#hk trigger warnings

[lilybug-02]

As someone with arachnophobia..... I hope you stick to the bipedal cartoon character spiders with the HK comic and not more realistic ones...

Cause, truth be told, I freaked the fuck out after you reblogged something that had a spider in it and nearly threw my phone...

I am deathly afraid of spiders.....

............

ANYWAY I really am loving the comic so far and hope you have a nice day! :3

sorry if this ask was weird or annoying, im not good at this sort of thing aaaaaa

no worries. I understand. I recommend using the tag filter on Tumblr for trigger warnings surrounding bugs or spiders if you feel inclined.

I also have to be honest, I won't always remember to put tw tags in my stuff, so just a warning. But I try my best.

I hope someday spiders are a little less feared. I really admire their handsome looks 😎 they're really impressive creatures.

[goblinbugthing]

Bugthing’s brand-new Pinned Intro Post!!!!!!

Hi! I’m Bug, I’m a mentally ill emo artist and fic author. This is where I put my nonsense for you internet ppl to look at.

I’m transmasc, currently identifying as altersex & xenogender, and I use he/xey/it/they pronouns. Mutuals, and only mutuals, can use my other neos, blood/bleed and gore/gory. I’m lunian/mspec lesbian, fictoromantic, and fictosexual. Please respect that!!

Currently, I’m into Hollow Knight, the Kirby series, A Hat in Time, Bug Fables, Cult of the Lamb, Rain World, and Fate/Zero. Do be warned, though, I can fall out of these fandoms at any time — my interests are almost always fluctuating.

This blog is safe for minorities! (e.g. disabled ppl, LGBTQ+ ppl, BIPOC, Palestinians, etc.)

16+ only blog btw, no kiddos

Other stuff under the cut!

(divider gif via @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

My asks are open! Feel free to ask me stuff about my hyperfixations, or whatever you wanna know about me, as long as it’s not too personal.

Commissions are closed. You can still support me by donating/tipping! Ko-Fi linked below!

My other socials:

My YouTube channel (I don’t upload much)

My Wattpad I can’t link for some reason. My @ is goblinbugthing on there (I hardly ever touch this one)

My AO3 (All my fics live here now)

My $$app (Consider supporting me and my reckless spending addiction)

My Ko-Fi (Support me with tips!)

My other blogs:

@princes-creations-askblog — An askblog specifically for my OCs.

@ask-emporianroyals-au — My AHiT AU askblog.

@kirby-souljourney-au — My Kirby AU blog.

@hollowknightinsanity — My HK sideblog.

@xx-scene4ngel-xx — My RP blog, where I act as my fursona.

Current works:

Kirby: Soul Journey — My Kirby AU fanfiction, taking place after Kirby and the Forgotten Land. (Read on Tumblr / Read on Wattpad / Read on AO3) (To be rewritten)

Kirby: Soul Journey oneshots collection — A set of oneshots created for K:SJ. (Read on Tumblr / Read on Wattpad / Read on AO3) (To be rewritten)

Hollow Knight: Empty Promises — A set of fics created for my base Hollow Knight AU, Empty Promises. (Read on AO3 / Wattpad link to be added)

My tag key:

#buggie’s rambles — Text posts

#buggie’s randoms — Nonsense stuff! In other words, my homemade memes

#buggie’s doodles — Doodles and sketches

#buggie’s characters — OC stuff

#buggie’s creations — Proper artwork

#buggie’s creations (in the making) — Work-in-progress artworks

#buggie’s building paradise — All my Minecraft build stuff :3 (here’s a list of all the mods i use if you want em)

#buggie’s stories — My original writing

#buggie’s answers — My answered asks

#buggie’s polls — Self-explanatory. My polls

#buggie’s queue — The Very Rare Queued Posts

#buggie’s stims — Stuff I stim to

#buggie’s sluttery — Anything super suggestive or borderline NSFW

#buggie irl — IRL pics of me, mostly just my gender euphoria

#saved 4 serotonin production — My comfort tag

#quicksave — Stuff I want to look at later

#important — Self-explanatory. Important stuff

#semi-important — I’m honestly not sure, just scroll through the tag if you want an idea, because I can’t describe it myself

#besties doodles — Art from my mutuals

#besties rambles — Ramblings from my mutuals

#other’s art (it’s awesome) — Other people’s awesome art

#bbg tag — Posts both by me and by other people about my F/Os

#images that describe my gender — My gender envy tag. Don’t question the stuff that’s in there.

I tag triggers with #cw (trigger).

I tag OCs with #oc: (oc).

If I make any new tags (or remember any ones I forgot), this section will be updated!

Also, please keep in mind that tumblr is a bit fucky and sometimes doesn’t show posts under tags for some reason! Some posts might have my old tags on them.

And I believe that’s it! Enjoy your time here :)

[nocknocknock]

New Chapter for New World Development

On Monday, shares of the major Hong Kong property developer New World Development (0017.HK) registered a significant surge. The stock price increased by 11.8% to HKD 5.39, marking the steepest rise since December 27. This movement comes amid the company’s announcement of plans to boost cash flow and reduce debt, despite reporting an interim net loss of HKD 6.63 billion (approximately USD 852.63 million).

Market Overview

Recent trading sessions have drawn attention to several key developments:

A notable spike in share prices reaching new highs.

Announcements focused on improving financial performance through enhanced cash flow and proactive debt reduction.

Disclosure of an interim net loss, highlighting the challenging financial landscape faced by the company.

These market dynamics underscore increased investor interest in New World Development, reflecting a busy period on the Hong Kong stock exchange.

Critical Points

New World Development’s shares rose by 11.8% to HKD 5.39.

The interim net loss amounted to HKD 6.63 billion.

Strategic steps include aggressive property sales and reductions in capital expenditures.

Key Steps for Stabilization

The company disclosed plans to enhance cash flow, an essential signal regarding its financial stability.

Initiatives aimed at reducing debt are expected to lower the high debt-to-equity ratio.

Strategic property sales are being implemented to optimize the balance sheet.

The company reaffirmed that it is not currently considering a comprehensive debt restructuring plan, indicating a gradual approach to refining its financial policies.

Analysis of Risks and Debt Load

Despite these positive signals, the market remains cautious. New World Development’s debt-to-equity ratio now exceeds 88%, one of the highest in the industry. Financial analysts warn that any further deterioration in the company’s debt situation could trigger a crisis reminiscent of the turmoil seen on mainland China in 2021, when a series of corporate defaults sent ripples through the market.

Outlook and Conclusions

The recent measures and resulting market movements signal New World Development’s efforts to stabilize its finances despite a high debt load. The initiatives to increase cash flow and reduce liabilities are central to its strategy. Nevertheless, continuous monitoring is essential, as prevailing macroeconomic conditions and lingering financial risks could impact the long-term stability of the property developer.

Our website: https://goldriders-robot.com/

Follow us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/goldridersfb

Follow us on Pinterest: https://ru.pinterest.com/goldridersrobot/

Follow us on X: https://x.com/goldridersx?s=21

Follow us on Telegram: https://t.me/+QtMMmyyVhJExZThi

[commercialawarenesstoday]

Country Garden's offshore debt

Country Garden's entire offshore debt to be in default if Tuesday payment not made

HONG KONG, Oct 17 (Reuters) - Country Garden's (2007.HK) entire offshore debt will be deemed to be in default if China's largest property developer fails to make a $15 million coupon payment on Tuesday, the end of a 30-day grace period.Non-payment of this tranche is set to trigger cross defaults in other bonds as is standard in bond contracts.

Lack of payment - which is expected after Country Garden last week warned about its inability to meet offshore debt obligations - would make the firm the latest in scores of Chinese developers who have defaulted.

[rukafais]

do you know if there's a comprehensive list of content/trigger warnings for hollow knight anywhere? i'm trying to put together a list for a friend who's thinking about checking out the game and i'm worried i might miss some, since its such a big game and deals with so much potentially disturbing content

If there is, I don’t know of one, unfortunately! I can throw together a shortlist of what i think are the biggest ones to help you out though. Breakdown below.

I think the biggest one that got a few of my friends was strong body horror (infection/disease, parasites) due to the prevalence of enemies that have deformed bodies/clear signs of infection. Sickness/infection triggers are also another big one. Death is a given since it’s everywhere, but for spoilers I’d highlight child death in particular (for the backstory stuff) and pooossiblyyyy assisted suicide (since there are a handful of characters you can either help kill or have to help kill). Apocalyptic scenarios is probably one I’d warn for as well given the implications of what happened to Hallownest.

I hope this helps a bit!

[blubgod-art]

i wanted to draw bugs in suits a while back so heres the thing i finally finished

[cad-faoi-maeglin]

Absolute chaos here in Hong Kong this morning. But first, a bit of background from last week:

During a protest, a university student fell from a height and passed away several days later in hospital. The story that I originally heard was that he was trying to get away from tear gas. However, students from the university demanded that the university president request the cctv footage of the event. Video footage shows someone being thrown from a height by a police officer. It's believed that this someone is the student. This would make this the first death directly associated with police actions (I say 'directly' as there have been a number of rather suspicious deaths...). There's also evidence of the police blocking the way of the ambulance that tried to attend to the student. Reports say that they were delayed in reaching him by about 20min.

Obviously and rightly people have been angered by this. There was an attempt to arrange a strike for today and, in an attempt to enforce it, roads have been blocked by protesters. At one of these blockages a police officer grabbed a protester and held on to him. A second protester made a grab for the first protester, trying to save him. The police officer's response was to shoot the second protester (it looks to be in the stomach) . I've heard the gun was loaded with live ammunition. I have also heard that this second protester was a secondary school student. I've seen the video, he was not armed. He is currently in hospital.

(I say 'I've heard' about things because I often have this news translated for me from local news sources that I can't read. The people who do the translating though are native Cantonese speakers.)

[vynnyal]

Oh my god I'm gonna cry all over y'all if you leave even one more nice comment,,,, hELP,,,

[bambheez]

help idk how many I’m suppose to ask but 25 26 60 63 !!!!! 🧏‍♀️

25. where do you want to travel to?

i've been to almost nowhere in east asia so taiwan, hk, japan & sk are at the top of my list rn... maybe i can knock them all out in one super long trip lol

26. what is your favorite film?

better days (a chinese movie) .... i have never cried so much from a movie in my life but there are a lot of trigger warnings associated w it so do your research beforehand if u watch!

60. hugs or kisses?

hmmm if we're talking in a sfw context then probably hugs LOL

63. netflix or youtube?

youtube all the way bc i spend 98% of my time watching vloggers and kpop content and i also don't have a netflix subscription lmao

ask game

[toriirp]

JESSICO - (@toriijessewu)

Nome completo: Jessico Yixuan Wu

Data de nascimento: 25/10/1994

Local de nascimento: São Paulo - SP.

Etnia: Sino-brasileiro.

Residência: Liberdade.

Ocupação: Estudante de História (USP) e atendente na Livraria HK.

FC: Jackson Wang, solo.

Temas de interesse: Angst, Crack, Fluff, Romance, Shipping, Smut.

Trigger Warning: Uso de drogas não-lícitas, xenofobia, bullying.

Biografia: 

Se Jesse pudesse definir sua vida com uma frase, ela com certeza seria “pensei que fosse outra coisa”.

Sua mãe, uma médica de 30 anos formada há pouco, nascida no Brasil mas filha de imigrantes chineses, conseguiu guardar um dinheiro e reservar um espaço em sua agenda para um simpósio nos Estados Unidos que tanto queria participar. Do outro lado do mundo, o seu pai, também médico, no auge da sua carreira aos 34, tinha o mesmo destino; sair de Hong Kong para participar do simpósio. E foi assim que eles se conheceram… e que foi concebido.

Apesar da criação conservadora de ambos os lados, quais eram os riscos de algumas noites de diversão? Acontece que algumas semanas após voltarem para seus devidos países e iniciarem uma troca de e-mails demorada - até porque internet boa não existia naquela época -, Angela se descobriu grávida. Esperava que Laoyang não fosse aceitar, mas o chinês não apenas aceitou como queria se casar, se mudar e ajudar a cuidar da criança. Claro que a família estranhou o casamento tão rápido, mas uma mentira aqui e ali foi o suficiente para encobrir a concepção do garoto.

E ai que veio a segunda pegadinha na vida dele.

Seus pais não conseguiram determinar o sexo do bebê. A maioria dos exames foi inconclusivo, mas o “achismo” da dona Wong determinava, com 100% de certeza, baseado nos estudos da Universidade do Achismo, que como a barriga era muito redonda, com certeza era uma menina. E a dona Wu, quando viu a barriga, confirmou; com certeza era uma menina. E após algumas discussões das famílias, foi decidido que seu nome seria Jessica.

Qual foi a surpresa de todos quando o bebê saiu e era um menino. É difícil acreditar que dois médicos foram na onda da crendice, mas confiavam tanto na sabedoria materna que não pensaram em um nome caso fosse um menino. Resultado? “Só muda o final, continua bonito”. Jessico. Pois é.

Não bastava ser descendente de asiáticos e ter que ouvir inúmeras vezes piadas envolvendo pastel, cachorro, ouvir aquela música insuportável do É o Tchan (“Arigatou? Sayonara? Eu sou chinês, que inferno!”), olhos puxados, ainda tinha que ter um nome brasileiro ridículo e um chinês que não conseguiam pronunciar. E em casa, ainda tinha que aprender mandarim, pois seus pais e os avós exigiam que ele aprendesse a língua. Demorou algum tempo para que começasse a se abrir para a cultura do qual era descendente.

O que foi o diferencial para ele foi uma heroína chamada Mulan. Tinha por volta de dez anos quando finalmente entendeu o filme, e poxa, era uma heroína e era chinesa! Foi sua avó quem contou sobre o poema da Mulan, e com aqueles anos aprendendo e convivendo com a língua da sua família, o garoto sentiu vontade de conhecer mais. Foi na Livraria HK que aprendeu mais sobre a cultura das suas origens, onde verdadeiramente despertou seu interesse por leitura também.

Apesar dos hobbies do jovem Jesse serem mais solitários, ele se tornou um garoto extrovertido e simpático. Em um ponto, era como se as críticas e zoações de pessoas de fora não o atingissem mais, não importava. Com o interesse em sua cultura, acabou aprendendo alguns preceitos básicos do taoísmo e do confucionismo com suas avós, começou a frequentar alguns templos quando os encontrava, e um aprendizado ficou guardado em sua mente. “Se não sabes, aprende; se já sabes, ensina.” Ao invés de rebater ou tentar se defender, começou a mostrar coisas interessantes sobre a China aos seus colegas, coisas clichês até - alguns simplesmente o ignoraram e largaram de mão, mas alguns realmente se viram interessados.

Teve uma adolescência tranquila, e começou a trabalhar aos 16 anos na Livraria HK, pois por mais que tivesse dinheiro em casa, aquilo era dos pais, e ele se sentia no dever de começar a buscar pela sua independência. E viu o quanto isso foi necessário pouco após completar 18 anos e conseguir entrar na USP, o que era uma vitória por si só! Mas… No curso de Letras, com foco em Mandarim. Os pais ficaram possessos, afinal, Jessico tivera notas tão boas que poderia ingressar em um curso mais “nobre” (aos olhos deles), mas o garoto foi irredutível. Isso foi o que começou a minar sua relação com os pais.

O segundo momento foi quando ocorreu um imprevisto, o segundo momento errado da sua vida. Havia comprado alguns brigadeiros “gourmet” ao sair da faculdade, eram caros mas pareciam bons. E realmente estavam! Mas… Por que tudo, de repente, se tornou tão engraçado? Em casa, onde normalmente era silencioso, só se ouviam as risadas do garoto, e avaliando seu estado, não demorou para que os pais, ambos médicos, determinassem que ele estava muito chapado. E não adiantou ele se explicar, pois aos olhos dos pais, “foi só entrar em um curso de humanas que começou a usar drogas”. Incrivelmente, apenas sua avó acreditou no garoto, e não se importou de abrir espaço para ele em sua casa quando os pais gentilmente “sugeriram” que ele se mudasse.

Precisou trancar o curso por alguns semestres. Os avós tinham um restaurante pequeno na Liberdade, além de venderem alguns doces típicos chineses na feirinha de final de semana, e o chinês se desdobrava para ajudá-los. Assim, aprendeu a cozinhar muito bem, além de ter mais contato com os avós e ouvir histórias deles sobre a vida na China antes de se mudarem para o Brasil. Seus filhos mais velhos haviam continuado por lá e sua mãe havia nascido no Brasil. Para seus avós, conviver com Jessico era como ter um novo filho - porém muito mais interessado no que eles tinham para dizer.

Guardava dinheiro, e depois de quatro semestres trancados, havia juntado dinheiro o bastante para visitar a China. Conseguiu passar um mês lá, na casa de seus tios em Shanghai, e foi uma experiência única! Quando voltou, estava disposto a retornar os estudos, mas de uma forma diferente. Mudou o curso para bacharelado em História, e sua intenção era continuar seus estudos independentes sobre as línguas e dialetos chineses, mas se especializar na história do Oriente ao se formar.

Acabou se mudando para um quitinete próximo da casa dos avós, na Liberdade, e ainda os visitava sempre que tinha um tempinho na semana.

Personalidade: 

“De boas intenções, o inferno está cheio”. Essa é outra frase boa para definir Jesse. Suas intenções são boas, praticamente o tempo todo, mas ele às vezes acaba falando algo que não devia, ou fazendo piada em momento inapropriado. Não é por mal, não é ser “ruim”, é basicamente desastrado, e péssimo em ler o ambiente.

Mas ele é esforçado, e muito! Não se importa se precisar virar a noite estudando ou ajudando os avós, ele sabe que é o melhor a fazer no presente, e que os frutos serão colhidos no futuro. Seus avós haviam batalhado tanto para conseguir se estabilizar em um país completamente diferente, com uma língua desconhecida, por que ele, que tivera muito mais regalias, não iria se esforçar tanto quanto eles?

Além disso, tem jeito para lidar com as pessoas. Pode não ler ambientes muito bem, mas faz o que estiver ao seu alcance quando quer deixar alguém confortável com ele. Além disso, gosta de fazer as pessoas rirem e de conversar. Uma borboletinha social.

Ambições para o futuro: 

A primeira coisa que Jessico quer é se formar, e fazer um mestrado sobre a História do Oriente. Ainda está decidindo o que fará no futuro, se irá dar aulas ou se trabalhará como curador em algum museu. Tem muito interesse em visitar novamente a China, mas dessa vez por um tempo maior, e quem sabe, com os avós, que sentem saudades de sua terra.

Atualmente, deixa suas possibilidades em aberto. Prefere ver o caminho no qual a vida o levará.

O que é a Liberdade para o seu personagem?

Vai além de um local. Para Jessico, a Liberdade é uma parte essencial da sua história. Foi a morada de seus avós, foi onde começou a ter interesse pela sua história, onde começou a trabalhar, onde deixou de ser apenas um garoto e se tornou um homem trabalhador. Seu caráter foi moldado nas ruas e vielas da Liberdade, nos seus templos e livrarias, nas longas conversas de final de tarde com os avós enquanto faziam biscoitos da sorte, um “agrado” que sempre entregavam aos clientes.

[rukafais]

amalgarn replied to your post: do you know if there's a comprehensive list of...

massive creepy crawlies and light jumpscare triggers for deepnest

^

i feel like there’s probably a trigger for the audio work there too bc its designed to give you the heebly jeeblies on purpose but i have no idea what that might be called. Unsettling/horror audio possibly.

[one-boring-person]

Who's Side Are You On? (Part Nine)

The Terminator (1984) reader insert

Warnings: violence, gun use, blood, injury, mention of war, bad language

Context: (Y/n) tries to hold off the T-800 as it finally finds them again.

A/N: I reckon they'll only be two more chapters of this left after this one, so you guys only have to put up with that before I move onto T2😅💛

Masterlist

For what feels like the hundredth time today I ignore the dirty look I receive from the motel owner, my deliberate pacing on the roof of the building irritating him to no end. Not even looking at him, I decide instead to watch out over the roads around us, keeping my eyes open for the killing machine chasing us, well aware of the fact that Sarah has most likely alerted it to our whereabouts with her little call to her mother, which she has yet to tell Kyle about. Adjusting my grip on the handgun stuck in my belt, I sigh and shake my head, wincing as the movement jerks my wound a little, the bandage already feeling uncomfortable again; I've been shot before, but the healing process has never hurt this much before.

Growing tired, I sit down on the edge of the building, looking out at the road as I let my legs hang loosely, my chin propped up on my hand as I lean on my leg, my mind straying back to thoughts of my own time. Somehow, I find myself missing the more militaristic style of living I used to lead, the friends I've made along the way all stuck decades into the future, my hard-learned habits no longer as useful as they once were. No one in this time needs to be able to outrun a cybernetic organism, or fight off a killer robot with no other intent but to kill off humans, or even know how to navigate huge piles of debris and safely get a team of soldiers across them without being picked up by the HKs. If I survive this ordeal, then there'll be no real place in the world for me. Not for thirty years or so.

Shaking my head again, I tear myself from my thoughts, my eyes focusing lazily on a motorcyclist on a red bike approaching the motel, the leather-clad rider seemingly massive compared with the vehicle. I frown at this and sit upright, only now noticing something about them: they have no apparent regard for the people around them, their driving out of place and mechanical. It dawns on me, then, who exactly it is, my eyes widening as I scramble to my feet, racing over to the ladder I used to climb up, ignoring the pain in my abdomen as I upset my wound again, near enough sliding down the length of it in my haste to get down. Already, I can hear the bike pulling to a stop outside, the engine cutting sharply, though I barely register this as I sprint over to the room Kyle and Sarah are in. Without a second thought, I throw open the door and charge in, breathing heavily as I call out to them, not quite taking in their basically naked forms.

"It's here! We have to go!" I inform them, breathlessly turning to look back out of the door as I start to hear the dog at the front start barking, the sound eerily reminiscent of the hounds back home, which are trained to suss out Terminators.

"Shit! Where should we go?" Kyle curses as he pulls on his shoes, taking up his shotgun as he moves over to the door.

"I don't know, but you two need to go!"

"Us? What about you?"

"I'm a liability, I'll follow you on the bike if I'm safe. Go!" I snap at him, angry that I have to point out my biggest flaw to my own brother, shooing them out of the back door as I duck out if the front, going to hide behind a car nearby, just in time for the T-800 to round the corner, rifle and shotgun at the ready.

It strides to the door I just left through, smashing it in and firing off multiple shots with the rifle, pelting the interior with bullets as it swiftly takes care of any threat that is possibly present. At the sound of the gunshots, I start to feel myself black out, dark spots quickly taking over my vision.

*

After one swift, efficient check, the Terminator is quick to move on, easily deriving that there is no one present in the room, moving to leave it again, only to be shot through the temple, a bloody hole appearing in his forehead as his head snaps back suddenly. Righting himself again, he scans the area and finds the soldier standing by a nearby car, a handgun raised at his head as she prepares to shoot again, face blank and expressionless. Identifying the target, the cyborg shows a vague change in expression which could be taken as surprise, him clearly having dismissed her as a terminated victim, before he moves on her, his shotgun raised as he fires a shell at her, catching her shoulder as she shoots him again. Her body falls backwards, blood spilling from the new wound, though she shows no recollection of the pain as she forces herself upright again, taking the gun in her other hand and taking aim again. By now, however, the other Terminator has moved into her proximity, however, rendering their firearms inefficient and mostly useless now.

Without dropping them, the two advance on each other, eyes fixed on each other (despite the male's being hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses), both of them stiff and tense until (Y/n) suddenly lunges forwards, swinging the handgun round to connect with the other's face. His head cracks round, being met with another blow as she instantly backhands him, her foot also connecting with his lower abdomen with swift kick. Being met with solid muscle, however, she is thrown off balance, allowing the T-800 to take hold of her ankle and readjust itself, using this grip as leverage. With a brisk jerk, he's thrown her backwards, her smaller body crashing into the car behind her, several ribs breaking on impact, glass embedding itself in the back of her head as it snaps against the windows. Seconds later, she is hurled against the opposing car, face first, the windshield shattering under the force, blood coating the splintered glass as cuts and gashes appear on (Y/n)'s face, only to be yanked backwards again, body colliding roughly with the concrete floor beneath them. Stunned, she lies still for a minute, the soldier having to take time to recover as the cyborg levels his gun at her, emotionless as he goes to pull the trigger.

The sound of a car pulling away draws his attention, his scanners easily identifying his two primary targets in the vehicle, distracting him from his current job. This gives (Y/n) the chance to grab the handgun from its place on the floor and fire three consecutive shots straight into the cyborg's body, making him stagger back with the unexpected force. Seeing the opportunity, she then kicks out at him, catching him hard in the lower stomach, causing him to bend over a little, allowing her to give a harsh kick to his head. Thrown off, he then staggers back again, only to regain his composure enough to deliver one hard kick straight to (Y/n)'s chin, momentarily knocking her out cold.

With this problem out of the way, he then moves off to his motorcycle, climbing on and kicking it into gear, racing off after the rapidly retreating car bearing his two primary targets, leaving the soldier fading in and out of conscience on the pavement.

Giving her head one firm shake, (Y/n) forces herself to stand back up again, ignoring any disorientation as she goes to her own motorbike, hastily mounting it after reloading the handgun. Kicking the ignition on, she throws the gears up and hurtles off after her own targets, dodging in and out of traffic with little concern for what might happen to her.

Part Ten

[the-original-b]

Archangel Chapter 9: Mergers and Acquisitions

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 1 of 9 (The Story So Far | The Beginning)

Word Count: c. 4,000

Summary: Now a contractor for the Marlow Partners Northeast Regional headquarters, Specialist Krueger recognizes the emergence of a disturbing trend in the field. 

Warning(s): blood, violence, drug use

He released his hands from around her neck when she finally stopped struggling as he stood up to look down at her and study her chest, looking for stillness to indicate she wasn’t breathing anymore. When satisfied he ran his fingers first through the pockets of her hoodie, then her pants to find what he was after—a tiny bag half-filled with a chalky substance resembling powdered drywall.

He emptied the contents of the bag into a bent spoon and held a butane torch to its bottom, applying the heat in five-second intervals so as to only melt his prize down and not burn it, then placed a cotton ball into the puddle of fluid that had accumulated in the spoon. He applied his syringe to the cotton ball to draw the liquid out, inspected it, and stuck the needle into his arm to depress the plunger and lose his senses.

 ~~

He hadn’t felt the suppressor can when Milo Krueger, clad in a dark turtleneck sweater and tactical pants, arrived later and pressed the muzzle of his .45 ACP Colt Government against the back of his head, and didn’t protest when he thumbed back the hammer, tilted the handgun a little and squeezed the trigger. With his other gloved hand he caught the spent brass mid-flight and hung onto it a while to cool before placing it into his coat pocket and holstering his weapon. He turned his attention to the other body in the room and sat down on the bed next to it to study the poor girl’s pale face and lifeless expression, fearing the worst.

He un-gloved one of his hands to rest the backs of his fingers on her forehead, and pulled it back when he felt just how much cooler her skin was than his; confirming he was far too late to do anything to save her.

“Verdammt,” he exhaled, sitting at the foot of the bed she laid upon. He reached into his inside coat pocket to find his phone and dial her number. “It’s me,” Krueger said soon after she answered. “I found her.”

In his mind’s eye, he could see Elizabeth Khai straighten up in her chair at the news. “Can you get her out?” she asked.

“Not going to happen,” he continued, looking back down at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Shit…” Khai sighed on the other end of the line. “I’ll talk to Isaac and let him know what happened,” she conceded. “Come back to the branch, he’ll want to hear it from you.”

“Understood.” Krueger shut the phone and returned it to his coat pocket before standing up again. He looked down at the girl one last time and offered her a silent apology before turning for the exit.

On his way out he took another glance at the man he just executed, and spotted track marks and bruises running up the length of his left arm. Directly below his fingertips was a syringe half-full of a cloudy solution.

He’d seen that same substance in half-depleted syringes enough times over the last few months to recognize the emerging trend and deduce the circumstances behind the homicide. He would address this when he returned to the branch.

~~~~

Krueger stepped through the glass doors of the office and made his way to the conference room, where he knew Khai and Hayden would be that afternoon.

“Hi, Mr. Krueger,” Danielle said from behind her desk. “They’re just wrapping up another meeting, you can head right in.”

He offered her a nod. “Danke,” he added. He made his way through the hallway and stepped through the double doors, then quietly sat himself down by the foot of a long table in the center of the room as Khai and Isaac Hayden conferred with another person at the other end. Hayden and the other person he didn’t recognize were standing as they talked while Khai sat.

“With respect, Mr. Hayden,” the other man presented his case, “my guys aren’t super comfortable with the idea of being monitored twenty-four-seven. They’ve always found their own pace; that’s when they do their best work.”

“And what kind of work is it they’re doing, Mr. Leo?” Hayden enquired. “I haven't seen a report from your group in months now, have I?” He wore a dark gray pinstriped suit and white shirt with a rosewood red tie and pocket square. “Can I trust that you can maintain control over your operation from a distance?”

 “Of course you can,” Leo snapped. “My guys are rock solid, I got no problem letting them do their thing. But they can’t perform the way they have been if your people are watching them all the time, that’s all I’m saying.”

 “It’s not supervision,” Hayden lectured, “it’s reassurance. We all know how it is you've made your fortune; nobody here is in the dark on what goes on at the street level. But I remain unconvinced that you’re willing to leave your past behind… and your judgement on the matter is no longer considered sound.”

Leo recoiled, visibly offended by what Hayden said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your two weeks’ notice has been filed and processed. It will take me some time to find a suitable replacement for you, and you may continue your work as usual during the interim. But the next time you and I speak, it will be about the process of transition.” He gestured the exit, dismissing him. “You can let yourself out, Mr. Leo.”

Leo briefly clenched his fists, then loosened them as he turned away from Khai and Hayden and headed past Krueger toward the door.

When Leo was gone, Krueger stood up and approached the other two people in the room.

“Miss Khai made me aware of what happened this morning in the Rockaways,” Hayden said as he turned to address Krueger. “I’ve sent my condolences to the mother and father, and made burial arrangements.”

Krueger nodded. “There was another syringe there,” he said. “Narcotics.”

“Dragon Tears,” Khai confirmed, standing to match the other men in the room with her and freeing one hand from her note pad to adjust her glasses. She wore a navy blue skirt suit with black tights and round-toe pumps, her hair down past her shoulders. “The new deluxe heroin that’s dominated the headlines all over the East Coast as of late.”

“Is this us?”

Khai hesitated a little. “Not directly,” she said. “We levy steep fees to allow the stuff into the Tri-state, but none of our people distribute. Mr. Hayden is adamant about that.”

“You may not agree with our handling of the material, Mr. Krueger,” Hayden explained, “but understand—it is simply too profitable an opportunity to pass… and our, regulation, doubles as quality control for both the vendors and their clientele.”

Krueger nodded, keeping his disapproval to himself. “I see…” He gestured the exit, referring to Leo. “And your last conversation?”

“Tyson Leo was a small-time dealer,” Khai elaborated. “Until he got connected with a supplier of the Dragon Tears and expanded his network to encompass all of southeastern Long Island. That’s when he showed up on my radar. At first, Mr. Hayden and I let him keep the drugs in exchange for forty percent of what he makes from them. But now that we’ve folded him in formally, we ordered him to walk away from the drugs.”

“Mr. Leo is a capable leader,” Hayden added, “respected among his peers, but he's restricted by his myopic aspirations. I had hoped he could rise above the chaff and prove himself superior to his associates; I was wrong. The goal of becoming a narcotics kingpin was too deeply rooted in his actions for him to change his ways…” Hayden gathered his coat and slipped it on over his suit. “But there may yet be a way forward,” he mused. “You’ll head to Patchogue tonight, Mr. Krueger. Observe his den from a distance and report what you see.”

Again, Krueger kept his objections to himself. “Understood.”

“You and I will speak soon. Good day to you both.” Hayden exited the conference room, leaving Khai and Krueger alone with each other.

Khai placed her pen and pad on the table top after Hayden had left the room. “I guess that means we’ll need a rain check for our dinner plans.”

“So scheint es,” Krueger noted. He offered her a sorrowful smirk. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know you will,” Khai said. She shot him a wink before turning to head toward her desk. “I’ll have CJ meet you in the armory downtown,” she continued as she took her seat. “He talked about updating our inventory and replacing a few things, so I let him order a small shipment to field test. I would very much appreciate your help with that.”

“Do you think I’ll run into much trouble on a recon assignment?”

“Nothing you can’t handle,” she noted with a mischievous smirk, lacing her fingers together and resting her forearms on the desk top.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll see what Young Mr. Silvio has for me.” Krueger took his leave, allowing Khai to finalize the funeral arrangements for the girl.

 ~~~~

Krueger inspected and approved of the reconnaissance equipment when he made it to the armory later that afternoon. “Miss Khai said you’re updating the inventory here?” he said.

“Yep,” CJ replied. “Figure if this place is one of my responsibilities, I’d better make sure it’s up and running without a hitch.”

“Agreed,” he noted, leaning against a workstation and crossing his arms, “but having your associates learn a set of completely new and unfamiliar tools at this point is far from advantageous.”

“Well, that’s why you’re here,” he jested. “To teach us your ways, impart your knowledge. Besides, this is a new branch, Krueger. A new branch needs a new armory. Speaking of which…” CJ Silvio reached up and pulled one of the new arrivals from the wall—a polymer framed handgun resembling a cross between a Glock 17 and a HK P30. “Steyr M,” he said, handing it to Krueger to inspect. “Nine millimeter. The sights are supposed to be better than the competition, and they’re cheaper than Five-sevens.”

Krueger familiarized himself with the feel and weight of the weapon. He held the weapon in a weaver stance and looked down the sights, making sense of the unfamiliar picture composed of a trapezoidal rear notch and triangular front blade. “Suppressor?”

“You bet.” He handed Krueger a suppressor and a pair of fifteen-round magazines. “Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

Krueger attached the can to the end of the handgun and looked down the sights again, dry-firing to get a sense of the trigger weight. “Ja.” He accepted both magazines, sliding one into the handgun and engaging the safety. He placed the other in one of the pockets of his pants before heading for the exit.

 ~~~~

Krueger observed a one-story house on Carman Street through his binoculars from behind his windshield, the directional microphone resting on the car roof pointed toward the house. Even at this hour the crowds were gathered in force a few blocks north on Main Street, hopping from bar to bar as they satisfied their fleshly desires. He found a measure of solace in the fact that he still had a few short years to go before his daughter Victoria would spend any amount of time or money in this town—and if she did, it would be on Main Street, not at some drug den.

He watched and listened for hours, the microphone’s earbud in one ear and his communicator in the other. “Leo hasn’t come out of the house since he got there,” he said into the receiver. “He’s in with four other men his age.”

“His lieutenants,” Hayden surmised. “Have they had other visitors?”

“Food delivery… and UPS.” Krueger watched the door and partially obscured windows for any sign of activity that would confirm or deny Hayden’s suspicions; whatever shadows he could see through them weren’t giving him any clues. He watched in silence until a person wearing a hooded sweatshirt came into view and walked up to the door. “Hold on,” Krueger noted. “I might have something…”

The person in the hoodie—Krueger couldn’t tell from this distance whether it was a man or woman—knocked on the door four times. Then the door was cracked open a tiny bit, and the hooded figure tried to discreetly hand the person on the other side of the door a crumpled fistful of dollar bills before the door shut. Krueger saw right through it; this person was buying something.

The door opened again and the hooded person accepted a bag of powder from the one behind it. The hooded person took the bag and stepped away from the house, stuffing it in his or her pants pocket as he or she did, then headed down the street toward wherever he or she would spend the night.

“You were right to suspect Mr. Leo,” Krueger commented. “Someone just bought drugs from the house.”

Krueger heard Hayden sigh on the other end. “Then I believe it’s time to shut him down… Scuttle the operation,” he ordered.

“And Leo?”

“Crew expendable.”

Krueger only had a moment’s pause before reaching up through the moon roof to retrieve the directional microphone and put the binoculars away. “Understood.” He deactivated his communicator and shut the engine off, then reached into his coat for his handgun to disengage the safety and chamber the first round. He exited the car and strode down half the block to the house.

When he arrived, he knocked on the door four times at the observed frequency, then drew his weapon and held its muzzle against the door. As soon as the knob twisted and the door opened a little, held by a chain lock, Krueger pressed his weight against the door to hold it open while he fired twice through the door into the person standing behind it. He kicked the door free, knocking the wounded person to the floor before raising his gun and finishing him with two more shots.

Krueger turned his attention toward one other person scrambling for cover behind a doorway, raised his weapon, and put him down with a single well-placed shot. He proceeded deeper into the house, peering around the corner into the kitchen area and dropping the two people there with accurate shots placed between Ziploc bags of off-white powder and triple beam balance scales resting on the table.

He listened for more movement around him, and hearing none, proceeded deeper into the house. He went room to room hunting Leo, and found him curled up on a mattress on the floor, passed out with a depleted syringe in his hand. Krueger raised his gun one-handed, hesitating for a moment before lining up the sights and squeezing the trigger to execute him.

“Weak,” he commented, lowering the weapon.

Krueger returned his gun to the holster and placed his hands in his coat pockets as he walked back down the hallway to the front door, careful not to place his step in the growing puddles of blood on the floor as he headed out the house and back down Carman Street to his car. He entered the vehicle and sat down behind the wheel, starting the engine and fishing his phone out of his inside pocket to report to Hayden as he drove off.

 ~~~~

Krueger keyed open his front door and stepped into his home in Rego Park when he arrived an hour later. He hung his coat and weapon holster on the rack in the corner next to Khai’s and sat down on the adjacent bench to remove his boots as Khai addressed him from his kitchenette, the evening news on in the background.

“How was Patchogue?” she said from behind her laptop screen.

“Messy,” he replied as he stepped out of his boots and lifted his turtleneck sweater off himself, revealing a black A-shirt which his lean athletic frame filled perfectly. “Had to close business… I tested Silvio’s new arrival,” he added as he walked up to her. “It worked very well.”

“Well,” she noted, standing to greet him in an oversized sweater and a pair of leggings, “he’s grown a lot since Williamsburg. I’d expect no less.” She properly greeted him by wrapping one arm around his neck and planting a string of long kisses on his mouth as she ran her other hand through his hair. These days he had allowed his military fade haircut to grow a little, and it took on a messier look which she liked.

Krueger returned her affections in kind, holding her close by her waist as he kissed her.

When they broke contact, Khai noticed an expression she hadn’t seen in his eyes in a long time—doubt. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Leo,” he said after a brief pause.

“That bad, huh?”

“Hayden was right to suspect him. He was dealing; I called it in, and he had me wipe them out. And I did without a second thought.”

“It can’t be the first time you cleaned up a heroin den.”

“Far from it, but it was never… an associate.” He stopped himself from saying one of his own.

Khai nodded, understanding exactly where his objection came from. She reached back up and rested her hand on his cheek “It never feels right when it’s somebody we work with,” she said, “and Isaac wouldn’t have given you the order if there were any other way.” Her hand rested on his chest now, feeling the pulse of his beating heart. “You did the right thing, Milo. I promise.”

“Suppose I’ll have to trust your judgement there,” he added resting his hand on top of hers.

“I’ve been right so far, haven’t I?” she jested, reclaiming her seat.

“Well, there was that one thing with Osiris,” he added, matching her tone. He went to the kitchen to fix himself a plate of the food she’d prepared.

“It worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“Sure it did,” he chuckled. He placed himself down across the table from her as he ate, turning his attention to the news behind her. “Vas ist das?” he queried.

“Hm?” Khai followed his gaze to the television behind her. “Oh, they’re following a story about PMC operators in a few cities across the country.”

“A private military company here in the States?”

“Yep. Castle Security Solutions,” she said, turning her laptop around for him to see. “They’ve grown like a weed since U.S. Armed Forces starting pulling out of combat zones across the world. In the early days they’ve replaced the troops in those areas of the world where there was still work available, but recently they started providing additional support for law enforcement. You know, ‘handling the more dangerous parts so the guys and girls in blue can protect and serve.’ So it goes.”

“Do you believe any of that?”

Khai shrugged. “As a citizen, I can’t dispute the results they’ve achieved in the cities they’ve been deployed—Detroit, Memphis, Albuquerque…”

“But as controller of the Branch?” Krueger suggested, placing a forkful of beef and broccoli in his mouth.

“A private militarized police force, with no obligation to anything but the bottom line… that can sink us. Such a presence wouldn’t be caught up in the same bureaucratic obstacles as the regular police that allow organizations like the Marlow Partners to operate just outside of what’s legal. Criminal justice staples like warrants and probable cause will be thrown out for ideals like unfounded suspicion, hearsay, and personal grudges.” She shuddered as she considered the implications of what she just said. “I like to think it’ll never happen in New York but still,” she continued, reclaiming Krueger’s heterochromatic eyes. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re just one bad deal away from signing our own death warrants… We’ll have to be extra careful, going forward.”

 ~~~~

A man in dark slacks and a white shirt pulled his SUV as close to the crime scene as he could get, then stopped the engine and stepped out of the vehicle. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his topcoat as he ducked below the police tape and approached the house on Carman Street, illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights of first responders.

Some uniformed officers took eyewitness statements as crime scene investigators took photos of the scene. The man in the coat wove between them as he made his way to the kicked-in door and peered inside, noting the body with four bullet wounds laid out in the foyer, already marked and noted by the investigators.

“Hey,” one of the officers got his attention. “Can I help you somehow?” His uniform sported a Sergeant’s stripes.

“Hey there,” the newcomer responded in a rich, gravelly baritone. “This your crime scene, Sergeant..?”

“Allers,” the officer said. “And yeah, it’s mine. Who did you say you were?”

“Peter Cross,” he said. “United States Government.” He quickly flashed Allers an ID and badge. “You know what this place was?”

“I heard rumors,” Allers said. “Some kind of heroin nest.”

“Looks like more than that to me.”

“And you know this based on your expertise?” Allers questioned. “I’m sorry, you said you were U.S. Government, right? Which agency, FBI? DEA?”

“Not really,” Cross said, shaking his head. “When the DEA shits the bed, I’m the guy they call to change the sheets.” He thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the house. “Now I’ve seen enough of these dens to know a thing or two about them, so if you like,” he suggested as he took a few steps toward Allers, “I think it would be mutually beneficial for me to stick around for a little bit. Share some insight…” He grinned wryly at the other man.

Allers shrugged. “If you think we missed something, you’re welcome to take a second look Agent Cross.”

“Cool…” He gestured the open door. “Why don’t you show me inside, Sergeant Allers?”

“Follow me.” Allers led Cross to the kitchen area, where the drugs and money was being documented, collected, and marked as evidence. “At first we thought this was a typical gangland hit for the product and the money,” he explained, “but they usually don’t leave the goods behind in raids like that… doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

Cross looked around the room, noting the bodies beside them. He recalled the other one by the door as he played the events in his head as he deduced they played. He gestured the bags of contraband. “Is that what I think it is?”

“The super heroin? Looks like it, but we’ll have to wait for the lab results to be sure.”

“Uh-huh…” Cross leaned against the countertop as he rested his hands on his hips. He looked over to where the kitchen emptied into the central hallway leading to rooms he hadn’t seen yet. “How many bodies?”

“Five, the four you’ve seen plus one more in the master bedroom.”

“You ID any of them?”

“Yeah, we have IDs on all of them,” Allers noted. “These four are nobodies but the one in the master bedroom got our attention: Tyson Leo.”

“Leo..! Son of a bitch…” Cross snapped his fingers as he put the picture together. “Well you’re right about one thing, Sergeant—this was a hit. The work of a professional. Somebody here was out to make a point, not a profit… Share this with the rest of the Suffolk PD,” he suggested, standing up straight again. “This isn’t the first drug den I’ve been to in the last few weeks and I’m betting it won’t be the last.” He headed for the door. “And if I were a betting boy, this drug crisis is going to get a lot bloodier before it goes away.”

“And this is the year they cut our budget,” Allers scoffed, crossing his arms. “Figures.”

“Damn shame,” Cross added. “It would sure be nice if somebody were still around to do fill the gaps in that budget, no?”

(Masterlist | Chapter 10)

[251wpnwrx]

*** TRIGGER WARNING *** I ran across this on them social medias and somewhere somebody is waaaaaay to confident in their plastic poking abilities. HK God's are cringing and crying in a corner somewhere , believe it ! This poor little VP never stood a chance 😔 bless it's soul 🙏🏼 #251WpnWrx #Stippling #PlasticPoker #PolyMelter #GunDestroyer #DontBeThatGuy #HK #HKstyle #HKarmy #Custom #Ruined #Lolz (at Germany) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFxUcvgJpX3/?igshid=1almd097al0n1

[the50-person]

HONG KONG UPDATE 31 AUG 2019 23:30

HK police conduct terrorist attack on multiple MTR stations and trains. Like the government-hired triads of 7.21 Yuen Long terrorist attack, the HK police charge in and violently beat up everyone on sight.

HK police attacked a disabled person in a wheelchair. They whacked them repeatedly on the head.

Trigger warning: Violence, blood

ALERT: 5 lines closed - Kwun Tong line, Tsuen Wan line, Tseung Kwan O line, Island line & South Island line has been suspended by MTR in collab with HK police and gov

[atamascolily]

Lily reads Star Wars: Red Harvest, part four

In which sentient plants offer excellent advice, but it doesn't help, and the zombie mayhem at Sith Hogwarts begins.

(If you’re just joining me, check out the “Red Harvest” tag on my blog for previous posts)

At Sith Hogwarts, we learn that the Big Bad is even more devious than we previously assumed:

Her name’s Hestizo Trace,” the Whiphid said. “She’s the orchid’s keeper. It needs her to—”

“Survive,” Scabrous said. “I know. That’s how I knew you were bringing me the genuine article.” He reached up and touched her face, his gloved hand cold against her cheek, like leather wrapped around an iron rod. “It was the one piece of information that I withheld about the orchid.”

PRO-TIP: DON'T DO BUSINESS WITH THE SITH. THEY *ALWAYS* CHEAT.

The Sith Lord nodded. “My droid will pay you on the way out.”

Time for another double-cross? That droid ain’t a HK for nothing...

Anyway, horrible Sith experiments follow using the orchid. Other Sith students spy and scheme. The student Scabrous tortured to death rises from his cage and breaks free. The zombie's first act is to bite off part of Darth Scabrous's face. Good for him, though it doesn't take.

Metal struck metal with a flat, declarative clang that reminded him somehow of the sound of training blades clashing at the top of the temple. It was a noise that said: Things have been put into motion, and whatever happens next, there will be no going back.

#accurate

More Sith students die, but it's hard to care because they're such terrible people. (Though we also learn that some of them were conscripted into the Academy, so they didn't necessarily start off as terrible people, but they sure are now!) I'm skimming a lot because it's all incredibly violent.

Zo escapes in the chaos. Darth Scabrous does some awful Sith alchemy to keep from turning into more of a monster than he already is. Zo eavesdrop on the Sith masters explaining to the students that it's just another Tuesday:

Zo realized as she listened that she could hear a slight but unmistakable tremor of concern in the Master’s tone. He was doing everything he could to cover it up, and perhaps the students were fooled, but to her mind he might as well have been wearing a placard: I’M DOING MY BEST TO SPIN A SITUATION THAT I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO ABILITY TO COMPREHEND, LET ALONE CONTROL, AND—

The orchid talks to Zo and warns her of trouble, but it doesn't help. The bounty hunter shows up again and grabs her before the infected students do. Cliffhanger!

Meanwhile, we meet a Sith nerd who just wants to translate secret Sith scrolls for Ultimate Power--who is also the only female student we've seen thus far. There's a sentient tree librarian in a crumbling library and I'm here for it.

“Something unsettling you, Kindra?” His voice was thick and raspy. “Some uncertainty of the mind, yes?”

“No.”

The librarian didn’t respond, just continued to slither his branches downward until the great bulk of his trunk dangled upside down in front of her, the warty, centuries-old eyes narrowing with myopic consideration. Dail’Liss had been the curator of the library for as long as anyone could remember, perhaps going back a thousand years or more. Although his elaborate root system was permanently embedded somewhere deep in the foundation, a seemingly endless network of branches and limbs allowed him to slide unimpeded through its walls and hollows. Ironically, it was this constant writhing and squirming that undermined the infrastructure of the building itself. Rumor was that it would only be a matter of time before the Neti brought the library down on top of him, sealing himself forever amid his own precious holdings—a fitting enough end, when Kindra thought about it.

“Look.” Kindra shook her head, increasingly irritated by the librarian’s evasiveness. “Either you have answers for me or you don’t. Either way I’m not going to stay in here and hide.”

“Best course of action, I would say.”

Tree!Librarian is right. She's not going to survive is, she? But I'm still kinda rooting for her, if only because everyone else is so awful in comparison. We haven't seen Kindra doing anything evil yet, but I'm sure she has, if only because she's still alive in this place and kindness is anathema to baby Sith.

The Tree!Librarian also doesn't seem evil... yet? How did he get here? What's his deal and why? I am so curious and this is all the backstory I'm getting, which is to say, almost nothing. Sigh.

One of the students gets bitten. His arm starts rotting.  This Is Fine.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” ...

“About what?”

“I don’t know—this night, everything. You feel it?”

“Nope.” He shook his head, feigning an indifference that he didn’t even remotely feel. “Just another day in paradise, as far as I’m concerned.”

LOL, irony.

More zombies. More attacks on Sith students. Chapter Twenty is called "Lockdown" and I just can't even. Most of the Sith students are literally locked in the cafeteria with their ex-colleagues, and then the bloodbath starts. They're using the Dark Side to fight the zombies. It doesn't go well.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this whole premise is fucking genius, because again, everyone at a Sith Academy is a horrible person doing horrible things in their horrible gothic nightmare castle, so it's hard to feel bad when they are horribly murdered by horrible Sith zombie alchemy monsters. It just feels like Laser-Guided Karma.

Shit just got real because Not!Qui-Gon arrives at the Sith Academy. The mechanic who greeted the bounty hunters is now missing, presumed dead It's tough to be psychometrist when everything you touch generates visions of violent death.

Meanwhile, a handful of surviving Sith students team up, kinda:

Ra’at held Maggs and Hartwig in the same regard that he did the rest of his classmates, with a kind of suspicious indifference. Their motives were purely selfish, as were his; he had no intention of sharing information that didn’t somehow improve his own situation. At this point they all knew something had gone very wrong, contaminating the academy or the entire planet; for the moment they were allies of opportunity.

These Sith can't even work together long enough to survive the crisis. No wonder the Jedi eventually kicked the Siths’ collective asses through the Power of Friendship.

Here, have some conspiracy theories along with your nightmare fuel:

“We all feel something kind of bad in the air, right? Like maybe some kind of a … disease. But who’s to say it’s not just one of Scabrous’s drills?”

Kindra’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

“For all we know he started this himself.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it is a training exercise,” Maggs put in. “Or maybe he’s culling the weak students. It’s happened before. Remember the unakki eye spiders?”

“This is worse,” Kindra said.

“Don’t be so sure,” Hartwig said. “Eleven students went blind. Two of them died. Remember Soid Einray?”

“Soid Einray was a defective already.”

“Maybe, but he still hung himself afterward. And then we found out that Scabrous had reactivated the fertilized spider eggs from the pathogen bank as a nerve-reflexivity drill.” Hartwig refused to lower his stare. “I still wake up with blood in my eyes sometimes.”

Just another day at Sith Hogwarts, am I right? What a terrible place.

Ra’at began concentrating solely on himself and his own survival, forgetting all the others. The Masters at the academy had trained them to fight as a unit when necessary, but a Sith warrior’s true strength lay in his or her own personal will to power. When you could trust no one, fighting alone was axiomatic, a natural state.

Flattening himself to the wall, he felt the Force’s dark side coursing through him, a crackling electric chill that rendered fear and apprehension obsolete, and welcomed it. In that moment, he felt only a ready vigilance, weightless and unrelenting. Since arriving here on Odacer-Faustin, it was the closest to happiness that he dared let himself experience. Yet in so many ways it was superior to any happiness he’d ever encountered. It made traditional happiness look anemic by comparison.

The POV Sith students watch the cafeteria zombie attack on the security cameras, and realize what they're up against. Meanwhile, Zo is also realizing how much trouble she's in, and the orchid is having a breakdown:

They can’t be killed, a voice whispered from the back of her mind, they’re already dead, look at them. At first she thought she was hearing her own thoughts, and then she realized it was the Murakami orchid, roiling in its own guilt and misery, yammering out words that she alone could hear. Dead but alive, Hestizo, dead but alive, I did this to them, it was my fault, when Scabrous put me into that horrible vat, and now I’m inside them—

Poor orchid. I really like that it isn't evil and is just as horrified as Zo about all this. I’m still not sure how that’s possible, or what actually happened, but that’s okay, because none of the character do, either!

Zo is about to be eaten by the zombies, but then--

I’ve got an idea, she told the orchid. Grow.

What?

You’re in them now, she said, aren’t you? You’re a part of them. You said so yourself.

The orchid does, and the zombies explode through Plant Power.

She concentrated harder—she could actually see the flora growing inside the things now, driving it harder, farther, faster from within, even as the orchid began crying out, begging her to stop, telling her that this hurt, it couldn’t do it anymore—

A lot of screaming follows. But it does work. Once. And then the orchid passes out and... becomes evil? Oh, no, I hope not. Turns out the bounty hunter is still alive, and she's working with him now to survive, like you do. I bet he’s regretting his life choices right now, too.

At that moment, Scabrous had assumed that what he’d seen was a kind of exaggerated nervous twitch, a biochemical accident that the drug and the orchid had triggered inside Nickter’s body. But now—

I wasn’t kidding when I said nobody knows what’s going on; not even the Big Bad has any idea of the forces (ha!) he’s unleashed. He determines that Zo is fleeing for the library, and prepares to trap her there. Will not!Qui-gon get there in time?

Spoiler: not quite.