#numeric keypad

[techdriveplay]

Acer Travelmate P4 - TDP Review

The Acer Travelmate P4 is an adept business notebook designed for professionals seeking a blend of performance and portability. This model features a 16-inch display with a 1920×1200 resolution, providing ample screen real estate for multitasking and detailed work with documents and presentations. Its sleek design, encased in a durable aluminum-magnesium chassis in Slate Blue, offers a subtle yet…

[jellybracelet]

most fucked up part of macs is they dont have a fucking forward delete key. what is even the point of you

[tnekeyboard71]

Wireless 2.4G rechargeable numeric keypad

[rusgavhane]

Numeric Keypad Market

[jackalwolfsoul]

The Stowaway (Thorn's Story: Chapter 1)

---------

CW: Implied abandonment. Self hate. Derogatory name given to a child. If I missed anything, let me know

Also, credit for the picture goes to @yanagikou

Mortarion wasn't sure how the small child managed to sneak aboard his ship or managed to survive as long as she did on her own before she found her way to him.

"Come along, Thorne, lest I leave you behind." Thorne wasn't the child's name, nor did he care to give her a proper name. For all he cared about, she was just a very scrawny baseline. Too small to be on her own, and yet she somehow survived.

He hears small footsteps hurry along after him before she tripped over her own feet. Three of his steps were equivalent to six of hers. "Keep up. I'm not carrying you."

Three...

Two...

He feels her bump into his leg through his cloak, moments later, holding onto the thick material for support. "You're just as clumsy as a Nurgling." He reaches down behind him and picks her up, hearing her squeak in surprise.

It was my a few seconds later that Thorne found herself face to face with the towering Primarch. He held her beneath her arms as he studied her.

"How?"

She tilts her head to the side, not understanding the question.

"How did you survive so long with no caretaker? No guardian to watch over you? You scrawny...

Throne be damned he didn't know what to do. He wasn't a parent, and yet the universe decided to drop one, figuratively, into his lap. "Is this my karma? Has my Father gotten the last laugh?"

"Mo..." Thorne reaches out and tugs at his mask. "Mo..."

"No, child." Mortarion turns his head away. "You won't like what you see. You'll only have more nightmares."

But Thorne was persistent to see what Mortarion looked like.

"Why such a fixation on seeing my face? I'm a monster, and that's all you'll need to know." Mortarion shifts Thorne in his arms so that he could carry her proper, and yet she still persisted in reaching for his mask. "Here..." He reaches around to some part of his armor and hands her a talisman, the symbol for the Death Guard. "Occupy yourself with this. Just not with that mask of mine."

Thorne stares down at the icon thar Mortarion had given her, turning the large piece of silver around in her hands. She holds it up to Mortarion. "Mo..."

"Keep it. I can always get another one." He continues along his way to his quarters. He needed to figure out what to do with Thorne. Maybe he could give her off to one of his other brothers? Maybe he could drop her off at one of the many orphanages that were scattered across the world's.

He stops in his tracks, using his free hand to key in the pass code into the keypad that would open the door to his private quarters. Before he could step inside, he hears footsteps coming down the hall. He quickly sets Thorne down and shoves her into his room before closing the door.

Thorne soon found herself alone in the oversized room. She looked back at the closed door and could hear Mortarion's muffled voice and someone else's, but she wasn't sure who it was.

She looks around the room. This was only the second time she had been in Mortarion's room. The first time was when she snuck in and startled him.

In the room was an oversized bed, covered in dust. It was rarely used, but when it was, it was only for short durations. There was a desk over in the corner, covered in numerous parchment scrolls and bottles of ink. A few spilled and stained into the wood. There was a door off to the side, which led to a cleansing area, which was used recently.

Mortarion, even if he didn't openly admit it, kinda did care for Thorne. He was making an effort to make a decontamination procedure, to not to get her sick with whatever pathogens stuck to him worse than glue. Even if he did plan on giving her up, he still wanted to make sure she stayed healthy til then.

"Mo..." She reaches her hands up, hoping to see Mortarion walk into the room and pick her up again. After a few minutes of waiting, she gives up.

Hours go by, and Mortarion finally steps into his quarters. A frown mars his face beneath his mask as he sees that, somehow, Thorne and climbs up into his bed, fallen asleep while waiting for him. "At least you're a lot less annoying as a Nurgling and quiet, too."

He stares at her for a moment before going to fetch something for her to sleep on, other than the dusty covers of his bed.

The bit of movement was enough to wake Thorne from her slumber. She rubs the sleep from her eyes before reaching out to Mortarion. "Mo..."

"Hm?"

"Mo..."

"Who's Mo?"

Thorne points at Mortarion, and it slowly dawns on him she was trying to say his name but couldn't. So hence the reason why she shortened it.

"My name is not Mo. It's Mortarion. Mor-tari-on." He sounds out his name with the hopes and guise she'd get it.

"Mo," she repeats again.

"Mor-tari-on. Say it!"

"Mor..tary. Morty."

Mortarion rolls his eyes. He was not going to settle for a ridiculous nickname. "Throne be damned thorn in my side. No, you are not calling me that!!" He sees her flinch at him from raising his voice yet still somehow muffled behind the mask. "You are not calling me that."

He takes a deep breath, the stale air irritating his lungs for a moment before letting it slowly out. "Mortis. Can you say Mortis?"

"Mort..is. Mortis."

"Very good." He pulls out the chair from his desk and sits down. The child had been with him less than a week, and she already irritated him to no end. "You should have found someone else to latch on to. Not a monster like me."

"Mortis." Thorne holds her arms out to Mortarion again, wanting him to pick her up.

"Why?"

She makes a grabbing motion with her hands, persistent in her demands.

"Fine. But if you fall asleep in my arms, I'm giving you to Typhus." He leans forward and scoops her up.

It was late into the night. The room was illuminated by candlelight. Mortarion was busy writing a letter to one of his brothers to ask for help. He knew whom he should ask, but asking him would be another challenge altogether. He looks down at Thorne, who did, in fact, fall asleep in his arms. The scratching of the feather quill pen was what lulled her to sleep tonight. "Guess you aren't so bad after all. For being a thorn in my side."

@yanagikou @yurihasurunbara @jaghatai-khock

Since you guys wanted to read it, here you go.

[atinymekanie]

The Night We Met - Chapter 7: Doors Work Both Ways

|| Premise: What if Dawnbreaker's wish for one day and one night with the woman who lives only in his dreams... came true? ||

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 |

The smell hit him first. Acrid, pungent, and vaguely electrical in nature, the odor crawled up his nostrils and invaded the doctor’s senses. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he glanced around the dull, lifeless alleyway, trying to rein in the fear that just setting foot outside in this place caused to swirl in his veins and trickle down his spine. It prickled along his vertebrae, setting every hair on end.

Concrete walls and broken asphalt stared back at him, silent and uninviting. Bits of trash and dead leaves littered the faded pavement near the walls, cracks in the dark asphalt spider-webbing across the alley. Sunlight fell listlessly down between the tall buildings on either side, but it did little to warm the clammy atmosphere. The air itself felt like it was slithering over Zayne’s skin; the cold breeze that wafted against his face sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the temperature. Raising his hands, he pulled the long black coat closer about himself and buttoned it – something he almost never did, normally. But this wasn’t normal.

Glancing back at the door, a momentary panic overtook him as he saw the door’s keyless entry panel. Had he just locked himself out? Zayne reached for the keypad, his fingers hesitating above it as he thought about what he used for his door’s code. Normally, it would be her birthday. But did the hunter know her birthday? Letting out a shaky breath, he keyed in the numerals, hoping against hope that somehow this other version of himself might know that date too, might have some connection to it also. But how could he? Zayne had never seen the woman in this place, had never encountered her presence during those nightmares. He pressed the last digit and held his breath.

The lock released, clicking as it did so. Zayne’s eyes widened in surprise, relief at not being locked out of the apartment washing over him. Another emotion quickly followed on its heels, a sudden suspicion that oozed its way into his brain and made his heartbeat thud in his ears. The hunter knew her birthday. A crease appeared between his brows; tangible evidence of the way his mind was suddenly churning. If the hunter knew her birthday, then that meant… he could see her. And if he could see her…

Zayne’s hand fell from the key panel as he stared blankly into the small crack the unlocked door had made between the door itself and the door jamb. The dark sliver of entrance that mirrored the way he could see into the hunter’s life via what he had thought were simply nightmares. They seemed much more than that, now. Doors worked both ways. Did that mean the hunter dreamed of him ? Of his life as a surgeon? Of… her? Zayne’s hand shot out, grabbing the door handle and slamming the door shut. That was the only explanation for it. For how he knew her birthday. For how that date was the entry code to this door, against all odds.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Zayne took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, trying not to let his worries run away with him and failing miserably. That must mean… the hunter was with her . If he was in the hunter’s body, that must mean the hunter was in his. Right? It only made sense. Dread flowed through him, turning his veins to icy rivers. The hunter was in his body. Had woken up in his bed. Next to her. His eyes snapped open as he sucked in another breath, the putrid scent in the air cloying as it entered his lungs.

Zayne tried to think back on his nightmares, tried to remember the events and emotions in them, despite how terrifying they often were. He didn’t want to remember them, but he had to reassure himself that she was safe. Had the hunter ever hurt anyone that wasn’t a monster? Was he dangerous to people? To her ? He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to remember, his knuckles turning white.

While he had… No, the hunter had killed people in those nightmares, it was always when they were turning into Wanderers, or right before, when the strange bumps began to break through their skin. The sight and sound of flesh splitting open to reveal the misshapen thing beneath was ingrained in his memory, a sight he could never forget. 

Zayne wracked his brain for the emotions during those scenes, for what the hunter felt during those frantic, panicked moments. They weren’t nice emotions. Fear. Pain. Anxiety. Self-loathing. Terror. Sadness. Ironically, some of his worry eased as he recalled the emotions from his more terrifying nightmares – they were dark, certainly, but none of them held any enjoyment, or rage, or bloodlust during the killings.

All the emotions the hunter had felt were the same as what Zayne had felt when fighting against Wanderers. Against William. He shivered, but the tension in his body began to ease, his fists uncurling as his breath rushed out of him. It seemed unlikely the hunter would hurt her. Small blessings. Or anyone that wasn’t a Wanderer, thankfully. At least there, no one was turning into them willy-nilly. Small blessings, indeed. Besides, she was more than capable of protecting herself. She was a Hunter, too, after all. 

Zayne nodded and turned on his heel to face away from the door, staring back out towards the entrance of the alleyway. He strode down the small set of steps, trying to put his concerns away. Food was required before he did anything else, before he could try to find a way out of this predicament. But another thought struck him as some of the dead leaves skittered down the asphalt past the dark boots he was wearing. Would she realize it wasn’t him? That there was someone else beside her? That it wasn’t her Zayne sleeping next to her?

The thought stopped him in his tracks near the entrance to the alley, his boots scuffing against the rough surface of the asphalt beneath them. Surely, she would realize, no? An uncomfortable sort of itch drilled itself into the back of Zayne’s mind, taking root amongst the icy soil created by his fear and anxiety. It wormed into his brain, ripping and tearing at his already strained sanity. How would she respond, once she realized? Part of him wanted her to realize and reject the hunter, to be horrified, to demand answers – to demand her Zayne back. And yet…

A weight settled in his chest as he stared out of the alleyway, a mournful pang that made Zayne’s heart ache. The view he could see was of an empty road with tall buildings looming above it, casting shadows onto the pavement and the smaller buildings just across from him. Dilapidated businesses lined the opposite side of the street, most with dark windows that were boarded up. An air of futility hung over everything, a pall cast by the lack of color and something intangible, just out of reach. Everything looked faded, from the asphalt to the buildings to the old signs in the windows of the stores.

It struck him then – there was not a single sign of life to be seen. Not a single blade of grass, nor a tree, nor a bird, nor anything else alive and growing. Such desolation. For a city, it could have passed remarkably well as a cemetery, the worn down shops acting as gravestones for the life that didn’t seem to exist here. Even a graveyard had more life. To spend every day in a place like this…was unthinkable. Zayne had thought the small apartment seemed dull and lifeless, yet this was on another level entirely.

The mournful ache in Zayne’s chest grew into a quiet sense of empathetic anguish that ate away at his previous feelings of anger and jealousy. It filled some of the cracks that had been created by his worry and his envy, overriding them with a wash of compassion towards the other version of him. The one condemned to life in a place where life itself seemed a contradiction to the norm.

Zayne dropped his head, staring at the broken pavement below the worn boots he had pulled on before leaving the dingy apartment. Part of being a doctor often meant seeing the pain and terror of others and still providing an empathetic response tailored to each patient. It was something unavoidable about the profession, and it came naturally to Zayne. Sometimes, he wished it didn’t. Even if that patient was, somehow, himself. In a way.

While part of him did want to be angry with that other version of himself, another part couldn’t help but feel pity for the hunter, especially after seeing the way the man lived. Utterly alone in a desolate, uncaring city devoid of any real life, where anyone walking down the street could become a monster. That was no way to live. Zayne shook his head, a sigh escaping him. It would do no good to heap curses upon the hunter’s head. He already lived a cursed life as it was.

Raising his gaze to the shops on the other side of the street, he glanced to the left and then to the right, trying to discern if any of them were open. Unable to see anything promising, Zayne stepped forward out of the alley, deciding on a whim to head right. A vague inkling of familiarity lay in that direction, and going somewhere was better than standing on the side of the road. Perhaps he would eventually stumble across a shop he recognized from one of his nightmares. How exciting.

_______________________________________

Zayne walked for about fifteen minutes before coming across anything even remotely recognizable, his anxiety growing with every block he passed and with the increasing realization that he seemed to be alone in the world. There were no people on the sidewalks or going in and out of the shops, and almost no cars went past. 

When one finally did, Zayne about jumped out of his skin, the engine noise so quiet he hadn’t heard it until it was right beside him. There was no birdsong, no music sounding from any of the shops, no laughing customers outside the boarded-up café he passed. Even if he found an open shop, would anyone be running it?

At one point, Zayne had to duck under some metal scaffolding that covered the sidewalk, the struts rusting and oxidizing in the harsh air. The sharp lines of the metallic rods loomed above him, seeming like the ribs of a skeleton clinging to the building beside the sidewalk. He hurried past the scaffolding, pausing only for a moment to glance down into the alley he was passing on his right. Shadows shifted in the darkness between the buildings, Zayne’s mind conjuring the image of a Wanderer lumbering towards him out of the gloom. Apprehension and anxiety coiled inside him like a snake, but he shoved the mental image away and hurried on.

The anxiety in his chest had reached a fever pitch by the time he finally saw real movement up ahead – a skinny, balding man in a brown coat was coming out of what looked like a convenience store. The man looked around furtively before letting the door close behind him, then scurried off down the street in the opposite direction. Zayne picked up his pace, moving towards the convenience store and crossing the empty road in the process, checking for cars in both directions first.

Once at the door to the convenience store, Zayne paused, the sign above the door ringing a bell in the back of his mind. A hazy view of commercial refrigerators containing nutrient drinks floated behind his eyes, and his stomach made an odd sound in protest. Was it too much to hope the store had actual food, too? Sighing, he pulled the door open and stepped inside the shop, leaving behind the strange odor that permeated the outdoors.

On the surface, the inside of the shop looked pretty much like any convenience store might, but upon closer inspection, everything was just a little… off. None of the brands on the items that sat upon the shelves were familiar, and there was an odd humming sound in the air, filling the silence with an uneasy tension. Zayne glanced to his left, at the little desk where a clerk might sit, seeing instead an odd-looking robot similar to an OTTO.

Shifting his gaze to the rest of the store, Zayne began to walk up and down the rows of shelves, looking for anything that might be edible. The shelves weren’t well stocked, missing things leaving gaps here and there amongst the items that leered like missing teeth in a skull. Most of the brands were very nondescript, with little to no coloring and precious little description. Even the companies here seemed to have the soul sucked out of them.

Thankfully, the convenience store did contain a shelf that held a variety of instant meals, such as cups of noodles and other similar items. It wasn’t his go-to sort of food, but it would do in a pinch. Zayne selected a couple of the instant meals that didn’t look too suspicious and then turned his attention to the row of refrigerators in the back of the shop. They were the source of the strange hum that lingered in the air, the motors providing them power creating a dissonance that couldn’t be shaken off. Sure enough, most of them were filled with the bland nutrient drinks. Scrunching his nose in distaste, he wandered down the back wall of the shop, peering into the cold interior behind the glass, looking for anything other than one of those drinks.

  Aha. In the last couple of refrigerators were bottles that looked to be energy drinks of some kind, along with different flavors of water. Zayne opened one of the doors, releasing a hiss of frigid air in the process, and retrieved two bottles of water, one claiming to be flavored with strawberries and one plain. His gaze roamed up to the energy drinks at the top, searching for tea or coffee or something similar. No luck. Of course. Frowning, he hesitantly reached for an energy drink that had blueberries depicted on the bottle. Normally, he didn’t touch energy drinks, preferring tea or coffee to manufactured caffeine, but today was not a normal day. Decidedly not.

Sighing, Zayne curled his fingers around the bottle, taking it down and feeling the cold weight of it in his hand. He turned away, letting the refrigerator door close behind him, cutting off the wash of icy air. With his arms full of instant ramen and beverage bottles, Zayne made his way toward the desk at the front of the shop.

The little bot beeped at him as he walked up, turning towards him and emitting a red light from a sensor on its screen. He balked at first, wondering if he had done something wrong, but then the screen lit up with a list of the items he had selected, and a slightly too smooth voice requested a payment option. It was somewhat of a juggling act to reach the hunter’s wallet in his pocket, but Zayne managed it. He pulled out one of the cards at random and held it up to the little bot’s screen, praying that the transaction would go through. Did the hunter even have a job? How did the man make money?

Before Zayne could finish that thought process, the bot beeped again, and the list of items disappeared from the screen. That same overly fluid voice emanated from the bot, thanking him for his purchase and announcing that the doors would now be unlocked. They had been locked? Zayne glanced at the doors, hearing the click of gears turning and noticing a small green light that appeared above them. His eyes flicked sideways at the bot as he hurried to put the card back in the wallet and failed, finally stuffing both the card and the wallet back into his coat pocket and making a hasty beeline for the door.

Once outside, Zayne walked quickly down the street, trying to shake off the unease he had felt inside the shop. Would he have been trapped inside if the card hadn’t worked? Since there were no people working there as far as he could tell, it certainly seemed that was the case, as the shop would have no other way of forcing people to pay for the items they took. Even the convenience stores here were hostile. Shaking his head, Zayne retraced his steps back to the small alleyway leading to the dingy apartment the hunter owned.

________________________________________

When the door to the little apartment finally closed behind him, Zayne breathed a sigh of relief. He moved through the small living area and set the items he had purchased down on the table, then unbuttoned his coat. His relief at returning to relative safety was short-lived, however, as the maddening buzzing sound from earlier interrupted the stale quiet inside the apartment.

Eyes the color of an aurora flicked toward the bedroom, a lead weight settling in the pit of Zayne’s stomach at the sound. But before he could take a step toward the bedroom and the monitor within, his stomach growled insistently. There were more immediate problems than monsters. He turned back to the table, picking up one of the instant noodle meals and looking over the label for instructions.

Busying himself with rummaging through the miniscule kitchen area, Zayne tried his best to ignore the incessant buzzing, the sound of it grating against his brain and setting him on edge. He managed to find some utensils that would aid in following the instructions on the label, but the selection was grim, at best. A bowl, an oddly shaped spoon, and a dented kettle for boiling water eventually found their way to the tiny counter space, and he set about the task of making breakfast. Could this be called breakfast? Or was it lunch, at this hour? Zayne realized suddenly that he hadn’t seen a clock anywhere in the apartment, nor during his short venture outside.

At this point, he no longer cared which meal it was, as long as it meant finally having actual food to eat. His stomach was no longer content with the nutrient drink he had downed earlier and had begun to gnaw on his insides. The hiss of the kettle as it heated the water to a boil interrupted his thoughts, and Zayne quickly finished preparing the noodles.

Before he could sit down to finally eat, the infernal buzzing reasserted itself, causing him to whirl towards the bedroom door. The sound was a constant reminder of all the things he didn’t wish to think about at the moment – his predicament, the monsters inhabiting this place, and the very real possibility that someone was invading his body. Just as he was invading theirs. Zayne shook his head and marched into the bedroom, intending to turn off the monitor and forget about it for the rest of the day.

The blinking green dots came into view as he entered the bedroom, the one orange-ish dot standing out starkly in contrast. Zayne stopped in his tracks, staring at the screen, noting the diminished distance between the orange dot and the blue dot. It was getting closer. A nagging sensation began to embed itself in his brain, reminding him that the one who normally dealt with these things was not here to do so this time. Exhaling sharply through his nose, Zayne moved over to the monitor, searching for a way to turn off the alarm. It took him a moment, but he found it, finally putting a stop to the pestilential buzzing.

Zayne stepped back, staring at the screen, the only sound left being the tiny blips that he had first heard upon waking up in this godforsaken place. His mouth felt dry from the ever-present fear that formed an icy prison around his heart; the lack of saliva making him wish he had purchased more than two bottles of water at the store. 

The buzzing was gone, but the orange dot was still very much there. Of course, it was. Turning off the alarm wouldn’t get rid of the monster. The danger it presented was still very real and moving closer with every moment that passed. A gurgling sound interrupted the monitor’s soft beeping, the scent of food causing his stomach to reassert itself as the most pressing concern.

Turning away from the monitor, Zayne drew a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked back out to the living area. If it could be called that. He picked up the bowl of noodles and the bottle of flavored water and made his way over to the couch, as the small table had no chair to sit in. Noticing the TV set on his way to the couch, he turned it on, hoping for any sort of distraction from that troubling sensation at the back of his mind – the one that demanded he pay attention to the troublesome dot.

A medical drama he had never seen before started playing on the TV, and Zayne began eating, trying to lose himself in the story while he ate. Unfortunately, the medical logistics in the show didn’t hold up, and he found himself critiquing the responses of the medical professionals every other minute. Frustrated, he got up and turned the TV off before returning to his extremely belated brunch. Did the future not have remotes, either? How bothersome. If nothing else, the TV had provided the time and other local information when he turned it on, so that was something, at least. Not that much of the other information had made sense.

Noon. How was it only just noon? It felt like time had slowed to a crawl ever since Zayne had woken up. His brows drew together in consternation, trying to puzzle out why it had only been a few hours when it felt like it had been ages. Perhaps, since there was no alarm clock, he had slept later than he normally would have. That would explain some of it. Not to mention, the hunter was likely nocturnal. At least to some degree, given the content of the dreams Zayne was used to having.

Staring down at the now empty bowl in his lap, the persistent feeling in the back of Zayne’s mind seemed even louder than before. The loss of the TV show’s vocals and audio made the still air of the apartment seem even more stuffy than it had previously. Part of him wished that he had never turned the show on to begin with, as it only made Zayne realize that he had not heard an actual human voice other than his own since he had awoken. He set the bowl down and shrugged out of the long black coat, setting it on the couch next to him. Why was it still so stifling inside? The air still seemed too close, too oppressive.

Drawing in a deep breath, Zayne leaned back against the couch cushions, resigning himself to addressing the nagging sensation that wouldn’t go away. It was like a living thing, scratching at the walls in his mind that he had erected around it, trying to contain it. As much as he wanted to ignore it, to let it be, to worry only about his own predicament, Zayne knew that wouldn’t be possible for him.

The monster wouldn’t take care of itself. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? And the hunter wasn’t here. But he was. Surely there was someone else who took care of such things? There wasn’t, or else why would the hunter even get involved? Monsters should be handled by people who knew how, who had done that sort of thing before, right? Technically, he fit that description. Zayne suppressed a shudder, forcing away the mental images filled with snow and blood that followed and shouldered on, working through the logic. Would one more day matter – could it wait until the hunter returned? Of course, it mattered – people could die. Was it worth the risk?

Zayne stared up at the water-stained ceiling, clasping his hands behind his head as he did so. This wasn’t his world. Time? Place? Whatever. Did these people matter to him? They mattered to the hunter. And to the ones they loved. Could he really call himself a doctor if he valued life less than this other version of himself? ...No. No, he could not. Could he forgive himself if he ignored this? ....No. Could he forgive himself if something unforeseen happened? Something that prevented him from returning to where he belonged? …No.

Closing his eyes, Zayne pictured the woman he had gone to sleep next to the night before. Her smile as she turned towards him, her eyes as she gazed at him with that mischievous look he adored, the way her hair fell across her face when she was sleeping, the way her laugh echoed in his ears and warmed him from the inside out…

The idea of not being able to return to her, of never seeing her again, washed over him, drowning him in a weight so heavy that breathing seemed impossible for a moment. His throat closed, emotions attempting to overwhelm him, to drag him under in a wave that Zayne wasn’t sure he would be able to recover from. He fought against the wash of dread, forcing it back with an effort of will, his resolve solidifying as he did so.

Zayne’s eyes snapped open, his pupils constricting amidst green amber irises as they took in the wan light from the window. No miscalculations, then.

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 11

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Guns, mention/implication of deaths

Summary: You will find Ghost with whatever means necessary. This is not a good idea :)

Notes: Bear with me ok 🤝🏻

Word count: 2,130

ao3 link

Yeah, this was definitely one of the more insane things you’d ever done.

It had started after work. You’d been lounging around the apartment with Soap, browsing lazily on your phone as you contemplated what you could be bothered to make dinner when you saw the breaking news notification on your phone. Usually, it was something pointless, a supposed snub from one royal to another, or a celebrity going on a diet, but not this time.

‘Five British Army soldiers killed in drone strike’

You felt that like a punch to the windpipe. Air struck from your lungs, a knot in your chest. It had to be him. He wouldn’t have disappeared from your life without notice. There would have been a sign, a message, something. You couldn’t accept that he could just be gone. You had to know for sure.

That was how you’d ended up breaking into the military base.

Well, breaking in made it sound a lot more dramatic than it was. All you’d done was go back to the first place you’d met both Soap and Ghost. Granted, this time, the trespassing was more deliberate; the hole in the fence had been zip-tied shut, so you’d had to climb up and over it. Luckily for you, there hadn’t been any barbed wire across the top, making it fairly easy for you to get over it, even if you were terrified that it would collapse under your weight. It had swayed back and forth ominously as you scrambled over it, but thankfully, it hadn’t broken, letting you drop down the other side unscathed. You half expected to be pounced on at any second, but there were no soldiers rushing to arrest you. The camera didn’t swivel around.

Of course, the problem with that was that you had no idea what to do now. You were inside the fence, and you thought that would have been the big moment, but nothing happened. Where were you supposed to go now? You could go along the alley to your left or right, or you could go down the one in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything that signalled a correct route for you, anything that would bring you closer to finding Ghost, so you decided to pick at random, landing on walking forwards into the alleyway, deeper into the maze of rundown buildings. You couldn’t figure out what was so important in this place that had led to Ghost coming out with a gun that very first time. From what you could see, there was nothing worth protecting.

Finally, there was something new. A door! It had just been plain red bricks up until this point, like an endless maze, but now there was a metal door set in the brick, with a glass window that had a metal grid inside to prevent breaking in and a keypad above the door handle. That was a problem. You tried the handle anyway; after all, security did seem lax with that broken fence. Locked. Could you guess the passcode? You could copy Sherlock. You looked closely at the keypad, trying to figure out what the most used buttons were. 3, 4, 6, and 8. How many possible combinations would that be? Mm, probably a lot. You tried in numerical order, tapping the buttons and then trying the lock. Nothing. You tried in reverse order. Again, nothing. Already, you were bored by it. You jiggled the handle aggressively, thinking maybe you could force it this time, but still, nothing. Pointless. You were never going to get it. So, you left the door behind and wandered on, thinking maybe you’d find a different door with less security.

It hadn’t been apparent to you that you’d been flitting on the edge of notice until now. The second you’d touched the keypad, it had set off several alarms, unbeknownst to you. You were still wandering freely, idly looking around for a point of egress, unaware of the dangers that awaited you. There was another metal door, another keypad, so you tried that one as well. Locked. Your luck had run out.

“Stop right there. Hands up.”

The sudden voice made you jump out of your skin. It wasn’t Ghost. Fuck. You threw your hands up immediately, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

You did as you were told, your eyes darting to find your assailant. Tall, dark-eyed and dark-haired, and a face that, in any other situation, would have radiated warmth. Yet there was no kindness in his eyes.

“Come with me.”

Eesh. You didn’t really want to go to a secondary location with an unknown man, but what choice did you have? At the very least, he wasn’t pointing a gun at your heart. Perhaps Ghost had been an outlier with that. There was still a gun, of course, but it wasn’t pointed directly at you. Maybe it had been when your back was turned, but you chose not to think about that. Was this still a good idea? You were getting access to the building; the soldier was opening the door, though he did cover the keypad as he typed the code in.

There wasn’t anything intriguing or suspicious about the building, just plain white walls and basic linoleum floors that wouldn’t have been out of place in a school. The soldier's boots thudded loudly on the floor as you followed him past countless rooms, each one as boring as the last: conference room after conference room. So much for intrigue.

At last, you were led into a room that didn’t seem to be much different to any other. It was smaller, but that was it. The walls were pale blue, the carpet was cheap, dark, and thin, and at the centre, there was a metal table. That was strange. Welded to the table was a thick metal bar. Your insides churned. This was an interrogation room. Well, you should have expected that; you’d broken into a military base. Clearly, everything about your interaction with Ghost had been an outlier.

“Sit.”

You did as you were told, sitting in the metal chair at the table, wrapping one ankle around the other as you watched the man. At least it wasn’t an execution. But it might be an arrest. You hadn’t wanted to get Ghost in shit, but things were looking dire. Time to be brave.

“I need to speak to Ghost.”

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell that your words had surprised him. He raised a singular eyebrow at you, his eyes scrutinising.

“Wait here.”

Was it really going to be that easy?

Of course not.

Ghost didn’t walk into the room when the door opened five minutes later. That would have been too fortuitous. But Captain Price did. At least you knew him. Sort of. You gave him an awkward waggle of the fingers and a smile.

“Hi!”

Yeah, you were out of place in a military environment. Price didn’t smile at you, his thick eyebrows knitted.

“Why are you here?”

You shifted in your seat awkwardly, “Right, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“Um, I wanted to speak to Ghost.”

It was obvious that Price was barely holding back his irritation with you, a muscle in his jaw clenching.

“So you broke into a military base?”

When it was said out loud, it became too real, too obvious that it was an awful idea. You chewed your lip awkwardly,

“Uh, yes.”

“And you realise the amount of trouble you could have gotten yourself into?”

Could! You weren’t in trouble! Well, you were still in shit, but it didn’t seem like you were in the deep end. You still had a paddle.

“I’m beginning to see that.”

“I cannot divulge any information about Ghost to you.”

“Is he alive?”

You wanted to try and glean the information from Price’s face, but he gave nothing, no indicator of whether Ghost was alive or dead. Did he look a little sad? Or was that frustration?

“I cannot divulge any information.”

That was bad, right? That had to be bad. Surely if Ghost was alive, Price would have just brought him to the room. You could feel your lip split where you chewed it, a coppery taste spilling onto your tongue.

“Fuck.” Price looked at you questioningly, and you stemmed the minute flow of blood with the hem of your sleeve, “Sorry.”

Apparently, a bit of self-mutilation was all it took for Price to feel sorry for you. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple with one hand, “Right. Follow me.”

Success! You weren’t sure where he was going to lead you, but you were getting closer to Ghost! At least, you assumed so. Price stood up from his chair, walking back out into the hallway, and you followed along after him obediently, eagerly trying to spot Ghost around a corner or inside a room. No such luck. Price led you out of one building and into another, practically identical one, down plain corridors with unnumbered rooms.

Without warning, he stopped in front of a non-descript door, gesturing for you to open it. Was this some sort of trick? You looked at him questioningly, but he gave you no further detail. So, you opened the door.

It was a storage room. What the fuck? Why had Price led you here? There were basic metal racks covered in military rucksacks and pouches, with various boots and bits of equipment littered around. Finally, your eyes landed on the outlier in the room. A little cat bed, at the end of one of the racks, right in the corner. There was no cat in it. You looked around the room curiously, your eyes finally landing on something you’d skipped over. Curled up on one of the rucksacks, there was a little brown kitten. You’d missed it at first; it had so blended in with the camouflage.

It didn’t sink in for a good couple of seconds; you were so excited about the idea of a kitty that you’d almost forgotten why you were there. Ghost. You turned to look at Price quizzically, “Is there some big thing about cats or something in the military?”

“Just Ghost. Wanted Roach to go to his missus.”

That was almost enough for you to burst into tears on the spot. Ghost wanted something to go to you. That felt like a will. His last rite and testament, ‘send the cats to her’. Although hang on, you were referred to as his missus? Was that a thing to them? Did they think you were Ghost’s partner? You weren’t about to correct them on it; their assumption that you were Ghost’s partner was probably the only thing that had kept you from prison. Already, you could feel the lump in your throat forming, but you did your best to hold back your tears, “Roach? What’s with the weird fucking names?”

Price just shrugged.

Another cat. Another one with a bizarre name. What was it with Ghost and dumping cats on you? Was that his parting gift to you? You didn’t want to think about that, even as the possibility of his death was mounting on you.

“You want me to take him home with me?”

“Mhm.”

Irritation did a good job of quashing your despair.

“Do you have a cat carrier?”

“No.”

Fucks sake. What was it with people and not having proper carriers?

“Cardboard box, then?”

“Those are in plentiful supply.”

“Joy.”

That was not how you’d expected to come back from the military base, with a cat in a cardboard box, with the loss of Ghost weighing heavily on your heart. At least Soap would have a friend to play with. And you were rescuing another cat from a pitiful situation. There had to be some sort of silver lining to the thunderclouds, but you couldn’t see them through the darkness right now.

All you really wanted to do was climb under the covers and cry yourself to dehydration, but there were other things you had to do.

Thankfully, Soap wasn’t too put off by the presence of another cat in his territory, so you let him watch over Roach, who had been strangely silent. Where Soap chattered endlessly to you, Roach hadn’t ‘spoken’ a word, just watching the world around him with large, curious eyes, finding himself a nice spot under the sofa to survey things from. Perhaps he was feeling the loss of Ghost as strongly as you. Soap didn’t appear at all upset, but Roach, a name you still didn’t care for, seemed to share your quiet sorrow.

You let the two keep each other company as you tucked yourself into bed, your eyes finally dry, your heart empty. Mourning a stalker. Weird.

[isabelofespero]

Y'all mind if I analyze the worldbuilding of my favorite childhood cartoon for a minute?

So I was watching the Spheres of Fear episode of Cyberchase the other day.

The whole concept of the Spheres themselves is interesting enough, but I noticed another detail:

The keypad is written in a weird alphabet that I don't think we see outside of this one episode. Interesting.

Let's have a closer look:

Well would you look at that. We have a grid of 36 bizarre characters. That's enough for the usual 26 English letters, with 10 left over to represent numbers.

Now I'm a bit of a nerd about alphabets. When I see an alphabet in a piece of media, I can't help but try to crack it. So let's look at this.

The first thing that I noticed was that several of the characters are borrowed from other languages. Three of them look like Japanese Hiragana(ろ, る, and ひ), some look like they're Greek(Ψ, Χ, φ, and maybe θ), one is the roman numeral for 2, and one of them looks like Minecraft Enchantment Table of all things(Row 2 column 1). One of them looks like it might be Japanese Kanji, but I can't read those so I'm not sure.

Watching Inez type the code in doesn't give any hint at which letters are which. It seems like the animators just dragged her hand around at random.

She also types the code in wrong:

That first 1 was supposed to be an I. Oops.

Something else interesting is that the codebook is written with the usual Latin characters. Meaning the keypad isn't in some common Cyberspace script. The fact that the screen above the keypad has normal letters supports this further.

Maybe it's a Cipher? If it is, then how did Inez have no issue reading it? I know we're probably not supposed to read that much into it, but I'm going to anyways.

Maybe this alphabet is specific to the Spheres of Fear. An extra layer of encryption to keep things from getting out of them perhaps.

My thoughts: It's kind of funny that the animators of this episode took the time to make a whole script for just this one scene, a script that used actual letters from other languages at that. Like we never see it again, it's JUST for this one episode. They could have easily just put a regular keyboard here but they chose to add this extra layer of complexity. Honestly, mad respect to them for that.

Maybe I'll end up assigning letters to all of these characters just for funzies. Who knows?

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Suspicious.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader.

Gaz and you were friends during your childhood and teenage years, such a surprise when you find him out of the building where you're working.

PT2

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors, maybe is not good enough but I had the idea stuck in my head. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You were late, just at the worst time your car decided to not work, the bus was late too, the subway was having electric problems, you were running through the town, you changed your clothes in a public bathroom close to the building where you will be working.

You're wearing black, you have a gun and pocket knives, some tissues and more, just in case something goes wrong, suddenly, someone collided with you.

- Fuck! Look where you're going asshole!

You started to pick your notebooks, laptop, ipad, cellphone and all the stuff you had on your hands without looking at the stranger who decided to make your day more difficult.

- Y/N?

That voice...

You looked up, is he...? No, there's no way but... Those brown eyes, that black hair, that smile... He kneeled down to help you without leaving eye contact, you're still shocked, you could expect anyone else but him.

- Garrick? Kyle Garrick?

- Yeah! The legend.

You laughed, both stood up and he handed you all the rest of your things.

- Oh my god! Years without seeing or knowing something about you man!

- I Know, I was going to say the same!

- Look at you! Oh lord! You look amazing, you look pretty much better than I remember.

- I always was attractive, I'm just like the Wine, Y/n

- ha-ha! If you say so!

- Where you were going?

You realized you were going somewhere and you were going late.

- holy shit! I have to... Oh... I actually... This is where I was going.

You pointed at the building in front of you, Kyle looked at you and then the building.

- Do you work here?

- Ah... Yeah! I... I do, home office but today they asked me to come, it's an emergency or something.

- What's your job here Y/n?

- oh, you know, I always was a nerd, computers, operative system, security and technologies.

- oh right! I remember my grades at the end of school were magically fixed, thanks to you!

- Yes, my first time hacking something, the system at school, was really funny!

You were so happy to see Kyle, you and him were good friends when you were young, you remember the afternoons after school wasting time at the park, or the lake, parties with your brother's friends, Kyle and you always causing troubles, always side by side, life was good.

- What about you Garrick, I lost your steps after our last summer...

- I joined the army. I shouldn't say it loud but I'm working right now actually

- Ohh, well...You always loved the adrenaline...

- I know, it made me well, I'm working all the time and sometimes I want to take a break but... I love my job, I can't complain.

-Same, ahhh I... I still remember that last summer, you know?

You're not lying, you remember every moment of that last summer, you remember the last time you saw him, things stayed in the air, you wanted to talk about what happened But welcome back to reality, your smartwatch alarm remembered that you needed to run.

- Fuck, fuck... Sorry, Kyle has been a nice moment and I would love to keep talking but I have to go, ok? I'll see you... Around I hope!

- For sure...

You didn't give him time to finish, you ran to the building, nobody paid attention to you, no one noticed the cameras stopped to work, and no one asked you to show your credentials. You took the elevator to the penultimate floor. As soon as you arrived you walked directly to the first door, "Security systems", as you supposed, there's a numeric keypad block.

Easy, you already have that information, you hacked a part of the system. «5-8-9-6-2-7» «access granted».

You took a seat and started to work, all the information from this company was now in your hands inside an external hard drive. You made a call.

- Sir, I have the information you requested, send the money and my transport.

- Well done darling, the transport is on the way. Go to the building's roof, you will find a parachute, use it... Oh! And don't forget to do the other thing, a car will be waiting for you near to the park.

You've been doing this for years, you're a hacker, working in a private company "les hiboux" (the owls). You don't care about the information You're taking, you only care about the payment.

You never had troubles, but, as today you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, troubles were on the way.

Kyle was actually saying the truth, he was working, him and the boys were trying to find the person who had been hacking and selling important information, he was still waiting for someone suspicious.

- Gaz. Who was that?

- Just an old friend Soap. Focus.

- Well, your friend works in that building, casually works with the security...

- I know, I heard it too Ghost.

-And Is the only one who got inside since we arrived.

- Yes, so what?

- Gaz... What if your friend is the person we're trying to capture?

The Captain's question woke Up Kyle's curiosity, he started to repeat inside his head every second of the conversation, you weren't wearing clothes for a job In a company like that, you brought a lot of things with you, every pocket in your clothes looked suspiciously full of stuff, you didn't know where exactly the building was located, you weren't specific about your job in the place. Everything was suspicious.

Kyle finally realized, you're definitely suspicious, he ran inside the building.

- Kyle! Wait!

- Cap, you're right, we have to capture now!

Each one started to work on his part of the plan, Kyle was on the elevator, when he arrived at the floor he only saw you coming out of the room, you had a bottle on your hand, he knew perfectly what it was, a Molotov.

- Y/N Put that thing down, now!

You looked at him, panicked, you really weren't expecting Kyle pointing at you with a gun. You threw the Molotov away, specifically to the security room and ran, Kyle was running behind you.

- Captain, evacuate everybody! There's fire!

- Copy! Soap, come with me, Ghost do you have visibility?

- on the way!

- Good visibility, the target it's running to the roof, I request permission to shoot.

- Do it if it's necessary, Gaz, go for the target, we don't want to hurt or kill it!

- Copy!

You ran and opened the door, you locked it with the first object you saw close to you, and as your boss promised, a parachute was waiting for you, you were putting it on you when you heard someone trying to open the door, you were distracted looking at the door when a Bullet passed close enough to your cheek, cutting you.

«Y/N! Open the fuckin' door, they will shoot you, I can protect you, open it, let's talk about this! For the old times!»

- I'm so sorry Kyle, this is my Job and is more important than what happened in the past.

Bullets were running in every direction, they didn't want to hurt you, but you know if you stay and don't complete the task, you will be dead before the sunset.

«Y/N! Please! We can fix this! Do it, for that last summer kiss!»

You were now ready to jump... Kyle opened the door, now he's in front of you, you stopped, for a second that memory of your kiss popped up, a thousand of "what if" invaded you, you considered to stay, two other men appeared behind Kyle. No, you will not lose your head just for an old summer love, the sirens of the fire truck, alarms, and the ringtone of your phone brought you back.

- Bye, Kyle Garrick.

You simply jumped, Kyle ran trying to catch you, but the only thing he did, was see your parachute opening and taking you away. Price and Soap appeared at his side, now all of them are watching you landing not so far, you're running trying to lose yourself in the traffic.

- won't go further, let's go guys!

Kyle didn't even know how he went back to the streets, one second he was on the roof and the next one he was running on the streets looking for you, the world was spinning faster, how could you? Kyle was feeling sick, his friend from childhood and teenage years was now a criminal, his first love, was now escaping from him.

[ui-alcoholic]

Franklin ACE 1000 (1982)

​The Franklin ACE 1000 was an early Apple II Plus clone introduced in 1982 by Franklin Computer Corporation. Designed to offer a more affordable alternative to Apple's offerings, it closely mirrored the Apple II Plus in both hardware and software, including direct copies of Apple's ROMs and operating system. This compatibility allowed the ACE 1000 to run most Apple II software and utilize similar expansion cards.​

Key Features:

Processor: MOS Technology 6502 at 1.0 MHz

Memory: 64 KB RAM

Display: Monochrome output by default; optional color support via an add-on chip

Keyboard: Full upper/lowercase support with auto-repeat functionality

Expansion: 8 internal slots for peripheral cards

Storage: External 143K 5.25" floppy disk drive available

Operating System: Shipped with Franklin DOS, a modified version of Apple DOS 3.3​

Despite its technical merits, the ACE 1000 became the center of a landmark legal case when Apple sued Franklin for copyright infringement. The case, Apple Computer, Inc. v. Franklin Computer Corp., resulted in a ruling that affirmed the copyrightability of software stored in ROM, setting a significant legal precedent in the software industry.​

While the ACE 1000 offered features like a numeric keypad and lowercase text support—enhancements over the original Apple II Plus—it was bulkier and heavier. Today, the Franklin ACE 1000 is considered a collector's item, valued for its role in early personal computing history and the legal battles that shaped software copyright law.

On a side note, the Franklin Ace 1000 made several appearances in popular films. It was seen in the Ghostbusters’ lab in the original 1984 Ghostbusters. You can also see a poster for an ACE 1000 in the background of 1984’s Triumph of the Nerds.

more info: https://computeradsfromthepast.substack.com/p/franklins-ace-1000

https://oldcomputers.net/ace1000.html

[english-lessons-bolzano]

Names for the number 0 in English

"Zero" is the usual name for the number 0 in English. In British English "nought" is also used and in American English "naught" is used occasionally for zero, but (as with British English) "naught" is more often used as an archaic word for nothing. "Nil", "love", and "duck" are used by different sports for scores of zero.

There is a need to maintain an explicit distinction between digit zero and letter O,[a] which, because they are both usually represented in English orthography (and indeed most orthographies that use Latin script and Arabic numerals) with a simple circle or oval, have a centuries-long history of being frequently conflated. However, in spoken English, the number 0 is often read as the letter "o" ("oh"). For example, when dictating a telephone number, the series of digits "1070" may be spoken as "one zero seven zero" or as "one oh seven oh", even though the letter "O" on the telephone keypad in fact corresponds to the digit 6.

In certain contexts, zero and nothing are interchangeable, as is "null". Sporting terms are sometimes used as slang terms for zero, as are "nada", "zilch" and "zip".

Zero" and "cipher"

"Zero" and "cipher" are both names for the number 0, but the use of "cipher" for the number is rare and only used in very formal literary English today (with "cipher" more often referring to cryptographic cyphers). The terms are doublets, which means they have entered the language through different routes but have the same etymological root, which is the Arabic "صفر" (which transliterates as "sifr"). Via Italian this became "zefiro" and thence "zero" in modern English, Portuguese, French, Catalan, Romanian and Italian ("cero" in Spanish). But via Spanish it became "cifra" and thence "cifre" in Old French, "cifră" in Romanian and "cipher" in modern English (and "chiffre" in modern French).

"Zero" is more commonly used in mathematics and science, whereas "cipher" is used only in a literary style. Both also have other connotations. One may refer to a person as being a "social cipher", but would name them "Mr. Zero", for example.

In his discussion of "naught" and "nought" in Modern English Usage, H. W. Fowler uses "cipher" to name the number 0.

O" ("oh")

In spoken English, the number 0 is often read as the letter "o", often spelled oh. This is especially the case when the digit occurs within a list of other digits. While one might say that "a million is expressed in base ten as a one followed by six zeroes", the series of digits "1070" can be read as "one zero seven zero", or "one oh seven oh". This is particularly true of telephone numbers (for example 867-5309, which can be said as "eight-six-seven-five-three-oh-nine"). Another example is James Bond's designation, 007, which is always read as "double-o seven", not "double-zero seven", "zero-zero seven", or "o o seven".

The letter "o" ("oh") is also used in spoken English as the name of the number 0 when saying times in the 24-hour clock, particularly in English used by both British and American military forces. Thus 16:05 is "sixteen oh five", and 08:30 is "oh eight thirty".

The use of O as a number can lead to confusion as in the ABO blood group system. Blood can either contain antigen A (type A), antigen B (type B), both (type AB) or none (type O). Since the "O" signifies the lack of antigens, it could be more meaningful to English-speakers for it to represent the number "oh" (zero). However, "blood type O" is properly written with a letter O and not with a number 0.

In sport, the number 0 can have different names depending on the sport in question and the nationality of the speaker.

"Nil" in British sports

Many sports that originated in the UK use the word "nil" for 0. Thus, a 3-0 score in a football match would be read as "three-nil".[1] Nil is derived from the Latin word "nihil", meaning "nothing", and often occurs in formal contexts outside of sport, including technical jargon (e.g. "nil by mouth") and voting results.

It is used infrequently in U.S. English, although it has become common in soccer broadcasts.

"Nothing" and "oh" in American sports

edit

In American sports, the term "nothing" is often employed instead of zero. Thus, a 3-0 score in a baseball game would be read as "three-nothing" or "three to nothing". When talking about a team's record in the standings, the term "oh" is generally used; a 3-0 record would be read as "three and oh".

In cricket, a team's score might read 50/0, meaning the team has scored fifty runs and no batter is out. It is read as "fifty for no wicket" or "fifty for none".

Similarly, a bowler's analysis might read 0-50, meaning he has conceded 50 runs without taking a wicket. It is read as "no wicket for fifty" or "none for fifty".

A batsman who is out without scoring is said to have scored "a duck", but "duck" is used somewhat informally compared to the other terms listed in this section. It is also always accompanied by an article and thus is not a true synonym for "zero": a batter scores "a duck" rather than "duck".

A name related to the "duck egg" in cricket is the "goose egg" in baseball, a name traced back to an 1886 article in The New York Times, where the journalist states that "the New York players presented the Boston men with nine unpalatable goose eggs", i.e., nine scoreless innings.

"Love" and "bagel" in tennis

In tennis, the word "love" is used to replace 0 to refer to points, sets and matches. If the score during a game is 30-0, it is read as "thirty-love". Similarly, 3-0 would be read as "three-love" if referring to the score during a tiebreak, the games won during a set, or the sets won during a match. The term was adopted by many other racquet sports.

There is no definitive origin for the usage. It first occurred in English, is of comparatively recent origin, and is not used in other languages. The most commonly believed hypothesis is that it is derived from English speakers mis-hearing the French l'œuf ("the egg"), which was the name for a score of zero used in French because the symbol for a zero used on the scoreboard was an elliptical zero symbol, which visually resembled an egg.

Although the use of "duck" in cricket can be said to provide tangential evidence, the l'œuf hypothesis has several problems, not the least of which is that in court tennis the score was not placed upon a scoreboard. There is also scant evidence that the French ever used l'œuf as the name for a zero score in the first place. (Jacob Bernoulli, for example, in his Letter to a Friend, used à but to describe the initial zero–zero score in court tennis, which in English is "love-all".) Some alternative hypotheses have similar problems. For example, the assertion that "love" comes from the Scots word "luff", meaning "nothing", falls at the first hurdle, because there is no authoritative evidence that there has ever been any such word in Scots in the first place.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first use of the word "love" in English to mean "zero" was to define how a game was to be played, rather than the score in the game itself. Gambling games could be played for stakes (money) or "for love (of the game)", i.e., for zero stakes. The first such recorded usage quoted in the OED was in 1678. The shift in meaning from "zero stakes" to "zero score" is not an enormous conceptual leap, and the first recorded usage of the word "love" to mean "no score" is by Hoyle in 1742.

In recent years, a set won 6-0 ("six-love") has been described as a bagel, again a reference to the resemblance of the zero to the foodstuff. It was popularised by American announcer Bud Collins.

Null

In certain contexts, zero and nothing are interchangeable, as is "null". However, in mathematics and many scientific disciplines, a distinction is made (see null). The number 0 is represented by zero while null is a representation of an empty set {}. Hence in computer science a zero represents the outcome of a mathematical computation such as 2−2, while null is used for an undefined state (for example, a memory location that has not been explicitly initialised).

In English, "nought" and "naught" mean zero or nothingness, whereas "ought" and "aught" (the former in its noun sense) strictly speaking mean "all" or "anything", and are not names for the number 0. Nevertheless, they are sometimes used as such in American English; for example, "aught" as a placeholder for zero in the pronunciation of calendar year numbers. That practice is then also reapplied in the pronunciation of derived terms, such as when the rifle caliber .30-06 Springfield (introduced in 1906) is accordingly referred to by the name "thirty-aught-six".

The words "nought" and "naught" are spelling variants. They are, according to H. W. Fowler, not a modern accident as might be thought, but have descended that way from Old English. There is a distinction in British English between the two, but it is not one that is universally recognized. This distinction is that "nought" is primarily used in a literal arithmetic sense, where the number 0 is straightforwardly meant, whereas "naught" is used in poetical and rhetorical senses, where "nothing" could equally well be substituted. So the name of the board game is "noughts & crosses", whereas the rhetorical phrases are "bring to naught", "set at naught", and "availeth naught". The Reader's Digest Right Word at the Right Time labels "naught" as "old-fashioned".

Whilst British English makes this distinction, in American English, the spelling "naught" is preferred for both the literal and rhetorical/poetic senses.

"Naught" and "nought" come from the Old English "nāwiht" and "nōwiht", respectively, both of which mean "nothing". They are compounds of no- ("no") and wiht ("thing").

The words "aught" and "ought" (the latter in its noun sense) similarly come from Old English "āwiht" and "ōwiht", which are similarly compounds of a ("ever") and wiht. Their meanings are opposites to "naught" and "nought"—they mean "anything" or "all". (Fowler notes that "aught" is an archaism, and that "all" is now used in phrases such as "for all (that) I know", where once they would have been "for aught (that) I know".)

However, "aught" and "ought" are also sometimes used as names for 0, in contradiction of their strict meanings. The reason for this is a rebracketing, whereby "a nought" and "a naught" have been misheard as "an ought" and "an aught".

sometimes used as names for 0, in contradiction of their strict meanings. The reason for this is a rebracketing, whereby "a nought" and "a naught" have been misheard as "an ought" and "an aught".

Samuel Johnson thought that since "aught" was generally used for "anything" in preference to "ought", so also "naught" should be used for "nothing" in preference to "nought". However, he observed that "custom has irreversibly prevailed in using 'naught' for 'bad' and 'nought' for 'nothing'". Whilst this distinction existed in his time, in modern English, as observed by Fowler and The Reader's Digest above, it does not exist today. However, the sense of "naught" meaning "bad" is still preserved in the word "naughty", which is simply the noun "naught" plus the adjectival suffix "-y". This has never been spelled "noughty".

The words "owt" and "nowt" are used in Northern English. For example, if tha does owt for nowt do it for thysen: if you do something for nothing do it for yourself.

The word aught continues in use for 0 in a series of one or more for sizes larger than 1. For American Wire Gauge, the largest gauges are written 1/0, 2/0, 3/0, and 4/0 and pronounced "one aught", "two aught", etc. Shot pellet diameters 0, 00, and 000 are pronounced "single aught", "double aught", and "triple aught". Decade names with a leading zero (e.g., 1900 to 1909) were pronounced as "aught" or "nought". This leads to the year 1904 ('04) being spoken as "[nineteen] aught four" or "[nineteen] nought four". Another acceptable pronunciation is "[nineteen] oh four".

Decade names

See also: Aughts

While "2000s" has been used to describe the decade consisting of the years 2000–2009 in all English speaking countries, there have been some national differences in the usage of other terms.

On January 1, 2000, the BBC listed the noughties (derived from "nought") as a potential moniker for the new decade. This has become a common name for the decade in the U.K.and Australia, as well as some other English-speaking countries. However, it has not become the universal descriptor because, as Canadian novelist Douglas Coupland pointed out early in the decade, "[Noughties] won't work because in America the word 'nought' is never used for zero, never ever".

The American music and lifestyle magazine Wired favoured "Naughties", which they claim was first proposed by the arts collective Foomedia in 1999.However, the term "Naughty Aughties" was suggested as far back as 1975 by Cecil Adams, in his column The Straight Dope.

interchangeable, as is "null". However, in mathematics and many scientific disciplines, a distinction is made (see null). The number 0 is represented by zero while null is a representation of an empty set {}. Hence in computer science a zero represents the outcome of a mathematical computation such as 2−2, while null is used for an undefined state (for example, a memory location that has not been explicitly initialixed).

Slang

Sporting terms (see above) are sometimes used as slang terms for zero, as are "nada", "zilch" and "zip".

"Zilch" is a slang term for zero, and it can also mean "nothing". The origin of the term is unknown.

Silvio Pasqualini Bolzano inglese ripetizioni English insegnante teacher

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 7: Unit 531

Masterpost

-

Knightly Storage required a passcode to get in. The key tag hadn’t included that - it just had the name and unit number; 531. And 531 wasn’t the code.

The storage building was a tall, stone structure with a side entrance hidden from the street by some towering bushes. An awning over the door blocked the rain as Ambrosius stared at the keypad next to the doorway. Nimona, next to him, shifted into a hulking humanoid with large hands.

“We could break in.” She said with a grin, flexing an arm.

Ambrosius rolled his eyes.

“That would be illegal.”

Nimona smirked and shifted back to a teen.

“As if today wasn’t already toeing the line.”

“We didn’t… break any laws.”

“Sure. We just bent them a little.”

“Exactly. A knight must uphold the rules that keep us in order.”

Nimona groaned.

“Come on… don’t tell me you haven't broken at least ONE rule at least ONCE in your life.”

Ambrosius still looked unamused.

“Even if I did, I wouldn't be telling YOU about it.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I still don't know anything about you! I don't even know how old you are, or if ‘Nimona’ is even your real name!”

Nimona was silent while Ambrosius tried to figure out the door code, punching in several numerical combinations off the top of his head. The keypad flashed red each time.

Nimona’s voice broke his concentration.

“They never told you how your dad really died, did they?” she said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Ambrosius gave her a side glance.

“What in Gloreth's name are you talking about?”

“I mean you were just a kid - they didn't want you to think he was a bad man or anything - nothing you could possibly blabber to the wrong person about. They told you he went out for a few drinks with his knight buddies, got plastered, and then walked in front of a speeding truck, right?”

Ambrosius looked wary.

“That's... what happened.”

“That's what they WANTED you to think happened. That's what they wanted EVERYONE to think happened. They couldn't let Gloreth's name get dragged in the mud, could they?”

Ambrosius didn’t look convinced.

“So you're saying there was a coverup.”

"I'm saying you never saw him drunk before, did you?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe?”

“Believe me, you didn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m telling you - I’m full of information about your family.”

Ambrosius turned back to the keypad.

“Aaaand now you're just sounding creepy. One less reason for me to trust you.”

“Think about it though! The man never got drunk. So how did he get so tipsy that night he didn't see the truck coming?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Hey, you don't have to take my word for it - with your rank, you can go to the medical records building and see the original coroner's report for yourself.”

Ambrosius typed in another combination.

“Maybe I will. Or maybe I won't. What difference would it make? He’s still dead.”

The keypad flashed red again. Ambrosius sighed. He was quickly realizing he could stand here all day trying different combinations and none of them work. He waved a hand towards the other side of the building.

“Come on, let’s go to the office.”

“I still vote ‘break in’.”

Ambrosius gave her a weary look. Nimona held her hands up.

“I mean bend, not break.”

~ ~ ~

There was already a woman arguing with the clerk when Nimona, now matching Ambrosius’s height and age, entered the office, followed by Ambrosius himself. Fortunately, there was another worker passing by whom Nimona was able to flag down.

“Heeeeeey… I totally forgot the passcode for the door. Could you let me in?”

The worker pointed to the desk.

“Sure, just show them your ID.”

“ID… yeah… you know, I think I left it at home. I just ran over here to get something” she dangled the storage key in her hand.

The worker gave a forced smile.

“Talk to the desk.”

They both looked at the discussion at the desk. It didn’t look like it was going to end soon.

Nimona held a hand up, “Come on, me and my brother just need to grab something real quick.”

“Talk to the desk.”

“What if I slid you a 20 goldpiece?”

“Talk to the desk.” The worker pushed past her, off on their own errand.

Nimona glanced at Ambrosius with a look that said ‘ok we tried it your way and it didn’t work.’ Ambrosius shrugged and jerked his head towards the desk. This could still work - his own ID would draw attention, but maybe Nimona could work something out.

“For the last time, we can’t let you use acid on the lock!” The clerk behind the desk was saying, “You either find your key or find a licensed locksmith to remove the lock for you.”

The woman in front of the desk waved a hand desperately.

“But what if—”

“We can recommend a locksmith for you if you don’t want to do the footwork yourself.”

“— I fill the lock with water, and then freeze it! Water expands when frozen, so the lock should break right off!”

“Miss Bitsmore, there are other people waiting in line behind you.”

“It’s Blitzmeyer! Meredith Blitzmeyer!”

“Miss Blitzmeyer, would you like the number for the locksmith or not?”

“I’m telling you, I can’t afford a locksmith! My lab burned down and I’m living off savings!”

Ambrosius’s ears perked up. The initials from the sword invoice flashed in his mind. MB!

The clerk didn’t miss a beat, sliding a business card across the desk.

“You can find the number here. Let us know when you plan to come. Next!”

The woman waved her hands in exasperation and stomped out the door, not bothering to take the card. The clerk tapped an intercom button on the desk.

“Hey, keep an eye on unit 531 - we might get someone trying to break into it.” Then the clerk looked up at Nimona. “Can I help you?”

Nimona gave a toothy grin.

“Heyyyy, I need to get in but I forgot the passcode. My ID is—”

Ambrosius hurried forward and grabbed Nimona by the arm.

“Hey you know what? I think I remember where you left your ID!” He pulled her toward the door. “Come on!”

~ ~ ~

It had started to rain in earnest now. Meredith Blitzmeyer walked hands-free, umbrella balanced on her shoulder thanks to the weights built into the bent shaft and handle. She'd designed that part herself, and more.

“Excuse me missus umbrella lady...”

Meredith looked down to see a small boy suddenly standing in front of her. He was dressed in tatters and looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“I can't find my mommy... She went through that scary alley over there.” the child pointed, shivering in the rain. “Could you help me find her? Pwease....?” He looked up at her with sad puppy eyes.

Meredith glanced around. There were other people walking down the street, but nobody was stopping to see if the child was alright. Nobody except her. She sighed.

“Come on, let’s find your mom.” She took the child by the hand and started down the alleyway.

She hadn’t gotten far before she sensed someone else behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a tall, hooded figure barely a meter behind her. Of course. Meredith could have slapped herself for being so gullible.

The hooded figure reached out, but Meredith was faster. Before either the child or the stranger could react, she’d swung her umbrella off her shoulder, collapsing it and shoving the end into the stranger’s chest. A crackle of electricity rippled through the air and the hooded figured dropped like a stone.

Meredith broke into a run. The street was close. Just a few meters… A beastly snarl echoed down the alley as a set of jaws clamped around her leg, yanking her to the ground. Meredith tried to get back up, but the grip on her leg wouldn’t let go. It started to drag her backwards, away from the street, back into the dark alley.

The electrified umbrella was still in her hands. Meredith turned and swung it at the beast, electricity arcing at its tip. She almost hit it. It let go of her instead, ducking out of the way. That was all the time she needed to get back to her feet. But before she could run, the hooded figure slammed into her, knocking her back to the ground. Then the beast - a large, pink wolf - grabbed the umbrella in its jaws and yanked it away.

Meredith blinked in surprise. Pink? The next thing she knew, the hooded figure had rolled off her and the wolf was towering above her, teeth bared.

A man’s voice rang out, angry.

“Who are you working for?!”

The question caught Meredith by surprise.

“What?!”

“We know you ordered the sword!”

“I didn’t—”

“We have paperwork - with your initials on it! You had the sword - the sword that killed the queen - the sword that framed Ballister, that got him killed…” The man’s voice broke.

Meredith tried to look at the source of the voice, but the wolf growled at the slightest movement. The man found his voice again, wavering as it was.

“I should turn you in now. There’s enough evidence here. That’ll be enough to prove his innocence, and then… then…”

The wolf spoke in a female voice.

“Hey, keep it together man. We’ve got an interrogation here.”

Meredith, fully bewildered by now, broke in.

“I didn’t do it! They ordered the sword in my name and then burned down my lab when I said I wouldn’t put the blaster in it! …. I can show you the emails!”

The man sank to his knees next to her. Meredith got a look at his face.

“Wait, you’re the Goldenlocks guy!”

Ambrosius didn’t bat an eye.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Ohhh no… I- I didn’t do anything wrong! I swear I thought I was designing mining equipment! Good Gloreth I talk too much…”

“Why didn’t you say something after they arrested Ballister?”

“I thought he was the one who’d ordered the sword! I- I didn’t want to get in any more trouble!” Meredith blinked several times under her glasses. “They already killed my friends in the fire…”

There was a long silence. Then the wolf spoke again.

“You think she’s telling the truth?”

“Not all of it.” Ambrosius turned back to Meredith. “You said there were emails. Show me.”

Meredith hesitated.

“Ah, you see, I don’t have my work email on my phone - I use my laptop for that. And I left that at home.”

Silence. Meredith spoke again.

“So if you could let me go….”

“We found this at your old lab.” Ambrosius said, holding up the misplaced storage key.

Meredith’s eyes grew wide. Ambrosius pocketed the key and continued.

“Meet us at the library. We’ll be in a study room under the name ‘Goldenlocks’. Bring the laptop. Otherwise I toss the key and give the sword invoice to Security.”

“But… I have somewhere to be…”

“You have two hours.”

Meredith looked like she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to get on the bad side of a noble, much less a knight. She nodded instead.

The wolf backed up. Meredith scuttled backwards, grabbing her umbrella and getting to her feet. She paused to brush the water from her clothes.

"If I can ask... You said you thought Ballister was framed. Why? Didn't he confess to the murder?"

Ambrosius hesitated.

"I don't think that confession was from him. It didn't... sound like him."

Meredith gave an unimpressed “Oh,” then flicked her umbrella open and hurried back to the street. Still in the alley, Nimona shifted back to dog form, suddenly dry as she ducked under an overhang. Ambrosius turned away, rubbing his eyes. Nimona looked up at him.

“You okay, boss?”

Ambrosius didn’t look at her.

“… It was just yesterday. They published the confession at noon, and he was dead before sunset.” He leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t even get to see him...”

Nimona sat next to him, pressing her furry head under his hand. Ambrosius reflexively ran his fingers through her fur, appreciating the softness. He cracked the faintest smile. So that was what having a dog was like.

Next Chapter

[onlymurdersinthebuildingreblogs]

Only Murders In the Building Season Four Finale Thoughts While Watching

WARNING SPOILERS FOR ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING SEASON THREE FINALE AND SEASON FOUR!!!!!! INCLUDING THE KILLER! AVOID IF YOU ARE NOT THAT FAR INTO THE SERIES, IF YOU AREN'T YOU BETTER, IT IS SO GOOD!

Note: I lost track of the day of the week and didn't realize the episode had aired until I was in bed.

Pre-Watching:

I wonder if the plot holes Sazz had found were unrelated to her murderer, Marshall/Rex. Set up for the next season.

I hope Theo appears, I really like his character. I also think he's good for Mabel.

I'd also like to see Lucy. I really liked her character.

Watching:

1:07-1:27 -- Oh, so they have filmed for Brazzos!? At least, Sazz got some more time with Charles.

1:16 -- "TAP IN!"

1:27 -- Isn't Sazz a little too old for stunts like that? Jane Lynch is 64 years old.

1:46 -- Osteoporosis! That sounds like a disease. Is that a disease!? (One Google Search Later) Google: "Osteoporosis is a bone disease that weakens bones, making them more likely to break. Osteoporosis occurs when the body breaks down more bone than it replaces, causing bones to become less dense and more porous. This makes bones more fragile and susceptible to fractures, even from minor bumps or falls. Osteoporosis is often called a 'silent disease' because people may not notice any symptoms until they break a bone. Osteoporosis is the leading cause of broken bones in older people and postmenopausal women." Me: YEAH, APPARENTLY SHE IS! "MINOR BUMPS OR FALLS"!? SHE JUST DID A FLIP AND JUMPED FROM A STORY-TALL BUILDING! "I'M GOOD"!? DOESN'T SEEM LIKE IT!?

2:10 -- "Hey, Sazz, you okay!?" Aw, at least, Charles is making sure she's okay, even if she's kind of lying to him. She's making sure he's okay.

3:06-3:14 -- Not related but accent letter choices, why can't they have that on laptop keyboards, instead you have to know like shortcuts and then some laptops don't have those shortcut buttons. Like my old laptop had a numeric keypad so if I wanted to do the em dash, I would hold "alt" then push 0151, but my new laptop keyboard doesn't, so I can't make that dash and I use it more than you think. Look at the lazy double dashes, I've put.

3:18-3:27: "Every time we solve a murder that's when the next body drops. It's like when one murder door closes, someone we know either gets stabbed, poisoned, or shot." I guess that's kind of true? Jan stabbed herself and then poisoned you. "Glitter Guy" attacked Mabel and she stabbed him like the awesome girl she is. (I would say bad*** but I don't like to curse. So what's the age-appropriate way to say that?) Charles pretended to be stabbed by Alice. I don't actually think that happened last season though. There was when Donna poisoned Ben and nearly killed him and then Cliff pushed him down. I guess, Cliff nearly committed suicide. Also he already killed Glen.

3:28-3:35 -- "Why would you say that? You know my wedding is tomorrow. Loretta's on her way now, here to the murder building." That didn't occur to you when you picked this place as the place your wedding would take place at? Your podcast is called "Only Murders in the Building".

4:02 -- It's always kind of annoying when the villain is like "do this or I'll kill you" like they're not going to do that anyways.

4:15 -- Oh, I'm so hoping Mabel beats him up! She is not the kind of woman you want to mess with!

7:02-7:27 -- They're gonna go on the ledge. I don't like height so I don't think this is going to go well for Charles.

7:47 -- Oh! Nope! Nope! Too high! Too high!

10:20 -- I know the feeling! Every time I'm on a high place, I feel like I'm tipping forwards. Ever since when I was around eight, when I was on top of a lighthouse, looking down over the railing and my brother picked me up to take a picture without telling me and I suddenly felt like I was somehow falling over the ledge and I started panicking and he had to put me down before he dropped.

10:54 -- "Are you on this ledge, because I'm moving to New Zealand?"

11:52 -- And now they're dancing on a thin ledge several stories up.

11:55 -- How is no one seeing them? I once sat on the window sill of a second story building and apparently someone called the cops because of that!?

12:22-12:45 -- Marshall, you're doing a terrible job at being causal. You're switching accents from southern to Scottish.

12:49 -- Vince and Rudy are barley doing a better job. "Whatever you have is what we're looking for."

18:46 -- "I'm gonna fly to New York to see Charles make his Broadway debut." Aw. I never actually considered the though that she had seen the play.

22:05 -- Oh, she knew Charles would find him!

23:07 -- Jan to the rescue!? Didn't see that coming! I thought it'd be Rudy or Vince.

28:40 -- Finally, Will comes back! And oh, Dickie, I didn't expect to see you, I forgot about him.

32:07 -- Is Uma going to be the next victim?

32:14-32:54 -- Season five set up?

32:32 -- What did Nicky have to do with the building?

32:54 -- Oh, Sophia's going to be the next body, isn't she?

34:32 -- There's blood coming out of the water fountain's mouth.

34:48 -- LESTER!?

35:10 -- "72 emergencies ahead of you" Are you kidding me!? No wonder podcasters are the only ones who seem to be able to catch killers!

[igotfuckedatcrackerbarrel]

wonderful idea. little numeric keypad that it can type in the Drone Status Code and the message plays out in text to speech. maybe just some phone program but perhaps a little tactile keypad it can wear on its arm like a cute little bracelet. or cute little Nintendo Power Glove.

[alpine-stims]

Glowing numeric keypad ⌨️ • source

[wutwutno2]

Borrower Drones Chapter 2!

Uzi's face beeped loudly as her 3:00 A.M. alarm sounded, the numbers glowing brightly as she exited sleep mode. She slapped her face to shut it off and quickly got to work. Uzi quickly got on her feet and scrambled around her room. She put on a fresh change of clothes and threw on her favorite hoodie. She grabbed her railgun and made for her dad's room. 

Khan's door was tricky for Uzi. It was the only one in the house that wasn't borrower-friendly, and for good reason. Her dad had forbade Uzi from entering that room specifically because it couldn't be borrower-friendly. It was full of sharp and heavy tools, and knowing what he knew about Uzi, he knew she would most likely hurt or significantly damage herself inside. Too bad he left the one thing Uzi could ever want in the room so close to the door. 

Uzi used her grapple hook to climb to the keypad, and thanks to seeing Khan put in the code so many times, put the code in by swinging out and landing on the keys.

The door opened with a swoosh. Uzi quickly swung in, grabbed what she wanted, and swung out before the door closed. Uzi slid down some string and inspected her stolen good. It was one of the master keys for the doors. It was the size of Uzi's entire body and looked like the key fob for a car. It was black with three red buttons, one for each door. Each button had a Roman numeral correlating with the door they opened. Uzi quickly wrapped a rubber band around it, attaching it to her back.

Uzi makes her way to door three, the already massive door looking gigantic to Uzi and her tiny form. Uzi takes a deep breath and opens door 3, only to be met with her father.

"Uzi? What are you doing out here at this hour?" Khan took a step forward and bent down to try and pick up Uzi, but stopped when he remembered that she didn't like being held by him. So, he took a few steps back to make looking at each other easier.

"I'm uh... Sneaking out to make out with my totally real boyfriend?" Uzi smiled awkwardly while she rocked on her feet. Despite Khan backing up, she still had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. His brows furrowed in suspicion. He tried to hold back his laughter, not wanting to patronize his daughter and all, but alas, he couldn't. He burst out laughing a deep belly laugh that had him holding his sides. He quickly recovered and put on his serious dad face.

"I'm serious, Uzi. What are you doing out here?" Khan looked at Uzi with the "don't try me, I'm your dad" look. Uzi couldn't help but shudder under his gaze. Who knew scary dad looks were more powerful when your dad is 12 times your size?

"Okay, okay! I just need to look at the exterior of door one... I need...some ideas f-for a...class project? On doors?" Uzi put on her best poker face for this lie. One wrong expression and her dad would probably ground her for life, which wouldn't be hard given her size.

Luckily for Uzi, Khan fell for it. Khan immediately beamed with excitement. "A school project on doors! Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" Khan picked up Uzi without thinking and brought her into the room between doors one and two, where the rest of the on-duty WDF were huddled around a table playing cards.

"Guys, my daughter has a school project on doors! And she seems pretty interested!" Uzi couldn't help but blush and cover her face in embarrassment as Khan drew attention to her. The other workers in the area began to applaud but quickly switched to groans of annoyance as Khan opened door one, causing the cards to be blown around the room. "She's going to be outside door one for a bit to study it's b-e-a-utiful design if I do say so myself!" Khan bends down and places Uzi on the ground, lightly pushing her towards the open door with pride. "Go, Uzi! Your door-specific destiny awaits!" Uzi was stunned. She couldn't believe that her lie had worked. She turned herself back towards Khan and the other workers and began walking backward out of the bunker.

"Okay then... I guess I'll be leaving. um... Go doors!"

Uzi stopped in her tracks when she saw her dad and the rest of the worker drones hollow-eyed and panicked. She turned around, only to be met with a tall murder drone, a yellow x in the place of eyes, and their nanite acid tail in the control panel for the doors. All the doors opened, and all Uzi could do was freeze in fear and watch.

All the normal-sized worker drones turned and fled. All except for one, who sat at the table in shock. He didn't say a word, only a brief scream that was cut off too soon by the murder drone stabbing him with its tail and cutting off his head. The murder drone then turned to the group of fleeing workers, who hadn't even made it to door three yet. It pulled out a missile launcher and fired three missiles. Two missed and the last one met its mark, shredding two workers in the blast. 

One worker drone turned to see the carnage, only to be met with the murderer pouncing on him and ripping out his throat module with its teeth, The module shrieks as the metal tears from the drone's neck by the metal fangs of the murder drone.

Uzi scrambles to run. Her small size makes her very slow compared to the much larger worker drones. She saw the murder drone commit its carnage in front of her, and yet she forced herself forward in the hopes of reaching safety.

Khan runs to the right side of door three, hovering his hand over the "emergency close" button. He turns back to see one of his coworkers get cut in half with a lazar, they fall to the floor. A face of shock permanently froze on their face. Khan's eyes widen as they meet the eyes of Uzi, who hasn't even passed door two yet. It is then he is forced to make a decision, does he save his daughter and risk the lives of everyone in the bunker? Or does he close the door and doom his only child, but save the lives of everyone in the bunker?

With great sadness, he mouthes a quick, "I'm sorry," and he presses the emergency close. Uzi's eyes widen as she realizes what's happening. 

Door three slams down shut, shaking the area with its weight. The disassembly drone stares at it in an animalistic hunger. It grunts angrily and turns around. It looks around before looking directly at Uzi. . .

Uzi's eyes widened in horror. She could see the thing eyeing her hungrily. She could only watch and tremble as the creature began to crawl on all fours towards her. Its metal claws scraped against the floor with ear-piercing screeches. It switches its claws for hands. It plucks Uzi up by her hood and brings it close to its face. 

Uzi trembled as the murder drone stared at her. Uzi could feel the gaze burning into her core, deciding on whether or not to eat her or pull her apart like string cheese. Uzi's eyes stared at its fangs the thing's gaping maw. Her oil pump pounded in her ears. She never noticed the visor on the drone change from an x to wide curious eyes.

"Woah! What are you?" 

Uzi blinked. 

Did this thing just talk to her? She must be dreaming. She was probably in robo heaven, her body being torn and mangled in an unholy gruesome way. There's no way this thing—

"Can you even hear me? Or are you just scared? Oh jeez, you must be uncomfortable with me holding you like that! Here let me..." The drone brought up its other hand and placed Uzi into it before cupping both hands around her. Uzi just stared up at the drone confused, she had not expected the drone that just killed most of her dad's coworkers to be so friendly to her. 

"I um... Thank you?" Uzi stammered, not sure what to say. She looked the drone up and down to get a better idea of what she was dealing with. 

The drone was tall, even for a normal worker drone. It presented as male with its voice and clothes, which consisted of a giant black jacket with a fluffy tan fur collar, a yellow armband, and a pilot's cap. The drone's hair was a mid-length and silver. It shined beautifully in the fluorescent lights of the hallway. If Uzi wasn't so closed off, she would have admitted she thought he was handsome. 

"Oh! I forgot to introduce myself!" The murder drone tilted his hand so that Uzi was cupped in only one as he brought the other to his head in a salute. "I'm Serial Designation N! It's nice to meet you!" 

"Uzi." Uzi hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you gonna eat me?" Uzi looked into N's eyes, trying to find a hint of malice or dishonesty, but finding none. Instead, N's eyes softened and he frowned a little. "No? Why would I—? Oh. Right. Biscuits! I forgot I'm a disassembly drone! Ha ha! Sorry, for, you know, killing everyone..." N spoke softly, trying not to scare the tiny worker he held in his hand. Uzi began to calm down as the air of danger lifted. She breathed a sigh of relief before replying to N with, "It's fine, I guess."

"So as I said earlier, what are you? I have never seen a drone as small as you. It's really adorable!" Uzi blushed a little and her eyebrows furrowed in anger, a little anger emoticon forming in the corner of her visor. She did not like being called adorable, especially in reference to her size.

"I'm not adorable! And I'm a borrower drone! A defiantly not at all useless type of drone!" Her tiny outburst was met with a smile from N. "Oh, so that's what borrower drones are! I always heard J and V talk about them and how they're supposedly more delicious than a normal worker drone, but looking at you I just can't bring myself to find out if that's true!"

Uzi's visor showed nervous sweat marks. She tried to pivot the conversation away from N's diet of workers and what she would taste like compared to everyone else. "W-Who's V and J? Are they... friends of yours?" 

N's eyes hollowed in realization and he collected his thoughts. "V and J are my squadmates! They're actually pretty cool! Okay, so, V . . ."

Cut to a scene in a back ally of the crumbling city. A slightly shorter than N disassembly drone with thinner more pointy legs, similar length and color hair, and a crop top jacket with a similar armband to N can be seen standing over a white-eyed worker drone with an orange winter coat. 

The worker tried to crawl away, but when he turned around, V was right on top of him. 

"No! Please! Let me live! I have a family! Plea—!" The drone fell dead as his head underwent rapid separation from his body with a blade. V stood over her kill triumphantly. She picked up the drone's head and whispered, "I know, they're next," before crushing the head in her claws and letting the oil drip down her arm. 

Just out of V's sight, N watched on with starry-eyed admiration.

"V's amazing! And J . . ." 

N lies on the ground with a pointed foot on his neck. A slightly larger disassembly drone stands over him. She wears a suit with a yellow dress shirt that matches the yellow armband on her arm. She has slightly darker silver hair that she wears in long pigtails on either side of her head. She looks down at N with disdain.

"N, you are worthless, terrible, and worth more as scrap. If you don't get your act together, and I get JCJenson in Spaaaaacccee!!!!! approval, I will kill you myself!"

 "J is just the best boss ever!" N was about to continue when Uzi cut him off with, "Yeah yeah, they sound like terrible people. Can we talk about something else? Like..."

Suddenly, two figures land just outside the bunker. They look into the bunker curiously with yellow Xs over their eyes and wings protruding from their backs. They slowly walk towards N, their wings fold into their backs and their tails swing side to side threateningly.

Uzi, sensing the danger dives into a pocket on N's coat, surprising the larger drone. N opens his mouth to protest but shuts it when J speaks to him, her yellow x replaced with two ovals. 

"Wow, N. Did you really get into the bunker? The company will love this for sure." J slowly steps closer to N as V pipes up.

"Yeah, N! Nice work! I mean, you didn't get past this door—" V points her thumb at door three over her shoulder, "—but you still managed to get a lot of carnage done!"

N stares at his two squadmates stunned. Praise? For him? Who had ever heard of such a thing? N's processors went into overdrive to hold his straight face together.

J and V looked at the third door, looking for any potential weakness they could exploit. Inside N's pocket, Uzi was freaking out and trying to hold still. She definitely didn't want to get caught by N's squadmates. Sweat icons dripped down her visor rapidly. All Uzi could think about were all the potential and creative ways she could be killed by the disassemblers. She clutched the master key to the doors as if it would save her.

J sighs and turns away from the door, flipping her hands and shrugging her shoulders in an "oh well" gesture. "Welp, looks like there's no possible way for us to open this door. Let's go home. Sun's about to rise."

Uzi sighs quietly in relief. She squeezes the key one more time, only to hear the worst thing possible at that moment; a click.

Door three rumbled as it lifted. V stood stunned, but J took her chance. She dived for the door. Uzi, in a moment of blind panic, managed to click the key again. 

The door shut, not with a slam, but a crunch. J's torso was under the door when it shut. Her body twitched as it leaked oil. After a few seconds, it stopped. J was dead, and Uzi, the borrower drone, killed her. Granted, it's not the method Uzi wanted, but killing a disassembly drone was an impressive feat, even for a worker. 

V and N stared stunned, they didn't know what to do. Their leader was dead, and they saw no one around to kill her. Only N had any inkling of an idea as to who killed her. He reached into his pocket and scooped Uzi out. He held her in his palms while she tried to hide behind the door key.

"Uzi, what did you do? Wait, was it you? I don't know! I'm sorry for blaming you! Maybe it was an accident?" N rambled as Uzi trembled and apologized profusely, begging not to be killed.

V stared at the two in silence before grinning widely. She traded her eyes for an x and her hand for claws. She pounced at Uzi, N moving her out of V's path just in the nick of time.

N looked at V stunned and she growled. "N, give me the borrower. You're clearly not going to eat it, so just give it to me." V pounced again, and N dodged again. 

"No! I can't let you hurt her, V!" N blocked Uzi from V with his hand, pressing her against his chest. V swung at his arm and missed, but made N move it and Uzi behind his back. 

"Fine then! I guess I'll just take her myself!" V swapped her claws for swords and swung at N, the latter using his own sword hand to block the attack.

"V, stop!" N cried, pushing V away. N may have the same strength as V, but his feet are more stable, and thus he was able to put more effort into keeping V back than she could put into her attacks.

N swapped his sword for his hands. V lunged at him, and before she could swing, N grabbed her by the chestplate. "What the—!"

N lifted V slightly and slammed her into the ground. Thinking quickly, he put Uzi down and tied up V with her own tail before she could re-orient herself. 

"Oh my robo god V, I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking! Please don't be too mad! Let's just go back to the spire, okay?" V glared at N and pouted, feeling embarrassed at being defeated by the failure of the squad. 

N grabbed V to take her to the spire and offered his hand to Uzi for her to climb on. Uzi, feeling like she had no choice when faced with the giant, chose to climb on. N brought her up to his shoulder where Uzi got off his hand and sat next to his fur collar, clutching at it for stability. If there's anything she could say positivially about N, it would probably be that despite his lack of knowledge, he still could handle a borrower like her well. 

Uzi sighed and then screamed as N took off for the spire, carrying V in his arms and flying slowly to keep Uzi from falling. Uzi was now going to be living with two murder drones and one of them wanted her dead. Rolled her eyes as she clung to N.

"Oh robo god, what have I gotten myself into?"