ends, from the back of your neck to the entirety of your arms. Something scraped along the inside of your ears, a high-pitched screeching that bounced within your ear canal.

  You blinked, your shoulders tensing up. You took a step forward, your breath faltering.

  Your feet wobbled slightly as you made your first descent down a step. You gripped onto your laptop and file even tighter. 

  No…

  You broke into an all out sprint, almost nose diving down the long flight of stairs, the sensation pulling at your lungs disorientating.

  Does it depress you? To know that your reality is based on comforting lies?

  Poor little girl... You think a safe space will actually help.

  You felt something black and long, emaciated fingertips reaching into your ear and scratching lightly. They were charred and felt like the bark of scorched trees. They were lanky and skinny like tree branches, about a foot long and grazed at the walls of your ear canals.

  If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back at you.

  It was a creature of the underworld. One of the most fearsome apparitions, not from the corporal realm. Then… What was he doing here? You bristled.

  Judgement had been passed, and the final fight between good and evil awaits.

  He was the plaguebearer, the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. He was the harbinger of the pestilence. When the time was right, he will besiege the world with pure pandemonium.

  Flesh thudded against stone tiled floors. A strangled scream tore gutturally through the streets. These sounds were incredibly muffled to you.

  He barely turned his head to give a brief, uninterested, side glance.

  And all of a sudden, all your senses returned to you in one compounding moment, everything came crashing down dramatically upon you like a surging, symphonic orchestral blare, and you were met with your fears. The scratchy fingertips stabbed and pierced into your eardrums, and a sharp, debilitating throb pounded through your head. No amount of alcohol could make you forget the sight of his gruesome face.

  Here he stood, in the corporeal world, insidious and spectral. The time had come, and his presence heralded the arrival of world’s end, the armageddon before Judgement Day.

  You were unfortunate enough to be caught, dead in the center of this maelstrom.

  You looked death in the eye, watching carefully as you anticipated his next course of action. He opened his mouth to speak.

  “Ah, uninvited guests―Always a, uh, welcome surprise.”

  He slurred the last word. You tried your hardest to react, to at least do something, anything at all really would do at this moment. Ounce by ounce, he filled every space and cavity your physical being had to offer, and then those your spiritual and mental being as well, for there seemed to not be enough space for this surreal and... grotesque thing. You couldn’t breathe, it felt as if his mere presence was asphyxiating. You wanted to move, you wanted to run, you wanted to curl up into a ball, you wanted to move at least one goddamned muscle in your body.

  But you can’t.

  Sighing exaggeratedly, as if the world owed him a living, he trudged forward slowly and expectantly towards you. He put both his palms up, facing you, stretching and spacing out all his gloved fingers, perhaps in mock concession, a friendly gesture showing that he had nothing to hide. He raised his brows at you with his lips in a sulk, derisive in his condolences. All at once, the air was knocked out of your lungs, and your torso was constricted. You could barely comprehend what was happening, and he seized you by warping behind you as quickly as his stature allowed for. You bit into your lips, tears pricking at your eyes that you could allow such a thing to happen without having the guts to put up a fight. You thrashed your head around, struggling against his grasp, his leather gloved hands muffling a yelp that escaped your lips.

  He grumbled about something related to people minding their own businesses, but you were far too busy trying to pry away at his iron clasp around your figure to comprehend what he was really saying.  

  You couldn’t breathe properly. You sucked in as much air as you could through your scalded nostrils. Your lungs burned. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t see his face, that you could muster the courage required for this display of resistance to his restraints. Your laptop and files were left forgotten, dropped by the pavement and driven into the soil.

  “Kid, it’s fine, just relax and don’t―urgh! Don’t...don’t do anything rash.”

  You peered down as he rasped, the side of his face pressed mercilessly down into the concrete slabs of the sidewalk. Your shaky pupils searched the scene in front of you. The darkness was illuminated by the mellow streetlamps. John Blake was pushed, head first into the ground with a big, pale, brown-haired man kneeling against his form, restraining his arm behind his back. He was armed. That put you slightly more on edge, and slightly more willing to comply. The wraith behind you removed his hand from your mouth, and just as you were about to let out an ear-curdling scream, you felt a cold smoothness of the point of a knife tickle you lightly at your neck, drawing circles around your pulse point gently. Stubbornly, you slackened your arms a little, but still maintained a hold on his forearms.

  Let… Let go of John.

  You saw another man a couple feet beside him, frightened out of his wits, held at gunpoint by another goon, this one wearing a clown mask. He was quivering slightly, both his arms behind his head, clad in a grey suit, a piece of paper duct-taped at its front with words scribbled sloppily―‘Please deliver to Lieutenant Gordon.’ You scrunch your nose a little, tracing your eyes up to look into his panic-stricken, beady eyes.

  “Lau?”

  You spit out in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the compromising position you were in. The phantom circled his arms around you tighter like a python, a ritual they performed before they devoured their prey. It was no use, your arms were wedged by your sides at this point. You tried one last time to fight it, but it was met with a mere chuckle.

  “I see we’re all, uh, acquainted here?”

  He gestured in sardonic formality with his fingers that weren’t latched onto the trigger. He had an incredibly erratic cadence to his voice. His intonations and inflections were completely irregular, he stressed words in a pattern that seemed completely… random. This made even the way he spoke instinctually threatening, for you didn’t know what to expect from him, a sort of jagged edge that laced his words. It granted him a heightened sense of unpredictability, and a malicious air of danger that felt even more tangible. You felt this, it was all too real.

  “You’re working with the police to sell me out, is that how it is? You would betray your own company’s affiliate.”

  Lau, with as much disdain he could gather within him in his sorry state, glared daggers at you. His hands shook more violently, unable to control the trepidation of fear and anger mixed together in a deadly concoction. The ghoulish man who held you shifted you in his grasp a little, pressing your head closer to his cheek, and you felt the stickiness of his greasepaint latch onto your hair. You cringed and recoiled, lips contorting in disgust. He swiped his tongue against the ridges along his bottom lip.

  “I wouldn’t be so ah... concerned with that, if I were you. Seeing that our boy-o over here so valiantly jumped in to save your little-ol life.”

  You snarled at this implication, how dare he mock John? You clawed at his forearm, digging your nails into the velvety textile of his purple sleeve, and jerked yourself against his grasp. Roughly, he tensed his arm against your body. He shifted his lips closer to your ear, his slimy breath stroking the shell of your ear, smearing some hot waxy face paint against your cheek.

  “Ah-tatta… Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

  He growled that last bit menacingly into your ear, pushing the slender tapered point of his blade deeper into your neck, sashaying side to side ominously as he adjusted his hold on you to expertly elude his arm from your long nails. He played around with the butt of the knife, tapping it and twisting it around absentmindedly. The blade slid against the delicate skin of your throat carelessly, with varying pressure. You froze. Just because you couldn’t see him didn’t mean he wasn’t there. As a grim reminder of his presence, he knowingly did this, intruding all boundaries of your personal space. Your blood ran cold, frosted by the chilling metal digging into your neck, and your sight remained trained on John Blake.

  Events that happened at the bank flipped through your mind like the pages of a comic book.

  Terrorist. Master-manipulator. Criminal. What the hell are you?

  You weren’t sure if you should be more afraid of this more talkative version of the clown, or the dead silent dirt green-haired man under the frowning mask.

  If there was one thing they had in common, you couldn’t fully understand either of them.

  Your life was in the hands of a madman who treated it all like a game.

  You saw John looking straight into you, seething underneath all that pressure. You tried to seek solace in him and calm him down at the same time, trying to convey your emotions through your eyes.

  Tongue in cheek, the man behind you was clearly watching this interaction, unamused.

  “For a couple of party crashers-ah? You guys sure are bor―ing.”

  With a low rumble in his chest, he shoved you forward and seized your hands behind you, pressing the knife against the back of your neck. A gasp escaped your lips, not used to the crassness of which you were being handled.

  “Ooh, I have an idea, something real fun. It wouldn’t do to do this at our, uh, current venue however…”

  He gestured his goons towards the abandoned building in front of you.

  Catching your breath, you twisted your head to the side to look at John Blake, your eyes widening and searching his face desperately. You had no choice but to be subjected to this… sick game of his.

  “It’ll be okay, John. We’ll be okay.”

  You only managed to catch a glimpse of his jaw clenching and his hard eyes looking back at you, before the clown in the purple suit pushed you forward again. The clown smacked his lips together.

  “Make it fast, lovebirds.”

###

Your head spun feverishly. You were sleep-deprived, couldn’t breathe well, and in a… sticky situation. You were just slammed forcefully, thrown head first into a fiberboard office desk. Through a teary-eyed vision, for a moment it was pitchblack, with the dim light of the city at night filtering through the window. Then, you were blinded by the sting of office-grade LED strip lights arranged neatly on the ceilings above you. Your trachea was already burning from being forced to climb up a flight of stairs. You had just about enough. This debilitation and lightheadedness gave you a newfound strength, ironically.

  You thought back on the 9/11 attacks, and on every other occasion you felt this similar genuine terror strike up in your heart. You vaguely remember some quote, to never negotiate with terrorists, or something like that. Terrible advice really, to anyone who was actually in a terror situation where it was life or death, but to hell with it. You were at your limit for the amount of bullshit you could tolerate. Being absolutely manhandled was not in your itinerary this night. You thought back on every good thing you’ve tried to do for Gotham, sickeningly undone by thugs like these. Your hunched form felt an animosity that was like acid, burning, slicing and extremely potent. And luck has it, you’re trying to stop me again.

  Your forehead was propped against the desk for support. Your hands were free, but your world was spinning too much for you to do anything with them. You bared your teeth, and you swear you could feel fangs growing where your canines were rooted.

  Violently, you hurled your voice against the desk.

  “Haven’t you done enough to us at the bank?”

  You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth, clenching your fists tightly. Your blood was hot, and you could no longer feel the coolness of the blade against your neck.

  “I’m not afraid of you terrorists. Frankly speaking, I am absolutely sick of you little bastards.”

  Venomously, you spit the excess saliva in your mouth against the desk, overwhelmed with emotion.

  You felt him tugging at your white blazer sleeves, and an excruciating force wrenched at the crown of your head by the hair, lifting your body up slightly, with it still looming over the desk. You felt a suppressed rage as you ran out of ways to express your anger in this awkward position, and you prepared to resort to launching a spit at him to resolve this compulsion.

  But the moment you were face to face with him, the hairs on the nape of your neck bristled. Trapped in your own psychosis, you were wheedled into a living nightmare tailor made for your own brain to play on your deepest fears. Two holes gouged out for eyes, and a bloodied smile carved in place of lips, all splotched onto a chalky white canvas. He looked like a corpse, and you felt the urge to puke. You felt your stomach lurch, and you clutched at your mouth to coax the acidic feeling back down your throat.

  He studied you, frowning deeply and narrowing his eyes, straining his head sideways to get a better look at you. God, when he narrowed those eyes, his sclera disappeared and they looked like the eye sockets embedded within a skull. His greasy hair frayed around framing his head stiffly, lifeless with its strands starched and stiffened together with muck, as if it were dipped in formaldehyde, its proteins coagulated rigidly like it belonged to a cadaver that had long been embalmed. They were bleached off of their natural colour and a faded wash of pallid, acid pale green remained. The fact that he smelled strongly of a queasy mixture of many different chemicals definitely did nothing to help.

  “Ah, so you are that little doctor girl back there. I remember you... Who else on earth wears a, uh, white blazer?”

  He snorted at the end, pinched at your sleeve at the same time, causing your forearm to be lifted, before he let it go. Your wrist bone landed, smacking against the table with a loud snap. The bite was sharp and pointed. You quickly grabbed your hand and held it to your chest, rubbing over it soothingly. You had no idea why you felt offended by this.

  “Glad you made it, little girl-”

  “Doctor... What? And says you! You’re-you’re dressed in a purple trench-”

  You cut him off. He regarded you with a slow lick of his lips, gliding languidly over the fringes of his scars. He gets even closer, up in your face. He stares down at you, looking directly into your very being. You try to look away, but you could only see ink black. You could even smell the greasepaint in this enclosed space. You felt the world spinning.

  “C’mere―Hey. Look at me.”

  He rasped, dragging the clipped point of the dagger against your cheek, pressing it against the corner of your lips.

  “Y'know, whenever people say they’re... not afraid of me,”

  He looked away, inflecting his voice. Then he pointed at his face with his gloved hands, gesturing at the distance between you two, etching even closer. You felt an internal score rising in pitch.

  “I do this. I get all up in their face.”

  He nodded at you. To this you sealed your eyes back together. You dared not look. The world had not stopped circling around you. He yanked your head.

  “Hey―come on…”

  Cooing, he sticks the blade in your mouth. It took all your strength in order to keep your eyes open, just to stare helplessly into back his cavernous ones. The straining notes were reaching an unbearable dissonance, tearing jarringly into your eardrums. It was excruciating. Your ears ached and bled. They reached a frequency that was no longer audible to you.

  “And guess what? They’re always silent. Like you, right now.”

  He smiled, patronisingly, with a sympathetic look on his face, shaking his head slightly.

  “People that, uh, put on a show… are spineless, more often, than no-t.”

  He patted your face gently with his leather finger tips, then rubbed loose patterns around. He had you in his trap. You were his prey, no more than a little mouse to a cold-blooded viper. He flicked his tongue rapidly out of his mouth, then retracts it. What he said wasn’t… false. You couldn’t take it any longer. The revolutions around you were excessive.  

  “Hey―Freakshow. Does it feel good intimidating someone smaller than you? Behind a mask?”

  You saw his eyeballs shift to the side with the weight of a boulder, this time jarringly wide, and you could only see the white of his eyes. He really did not look amused. He shifted his bottom lips in a restrained tick, almost like a controlled form of madness. He leaned back slightly, his grip still firm on your hair, wobbling it around slightly. His body bent a little backwards from the hips, and he dramatically gesticulated his hand holding the knife into an open palm.

  “Very well, your dashing knight in ah, shining armour has given us a great suggestion.”

  Your body was pulled towards him and he faced it towards the center of the room, with that familiar careless grace you witnessed days ago. His arm was hooked suffocatingly around your neck, and you were face to face with the setting of an abandoned office room. The only furniture was the shabby office desk before you, and floorboards were uncovered, revealing nails sticking out of the ground. The wallpaper was partially torn, a pale beige staining at the edges with a rusted brown. A few slider windows were spruced along the walls surrounding the room.

  John Blake and Lau were pushed all the way to the windows, both of them still held captive by the two goons, edging dangerously close to the borders. Lau stood on the left, and Blake on the right.

  “Let’s extend this little… game between us,”

  The grisly clown tongued along the scars on his inner cheek.

  “To our guests here with us.”

  He reached around beneath his coat, into his back pocket.

  “You deranged fuck, what you’re doing here is sick-”

  Bones cracked. A fist connected with John Blake’s skull.

  Lau just stared on agitatedly, his tongue curling against his bottom lip as he inhaled deeply, his breathing rate increasing. His hands were still behind his head.

  “Between one life or the other,”

  The clown craned his head into your line of sight, to check if you were still listening. Your chest constricted, and your breathing picked up. The pain escalated.

  “You’ll get to choose…”

  Reaching around you, he presented a gun, glinting silver. You stared at it, horrified. He cackled scratchily, the sound of his voice grating to your ears like sandpaper. From behind, he wrapped his hands around yours as gingerly as he could at first, as if he were handling a delicate little child, teaching them a valuable life skill, such as tying their shoe laces. Soon he gave up on this idea and thrust it in your hand, then unceremoniously clasped his hands tightly around yours, fumbling slightly with the butt of the gun. He made a throaty noise. His varnished gloves rubbed mercilessly against the skin on your knuckles.

  No, no, no, no....

  You squeezed your eyes, an epileptic meditation amidst the prelude of a panic attack. He hunched over, jutting a sharp chin into the tender flesh between your neck and shoulder. You squirmed, and felt purple walls around you constricting further as his arms enclosed around you, your heart sinking further down and squished into a box. You did not like him pushing past your personal boundaries at all.

  “You can’t make me do this.”

  Your voice was barely a crack above a whisper, croaking silently.

  He lifted his chin and pushed back down on your shoulder to get a closer look at your face, making a nasally grunt as he did so.

  “You do know what’s gonna happen to you if ya don’t play along now, don’tcha?”

  He bobbed your hand around slightly, the gleaming danger of the pistol hypnotic. You stay rooted to the spot, coercing your hands into relaxation. You were being lured into its spell, it was like a siren that serenaded, and the barrel of the gun looked like that of a deformed pipe. His arms were caged around you, you were locked in place.

  You followed the sound of the pipe.

  Your eyes were steely.

  He turned his cheek a little, nudging the side of his cheek against yours to direct your attention to the left side. More wax was smeared on your face. You felt stifled.

  “Your… corrupt boss who cares about nothing but money,”

  Your gun was still pointed to the middle of Blake and Lau. But you were bewitched to keep your gaze on Lau, and he stared at you with the same flecks of red in his eyes as he did a couple days ago at the office.

  “You know, my car is worth more than both of your entire life savings combined-”

  “Or…”

  He jerked his head slightly to the right and made another nasal sound to redirect you, along with the disgusting lick of his lips. The walls were slowly caving in.

  “Your tall, dark and handsome squeeze over here.”

  He crooned suggestively.

  “Y’know, he is pretty gallant―Maybe he wouldn’t mind sacrificing his life so that little squealing rat could live.”

  You watched John Blake as he was being jostled roughly by the brown-haired man. You didn’t know how to react, and you couldn’t find the right words to say. For some reason, that statement made you feel somehow… sorrowful. Why?

  “He… We’re not attached.”

  You silently blurted out. You felt a low rumble vibrating against your back, before the clown behind you burst into a fit of light, high-pitched giggles, incredulous. On top of his voice, even his nasal laughter sounded like a cynical, washed out clown who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, who put on a red nose and laughed derisively at childrens’ misery at their own birthday parties.

  This was something you felt the need to clarify? Right before all of your untimely deaths? Oh, how entertaining this was to him. You were beyond foolish to the clown.

  “Talk about ice cold, little girl.” 

  The clown scoffed in disbelief.

  “My brother over there, I’m so sorry. Trust me, I feel for ya-”

  He jeered, wiping a fake tear away from his eyes, letting the last waves of his laughter tide through. You frowned, puzzled and bewildered. You caught John Blake’s gaze, helplessly searching for answers from him. He tensed his jaw further, collecting his thoughts. Clearly, the clown’s antics were getting to him. You couldn’t blame him. You fared no better. He took a deep breath and calmed.

  “It’s fine, just relax. Don’t fall for his twisted mind games.”

  The clown pouted at him. He was pushed even further against the edge of the window, the brown-haired man pointing his gun underneath his chin and painstakingly shoved him further backward. His lower body was the only thing anchoring him to the floorboard. The corpse clown's hands clasped over yours tapped it impatiently a couple of times.

  “We don’t have all day, y’know.”

  He deadpanned. You inhaled slightly and closed your eyes. Your mind sifted through many memories, sharp and bright, of all your interactions with Lau. Of all the conversations you’ve had with John over Lau.

  That man is nothing but scum. He has contributed to the steady crumble of Gotham, peddling drugs, perpetuating murders, and ensuring that the mob ruled the city with an iron fist.

  It was scary how you were able to rationalise this. 

  No hard feelings Lau. An eye for an eye. That’s all it really is.

  You slowly felt anger and vengeance bubbling in your stomach. You were overwhelmed with the savagery of the beast. You sought retribution, reprisal and revenge. This… was you. And you had all the power in the world to take the law into your hands, to play your own judge. You slowly traced the line of the sight of the gun to your left. The music of the pipe resounded melodically. It’s dangerous. But it was so… incredibly sweet. You looked up from the barrel to the man its sight landed on. Your eyes were glazed over. The clown behind you hummed in assent, pleased with the results. Your fingers hooked at the trigger, hesitating.

  “Excellent choice, little girl.”

  He licked his lips. He toyed around with the gun, playing and fiddling with its hammer, flicking it and letting go absentmindedly.

  “If only it weren’t so, ah… pre-dictable.”

  He rested his fingers atop of yours. Your hands shook a little. 

  “Is it because it goes ‘according to plan’? I mean, he’s the obvious baddie over here, and all you… do-gooders. You clearly deserve to live. To bring him to justice.”

  He purred into your ear, his breath fanning you hotly. John Blake struggled further against the man holding him back. He had no hands to grip onto the frames of the window. His fall was imminent. He had to speak up now. There was no better time. Desperately, he wheezed.

  “You know kid,”

  He sputtered slightly.

  “I always told you that you were like a… like a siege engine. I’m only saying this now because it’s a matter of life or death,”

  His words were initially spat out at a fast pace, his voice was very strained from his extreme and awkward position, and his breath was laboured. Eventually, he slowed down to get his point across more clearly.

  “You’re a fine weapon. A valuable asset to my company, and your work is remarkable. I’ve always entrusted you to make the right decisions as my junior analyst… But I’ve come to realise you’re so much more. ”

  He tried to peer down at you from his obstructed view, toiling as his voice was weak from holding this position. For so long you worked so hard for him, and you barely got rewarded with words of confirmation. Your eyes went wide and you hastily looked at him, they were glossy and large like a puppy dog. Your heart squeezed gut wrenchingly, for months you pined for this truth. You yearned so deeply to now what he truly thought of you and everything you’ve done for him.

  “You’re always by my… my side. It’s two of us against the world. You’re the only person I want to do this job with. You’re a bright girl, with so much flair for what you do. And that’s not the only part,”

  You felt yourself drift higher and higher, and you were now a lightweight. Drunk on his words, you’ve never heard him speak so personally about you before. It was always sparse little words of affirmation sprinkled around sparingly. He was an incredibly stingy man. He was so ungenerous with praise. It was always snarky jabs at you. He always made you feel the need to prove yourself. But he was the first one who gave you the chance to.

  “That’s not what makes you special. I want you to remember our vision-”

  He implored earnestly. 

  “Our vision… has been tainted. But that doesn’t make it any more invalid. Sometimes... we do have to get our hands dirty, for-for the greater good.”

  He breathed, in between jagged gasps. If this was what he truly thought of you...

  “I’ll trust you again. To do the right thing.”

  Intently, you listened to his words, your eyes watering slightly. You tried internalising the wealth of what he said to you. It was a lot to take in, it all happened so fast. This conversation was happening prematurely. You had no idea who was playing the pipe at this point. Where was the sound coming from…? The alluring music converged from all corners, all directing to the source of the instrument in your hand.

  The clown behind you went uncharacteristically silent. He licked his lips slowly, studying the exchange between the two of you. Siege engine, huh? What a funny word to describe you with. Siege engines were colossal battering rams, castle forged and an exalted war machine that delivered victories to the warring states for centuries. Monumental goliaths, they were the front lines, the fortress breakers, the castle crashers, leading the furious charge on battlefields when zero hour arrived. They were medieval trebuchets of acclaim, a necessity for triumph in war. As glorious as they were, they could only be as great as their role allowed them to be. At the end of the day, they were nothing but a mere pawn of war.

  You slowly looked at Lau, and he no longer looked at you with that malice from before. It was replaced by a look that was… strikingly familiar. He reminded you of the mob bank teller days prior. Pleading, frightened, like a cornered animal, desperate and fighting to survive. His gaze pierced right through to your heart. This struck a chord within you. You observed how his eyebrows knitted into the shape of a mountain, quivering lightly. His lips downturned and parted slightly. His eyes were large. The look of a man whose life flashed before his life.

  Yes, he did cause you a lot of trouble at the office. He did utterly degrade and humiliate you. He made your job hard. The moment he stepped in, he made you hate your job. No actually, that’s the understatement of the century. He made you loathe your job, detest it, abhor it. Pretty much anything to do with a severe hateful feeling you felt for this job, where you used to feel joy or any small amount of excitement, he had killed it for you. But did he really deserve to die for this?

  “I-”

  A croak filed through your dry throat. It felt like a type of flesh eating insect was festering within your insides. Starting at your heart, they feasted at the tissue down into your stomach, and they were coming up through your gullet. The moral conscience weighed inside of you like a heavy pendulum, one swing away from breaking off from its support and crashing through to your very center. You couldn’t bear the moral weight of such a decision. This was not a burden you could carry for the rest of your life.

  “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

  John Blake looked at you while he sucked in a breath, unreadable. Lau fell to his knees, a wash of relief coming over him. He continued being kicked and kneed in the face by the goon wearing a clown mask.

  “Ah... you’ve already chosen unfortunate-ly. And you’re not backing out of this one, sweetheart.”

  You flinched hearing the voice that you had forgotten was there. This stirred something within you, and you refused to give into his demands. You would rather die than make a choice like this.

  “No, I am not giving into your stupid, twisted pseudo-social experiment-”

  You twisted the gun barrel to face yourself, and for once, you heard no more music.

  “It wouldn’t even matter who I chose anyway… would it?”

  Shakily, you looked into the head of the barrel, and you felt… grief. It was cold and empty looking. For the second time that night, it felt like you were looking death in the eye. A knot twisted in your stomach. Your tears spilled over your cheeks, flowing hotly. You wept silently. You were stubborn, you would go to this extent just to prove something. Your ego knew no bounds. Your hearing blanked out for a moment, and you vaguely heard Blake shouting at you. You suddenly plunged into purgatory, existing solely on the plane between life and death. You teetered on the edge. Lau looked on from the ground, body tense and deeply perturbed. This turn of events was greeted by silence from the clown.

  The clown stared, wide eyed. His face twitched. His lips quirked into a frown. Why… would you do something like that? His eyes narrowed a fraction. He couldn’t comprehend this. It wasn’t exactly easy to render him speechless. Why on earth would you throw your life away for another’s? This he could not understand. Humans are... selfish creatures. At the core of it, they were all rotten and purely motivated by self-interest. Then… then why?  Why hadn’t he been able to predict this? This ate at him. Got under his skin. It grinded his gears. His arms wrung around you tighter. He observed the pistol pointed at your forehead. This was pathetic. Absolutely ridiculous. Confusion quickly dissipated in his chest and boiled into a seething, frothy rage. His jaw jutted forth and tensed, trembling slightly, his lips pursing together. He cackled through his nostrils, sounding a little manic. If you really wanted death, he wasn’t going to just give it to you, no. Ah, ah, ah… I’m not letting you get your satisfaction out of this. He couldn’t let you off the hook this easy.

  “Well then, little girl. You can’t be a… a sore loser and quit playing our game now.”

  His lilt sounded crazed. He gripped your hands tighter, you felt the leather skirting against your skin.

  “I suppose-ah, I’ll have to finish your job for you.”

  He spat, his words practically dripping with pure spite and malice. He wrenched your wrist to aim the gun away from you. Alarmed, your senses were heightened and you let out a sharp bark. At a speed you’ve never seen yourself move at before, you bent forward and locked your jaw around his fingers, chomping down forcefully. Your teeth sunk into his leather glove, and clamped down straight into his last finger. Squawking, he was caught off-guard. You heaved your foot and aimed a kick at his crotch. He let out a muffled noise of pain, and you tried your damndest to take advantage of this and get out of this situation.

  You struggled in his grasp, elbowing around at the sides, hoping to worm your way out of it. Unfortunately, he was unrelenting. Your hands were still on the gun, your fingers idling at the trigger. He doubled over, sickling an arm around your neck and gripped tightly onto the pistol, a finger slotted between the gun hammer and the rear sight, pulling it back. While he was in his position bent over, he was looming over you, laughing slightly. You were choking, beyond freaked out at this point, not exactly getting the reaction you wanted from him, and now you were completely unsure as to what he would do. The feeling of confinement was too much and you were at your breaking point.

  “Y’know, forget being a siege engine,”

  He grabbed your jaw, forcefully burrowing his fingers into your cheek.

  “I think she’s more of a, uh, pinky bruiser.”

  He tore your head upwards, and latched his hands back onto yours. He yanked at them, and aimed the gun at Lau. Ready, aim... He fastened his index fingers around yours. You widen your eyes, panicked with alarm bells shrilling through your head. Fire!

  “No!”

  He pulled at the trigger. You jerked your arms violently to the left, frantic. Recoiling, you were sent careening further back into the clown. The sound of the gun shot pierced through the air like a firecracker. You saw the goon with the mask fallen to the ground, his denim jeans getting soaked through with a fresh, gurgling red dampness around his thigh.

  Before anything else could be registered in your mind, the brown-haired man on the right side of the room displaced John Blake’s leg, and grabbed his lower torso, flinging him over the ledge of the window sill. You tried to lunge forward, demented and crazed, you were quickly becoming hysterical.

  “Ohmygod John-”

  Completely out of control, a scream tore through with your whole body like a shard of glass, you took no notice of the pain in your lungs as you were rapidly turning unhinged. The man who flipped John over like he was a light, airy pancake, faced you and you heard the click of a gun.

  You saw the sight of a gun cocked in your direction. You felt tears well up in your eyes at this very fraction of time.

  Bang!

  You screwed your eyes shut, expecting the most intense agony you would ever feel in your life. But the pain never came. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and you saw the goon drop unconscious like a fly zapped through an electric swatter, most likely dead.

  “Did I tell you to shoot her…”

  The clown behind you muttered to himself, the smell of gunpowder burning your nostrils and you saw streaks of smoke smouldering and rising from the gun barrel in his hands. You tensed your shoulders, mouth slightly agape in bewilderment. You mouthed something soundlessly, but words could not form. What are you doing-

  The crackle of wood being busted through splintered at your ears, the noise tearing through the room sickeningly. You didn’t even have time to decide whether you should feel relieved or not.

  “Drop the weapon, now!”

  Lieutenant Gordon came bursting through with a team of policemen, their pistols aiming at every figure present in the room. He looked at you and the clown, and kept his gun trained in your direction. He dared not edge closer, in case you got harmed.

  The clown, with his hold still vice-like on you, stumbled backwards pulling you along ungracefully. He still kept you imprisoned under his reign for one final moment in time. You were at his mercy.

  “Drop it now!”

  A pair of lips pressed intimately into your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

  “You know pinky bruiser, you were a lot of fun today. Sorry for, uh, calling you a party pooper.”

  He rasped. A chuckle rumbled lowly in his chest.

  “I think... you and I both know―Fate wouldn’t have it if this was our last time together.”

  He murmured and you were about to pass out from this lightheadedness and claustrophobia. You were constricted for far too long. You were way past your breaking point. A huge force tipped you backwards. You grabbed onto the ledge of the window sills, your veins popping from exerting such a strong force on your arms. 

  All of a sudden, the clown’s hold on you was relinquished.

  Your lungs overflowed with air, and your body was dramatically jerked forward, pain flooding your systems as you dry-heaved. Gordon hurried over by your side, extending a tender hand to rest on your arm. Realisation dawned upon you, and you swiftly spun around, bending over the ledge, looking out the window. You craned your neck as far down as you could see, hunting down and examining the perimeter.

  Gone.

  Gordon was pulling you back, preventing you from falling out the window. He was trying to talk some sense into you, but quickly gave up when he realised your current, panicked state of mind. Your strength was fading, and you allowed Gordon to reel you back into safety. Why didn’t you just… kill me? You thumped, falling to your knees, grabbing your hands to your head, sobbing and whimpering your sorrows away. You finally allowed all the pent up emotions to crash, not that you could control it now, anyway. It felt like a mallet crashing through from behind your eyes and nose, the twinging sensation unbearable as you wailed. It should have been me, goddamn it.

  Gordon knelt down, sighing and furrowing his brows in sympathy. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, then closed his mouth. He felt useless in this situation, clearly unable to help clear your head of any type of trauma that resulted from this unfortunate event. He was aware of this. He hated feeling this powerless, he hated not being able to help. He had perhaps felt this way his entire career, with a town like Gotham so rotten, the GCPD was basically made a mockery at this point.

  Lau was about to be taken by the other cops back into custody. He ambled past you, and looked over you and your pathetic form. For once, his expression was not one of scorn. It wasn’t one of anything really, he just looked a shell of the person he was just moments ago. You were pushing it if you said he looked like he felt bad for you, and that he held a thankful expression at the same time. You weren’t sure if you believed him to be capable of that.

  You were escorted out the abandoned office building, swaying and staggering around. You went to pick up the devices strewn all over the soil, with some help from Gordon. When you saw a glowing cop car with shattered windows and John Blake being supported by two cops, relieving pressure off his shoulders, you quickly rubbed at your tear stained face and hobbled over as quick as you could, relief pumping through your chest as you were hopeful that he survived the fall.

  The paramedics were on their way, and from the looks of it, John had a mildly serious shoulder injury and got extremely lucky. He had fallen from a height of 1 story from the ground, but as luck would have it, his fall was broken by the cop car stationed coincidentally below the window. He also fell on his side, which allowed for the best chance of survival and led to the least immobilising injuries.

  You couldn’t help yourself and gave John a quick hug and squeezed him lightly, after hearing him speak about what you were to him, and after experiencing the fright and grief of losing him. You were met with an involuntary wince. That probably felt soul-crushing to him, taking into account that he just fell out of a building. The ambulance finally arrived and they proceeded to bring down a stretcher. You were glad it was over. But something told you this was not the last of the clown you’d see. You thought, I mean… he practically promised you that you’d be seeing him again soon enough.

  “I’ll be fine. Just go get some rest.”

  He assured you, idling around, not really wanting to leave. He tried prolonging his stay with you before they eventually persuaded him to get onto the stretcher.

  “Heh. This time you’re the one sending me off.”

  You smiled, wanting to follow but he refused. You weren’t really sure why he wouldn’t allow that, feeling a pang of hurt in your chest. He quickly convinced you that it was too late and you had your own injuries to recover from, not wanting to disrupt the healing process. You were doubtful, but you shrugged away this nagging feeling and tried to take his word for it, mustering a final warm smile on your wary face. Your eyelids were starting to droop. You bid him farewell for the time being and watched as he was whisked away. 

  You hated to admit it, but your mind was still plagued by that sadistic clown. Your mind raced with questions, and you wanted answers. What did he mean by his parting speech?

  You were disturbed from your thoughts as Gordon offered to send you home, but you couldn’t reject his sincere offer. You didn’t want to disappoint him any further. As much as you didn’t like to leech off his kindness, it was the least you could do to repay him with the validation of being able to do something right. You sat in the front seat of the car, preparing to be saddled with desultory conversations on the ride home. However, you realised perhaps things would be different with Lieutenant Gordon. He had a type of heartfelt presence within, and was incredibly perceptive. You rested assured in your car seat. Yeah, he was different.

  You heard the revving of the engine after Gordon slammed his front door shut. You stared out the window. The moon cast a buttery glow over the town, dancing in the velvety black-blue sky. The thought of the clown flashed through your mind once again. You closed your eyes, dispelling the cursed imagery. The blast of the air conditioner was adjusted to a pleasant breeze brushing lightly against your neck. Gordon placed his hand on the gear and recalibrated it. He breathed in, turned his head and landed his gaze uncomfortably on you.

  “So, you uh, from this town?”

  You felt something pleasant blossoming inside of you, being humoured by this awkward attempt at starting a conversation from Gordon. You chuckled lightly. You appreciated the effort.

  “Yes, yes I am. What about you?”

  You looked back and smiled politely. He stepped on the pedal and accelerated the vehicle.

  “Well, no. I moved here some decades ago with my wife…”

  You guessed it would do well to get to know more about your partners in crime fighting. You hummed, patiently listening. 

  Yeah, this wasn’t too bad, you supposed.

  Now, if only you could stop yourself from feeling like passing out in the front seat. 

  That would be great.

###

[noblemarta]

Website redesign

Summary week 5

I'm proud because my team finished the project on time 💪, I faced my expectations and noticed how I improved.

Reflection for this week

We are going through an emotional roller coaster. Everything happens so fast during the bootcamp that it's hard to find time for oneself, slow down and, what is the most important, distance oneself.

Website redesign

This week we were redesigning a website for a local small business. My team  chose a website of a restaurant that specializes in Molecular Gastronomy.

Why?

Because as Forbes’s article says:

If you get your website designed wrong, you can easily lose thousands of dollars initially, and ultimately lose even more money in potential revenue that you could be making from a well designed, properly functioning website.

Designing a website is different

This project was way different that other projects that we had so far! It’s different from designing an App. You have less flows but more in information architecture, structure, content, branding and layout. Also, with a big page you have much more place to play with content not as in an App.

The coolest thing I learned

Coding! Even though I had some experience with HTML and a bit CSS I was a biiiigggg challenge to code the whole page using flexboxes. I really enjoyed this part and I learned a lot form other people! I really enjoyed diving into that and exploring it together with my team. I would like to do it much more often because I think it’s a really useful skill. Also, a great brain exercise! I like it more than crosswords or sudoku. Maybe because I see a nice result?

4 weeks to go

I expect the last 4 weeks of Bootcamp to be amazing. I really like that we are going to work with real companies/ people from outside. This will give us confidence and empower us as designers because first times are sometimes like pancakes 🥞.

«Первый блин — комом»

The first pancake is always spoiled.

[the-aaron-burmeister]

Flatiron Denver - Where I came from, Why I Came Here, and What I Think About It

Where I Came From

Who are you, anyways, Aaron Burmeister? Before coming to join Flatiron in Denver, I led a pretty unfulfilling professional life in Ellsworth, Maine. After graduating from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute with a degree in Biochemistry/Biophysics, I returned to my old stomping grounds with 2 goals in mind: A) Get a job at the local laboratory, The Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor, utilizing my shiny new degree and B) pay off my student loans. And I managed to do both of those over the next 5 years. I managed to get a job working at the Transgenic Genotyping Services group at the laboratory. They are in charge of validating a lot of the mice produced by the lab for use in research laboratories around the world. We make sure those mice have the mutations we are trying to cure. After several years, however, it became increasingly apparent that there wasn’t much vertical movement to be made - many of the better paying positions required Master’s or, more often, Doctoral degrees. However, I stayed in order to pay off my student loans because the money was good and I could live on my parents property for minimal cost. In addition, I started working on a Master’s in Bioinformatics at UMaine (as well as working my job). 

In early 2019, my girlfriend got accepted to a PhD program in Lincoln, Nebraska, and wanted to move in with me. Seeing as I had just paid off my debt, I agreed. At this point I had become somewhat disillusioned with biology. My career path would have required me to get a doctoral degree and work as a post-doc - something which I had no particular interest in. However, something I did have interest in was programming. Courses taken in the past and present drove me more and more into coding. I’ve always enjoyed using computers. Thus I started looking into ways to become a programmer without necessarily heading back to a 4-year college.

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Why I Came Here

I asked my cousin, who at the time was in charge of hiring new programmers and software developers for startups in NYC, for advice on which bootcamps seemed to actually deliver capable candidates. She sent me a list of a few: App Academy, Flatiron, and I can’t remember the rest. I looked up all the schools and had a few criteria for deciding: A) I value my work-life balance. I heard and read about people who went to AppAcademy work 100+ hour weeks. I thought that was insane. I’d rather take a longer boot camp that gave me time to recharge. B) I was interested in programs that offered an Income Sharing Agreement because I was running low on funds. I also felt like schools that offered these might be a bit more invested in helping me to get a job afterwards. C) I was interested in a campus relatively close to Lincoln, NE. Flatiron was the only one on the list that had one in Denver. 

These were my primary motivators to apply to Flatiron, and only Flatiron. I had no idea what the culture would be like, the instructors, or anything like that, but I did know that I wanted to learn how to be a good programmer and I would give it my all. Little did I know.

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What I Think About It

Now I am here, in Denver, having just finished my 3rd week at Flatiron. Here’s what I think and why:

The Culture - The culture has been kind of hard to describe, honestly. It almost feels a little surreal sometimes. It’s like a bunch of millennials got together and said “What if we took all the bad stuff out of school? What if we took all the bad stuff out of culture?”. Everybody seems to genuinely care about each other here, respect each other, and foster a learning environment. We aren’t just lectured at, but interacted with. Students are encouraged to teach other students, instructors come by just to say hi and see what you are working on. It’s honestly like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. And I’ve got to say - it feels amazingly refreshing. It makes wonder why the entire world isn’t like this. It just makes so much sense. We are encouraged to share our feelings with each other WITHOUT inviting comments from others. We’re encouraged to take risks, and fail sometimes. It’s okay to fail. Nobody is perfect.

The Curriculum - I can only speak to the first 3 weeks here, but we’ve basically covered the basics of Ruby programming during this time. Week 1 of the mod we have classes to help us to understand what we’re doing. The best part is, if you are having trouble with a particular concept, you can request a lesson on it. The staff will either host one that same day, or the next. What if you’re the only one? You can get a one-on-one session with an instructor. Week 2 is the week of the Coding Challenge. During this week we take a test of Flatiron’s design to test our knowledge gathered during the previous week. The best part is, you can take it up to 4 times. You can go in, realize you need to brush up on a particular concept, study that night, come in the next day, and totally nail the challenge. It takes the edge off compared to an exam in school, where you only have one shot (not to mention a lot of times tests can vary wildly in style between professors). Week 3 is Project week. This is the week where you either work by yourself (in the latter half of the boot camp) or you work with a partner to bring a project of your own design to fruition. I’ll give a little detail on my first project week below. At the end of the week, you present your projects in front of the entire boot camp. That’s it. There are no visible grades to stress over. Once again, very refreshing.

The Instructors - This is the highlight that I was not expecting when I came here. All the instructors care about you. They walk by, engage you in conversation, help you to improve your projects, and want you to succeed. It is obvious by how they speak that they care about the students and that they treat it more than just a job. They are all very friendly and approachable to boot. The respect they give us reflects the values of Flatiron. Nobody is haughty or in an ivory tower. Many of them were in past cohorts not a year before. What results is a very friendly, welcoming atmosphere. I can’t say enough good things about the instructors here.

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Mod 1 Project Week

I just wanted to touch on this briefly. This was perhaps the best group project I’ve ever experienced, and I think that the culture of Flatiron helped to facilitate that. We had a three person group, and despite the increased logistics that demands, our project went as smooth as butter. Our communication was excellent (we all agreed on rules for the group as far as staying late, how to communicate with each other). I think we all felt like we made a significant impact on the final project. One member had to leave partway through the week - we still managed to cobble together a Zoom meeting to make a required video and give the travelling member parts to work on. Another member was having trouble understanding the code we had written so far, so the other two took several hours to stop all work on the project and make sure the third understood why we coded what we did. And it was well worth it.

I just wanted to highlight this experience because it is fairly unique (at least for me). Usually groups have one person who coasts, one who does all the work, etc. I thought it was fairly notable that our group was not like that.

At any rate I’ve rambled enough for one blog post. Future posts I make will be more technical in nature - perhaps performing a deep dive into a subject or discussing some code from a project. Thanks for reading!

[trayvonfleary-blog]

General Assembly Software Engineering Immersive

Hello All, instead of posting my normal content relating to cars and/or trucks, I will be taking a deeper dive into my daily life, particularly regarding the software engineering immersive program that I am currently undergoing, which is a technology bootcamp. For a couple of months, I am going to sway away from discussing different sectors within the automotive industry while I focus strictly on technology, but automotive is not going anywhere so stay tuned for big announcements following;)

What Is It?

Currently I’m completing General Assembly’s Software Development Immersive, which is a “12 week award-winning program that has expert instructors and career coaches, and connect graduates with 19k+ hiring partners to get them jobs at A-list companies.” It is slated as your best course for career transformation. The company boats 9,000+ hires, as it states that they are the leader in placing their grads into high-growth, and high-pay tech jobs. Yes, this is all accomplished within 12 weeks. I’m sure you’re asking, “Are these jobs guaranteed?” Of course not, but the company is quite confident. Continue reading as to “why?” after this quick infographic below illustrating what you can expect from this program.

Im currently entering into my 5th week of this program. On our first day, a General Assembly employee bursts in our classroom, after getting another graduate hired, and asked, “Did you guys here about our last cohort?”, which had ended a couple of months prior. We had no clue what she was referring to but then she claims that their last cohort had a 93%+ hire rate. Impressive right. Thats a way to bring some motivation if you had any doubts before. Who knows if this was the truth, but they were all very excited and I have personally heard from some earlier attendees about the jobs that they received after the course and some even during the last week or 2 of the course ending. Before this starts sounding like a fantasy world where you can spend the 3 months and someone else can spend 4-5 years getting a computer science degree and you both end up with the same job (very possible), I’m going to break things down a bit.

Tuition Options?

First, starting with cost, I feel that the tuition share agreement is the best payment option and allows many people who can’t afford it to have a chance at something that can be life changing. It is not yet available in all states, but it’s a great option if you are not trying to pay $14k(approximate tuition cost) out of pocket and upfront(or in a few payments).  Focusing on the $0 upfront income share agreement, it is structured very fair in my opinion. You are only required to pay an upfront $250 deposit until you land a software engineering job (ex: web development, full stack, etc) and depending on your location, entry level is probably hovering around $60k and above.

So if you don’t land a job, you are not at the hands of a huge loan that you cannot afford and most importantly, you’re not out of $14k+ that many pay to take the program. If you have additional experience in UX/UI design, and/or other skills for that matter, your pay can be a lot higher.

Income Share Agreement?

As far as General Assembly not offering the income share agreement not being offered in all states, specifically New York at the moment, I believe that it has to do with the amount of jobs being offered and the amount that are vacant. Here in the Greater Atlanta Area, the tech scene is taking on massive growth along with an abundant amount tech jobs that have yet to be filled. Whether it’s startups, fintech companies, or larger corporations, there is a massive demand for tech jobs in many industries here. I’m not sure of the availability in other cities and states in respective to the amount of tech workers seeking employment.

Adding to the tuition share agreement option, applicants are also subject to a more strict batch of pre course work, along with an evaluation to see if you are prepared and can be successful at this program. My pre course work (estimated to take 40 hours if you have prior knowledge) took me at least 60+ hours, and thats literally. Going through the pre course work, I decided to take notes and continue to reference them even when the program started so that I could truly retain the information, just as I would with another language until I could demonstrate it effortlessly.

Negatives?

The only negative to this income share agreement is that the total amount paid for the course increases to approximately $20,000, instead of the $14,000 that you could sign up for up front after getting accepted. Although this $20,000 will be paid for over a multiple of years (small monthly payments ranging from $300-$800 per month), depending on how much income you are making per year with the lower end being around the $50k end and the upper being $100k+ end.

That is where the trade off comes in, as you decide whether you would want to pay $14k up front or $20k over a multiple of 3-5 years. Simply put, both options come with what some will see as a hefty price but when compared to the average college tuition for 3-5 years, it is significantly less. So is it worth it?  My simple answer: Yes, but its not for everyone and also depends on how much time you willing to dedicate!

What does it take?

Personally, as I’m approaching week 5 in the 12 week program, I would say that it is well worth it. This may not be the same for everyone else. There are so many factors that go into this decision and realizing if it is worth it for you or not. First off, the program is 12 weeks long and runs on a very strict schedule, from Monday – Friday (9am-5pm). All of my cohort(class) had to quit their jobs, and/or whatever else they were doing including school, etc. This IS NOT just a 9-5 job for three months. Ample time is required outside of class for this program to be worth it. You get what you give. Currently, it is very normal for me and my “codemates” to spend another 20-40+hours outside of class per week, on top of our current 9-5 days.

Being Prepared?

Handling this amount of work in such a short period of time is life changing mentally, physically, socially, and financially of course. Savings is required as it’s almost impossible to take on a full time job during this time. Knowing how to handle stress and pressure is also very important, as there will be a lot of ups and downs during the course. Another importance is your family and support. Your time will be very limited during this time, so just be prepared to be a bit disconnected during this time.

For me, personally, I had no real coding experience before starting the pre work for this program, but doing a lot of studying in the year prior to signing up for the program certainly helped with knowing different technologies and frameworks, and what they were used for. Regardless, free time gets pretty scarce during this time of development. It is extremely tough to stay consistent with a certain level of focus each and every day in this program, as it’s basically like learning a new language. So, being prepared is very critical.

The Daily Grind?

Each and every day has a structured schedule that we are given at the beginning of the cohort. The days normally start with lecture, or a quick meeting if it’s project week. Throughout the day, we go through enormous amounts of material, but it’s never just a lecture. Practice, practice, and more practice! Daily learning on how to structure, develop, and implement responsive webpages and applications from the ground up. This is where General Assembly separates itself from just trying to read and learn to code online, or even while pursuing a 4 year computer science degree while spending meaningless time on classes and material that you don’t need or ever use again.

As the saying goes, if you want to learn Chinese, the fastest way is to get dropped directly into the middle of China! This is the exact same. You’re being thrown right into the programming fire everyday, but in a good way. All of the new information learned is always directly followed by practice, as you jump right into the CLI(command line interface) and your IDE(integrated development environment). HTML, and CSS fly by within the first couple of days and then you will be jumping directly into Javascript. After that, you are off and running, and thats when the real challenge starts and the bulk of the course begins.

Is It Really Worth It?

All in all, I think it is definitely worth it if you have a passion to work in tech, whether to create your dream company or to work for another. This is the case, but this immersive program is not something that you spend a little time on and make it into a small side gig. If that’s what you’re looking for, then programming may not be ideal for you. It takes intense focus and dedication to be successful in the field. One mistake can crash an entire program, or maybe even delete an entire database and cause the company to crash. What if someone deleted the entire database of Uber drivers because they told the computer an incorrect command? Of course this would not happen, as their infrastructure has too much sophistication for that to happen, but the company would literally be out of operations for who knows how long and this would cause the end of one of the biggest companies that the world has ever seen.

If you’re not passionate about it, and that goes for anything in life, then you shouldn’t waste your time and/or money. It is also only worth it if you have time. This point needs to be emphasized. For example: If you have a family and can’t afford to quit your full time job, this is not a good idea. I’ve found that many who go through these programs don’t have many responsibilities at the moment, or they have wonderful supporters around them who help them throughout the duration. The immersive is very time consuming, and some may find it easier than others, but the amount of time that has to be put in is undeniable.

In a quick rundown, within 5 weeks, I have learned HTML, CSS, Javascript/jQuery, started creating our own servers, learning node, express, mongoDB, certain data structures and science, and so much more underlying information. This is not everything, and has taken massive work outside of class along with in class work and lecture. Just 5 weeks ago, I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Why Would You Put Yourself Through Such a Daunting Task?

For me, taking this leap was about being creative and bringing my ideas to life, as I push to provide immense value to this world for decades to come. My friends have always told me that I have all of the ideas, but to me they meant nothing if I could never bring them to life. I avoided obtaining these skills for the simple reason of believing that they were too time consuming, or that it was too old to start now, or simply because of me believing that I didn’t belong in that time of environment (the common imposture syndrome). Whether you’re a cook, waitress, sales associate, truck driver, garbage truck operator or whatever it may be, you can be successful not only in this program, but in this career field as a whole.

All of these technologies are fairly new, relative to our society, and if you spend 10+ hours a day on something while someone else maybe spends a hour every few days, you will be amazed at how far you can go. If you are thinking of a career change, or simply love the tech field and need this sort of structure to learn, I will highly advise taking General Assembly’s Software Engineering Immersive if time and your situation persists. You will also hear the phrases “Web Developer”, “Full Stack Developer”, etc associated with software engineering as a lot of the knowledge intertwines.

Youtube Series Update?

Last but NOT LEAST, stay tuned as this will be just an intro to these blog and content posts regarding my Software Development journey. I aim to produce this content for the remaining 7-8 weeks in the course, while also producing content beyond the program as I work on different projects and aim to connect with like minded people in the industry. In the upcoming posts, I will link a youtube video that goes into depth about my particular General Assembly Immersive location, in the Greater Atlanta Area. Stay tuned, and be blessed!

[earlybird820]

Widow Maker

On the third and final drive to the hospital that fateful Tuesday night, my boyfriend, Rob, reached for my hand and squeezed. I began to cry. For my sister, Jenna, for my niece, Olivia, for my unborn baby niece who Jon would never hold, for Jon’s parents, John and Ann Marie, and for me. Jon was more than a brother-in-law to me, he had become my protective big brother over the years. Our mutual love for Jenna and Olivia had especially bonded us.

Jon had had a massive heart attack at home early Monday morning and had been rushed to the hospital. After coding several times on the operating table, the surgeon was finally able to stabilize him with a stent. According to his doctor, his left ventricle was 100 percent blocked with plaque and the blood was not able to pump as it should which caused the ventricle to burst leading to cardiac arrest. I didn’t know it at the time, but this type of heart attack is often referred to as a “widowmaker.”

When my family and I were first led back to the ICU on Monday, we were shocked at what lay before us. Jon was hooked up to tubes that seemed to be coming from everywhere, machines beeping and whirring continuously, punctuating the silence. In an induced coma, Jon was just a shell of the man he was before. My brother-in-law, the man with the boisterous laugh and heart of gold, now had machines breathing for him and pumping his broken heart.

For two days, friends and family took turns sitting with Jon, holding his limp, cold hand. Some of us simply sat in silence at his bedside, while others talked to him, hoping he could hear them. On Tuesday morning, I, along with my mom and dad, went back to visit him. I sat on his left side holding his hand, my mom and dad across from me. My mom began to speak to him. I can’t remember exactly what all she said, but I distinctly remember her saying, “Today is Tuesday, December 13th. Olivia is exactly 2 years and 5 months old today.” My dad adding, “You gotta pull through buddy; Jenna and the girls need you.”

I said nothing. I sat silently, my mind racing through all the things I wanted to say. How much I appreciated him taking me into his home three years prior, so I could start a new life. How much I loved him for being a wonderful husband to my sister and an even better father to my niece. How much I treasured him for always looking out for me and wanting the best for me. But I couldn’t turn those thoughts into spoken words. I believed that I would be able to tell him all those things when he woke up.

Later that afternoon we received good news from one of Jon’s doctors: “He is not completely out of the woods yet, but his vitals are improving slightly which is a step in the right direction.” We hung all of our hopes on those words.

Deciding it would be beneficial for Jenna to leave the hospital for a couple of hours, we picked Olivia up from daycare early and drove back to her house. Just as we were about to sit down to eat dinner, Jenna’s phone rang. Jon had gone into cardiac arrest again and the doctors were trying to re-stabilize him.

The drive back to the hospital felt like the longest drive of my life. When we finally reached the ICU waiting room, it was full of Jon’s family and friends—many of whom had red, puffy eyes. Fearing Jon had passed and that I didn’t get to say goodbye, I began to sob. One of Jon’s friends reassured me, telling me the doctors had been able to stabilize him but wanted to speak to the entire family in an hour. That hour was agonizing. My sister lay on a couch in the waiting room curled into a fetal position, her entire body racking with sobs. My mom gently lifted her head into her lap and stroked her hair, my dad crouched beside her and squeezed her hand, and I placed her legs in my lap and hugged them, as if by cocooning her inside our love, we might shield her from the inevitable pain.

Finally, we were led back to the ICU to see Jon. The damage from the most recent cardiac arrest was clearly visible. His whole body was bloated from the buildup of fluids in his failing organs. A mixture of blood and some other clear liquid continuously leaked slowly from his nose. My mom grabbed a Kleenex and tenderly wiped the fluid away.

The doctor entered the room. He was not the same one we had spoken to earlier. His words were also not as gentle.

“It took 45 minutes to get him stabilized again. His organs are failing from cardiogenic shock and we believe he is brain dead due to lack of oxygen to the brain. He is no longer salvageable.”  

Yes, the doctor used the word “salvageable” as though Jon were some household appliance and not a husband, father, son, grandson, brother, nephew, cousin, friend.

The sound of wailing permeated the room.

Ann Marie turned to John, “Why is this happening to us? Why? Why? Why? Both our sons. Why?” They had lost their only other child just six years prior in a fatal car accident. He was only 24 years old.

All John could say was, “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

They held each other and wept.

My sister, six-months pregnant, lay herself across Jon’s chest, her round belly protruding underneath her. She kissed his face—his lips, his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids. She whispered, “It’s okay baby, you can go. It’s okay. I love you.”

One by one, all his family and friends came in to say goodbye as we waited to remove him from life support. I watched, with tears streaming down my face, as my mom continued to wipe the fluid from Jon’s nose every few minutes.

A little after midnight the doctor came back in to say it was time. All Jon’s friends left the room as the family gathered around him to say our final goodbyes. At 12:29am on December 14, 2016, Jon took his final breath. He was only 33 years old.

When I awoke the next morning, I thought for a split second that Jon’s death was all a bad dream. But that reprieve did not last long. The wave of reality and grief came crashing down and swept it away. I lay there crying while Rob silently held me tight. I wished he could have held me forever, but I knew that my sister needed me, so I broke the embrace and wiped my tears.

While Jenna, her in-laws, and my parents were away making funeral arrangements, Jon’s Aunt Mary Kay, Rob, and I stayed with Olivia and hosted the revolving visitors who brought food and items for the funeral. Later that evening I helped my sister pick out music for the picture slideshow that would be displayed at the funeral home. I never realized how many songs had been written about death and losing loved ones until then.

The next several days were a whirlwind as we made the last arrangements, attended the funeral home visitation, and the funeral ceremony. With the constant coming and going of visitors paying their respects, the full extent of Jon’s absence had not yet hit us. It wasn’t until everyone else went on with their lives and routines, that the quiet set in. Jon had a big personality and an infectious laugh, and it broke my heart to realize that I would never again hear that laugh.

One day after Jenna had picked Olivia up from daycare, she began to cut up strawberries for Olivia—something that Jon would always do. With a hitch in her voice and tears welling in her eyes, she said, “I can’t do this, Jon always did this.” My mom took over while Jenna retreated to her room, sobbing.

My mom was a blessing during those difficult days. She was retired and able to stay with my sister for months at a time. I know this could not have been easy on her and my dad, who had to stay home, an hour and a half away, for work. They barely got to see each other, though my dad would make the drive down whenever he could.

As for me, I settled into a routine of going to my sister’s after a full day of work, helping out around the house in whatever way I could until 10 or 11pm, and then making the 40-minute drive home every night. My boyfriend, Rob, had just signed up for the Army National Guard a few months before Jon’s death and he had shipped out to bootcamp in Missouri a month after Jon’s funeral. For three long months the only correspondence I had with him was through writing letters, which would take up to two weeks to receive a response. I missed Jon terribly, and I also missed my boyfriend. Under different circumstances, I would have been able to lean on my sister and talk about how much I missed Rob, but it would have been selfish for me to do so now. Rob’s absence was only temporary, Jon’s was permanent.

At the funeral, many people had said to me, “It’s up to you now to take care of your sister and the girls,” “Jenna is going to need you more than ever,” “You need to be strong for them.” I felt that if I broke down in front of my sister, I would be failing her somehow. Yet the more I was around her and Olivia, the more deeply I felt Jon’s absence. I would save my grief for my drive home each night, crying the entire way.

That year, Valentine’s Day fell exactly two months after Jon’s death. I was expecting it to be a shitty day since I wouldn’t be able to spend it with Rob and because it was a reminder of how much time had passed since Jon died. About two hours into my work day, I received a flower delivery; Rob had planned the month before to have them delivered. When I arrived at my sister’s later that night and told her about the flowers, she said, “That’s nice,” before welling up and adding, “I had to spend my Valentine’s Day at the cemetery to visit my husband.” I cried myself to sleep that night.

On February 28th, 2017 Jenna went into labor. My mom and I were in the delivery room. As I witnessed my niece, Layla, being born I was overcome with bittersweet emotions. Joy at the sight of this perfect, tiny angel, and grief that Jon wasn’t there to meet his little girl. I could not save those emotions for later, I let them pour out of me, bawling as my sister held her daughter for the first time.

Layla’s arrival was the turning point in my family’s journey to healing. Though Olivia certainly brought joy to us all as well, there was something about this new life after a tragic loss that gave us hope.

Layla just turned two years old last week and my sister’s house was full of family and friends that have surrounded her with love and support over the past two years.

Olivia, who reminds us so much of Jon, will start kindergarten this fall. She still remembers her daddy and talks about him on occasion. Jenna takes her to Ele’s Place once a week where she participates in activities with other children who have lost a parent.

Jenna has recently started dating again and though she will always grieve her husband, she is allowing herself to be happy and find love again.

Jon’s parents live close by and they pick the girls up from daycare twice a week and spend the evening with them. John takes Olivia with him to the car wash once a week, which is something Jon used to do with her.

My parents still visit often, but my mom no longer has to be away from my dad for extended periods of time. They take the girls one weekend a month to give my sister a little time to herself.

Rob and I bought a house about a 10-minute drive from my sister’s, so I could be closer to her and my nieces. I went back to school about a year after Jon passed because I knew that both he and my sister had always wanted me to finish my degree; my big brother wanting the best for me. I will graduate at the end of June with honors. I like to think that he would have been proud of me.

Jenna and Jon on their wedding day.

My first photo with Jon as his sister-in-law.

Jon and his mom, Ann Marie, at his wedding.

Jenna and Jon on their honeymoon in Aruba.

Jon, Jenna, and newborn daughter Olivia.

Jon holding his newborn daughter, Olivia.

Jon and a sleepy Olivia.

Jon giving Olivia a horseback ride.

The day Layla was born. Photos of Jon are taped to the bedpost.

Jenna and her two beautiful girls, Olivia and Layla.

[sweetswesf]

40. Happy MLK Day

IWhat a glorious day it was.  I woke up later than I expected and missed the walk, but I walked the route solo and joined the ending festival.  I did it last year, but coding, fatigue and my poor planning made me late this year.  Throughout my walk dedicated to him, I kept thanking God for blessing us with a man like him. 

I make it my mission to celebrate Martin Luther King Day every year.  Many people write it off as another day...as if this man was not assassinated only 50 years ago.  My parents are older than that...There was a time not too long ago where I could not study alongside my peers.  Hackbright would have NEVER existed just 50 years ago.  This is one of the most important holidays.  Unfortunately there are many companies that do not recognize it.  If people did not get the day off, I bet they would still be arguing that we do not need this holiday.  They even make light of it.  My school’s Director of Admissions posted this last week:

I know she did not mean anything bad about it, but I wish people were more sensitive and did not take the day lightly.  This is not a president that died a hundred years ago.  This man is the reason we have many of the liberties, culture, ideas we so take for granted.

Despite the poorly placed post, we had today off from school and I just spent it studying classes after I walked in remembrance of Dr. King.  Pay your respects to him y’all.

After I walked, I headed to a personal training session.  I am glad she kept it light because I was exhausted and have not been working out that much.  I met this trainer when I got talk into doing her Booty Bootcamp.  Another trainer pulled me into the class without introducing what it was.  I am always steering clear of these, because they are typically filled with non-Black girls who look to the Black girl to teach them how to “twerk”.  I often have nightmares that I will end up in one of these classes, being asked to teach others how to twerk and exploding in anger, educating everyone on how the Black woman has been over-sexualized and abused...but the class was not so bad :).  The instructor had a MUCH smaller butt than me, but she gave me some tips to keep this thing toned.  I don’t hate her or the class :) .  I am glad to say my nightmare did not come true.  I did kinda cringe though when she said she had some “soul”.

Anyway, the 2nd session (that was NOT the Booty Bootcamp) went great with this trainer.  She is trying to convince me to eat a bit more meat, but I am trying to stick to my veggie guns!  At least mostly...

After this, I did some grocery shopping.  My bill was much lower this week, but it was still higher than I wanted it to be.  I’m eating mainly vegg but still spending ~$100/week.  But for 4 meals a day, 5 days a week, including snacks, I guess it isn’t too bad...$5/day...

I then commenced to meal prepping.  I got real creative and finally made the rice and my own version of kimbap!  I even use my rice mold from Japan!  I love onigiri and am trying to learn to make all of my favorite foods so that I can be I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T (Do you know what that mean MAINE!? *Webbie voice*).  I did not add any seasoning so it was as bland as one would imagine!  For all the time it took, I will be better off just getting the 50% Kimbap.  It tastes good and is only $4!

Meal prepping took FOREVER!  It was my first time doing it and I made every meal for the upcoming week and packed it away to make it easier for me to run out in the morning.  Being late last week really woke me up to make a better effort to get places on time.  It is the main thing keeping me from being great!!  Making all my meals, I said to myself, man, I’m going to be hungry next week...

[in78weeks-blog]

FAQs About Living in My Car

1. Where do you shower?

Why is this always the first question I get asked when I tell people I live in my car? Are you all trying to tell me that I smell bad?!

Anyways, I have a gym membership at a 24 hour fitness so I have access to a shower at all times. It's also a great motivation to go the gym so, win-win. Since starting my job in Denver, I have been working out every day at the gym in my office building so I shower during my lunch break. How convenient!

2. Where do you sleep? I currently park on the streets of the suburban town of Boulder, Colorado. I've got a handful of spots that I've vetted that I know are safe and comfortable spots to park, so I'll rotate through spots as to not raise suspicion or annoyance with the people live/work there. I've picked out spots on a couple residential streets, office parks, and around industrial buildings.

3. What do you eat? I eat a pretty simple diet. I don't cook (because I can’t) and I try to limit how often I eat out. I usually prepare a glorious salad at work for lunch and usually eat raw vegetables and a simple source of protein in the evenings. I have a refrigerator at work that I use to store my ingredients, and replenish it often. This way I'm able to eat healthy and reduce food waste. Of course, I'll go out to eat with friends on occasion as well :)

4. Where do you use the bathroom?!

This question always comes as a whisper. I find that particularly funny.

Grocery stores and gas stations are open pretty early/late, so I make sure to keep one close by. I also combine (almost) daily grocery runs with bathroom runs! But worst comes to worst, I'll find a bush.

5. How do you stay warm?

This is always the hardest question to answer, because truth is, I'm not always warm. The summer months are amazing, because all I need is a light blanket and I get to open my sunroof for a light breeze. But in the winter, it can get pretty brutal. I have a blanket and a down comforter that I use to bundle up and keep myself warm. It's usually enough to keep me at a slightly uncomfortable but tolerable temperature and I only really start to worry if the weather forecast predicts the temperature to drop below 20 degrees.

The lowest temperature I've slept in is 8 degrees, so I know it's possible, but too many miserably cold nights I'm sure could lead to some medical problems. So on those painfully cold nights, I'll take refuge at a friend's house.

6. What do you do during the day?

I work from around 7:30 to 4:30 so most of the day I’m in the office. In the evenings, sometimes I’ll lounge around in my car (Netflix anyone?) but not having a traditional place to lounge encourages me to reach out to friends, go to a coffee shop, go to the gym, basically anything to be in public spaces. It’s a great opportunity to engage with people in my community and make new friends!

7. What kind of car do you have?

I have a 2002 Toyota Highlander. once you put the seats down, there’s actually a lot of space to move around!

8. Why are you doing this?

There are so many reasons, but I didn't start living in my car out of choice. My car-life journey began in November 2017 when I was attending a coding bootcamp. I was excited about changing careers and making bold moves in my life to escape the rat race. I didn't have the bandwidth to get a part-time job while focusing on my studies, so I was quickly exhausting my savings.

Soon, I realized I was no longer able to afford rent and had to figure out how I was going to make things work. I did a quick calculation in my head and realized that I was spending ~$23 per day on rent per day. I was only ever at my house to sleep and shower, and I started to wonder if there was a way I could reduce or eliminate that cost altogether. Being a little stubborn and prideful, I wasn't ready to ask my parents or my friends for help, so I tried car camping around my hometown for a week, and to my surprise found it to be very manageable. So, I made the desperate and spontaneous decision to move out of my old house, and into my car.

I couldn't have done it alone. I had three amazing friends that stored my belongings while I was trying to figure out what I needed and what I could get rid of. I had a couple trusted friends that I watched out for my safety and checked in with me to make sure I was doing alright.

I got a job as a barista in January, and then as a software engineer in Denver in April. So why do I continue this lifestyle even though I'm financially capable of living in an apartment?

The short answer is, I love the freedom.

I’ve gained the freedom to spend my hard-earned money on things that are important to me, rather than watching my money disappear into the renters abyss. I get to spend my money on travel and life experiences, and to me, these experiences are worth so much more than the comforts of a traditional living space. I love the freedom that comes with living a life of minimalism - to reduce my possessions to a bare minimum and not letting the weight of my belongings control my thoughts and feelings. By reducing my carbon footprint and minimizing my environmental impact, I feel like I am intentionally and actively doing my part in the environmental crisis of the 21st century. I’m free from the expectations of our modern society, that our life has to look a certain way to achieve happiness.

This lifestyle, as exciting and adventurous it may be, also comes with challenges. Sure, the extra effort to find a safe sleeping spot, the inconvenient bathroom runs, and finding places to spend my evenings are challenges in themselves. But through this lifestyle, I have a unique look into the harsh reality of homelessness and poverty. I'm not trying to say I understand the life of the homeless of the poor, because as a well-educated, middle-class Asian-American, I was born into privilege that so many in this country don't have. In my lifetime, I will never understand the life of the homeless but this lifestyle allows me to relinquish my privilege in the circumstances I do have control over. I can relate with the homeless about having to sleep in the cold. I can relate to them about inconvenient bathroom runs. I can relate to the fear of being asked to leave because they consider you a loiterer.

I still have a lot I’m wrestling with, and I’m still not sure what kind of story God intends to paint with my life. But I want to continue to learn and grow, and I’ve accepted that this lifestyle is part of that journey.

9. How long will you continue?

I don't know. I’ve thought about building out a van, but if I do choose that route, it won’t be for at least another year. For now, I’m letting things take their course, and until things change, I’ll be on the road, embracing the freedom that comes with this lifestyle. While I lead this life though, I hope you will join me on my journey and be inspired to start saying yes to the things that scare you.

Be bold in the decisions you make, and take control of your life. Do good in the world, wherever you are, and however you can. I promise, the world is a kinder, more beautiful place if you just let yourself see it. See the world, and learn from it. 

And if you want to, move into your car. I bet it will change your life.

[trylkstopocket]

Child’s play: Gajesh Naik, 13, manages a fortune in DeFi – Cointelegraph Magazine

cointelegraph.com

At 13, it is hard to believe that anyone can understand the potential — and responsibility and danger — of holding private keys while living life as a normal seventh-grader in India.

What makes the case of Gajesh Naik, the 13-year-old decentralized finance (DeFi) wunderkind from Goa, so unique is that while he can design a DeFi protocol able to accept $1 million of investors’ money, he is too young to sign a legal contract or be held liable for any loss. Would you trust your money to an unproven teenage developer with just half a year’s programming experience on solidity?

Time flies

Naik started out with a YouTube channel, teaching people to code, before switching to smart contract consulting. Today, his DeFi protocol, PolyGaj, manages nearly $1 million.

Given his age, it’s fascinating to see how he views time, and instead of years or quarters, Naik speaks in months, “I was freelancing for three months, and launched two projects.”

While many would consider a three-month block of blockchain consulting experience as little more than an internship, Naik describes it in a way that makes it sound more like a career phase, as if it would be more appropriate for the statement of three to refer to years instead of months.

This is to be expected, seeing as a younger person will naturally perceive time as happening more slowly — a year can be the equivalent of up to 20% of a 10-year-old’s “conscious” life, the equivalent of six years for someone aged 30, or a decade for a 50-year-old. What’s more, the speed at which information is processed slows down with age, meaning that the ability for younger people to absorb and utilize new information is much higher. As such, Naik may be correct to see his three months of consulting as a foundation of his career.

With what we will call “plenty” of industry experience, relatively speaking, Naik graduated to launching his own project, PolyGaj, which is based on a similar platform on the Binance Smart Chain called Goose Finance. The eponymous elephant-themed DeFi platform allows users to trade and farm tokens, namely PolyGaj (GAJ) and StableGaj (SGAJ). There is also the potential to place coins in pools promising as much as 34% APR on Wrapped Bitcoin (wBTC) and 62% APR on Tether (USDT).

Also worth mentioning are Naik’s “Elephant Punk” nonfungible tokens (NFT), which are on sale for about $25. As of the time of writing, the platform has about $900,000 of investor money locked across its farms and pools. The smart contract address, which holds about $500,000 worth of GajCoin, would make Naik extremely wealthy if he were able to access it — he says he cannot.

From student to teacher

Naik got into coding in early 2016 — at the age of seven — starting with Drag and Drop when he attended a two-week coding bootcamp in his native Goa on the west coast of India. In early 2017, he dove into Scratch, a programming language designed for kids, more deeply before spending the second half of the year learning C and C++. The big year was 2018 when he “learned Java, HTML, CSS and JavaScript,” started a YouTube channel to teach coding to others, and began attending coding meet-ups in his area.

slide 5 to 6  of 5

Naik’s passion may not be entirely random, given his father, Siddhivinayak, holds a computer science degree and works in the Indian civil service. He would surely not be the first computer-loving father to support their child in becoming a crypto-genius. Pratik Gandhi, head of marketing at Covalent, who helped set up the interview, mentions that he shares an Indian background and can comment on Naik’s family situation. He is quick to add that Naik’s passion comes from within himself, and this is not a case of parents having their “kids learn certain things to show off,” which he describes as a common phenomenon in India.

One certainly cannot force passion or a love of learning — both of which Naik has in bounds. He has even inspired other family members to start making videos, with his mother, Pranita, starting a cooking channel.

Naik’s first video from 2018, How to make a Simple Telegram Chatbot using Dialogflow, is well done by any measure. It is followed by a list, including Great Unsung Heroes of Science set to musical accompaniment and also a short clip called Coffee and Code October 2018, which shows a clearly excited, smiling 10-year-old boy, Naik, at a coding meetup. He is there with about 20 others — all far older and lacking that certain undeniable spark of excitement and wonder, as the presenter explains something about server loads.

His scope increased to lessons in things like creating 3D geometry in Python and scraping Wikipedia, and even one called How to Analyse and Visualize COVID-19 Data using Python. Perhaps what stands out most, however, is Naik’s lesson on How to find compound interest using python, which he released on Sept. 3, 2020 — the same month he “joined a webinar on the basics of Bitcoin and blockchain.”

“I started digging deep into blockchain — Bitcoin and Ethereum — then I got to know about Solidity, and then I learned it in two or three months.”

To understand the weight of this statement, one must consider the value of Solidity. According to one industry job board, “the average base salary for a Solidity developer in Asia is $125,000 per year, with a low base salary of $100,000 and a high base salary of $150,000.” An analysis of Payscale shows that the average software developer in India earns $6,700 annually, meaning that at 13, Naik has already equipped himself with a skill-set worth 10–20 times the salary of a seasoned developer, or 50–70 times the country’s per-capita gross domestic product ($2,100).

Naturally, Naik continued sharing his learning on YouTube, introducing Bitcoin to his viewers in a 12-minute October video incorporating illustrative images of piggy banks, gold bars and circuit boards. From there, he pivoted the channel’s content to focus on blockchain — adding explainer videos about Yearn.finance, Chainlink, Tether and others in November and December.

Things took a turn a few weeks later, in February 2021, when Naik expanded from mere introductory videos to instructionals on How to deploy Smart Contract on Binance Smart Chain (BSC) and How to Write and Deploy BEP-20 Token on Binance Smart Chain. That’s when, at the beginning of a video about creating an ERC-20 token, Naik made an announcement to his 10,500 subscribers:

“I’ve started freelancing! If you would like to create a DApp, smart contract, token or code an NFT, just email me.”

slide 5 to 6  of 5

Minor challenges

With nearly 20,000 followers, Naik is a rising star on Crypto Twitter, which he describes as “good and bad — some people target me and some people make threats,” adding that some people say things like “you should go study,” or that he is lying about his age.

One may be right to have some concerns. The PolyGaj platform, complete with its elephant NFTs and wordplay, can certainly be seen as a child’s experimentation and play. That does not make it less legitimate, at least compared to any other cloned DeFi platform on BSC run by anonymous creators, but one is left to wonder whether a child is capable of truly understanding the nature of their money and the very real power it wields.

There is also the question of safety, seeing as everyone from friends and teachers to local criminals know about his wealth — and the fact that it is accessible with a few strokes of a keyboard. When asked if he would share his private keys with his parents if told to do so, Naik did not quite seem to comprehend the question’s importance.

It is important to realize that as an industry, DeFi has embraced a laissez-faire “test in production” philosophy where projects are created in an experimental fashion and investors take risks at their own peril. In this sense, Naik fits right into the crowd, and had he chosen to create his platform anonymously, it would have blended in with the rest.

There is, however, a reason why so many DeFi projects are created anonymously — namely legal, reputational and safety risks — and Naik has now tied his reputation to a public, indelible crypto asset named after him. While this is of course a wonderful achievement, it would make me feel uneasy if I were his parent.

Though Naik explains that he is under agreement not to disclose which tokens he created as part of his consulting work or how much he was paid, it is safe to assume that these contracts take the form of gentlemen’s agreements. This is because due to his age, Naik likely lacks legal capacity to sign enforceable contracts — and can therefore hold no liability.

This lack of ability to sign contracts, according to Covalent’s Gandhi, means that he is unable to receive direct investments from “some of the big names in the industry” who are “waiting for him to turn 18 so that they can transfer him money.”

Make way for the ambassador

We’re speaking today in part so that Naik can promote his work as an ambassador for Covalent, an indexing and query layer for decentralized systems with the ability to pull information from a number of blockchains.

CEO Ganesh Swami, who also joined us on the call, describes the ambassador program as “a growth and leadership program,” whose 2,000 and growing participants are selected after an interview process. Once accepted, “ambassadors” set goals — often to expand their own learning related to things such as data and dashboards, which are Covelant’s bread and butter.

It is not entirely clear what Naik’s ambassador goals entail, but it is fair to surmise that he is getting something in return for the indisputably brave act of doing this interview — clearly, bringing on a 13-year-old brings media attention.

Generation Z

According to Naik, one of the major problems in the blockchain space today is high gas costs. This is why his projects are built on top of the Polygon framework, a factor that allows him to deploy a token for as little as $0.01 as opposed to potentially hundreds of dollars on Ethereum’s layer one. He advocates the same in his YouTube tutorials — evidence that the rising generation of blockchain enthusiasts will look beyond Ethereum’s layer one to build the future.

In my book Blockland, I have argued that Bitcoin is a joint-venture between Millennials and Generation X, with Generation Z’s oldest representatives still in high school during Bitcoin’s early years and largely unable to take part. Much younger and “hip,” Ethereum then formed as a Gen-Z stronghold in the industry, spearheaded by Zoomer-like Vitalik Buterin.

Seeing Naik, who is actually among the younger Gen-Zs — potentially even an early messenger of Generation Alpha — choose to build on Polygon, which is a layer-two solution for Ethereum, is fascinating. With high gas fees, the Ethereum ecosystem may need to increasingly rely on layer-two solutions as layer one proves unwieldy for today’s young crypto-geeks to experiment with.

Many of us will recall amazed parents who looked upon us, their children, in the early days of the internet and made remarks about how the new generation’s world was so much bigger, being able to communicate with friends across the world and the like.

When we consider the reality that a 13-year-old can create and make public a decentralized finance solution and sell NFTs to a global audience, the capabilities of young people only 10 years ago seem old-timey and quaint in comparison.

The teenagers who, in ages past, may have sold mixtapes or pirated movies from their locker can now amass large investment portfolios on a blockchain — anonymously — and no one has the power to stop them. The future is theirs.

Five years from now, Naik sees himself preparing to enter college for computer science. If things continue as they are, however, it is more likely that he will find himself being the teacher among his peers.

[realtorfox43]

How Much Does Boot Camp For Mac Costyellowmedi

How Much Is Bootcamp For Mac

How Much Does Bootcamp For Mac Cost

Boot Camp Control Panel User Guide

After you use Boot Camp Assistant to install Windows on your Intel-based Mac, you can set the default operating system to either macOS or Windows. The default operating system is the one you want to use when you turn on or restart your Mac.

Set the default operating system

Boot Camp is designed to allow Mac users to set up a partition to run Windows, providing access to PC-only apps and content. Apple's Boot Camp update for macOS 10.14.5 comes about a month after. Download this app from Microsoft Store for Windows 10, Windows 10 Team (Surface Hub), HoloLens. See screenshots, read the latest customer reviews, and compare ratings for Boot Camp on Mac Guide.

In Windows on your Mac, click in the right side of the taskbar, click the Boot Camp icon , then choose Boot Camp Control Panel.

If a User Account Control dialog appears, click Yes.

Select the startup disk that has the default operating system you want to use.

If you want to start up using the default operating system now, click Restart. Otherwise, click OK.

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You can’t change your startup volume to an external drive while you’re using Windows.

To learn how to change the default operating system using macOS, see Get started with Boot Camp.

Restart in macOS

In Windows on your Mac, do one of the following:

Restart using Startup Manager: Restart your Mac, then immediately press and hold the Option key. When the Startup Manager window appears, release the Option key, select your macOS startup disk, then press Return.

If you’re using a Mac notebook computer with an external keyboard, make sure you press and hold the Option key on the built-in keyboard.

Restart using Boot Camp Control Panel: Click in the right side of the taskbar, click the Boot Camp icon , then choose Restart in macOS.

This also sets the default operating system to macOS.

For more information about restarting in macOS, see the Apple Support article Restart your Mac in macOS or Windows.

See alsoGet started with Boot Camp Control Panel on MacTroubleshoot Boot Camp Control Panel problems on MacApple Support article: How to select a different startup disk

Full Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. I receive compensation if you purchase through this link, and I fully appreciate your support.

Are mom crushes a thing?

If so, I have a major mom crush on Jordan Page, supermom behind FunCheaporFree.com.

I first discovered Jordan through that crazy coupon show (which side note: my hubby and I were screened to be on, but we were not weird enough. I guess that’s a good thing, especially since they were asking if we did anything illegal to save money – yikes!).

I then watched Jordan on the Millennial Mom Youtube Channel then watched her on her own channel, and bought her two courses, Budget Boot Camp and Productivity Boot Camp. Because of her, I block schedule, have an easy-to-transport container of kids’ hair stuff, and also have Beddy’s zipable bedding.

The list of how Jordan has transformed my life as a productive mama is quite long actually. Needless to say, I was ecstatic when I was able to become an affiliate for her programs. That’s your disclaimer. I’m an affiliate, but there is no pressure to buy through my link. I love the lady and truly think she can change your life like she has changed mine.

What Is Productivity Boot Camp

Jordan launched Productivity Boot Camp in 2018 after getting so many questions about her productivity goddess-like qualities. She balances six kids, a super successful business, church life, home life, and more and still looks fabulous. So what exactly is her secret?

Productivity Boot Camp is a place where Jordan breaks down all of her tips and tricks into a six-week course. There are 28 videos and three bonus interview videos. The videos average about 15 minutes long, with a few being over 40 minutes. I tackled the longer videos in chunks or while doing laundry.

This program is great for moms of all kind – working moms, stay at home moms, work at home moms. The course is marketed towards anyone, though (which I have issues with, but more on that later on).

The Amazing – Pros of PBC

1. High Energy and Motivating

Every one of Jordan’s videos is high energy and motivating. If you love Jordan’s teaching style, then you will love going on this journey with her. After watching the first video, I was excited to start getting my schedule under control.

How Much Is Bootcamp For Mac

2. Easy to Follow Format

I love how she breaks down each course by week. The first two weeks require a little more viewing time and homework, but they are truly worth it. Trying to implement the block schedule into your life is also hard at first, but once you get the hang of it, it is addicting to get more things done each day.

3. It Works

I have read a lot of productivity books, probably more than the average person. This course gave new strategies and some that I have heard before, but the difference is that I was better prepared to use Jordan’s strategies. Most productivity books are written by men who have wives that take care of all the things, so it is hard to take their advice. Jordan is just like us and shows us how to get things done.

The Meh – Cons of PBS

1. The Planner

Update – June 26th, 2020: Jordan listened and rolled out her very own Productivity Planners that can be purchased separately. They make up for the planners that come with the course. I will give a full review and walkthrough of this soon.

I love Jordan’s spreadsheet for the block scheduling, but personally, I found the productivity planner to be disappointing. I was really hoping for something I could use every day to keep me on top of all the things.

Instead, most of the pages are cute, glorified notetaking paper. I would have liked to see more planning pages to go with systems and routines that can make your days run smoother.

2. The Free Youtube Videos

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I was also a little annoyed when there were similar videos posted on Youtube that discussed some key points in the course. The course still offers so much more value than those free videos, but it does cheapen the experience for the paid user.

3. Not Enough Specific Info

This might be too selfish to ask, but I do wish there was just more in Productivity Boot Camp. There is already so much content – probably three hours’ worth of advice. I guess I wish there was more direct info for working moms, since she tries to keep the course general to all – even singletons in college.

She does so much work and success building while raising her family, and I just wish she spoke more on the specifics of that instead of trying to make the content fit anyone. Here’s to hoping she adds more modules!

My Results – Spoiler Alert – I Wrote Two Books with a Newborn

Update – June 26, 2020: I still use and love Jordan’s Productivity Bootcamp even two years later! I have written a few more books and faithfully maintained client work all while homeschooling two girls and surviving toddlerhood with my third. It’s not always pretty or perfect, but I do feel productive most days!

I started going though the course the first time when I was pregnant with my third baby girl. I was able to start implementing Jordan’s strategies right away. It is the funniest thing. After a week, I was so on top of my schedule that I didn’t know what to do with myself by the time the afternoon blocks came.

The system had helped me stay on top of my cleaning, get ahead of my freelance work, and finish homeschool lessons for the day before noon. The nesting phase hormones definitely helped.

Now that baby is here, I feel like I need to go through all of the courses again to get back on a productive schedule. I have been implementing Jordan’s advice half-heartedly since the baby arrived (mostly because baby’s schedules change like 20 times before year one- ha). Even without being 100% back on the system, my life is still functioning at a productive level.

I am still able to have a clean house 70% of the time, stay on top of freelance work, homeschool, and devote hours into blog writing and book writing. I even wrote two children’s books since baby girl was born. What?!

So, Is It Worth the Price Tag?

Short answer – yes! Long answer to follow:

I have taken a lot of courses online – mostly for business growth rather than personal growth like this one. However, all of the courses do not hold a candle to Productivity Boot Camp in regards to quality. The videos and set up of the course are superior. Usually courses are either a bunch of text or dolled up slideshow presentations. Optical character recognition download for mac os.

Every one of Jordan’s 31 videos (this counts the bonus videos) in this course are of her talking directly to you and are edited professionally. This might not seem like a big deal to those use to her high-quality Youtube videos, but it is a rarity in the course world.

When I evaluate if something is worth the price tag, I measure it in future value. You see, $149, and even the sale price of the course is a lot of money to spend on something digital especially when so much of the digital content we consume is free.

However, when I feel like I am drowning in chaos and can’t get anything done, I am guilty of spending money on temporary bandages. I think a house cleaner, food service/fast food, or laundry service is my solution to getting back on track.

While those things aren’t bad, they don’t fix the root of the problem – my dysfunctional system.

I felt like this course was like having a personal coach guide me through each step of areas in my life that needed a change up. The course is more valuable than having a cleaning lady or getting those meal boxes delivered. Why? Because it sticks around.

How Much Does Bootcamp For Mac Cost

I can’t even tell you how many times I have hired a cleaning lady for $150 only to have the house look like a tornado in three days. Now that is depressing! When I am dedicated to Jordan’s strategies, I don’t feel the need for a cleaning lady or meal delivery service because I am no longer living in a state of chaos and meal planning and cleaning no longer seem like unbearable weights.

What’s Your Time Worth?

My time is worth anywhere from $50-100 an hour, so if I am able to save five hours a week or have five free hours a week to take on a $100-per-hour client, then the cost is worth it. That is exactly what I was able to do.

What do you think your time is worth? Even if you think your time is only worth minimum wage (your time is so much more valuable than that!), your initial investment will pay off quickly. If you followed Jordan’s tips to the letter and saved yourself two hours per week, at $12/hour, you would have made back the course in less than nine weeks. I believe you will save even more time than that each week, and you will have extra time to pursue hobbies or your side business. Win-win!

Not only will you save time but you will start to carve the life you want to live. None of us want to run around crazily thinking about dinner prep and kids and 5 million other things all the time. This course will help you manage your time better and relieve the pressure of trying to do everything at once.

Productivity Boot Camp Promo Codes and Savings

You have a full access to the course for a year, and then after the year you can renew for a minimal price. Go through it slow or fast or watch it over and over again like I do. Our lives are constantly changing, so it is nice to be reminded of areas we need to tighten when the crazy begins to slip back into our schedules.

Use promo code EARLYBF to get Productivity Boot Camp for $105 until November 10th OR Bundle Productivity Boot Camp with Budget Boot Camp for $186.90 – that’s $93.45 per program!!!

I do recommend both the Productivity and Budget Boot Camp (transparent review coming soon), and if you buy them together you can save over $150. If you buy them before the cut off date, you don’t have to worry about speeding through both courses.

There is a payment plan of three payments for those who wish to purchase the course but do not have the full cost upfront. While convenient, this payment plan will cost you more overall.

What If I Hate the Course? Productivity Boot Camp Return Policy

You can get your money back! Isn’t that exciting! You can either transform your life or you can have your money back. Jordan is very transparent and makes the return process easy. I can’t even tell you how many pointless courses and digital items I have paid for and couldn’t return. It stinks.

Bryce petty. My advice is to read the return policy to make sure you know all of the details, try out the course with a ready heart, and within a few lessons you will know if this is the right course for you or if you need to start the refund process.

[markvillacampa]

Week 31, 2020

Documents from the Hearing on “Online Platforms and Market Power: Examining the Dominance of Amazon, Apple, Facebook and Google

House Judiciary’s antitrust subcommittee - July 29, 2020

Tech news were eclipsed this week by the antitrust hearings. The CEO depositions were what we expected: a lot of empty words and half truths. But more revealing was the trove of internal documents, mostly emails, from the past 10+ years released by the committee.

The verge has a series of articles dissecting the documents but I want to highlight this conversation from 2012 between Instagram co-founder Kevin Systrom and one of his investors at Benchmark talking about a possible acquisition by Facebook. Talk about value-add investors!

Three people have been charged for Twitter’s huge hack, and a Florida teen is in jail

The Verge - July 31, 2020 - 7 min

A 17-year-old in Tampa, Florida, a 22-year-old in Orlando and a 19-year-old in the UK were responsible for wreaking havok on Twitter last week hacking the accounts of Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Joe Biden and more to spread a Bitcoin scam.

TikTok's new CEO says company will reveal how its algorithms work

Axios - July 29, 2020 - 3 min

TikTok will launch a Transparency and Accountability Center in Los Angeles for moderation and data practices that will house all of its data flows and code moving forward. The center will host online tours of its data during the pandemic.

I have absolutely no idea what any of that means, but looking forward to taking that online tour, I guess 🤷🏻‍♂️.

ByteDance investors value TikTok at $50 billion in takeover bid

Reuters - July 29, 2020 - 4 min

The investors’ bid values TikTok at 50 times its projected 2020 revenue of about $1 billion

If the online tours don't satisfy US regulators, a $50B exit would not be a bad outcome either.

Microsoft Said to Be in Talks to Buy TikTok, as Trump Weighs Curtailing App

The New York Times - July 31, 2020 - 4 min

And if investors can't come up with the 💸, Microsoft might be ready to integrate TikTok into their 365 subscription 🤡.

Trump says he's banning TikTok in the U.S.

NBC News - July 31, 2020 - 3 min

I really don't know what to think anymore 🤷🏻‍♂️.

From Education App to Global Video Phenomenon

Medium - November 15, 2019 - 19 min

If you’re not in the Gen Z age group and have never used TikTok, this is the best rundown of TikTok’s history I’ve read so far and your best chance at understanding what all the fuzz is about.

The Concorde, the Space Shuttle and Space Shuttle Bus at the Paris Air Show in 1983

Airbus' self-flying plane just completed successful taxi, take-off, and landing tests, opening the door for fully autonomous flight

Business Insider - July 26, 2020 - 5 min

Fully automous commercial planes sound very plausible in 5 years. Cars on the other hand... not so much.

SAP to spin out Qualtrics via an IPO

Axios - July 26, 2020 - 1 min

SAP plans to have a majority stake after the IPO, while Qualtrics co-founder and CEO Ryan Smith will be the largest individual shareholder.

Imagine selling your company for $8B, then taking it public and still be the largest individual shareholder 😳.

Everyone’s a Day Trader Now

The Wall Street Journal - July 25, 2020 - 11 min

But when she couldn’t work, her unemployment checks weren’t enough to pay her bills. Her boss suggested she try day trading. She read “Trading for Dummies,” watched YouTube videos, opened an E-Trade account and dove in.

Day trading is starting to look like the new sports betting epidemic.

Intel Makes Changes to Technology Organization

Intel - July 27, 2020 - 2 min

Intel is not having a good time, after AMD surpassing them as leaders in x86 CPUs and Apple transitioning to their own ARM-based chips. As a result of deep internal reorganization, Murthy Renduchintala, Intel's Chief Engineering Officer, is leaving the company.

How an Irish Beer Became the Authority on World Records

How Stuff Works - October 24, 2016 - 4 min

Did you know the Guiness World Records and Guiness Beer are one and the same Guiness? Me neither, but the story behind it is quite... Irish.

Tech CEOs Deserve an Apology

The Wall Street Journal - July 28, 2020 - 4 min

Sure, there are screw-ups: Amazon favors its own products, Apple its own apps, Google its own YouTube videos; Facebook collects too much personal data. Yet none of these habits necessarily harm consumers and all could be easily fixed without decadeslong antitrust inquisitions.

I just sent my apology letters, what are you waiting for? 🤣

The Pandemic-Era Appeal of Getting Lost in a Labyrinth

Bloomberg - July 29, 2020 - 5 min

Lars Howlett is one of the country’s foremost labyrinth makers.

TIL: Labyrinth maker is an actual job title!

Google to Keep Employees Home Until Summer 2021 Amid Coronavirus Pandemic

The Wall Street Journal - July 27, 2020

Do they know something that we don't? 😬

You really don't need to work so much

New Yorker - August 21, 2015 - 6 min

The irony is that the people at the top are often as unhappy and overworked as those at the bottom: it is a system that serves almost no one

Translation of The instructions of Shuruppak

The instructions of Shuruppak is a 4600-year-old Sumerian text, one of the oldest in the world, and possibly the first self-help book.

It’s Not Debt, It’s Better

Alex Danco - July 28, 2020 - 19 min

Pipe creates a new asset class to sell: the software subscription. Founders can now sell the recurring revenue from a cohort of software customers, as an easily tradable asset, and fund their growth without taking dilution.

Remember when coding bootcamps started securitizing future revenue from cohorts of students? Turns our any SaaS can do it now. But should they? 🤔

Our Series E Funding

Stack Overflow - July 28, 2020 - 10 min

Stack Overflow, the Q&A site used by every programmer to be able to do their jobs, is raising an $85 to push their enterprise SaaS product.

Introducing the Slack Certified program

Slack - July 16, 2020 - 7 min

Are you really an enterprise IT company if you don't have certification courses for your product? If you ask Slack (or Cisco) the answer will be a resounding No.

Mischief managed

The Verge - July 27, 2020 - 15 min

A profile of MSCHF, the viral product company that's like if SUPREME and TikTok merged. Their latest creation: the $1200 Jesus Shoes. A $200 pair of Air Max 97 sneakers with water from the River Jordan injected in the soles 🤷🏻‍♂️.

States Issue Warnings About Seed Packets From China

The New York Times - July 26, 2020 - 5 min

Americans have been receiving mysterious unsolicited packages from China containing seeds.

Turns out it's probably sellers buying their own products in e-commerce platforms with real USA addresses, then shipping a cheap product, all to boost their ranking and reviews in the platform.

Inside the World’s Only Sourdough Library

Atlas Obscura - May 16, 2018 - 7 min

Unlike books, the starters need to be fed regularly

Have you boosted your baking game during quarantine? Then you might be interested in this library.

Apple Buys Startup to Turn iPhones Into Payment Terminals

Bloomberg - July 31, 2020 - 2 min

There already are multiple products in the market to accept credit card payments with your phone, Square being the most notorious, at least in the US market.

This deal means Apple could become a merchant account provider, offering business a way to accept payments with any iPhone. B2B is the next step after shipping their first B2C product with the Apple Card last year.

How I Growth Hacked Instagram to Drive $13,000 of Card Game Sales

David Kemmerer - June 16, 2020 - 9 min

I growth-hacked the College Cards Instagram page with fake followers, fake engagement, and fake everything to make it look like the game was all the rage.

Great overview of social media tactics many DTC (Direct To Consumer) companies use... applied to selling a card game to college students!