#started the year with slasher handler and ended with this

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Data Breach

Read on AO3

Word count: 12.8k

Alternatively titled "Lockdown."

CW: Public partial-nudity, references to sex work, Kidnapping, implied trafficking, threats of violence, anxiety/panic, body horror, brief mentions of medical trauma, character being hunted, brief mention of cannibalism, guns, knives

Notes: Naya "Bambi" Walker and Veronica "Bricks" Mason are my characters. Morgan "Sparrow" Voss belongs to @sentientcave.

I'm very excited because this is my first "complete" fic. And I wrote it within my first year of posting fanfiction! Thanks to everyone who has been here with me through it all!

The genetic and cybernetic enhancements that the public took for granted were a drop in the bucket. No one protested the same-day medical procedures for aesthetics and practicality and security. What harm is a microchip to automate one’s home, modified musculature that needed less exercise to maintain? Who was ever going to protest genetically coded locking mechanisms?

Soldier modifications are a violation of human rights. The deployment of those soldiers isn’t, unless they use their enhanced abilities to commit a war crime. But the process of modification, experimental and unregulated, driven by greed, desperation, a cold war that bled and screamed…

In the early days of accelerated genetics, on the heels of the prosthetic revolution, things had been hellish. Rejected limb grafts.    Explosively contagious viral infections previously rare in humans. Incompatible bones and organs and structures drowning experimental groups in their own fluids. Hunting and prey drives that only became apparent on the battlefield.

The deployment of modified soldiers isn’t a violation of human rights. But if even a single civilian is caught in the crossfire, it’s a war crime.

What the governments of the world did to the men and women who served them - and the populations they were supposed to serve - was a flood of destruction that led to international court-martial and proposed executions.

Only proposed though.

Naya, green around the gills from her latest information dive, wonders if maybe those proposals had more merit than she’d initially thought.

The files she found about the modified joint task forces, the Ghost Team JTFs, are more horrifying than anything she’s ever seen. Bone and dental removal, replacement, and additions. Brain implants, deeper and more invasive than most civilian interface units, which go just under the skin. Increased metabolism, shortening of the digestive tract, automatic injectors with stim packs that keep soldiers awake and lucid through unimaginable horrors.

Her hands shake, spilling tea leaves on the counter as she disconnects from her VPN network. She’d stumbled upon the initial files surrounding what had been Task Force 141 days ago, had quickly skimmed and duplicated their contents to read and review on her own time. Those had been bad enough. Reading about a Scottish soldier, shot in the head and brought back only to have his body altered. Another sergeant suspended in a tank as his genetically altered body attempted and failed to process all of the poisons they wanted him resistant to. A lieutenant who’s frontal lobe was hacked through to make room for a larger processor. The Captain captured and tortured and changed for investigating what was happening to his unit…

And that was before the videos.

Finding more information on Ghost Teams is virtually impossible. Official reports, even the ones she breaks into, list the 141 as defunct. Her fellow archivists don’t have any other information, and aren’t willing to help her dive again.

>>>Flower: even if the GTs are still alive >>>Flower: it’s too dangerous >>>Flower: too many powers want them to stay buried >>>Flower: we’ll lose everything if we go digging >>>Bambi: you don’t have any contacts i could ask? >>>Flower: i‘m sorry bambi

There’s more security, when she returns to the original server, too much for her to feel comfortable to try to force her way in. Her bots identify a couple of devices on the network that might be exploitable - a printer, two coffee machines - but she leaves them alone, for now.

Instead, she trawls conspiracy theory forums for any mention of experimental modifications, missing soldiers, and questionable medical equipment shipments. Experience means her bots filter through everything, which saves her more than a few headaches, but also means that she waits hours before a possible hit. And that hit is a dead end.

The hours turn to days before she’s able to find an abandoned, locked forum with deleted answers to heavily coded questions. The last post is seven years old, ostensibly informing community members of upcoming changes to the forum. The veil over the warning of government surveillance is thinner than tissue paper.

It’s the closest thing she has to a lead, so she makes a new post and sets her bots to monitor it.

>>18|\/|48(Guest): GTJTFs producing new 141 units? Leaked production reports, new specs?

She doesn’t expect a response, but maybe an auto-responder will give her a clue of where to look next. So it’s jarring when she gets an encrypted email with a reply from “dimentionspoker@noreply.co,” an hour later.

new units? have info on old units if you need references. let me know.

—

The middle city isn’t the safest, for all that the well-to-dos topside like to pretend that the truly unsavory elements aren’t that close to their picturesque lawns. Naya’s lived here her whole life, though she’s worked above a time or two. Even so, she’s never ventured this close to the freight shafts down to the docks.

The bar she steps into is loud and smells like liquor and motor fluid. It’s dim, and smoky, and she feels eyes on her as she makes her way to the bar. Her interface lights up with pings and an attempted ID and bank chip skim. All they get for their trouble is her least informative ID tag - Bambi.

The bartender, a large bodied person with the simple tag of Engine, operates behind the bar with four cybernetic arms. There’s no digital queue for her to log in to, or even a service request button on the seemingly organic wood bar. So she stands, hands folded on top of the bar for them to finish pouring drinks and notice her standing there.

Just as the barkeep’s attention slides her way, a warm body presses up behind hers. She stiffens as a the person jostles her to lean heavily on the bar. “Eng! Another for me. And whatever my cute new friend wants.”

A refusal is on the tip of her tongue, but when she looks up into slitted yellow eyes haloed by curled black and purple freeform locs, she gets an encrypted message.

>>>Bricks: Hello Bambi. >>>Bricks: Order a drink and come with me.

—

"They shouldn't be locked up. They're people, not mindless killing machines."

Across the table, under the dim lights, the woman called Bricks cocks her head. She’s a true cyborg, someone who’s modifications are probably keeping them alive. The cybernetics of her left arm extending well into her ribcage. She doesn’t hide it. Under dark overclothes, a slouching shirt exposes the metal of her collarbones, the servos that whir as she breathes. She swirls her glass of Jack and Coke with an amused look on her face as a barely muffled moan pierces through loud music.

Naya takes a deep breath to keep from fidgeting. It took three months to arrange even this meeting with the elusive American arms dealer, in the back of this dingy bar on a busy Friday. She wasn't about to lose the lead just because she could hear lewd comments and barely muffled squeals of pleasure from the nearby hall to the washrooms. The more concerning noise was coming from behind her, anyhow, the thump of knives into a dart board, distressed beeping from the unlucky mini-droid bound to the target.

"You want me to set up a meeting with the Watcher," Bricks drawls, sitting back in her chair. Her pointed cybernetic nails drum against the table. She doesn’t bother to whisper, but both of them have been disrupting any listening devices in range. "So you can make sure that Price's monsters are being treated humanely?"

"They're not monsters," Naya hisses.

"You've never seen them." It's not a question.

"I don't need to see them to know they shouldn't be kept locked in cages."

Bricks freezes with her glass halfway to her lips. Her eyes narrow. “Cages?”

“That’s what I saw.” Gritting her teeth, Naya hisses. “Look. You know what it means to be augmented, what extensive modifications are like. But without anesthesia? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even my worst enemy.”

“You’d be surprised what I would wish on my worst enemy, sweetheart.” Bricks chuckles and throws back the last dregs of her drink. "But you know what? Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine. You want in so bad? I'll set up a meeting with the Watcher, and Price."

Well. That was easier than expected. "What'll it cost me?"

"Oh, your whole life, probably. Your whole world view, certainly," Bricks chuckles. She gives Naya an obvious once over, gaze lingering on her breasts. "But you don't owe me any more than a quick flash of your tits."

That does make Naya’s confidence falter. "W-what?"

"You heard me. C'mon, give me a little peek, and I'll send a message right now. You can have Price's monsters off their leashes by the end of the week." Bricks grins, slit pupils pulsing wide with interest. "We don't even have to go anywhere, just pull down your shirt a little bit."

"I'm not..." Naya looks around, furtively. "This isn't exactly priv-" She flinches as she's interrupted by a loud moan, followed by a cheer from the rest of the bar.

"You're asking me to let your hands get real dirty, sweetheart." Bricks stands and circles the table to crowd Naya against the wall. She dips down to breathe into her ear. "And unless you want word to spread of a cute, clean cut, little topsider digging into illegal soldier mods, you're gonna pull your tits out and take the money I give you, after, Bambi."

There’s something behind the predatory look in the taller woman’s eyes. A challenge. She’s called Naya’s bluff, hasn’t she? When she refuses, Bricks will send her off with a laugh and a pat on her ass. And she’ll be back at square one, unable to face the danger of diving deeper again.

But Naya’s never been accused of knowing when to back down.

It’s the work of a moment to have the various video feeds in the room start a ten second loop. Her bots use movement patterns to make the video seem natural to anyone not looking closely. Bricks makes an interested noise when the video feed from her cybernetic eye continues showing Naya’s darting eyes and regular breaths. Her organic eye takes in the way Naya’s hands come up to unclasp the front of her shirt.

She takes a deep breath before hooking her fingers into the neck of her undershirt. She looks down as she inches it down to reveal the scalloped edge of her bra, instead of looking to see if Bricks is aroused or amused or some other, worse thing.

Before she can truly expose herself, a warm hand touches her wrist. “So eager. Not even gonna give me a little tease?”

>>>Bricks: Nice trick with the cameras, but you’re going to call attention.

Naya tips her chin up and immediately regrets it when Bricks leans down to meet her. Her breath shivers between their lips. When a metal arm comes up to block her view of the rest of the room, she turns her face away.

>>>Bambi: It’d be more suspicious if I let everyone have a clip for distribution.

“Smart girl,” Bricks whispers against her temple. “Take the credits.”

The fund transfer Bricks initiates has a public comment attached. ‘Classy. Could almost be the real thing.’ Naya glares up at Brick’s smirking face as she accepts the transaction. Two hundred. It feels like too little and too much money at the same time. Almost immediately, she gets inquiry pings from six other patrons the bar.

“And that’s your alibi,” Bricks chuckles, stepping back so quickly that she barely has time to put herself to rights. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

—

Naya tries not to fidget in the freight elevator, down, down, down, into The Throat. Bricks's arm is a possessive weight on her shoulder. On the other side of the lift, a startlingly tall man stares at them through the holes in a cloth sack. When she meets his eyes, something writhes where his mouth should be.

"Eyes to yourself," Bricks growls when he takes a half step in their direction. Her cybernetic arm crackles warningly.

The man visibly considers his options before making a guttural sound. A thick appendage, tongue or tentacle, Naya can’t really tell, pokes out from under the hood. He mutters something she doesn’t understand in under-tongue. Bricks hisses something back, pushing Naya behind her as she takes a threatening step forward. The man flinches, then crowds himself into his corner. He doesn’t even look in their direction for the rest of the descent.

When the doors open, Bricks holds her back until the man leaves, then steers her out into the street. Naya's been under-city before, but not in this bloc. The air is just as stale and hazy as she remembers, but this shaft doesn't see as much vertical commuter traffic as some of the others, so the street is dark instead of lit with neon. The faintest bit of light filters down from straight above.

Groping for something to say, she asks, "Did you know that guy?"

Bricks snorts, keeping an arm around her's waist as she steers her along. "Yeah."

“What did he want?”

She gets an uninterested shrug. “The same thing any bottom dwelling opportunist wants.”

It’s not hard to imagine what she means. When she doesn't say anything else, Naya searches for another topic. She swallows her pride and forces herself to say, "Thank you for setting up this meeting."

"Don't thank me yet, sweetheart. You're gonna hate me soon enough."

"I know it's dangerous for you," she insists as Bricks draws her down a side street. Dangerous is an understatement, if the Ghost Teams are so far gone that they’re experimenting on human beings. "Even if things are hard, moving forward, I appreciate your help."

Bricks doesn't answer. Instead, she knocks on a barred door. It opens a crack, and she and the other person hiss low words at each other. A shining green eye looks Naya up and down, the door shuts, and Bricks draws her away.

They stride, briskly, back to the main street. Bricks asks, "Do you have a respirator?"

"Yes."

"Put it on, don't speak."

Wordlessly, Naya unfolds the mask from her pocket and covers her mouth and nose. Bricks pulls a dark scarf from her shoulders and wraps it around Naya’s head and neck, and then drops a poncho over her head. Somehow, the mercinary looks bigger in just her thin shirt, the muscles and metal in her shoulders more pronounced.

Ten minutes into their silent walk, a man melts from the shadows and starts walking on Naya's other side. Though she can’t see much under his baggy clothes, his gait speaks to digitigrade modifications. When she glances up, he has a faceplate under his own hood. His voice, when he speaks, is robotic. "Bricks."

"Roach."

“You’re looking smug and determined.”

“I’m on a very… interesting job.” An encrypted message gets passed between the two of them, and Naya frowns behind her mask. She shouldn’t be able to tell that a message was sent, though, so she bites her tongue. Bricks smirks down at her, then turns her eyes forward. “What’s on your mind?”

"Shadows are hunting you. Seven thousand credits."

"That's insulting," Bricks dismisses. "Mace take the job?"

"That's insulting," Roach parrots back. Somehow, his metered and inflectionless voice sounds amused. A flurry of encrypted messages flows between them. Once those have finished, he says, "Come see us when your business with the Watcher is done." And then he fades away into the shadows again.

"Good job," Bricks whispers. "Stay silent. Keep taking deep breaths. Walk straight ahead. Don't run." And then she ducks down a side street, leaving Naya alone in the dark.

Fuck.

She keeps putting one foot in front of the other. Measured. Brisk, but unhurried. A couple of people pass on the other side of the street, then a man passes on her side. Under her poncho, she palms her pocket knife, but no one spares her a second glance.

After a full minute, Bricks slides out of the next alley and falls into step with her, a cigarette that smells like real tobacco between her lips. In her cybernetic hand, she has a twitching, bleeding length of what looks like an octopus tentacle the size of Naya’s forearm.

"You can talk now,” she says. “But you don't want to ask about this."

—

The respirator makes a lot more sense when Naya is led to a shaft to the Belly.

She’s never been to the middle level of the true undercity. Technically, no one should live in this industrial level, so there’s very little in the way of individual commerce and amenities. There is an abundance of dead “topsider tourists” every year, mangled and hacked to drain all of their resources before anyone can realize that they haven’t come home.

This lift is much smaller, just big enough for her to stand behind Bricks as the woman primes her arm. The edge of a plasma knife glows blue from within the mechanics of her bicep. When Naya activates the plasma in her own knife, Bricks looks over her shoulder at the near silent hum.

“You ever use that before?”

“Once.”

That earns an interested noise as the other woman faces forward again. “On a person?”

“…No.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” is all she says about that as the elevator shudders to a stop. “Stay behind my right arm. If I tell you to drop, you fall to the ground and don’t move until I tell you.”

When the door opens, it’s into a pitch black alley. The only light is the obscured gleam from with Brick’s left shoulder. Something in the darkness hisses. Bricks strides forward, and Naya has no choice but to follow after.

They walk for a few minutes without incident before Bricks knocks on a nondescript door. Next to it, a biometric scanner creaks open and scans one of her eyes, then one of her metal fingers. Naya flinches at the noise of a series of locks grinding open.

A stern faced blonde woman is on the other side of the door when Bricks gestures Naya inside. She’s not wearing a respirator, but then, neither is Bricks. The woman doesn’t say anything, so Naya doesn’t either. She just waits for Bricks to finish securing the door, then returns to her spot just behind her.

“Watcher,” Bricks greets with clear good humor. “I brought you a little something.”

Naya huffs a surprised breath from her nose, but stays silent. The Watcher. The overseer of at least one of five active Modified Task Forces. She looks so… normal. A woman in her mid forties, maybe, face lined with stress but open. Naya feels a little thrown off. When the lights flicker, however, she catches the red shine of a cybernetic eye. Whatever mods she has, they’re hidden so well that Naya can’t even sense them.

The Watcher’s eyes scan her for a moment before she’s looking back to Bricks. Naya only has a moment to wonder why she hasn’t been pinged before she asks, “Alive?”

“You always pay more when they’re alive.”

What? Naya stumbles backwards until she hits the door. “What?”

Bricks throws a grin over her shoulder. “I told you not to thank me.” Turning back to the Watcher, she says, “Thirty thousand credits. Had a run in with the King on the way here.”

“No one told you to bring her alive. Fifteen, and we void the Shadows bounty on you.”

“Twenty five. You want her alive, trust me. And I can handle the Shadows on my own.”

Naya gapes at the two of them. A quick glance over her shoulder and query to the door confirms that the locks won’t open again without a lot more force than she could manage, even if she wouldn’t have to fight Bricks to get out. And the Watcher… isn’t motivated to let her live. Fuck. The little knife in her hands feels less than useless.

“She wanted to meet you,” Bricks continues, crossing her arms. “And Price.”

That makes the Watcher pause and look over Naya again. “Oh?”

“She used his name,” Bricks confirms. “Real skilled code-breaker.”

“Hm.” The Watcher frowns, then says. “Thirty thousand is a low ball offer, then.”

“She thinks you’re keeping the task force in cages,” Bricks chuckles. “I want to watch when she sees them for the first time.”

That gets a huff of amusement. “Thirty thousand and a show… Deal. Bring her.”

When the Watcher turns away, Bricks looks back at Naya with a surprisingly gentle smile. “Good job. Now comes the hard part. Let’s go.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” she doesn’t want to walk forward, but there’s not much else to do. She tries to stand away from Bricks, but it’s hard in the narrow hallway.

“Nothing, now,” Bricks laughs. “Got you through the door alive, and Watcher can always use a code breaker.”

It’s hard not to feel stupid. Naya struggles to keep her voice even. “So this was just… a bounty for you?”

“Better me than König.” Bricks wiggles the tentacle that she’s still holding in metal fingers. “And better now than when an actual bounty was on your head. Diving into secure government information brings out the worst kind of trouble. The Shadows would have killed you in your bed. Kortac would have chipped you, if they decided keeping you was worth it. This way, everyone gets what they want.”

“Except me,” Naya points out.

“You’re still alive, for now,” the Watcher points out from a few steps ahead, without looking back. “Considering the problems you’ve caused me, it’s tempting to kill you myself. But Bricks is right. I can always use a Breaker.”

“I don’t do that professionally,” Naya protests weakly.

The Watcher doesn’t break stride. “You do, now.”

They get into another elevator, big enough for eight people. There aren’t any floor indicators, but as soon as the doors close, it starts to descend. Wrapping her arms around herself, Naya shivers. At this rate, she realizes, she may never see the sky again. She’ll be locked in a cage next to the 141, underground, let out to circumvent code for… what? To support more killing? More human experimentation? If she doesn’t cooperate, will they experiment on her? Put a processor in her brain to erase everything about her except for her skill?

Tears gather in the corners of her eyes, and she can’t help a sniffle.

“None of that,” comes the surprisingly gentle voice of the Watcher. When she approaches, she puts a gentle hand on Naya’s shoulder. “You’re here now. There’s no going back. But we take care of our own.”

Bricks snorts. “For given values of taking care of. You are keeping the boys in cages after all.”

“That’s not helpful,” the Watcher says, producing a tissue from her pocket and dabbing at Naya’s eyes. She pushes the makeshift hood back and gently removes her respirator, scanning her face with hard blue eyes. Eventually, she asks, “Why did you come here, Bambi?”

Shoulders coming up around her ears, Naya gets the feeling that because I’m an idiot isn’t the answer she’s looking for. She looks down at her sensible shoes, bracketed by the Watcher’s own worn work boots, and confesses, “Bricks said I could meet with you, and Price. And… I thought I could… encourage you to treat the modified soldiers more like people than animals.”

“And I suppose this encouragement was going to come with a threat to leak records to the public?” The Watcher’s mouth twitches into a sardonic smile when Naya looks up at her again. “Bold.”

Bricks chuckles. “Naive.”

“Hopeful. And some of the best plans are the simplest,” the Watcher dismisses.

Naya wouldn’t call her plan to connect to the building’s intranet and threatening to disrupt all of the life support systems “naive.” Now that she’s locked in, it feels like a distinctly hopeless course of action. She’ll have to think of something else, fast.

The Watcher steps away as the elevator comes to a stop. The doors open into a large control room, huge observation windows giving a 360 degree view out into dimly lit halls. Bricks ushers Naya out, heavy hands on her shoulders, until she pushes her into a chair facing a window to the left side of the room.

“Did we miss feeding time?” Bricks grins and pulls a puzzle ball from her bag. Her cybernetic hand twitches and whirs as it clicks through combinations.

“Luckily for Bambi, yes.”

Before Naya can ask what feeding time entails, something drops from the ceiling on the other side of the glass, startling a yelp from her. It’s a man, tall and lean, slitted eyes shining a red orange as he stares at her face through the glass. He’s half dressed, only in loose pants. Thick, dark streaks of something wet cover his chest and splatter down his legs. The grin that splits his pretty face puts three pairs of sharp canines on display, stained red.

The Watcher pushes a button, an intercom. “Gaz.”

“Who’s this cute little thing, Laswell?” Naya shivers as Kyle “Gaz” Garrick looks her up and down. He looks just like his personnel file, except for a wildness around his eyes that changes his face from welcoming to something dangerous. “Could practically smell her from the street.”

“Back away from the glass, you’re filthy. What the hell did you roll in?”

The man ignores the Watcher, face going soft as he leans down to get on a level with Naya. “Hello, honey. Such a pretty girl, what are you doing down here? You a friend of Bricks?”

Something about his crooning voice makes Naya’s hair stand on end. At the same time, she finds that she can’t look away from the man’s eyes as he tilts his head. They’re such an interesting color, and he keeps shifting ever so slightly in ways that draw her eyes to follow. He jerks quickly to one side when her eyes dip down to the red and brown splashed down his chest, then smiles when she looks back at his face. His teeth - even the extra ones - are perfect and red. Naya’s heart beats a little faster.

A loud pop and sudden flash makes Naya jump as Gaz reels back with a snarl.

“I told you not to touch the glass,” the Watcher grumbles. “Clean up. Make yourself presentable. And remind the others to put their masks on.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he hisses. With one last, sweet smile to Naya, he turns and strides away before leaping up to grab an exposed beam and hoist himself into the shadows above the observation room. He disappears in the space of a moment. No matter how Naya squints, she can’t tell where he’s gone.

“Don’t look any of them in the eye,” Bricks whispers from close behind, chuckling at the way Naya jumps. “They’re predators, sweetheart, and you’re the sweetest bite of prey they’ve had in a long while.”

“Bricks,” the Watcher (Laswell?) chides. “Get her keyed in. Bambi, you’re not to be alone in here. We’ll get you interfaced with security so you know how to do a lockdown sequence before you’re introduced to the Task Force.”

When she’s handed an interface chip, Naya blanches. “I can’t, I don’t have a hard disk reader. Why do I need to know the facility’s lockdown sequences?”

“There’s no where in this facility that they can’t get,” Bricks replies, distracted as she opens a floor panel to extract a series of wires, and what looks like a very robust integration cable. “And if you’re going to work here, you’re going to need to be able to keep them from dragging you off and eating you.”

“Bricks.” Laswell snaps. To Naya she explains,    “Everyone who works here needs to know how to lock down in case of emergency.”

Naya gapes. “Emergencies? They can - They’re not -! They have full access to the facility?”

“Of course. They can get out of the facility, too,” Bricks snickers. “Who’s going to stop them?”

“Bricks!”

“All of the records say that they’re severely restricted.” The tight squeak in Naya’s voice is undeniable. “What do you mean they could eat me?”

“Old records,” Laswell answers without looking. A terminal lights up under her fingertips. “The only way the SAS would let us keep the facilities without bomb chips. Let me know when you’re ready for input.”

“The part about eating me?” Naya flinches as Bricks circles behind and pushes her hair up to expose the port beneath her left ear.

“If you’re as good as I think you are, you don’t have to worry about that,” Bricks says, shoving the cable into place. “Go.”

“What-”

Laswell launches the integration before she can get the question out. Naya’s whole body jolts, brain flooded with sudden input. She doesn’t dive into the data so much as she’s dragged under the tidal wave of the facility.

The whole structure unfolds around her, five floors, twelve stories down, three shafts up, two elevators, one stair. She’s in the observation tower, which descends three more floors. Heat, cooling, air filtration, power, food storage, office of Watcher One Kate Laswell, office of Bravo One John Price, research labs east and south, conference rooms, break rooms, sleeping quarters, inventory, directory of personnel.

Access Denied.

It’s nothing to shuffle the alert away. Asset Records. Veronica “Bricks” Mason, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Mason “Mace” Ward, [Redacted] Nikto, Morgan “Sparrow” Voss. The list goes on. Task Force 141. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John “Soap” MacTavish, John “Bravo One” Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley. Vital statistics steady, duplicate identification signals, three dead copies, one living set. Security, kill switch overrides. These doors won’t close, but they’ll tell the observation tower that they have. Interesting.

Diving a layer deeper, she observes three separate security records. One is distressingly familiar, the records she’d found before, that spurred her to find Bricks, full of echoes of old code, now that she can see it. Then the one with logs going to Watcher One Kate Laswell, current and accurate. Except that the third log indicates security discrepancies and pings to KGKLJMJPSR. She logs the discrepancy on her own, internal system, a reminder to see if she can piggyback on someone else’s clearance.

Now that she’s thinking about it, she scans for what her clearance is supposed to have access to. It’s the second level, the one that doesn’t actually close the security doors surrounding the servers, sleeping quarters, and the observation tower. Well, that won’t do. She makes a digital copy of KL’s access and patches it into her own.

Just as she finishes, four ID tags simply labeled “Ghost” enter the lowest observation tower floor. That’s a glaring red security alert, and it only doubles in urgency as he accesses the hatch to the system port cable.

“Oh, that’s bad,” she hears herself say aloud as she gropes, blindly for the cable in her neck. “Ghost is accessing, I need to disconnect before he-“

Three more security alerts come up as the ID tags for Bravo One, Gaz, and Soap appear around the top floor of the observation tower, their floor. Naya quickly circumvents the overrides on the blast doors, and half observes rolling shutters covering the windows as Laswell makes a startled noise. Unfortunately, Ghost finds her while she’s distracted.

And he is a ghost, sliding between the layers of Naya’s own security code like a cold breeze. He rifles through her ID cards before she can even try to lock down. When she tries to lock him out of her interface, he slams through so fast it sends her reeling. Unfortunately for him, and for her, he trips over her Brain Blast in the process. The packet of musical theater data explodes to override everything she’s connected to, knocking her out of her connection to the facility and blaring Ohmigod You Guys through the speaker systems of the facility.

“What the fuck,” Veronica Bricks Mason shouts, covering her ears.

“Sorry, sorry,” Naya yelps. She manually reopens her access to the facility and cuts the sound. Her head spins with new information that she doesn’t have time to let her organic brain process. Ghost is nowhere to be found, but she doesn’t wait around to see where he pops up again before locking herself down and physically removing the cable from her neck. “Ghost tripped my security protocol.”

“You shouldn’t be able to influence any part of the facility,” Watcher One Kate Laswell observes. “Which means you’re every bit as good as Bricks says you are. Why did you lock down the tower?”

“Just this floor,” she answers absently, looking around as her interface flashes and labels new data points about her surroundings. It takes a moment for her to filter through everything enough to focus. “Bravo One, Gaz, and Soap were approaching as Ghost tapped in on the bottom floor.”

“I should have charged more,” Asset:Mason chuckles.

“Maybe you should have, Veronica,” Naya replies without thinking.

The woman just laughs. “Oh ho ho, you’re even better than I thought.

Watcher One Laswell drums her fingers on the table. “You don’t have a hard disk reader. Can you still access the facility without a hard line?”

Naya has to shake her head before she runs a quick system check. A ping to the 141 Facility gets a happy little ping back. “Yeah. My, um… my interface is a bit more robust than standard.”

Watcher Laswell nods. “Noted. Reset the security settings.”

Naya almost does it on autopilot, but stops herself. Running a quick check, she shivers. “They’re still out there. Three of them.” When Laswell only nods, she nudges the blast doors and security shutters to open. It takes a moment, but eventually they start to rumble to life.

Worryingly, when she can see through the windows again, Bravo One, Gaz, and Soap are no where to be found. The only active vitals in the facility say they’re right across the glass from where Naya is sitting. It sends a chill down her spine. Diving through the facility systems, she had felt untouchable. But she’s been outmaneuvered again. Unless…

She stands and leans closer to the glass, looking up into the shadows above.

Three pairs of eyes shine down at her from the darkness.

“They’re up there,” Naya whispers. When Laswell simply answers in the affirmative, she activates the intercom with a gulp. “Um. I’m sorry about the noise.”

“That’s quite alright, sweetheart,” a deep voice answers. “Ghost has a way of startling pretty girls. And I quite like a bit of theater.”

Well it’s not Gaz, and there’s no hint of a Scottish accent. “Are you… Bravo One? John Price?”

“You are a clever one.” One of the pairs of eyes squints and tilts. Another shuts, and doesn’t open again. Soap’s tags move a short ways away as Price continues. “Bricks says you asked to meet me.”

“Yes, sir,” Naya says, and then remembers too late that Bricks said not to meet their eyes. She tears her eyes away and jumps at the sight of John “Soap” MacTavish standing a few feet down the hall in front of her.

He looks good, surprisingly so. His hair is long, braided mohawk shining. A gleaming scar is the only indication of the wound that almost killed him. He’s healthy, big and bulky and dressed casually in black joggers and a tight black tshirt. Bright blue eyes with crossed pupils scan her face with interest. When he grins at her, his sharp teeth flash with titanium augments.

“Gaz wisna exaggeratin,’ ye smell quite nice, Bambi,” Soap purrs.

“What part of ‘masks on’ don’t you all understand?” Laswell grumbles.

“They’ve already got her scent,” Bricks snickers. “Did Ghost get your tags Bambi?”

“He did,” Price confirms from above. “Naya Walker, also known as Bambi. Computer scientist, you’ve sold a couple of database systems. Quite impressive.”

A pit opens in her stomach. Ghost had access to her system for less than three seconds. Her throat is tight when she says, “Thank you, sir.”

“So polite,” Gaz chuckles from above. “Come say hello, doll.”

Naya chances a glance back at Kate, then looks back at Soap, then up at the single pair of shining eyes above as Price’s ID winks away from your awareness. “I’m not sure I have clearance for that.”

“You didn’t have clearance to know about this facility,” Gaz points out. “And yet, here you are. Pretty as a picture.”

“Jesus,” Bricks mutters as Laswell makes a startled sound. “We really should put a bell on you.”

And then a huge hand presses against the glass next to Naya’s face. She startles backwards and runs into a huge, solid body, and yelps as a strong arm catches her about the waist.

“Caught ya,” a fourth, deeper voice rumbles above her. His other hand catches both of her wrists and immobilizes her as she stares at dark brown stains up to his wrists. “Been teasin’ us f’ months, dippin’ in an’ out ‘f m’code. So careful, li’l fawn. But not careful enough.”

“Ghost,” Laswell says. The whine of a plasma weapon being primed pierces through the otherwise silent room. Naya squeezes her eyes closed.“Hands off. That’s my Breaker.”

“’S’at so?” Ghost bends down, so far down, it seems, to drag the tip of his nose along Naya’s temple. “Seems she moight be mine, since I invited ‘er.”

“Speaking of,” Bricks interjects. “I’ll take my finder’s fee, now.”

“Bricks.” Laswell hisses.

“Transfer’s cleared, Bricks,” John Price says with a chuckle. “Pleasure doing business, as always.”

Like Gaz and Soap, Captain Price is bigger than his file made him seem. They’d shaved him, when they had replaced some of his bones with metal, but now his facial hair is as full and vital as the rest of him. This close, Naya can see the mechanics whirling within his eyes.

Leaning against his free side, Gaz licks his lips with a tongue that seems too long. But she only sees them for a moment before she’s being turned around, still wrapped in Ghost’s arms.

On the left side of the room Bricks lounges in a chair, tossing and catching and cycling through the combinations on her ball. She’s grinning like she’s gotten away with murder. Maybe she has - she’s been paid three times today for possibly the easiest bounty of her career. Across from her, Laswell holds a glowing knife in a loose grip by her side, shooting an annoyed glare at the other woman.

“What the hell is this?” Laswell hisses.

“You told us to stop hunting your techs,” Price chuckles.

“Bambi is mine,” Kate reiterates, glaring out the glass.

“Just a wee taste, Watcher,” Soap burrs from somewhere. “Ghost is code breaker enough, ye dinnae need another.”

Naya feels her entire body go cold. She takes a deep breath, reconnects with the facility, and runs Flash_Bang.exe.

—

The underground building has a straightforward layout, but that’s dangerous. Naya flicks away the alert when Ghost manages to patch his way back into the facility and silence the music - fuck, it only took him twenty eight seconds? - and ducks under a desk in the office she broke into, one floor down.

It’s hard to stay one step ahead of him, but her spiders and bots repair the five second camera feed loops as soon as he forces the cameras back online. He only wastes time breaking a third of the bot codes before he seems to realize that they’re replicating and switches to tagging, leaving them to run their processes.

It takes two agonizing seconds for her to open the audio relay from the observation tower without revealing her location to Ghost’s sweeping pings.

“-vilian running wild and scared through a secure facility, John.” Kate snaps.

“I thought she was your new breaker,” Gaz snickers. “Not really a civilian.”

“Nae,” Soap interjects. Naya is glad she doesn’t have video to see the nasty smile she can hear in his voice. “Watcher’s right. We cannae let her get too far.”

“She’s fucked the cameras,” Ghost chuckles. “Could get them back online, but it’d take some time.”

Price hums. “Location?”

“West labs’re pingin’,” Ghost answers. He sounds pleased. “Don’t mean much. She’s got bots spoofin’ her IDs.”

“Smells like she’s gone to the east wing,” Gaz purrs. “Lots of classified documents that way, Laswell. Hate to think of what she might come across if she makes it down to the third floor.”

There’s a tense silence before something slams. Eventually, Laswell hisses, “Fine. Bring her back. Alive and unharmed.”

“No promises,” Soap laughs.

Naya scrambles from her hiding spot as she confirms that the cameras in this south wing hall are looped. She needs to get back to the north side of the facility to get to the stairs that might take her up and out. But first she needs to get them off her trail… Somehow.

There’s a janitor closet two doors down, and she spoofs the signal to unlock the door just long enough to slip through it. She looks for bleach and prays it will be enough to mask her scent, then curses to herself when she realizes the bleach will be an obvious mark of her presence. She can’t just erase herself in the physical world the way she can, digitally.

An encrypted message alert calls her attention.

>>>Bricks: Soap will run at you directly. Gaz likes to ambush. Good Luck!

“I c’n see that, Bricks,” Ghost rumbles.

“She’s already at a disadvantage,” the mercenary chuckles. “Poor little thing, you’re going to eat her alive.”

“Oh, she’s not as harmless as all that,” Price laughs. “Took over the whole facility, gave Ghost the slip-“

“I let her go,” Ghost interrupts.

“Set up the meeting so there’d be no one here but us. Got her hands on the codes she thought would let her take control of us, the mindless killing machines.” John continues. He chuckles. “She’s a smart little thing.”

“She got the deadswitches?” Bricks sounds genuinely surprised.

“Command codes. The first ones,” Ghost confirms. “Duds, since we don’t have the chips, but she don’t know that.”

Well, she does now. Naya grabs three bottles of bleach and puts her respirator back on as her mind races. Part of what made soldier modifications so disgusting were the control processors. The irony of finding out that the 141 had somehow removed theirs was not lost on her. They’re already as free as she’d hoped to help them be, and they’re using that freedom to hunt her like animals.

The IDs for Soap and Gaz are still a floor above, moving slowly, following her trail. Ghost and Bravo One are still in the observation tower. She opens one bottle and rolls it back down the hall she came down, then jogs the other way, splashing the bleach as she goes. The observation tower in the center of the floor has mirrored glass, spiking her heart rate every time she catches sight of herself out of the corner of her eye. It’s so jarring that she almost doesn’t realize Gaz and Soap are coming out of the nearest elevator.

She ducks into an office just as the bell dings around the corner.

“Ach, that’s nae very nice, Bambi,” Soap calls. When he speaks next, it’s muffled, likely by his own respirator. “Ghost, she’s scent bombed the whole steamin’ floor. Where is she?”

“Don’t be lazy, Johnny,” Ghost chuckles. “’Ardly a hunt if there’s no challenge.”

“She’ll want the stairwell,” Gaz says. “Lock it down.”

“Already done,” Ghost says. “But locks aren’t exactly a deterrent, if you ‘aven’t noticed.”

“Bottle rolled down this hall,” Gaz says. “So she probably took the other.”

“Aye, that’s what she wants us to think,” Soap chuckles. “I’ll clear this side.”

Naya holds her breath as heavy footsteps start toward her hiding spot, then go so light she almost can’t hear them. She watches the light under the door and resists the urge to flinch at the appearance of a shadow. The man - Soap’s ID sits like a brand so close to her own in her interface - lingers by the door for a long moment then moves on. He’s so quiet that she keeps the map of the floor up to watch his progress. He’s listening for her, she realizes, stopping at each door. She’s lucky that the air circulation vents are above the door, or he might have heard her heart racing.

When Soap and Gaz each turn corners to start investigating the south wing, Naya finally lets herself take more than the shortest breath. She eases the lock open with a flinch at the mechanical click, but neither Soap nor Gaz change their trajectory. When she opens the door and peeks out, the hall is empty. So she eases her way out, crouches low, and shuffles as fast as she can to the stairwell.

She gives the locks three scans before coding them to unlock. The light turns green without incident. She waits for a moment. Soap and Gaz move just a bit farther away. Naya breathes a silent sigh and eases the door open.

“Got her,” Ghost says. “She’s in the stairwell.”

Above her, a door slams open. Naya yelps and starts jogging down the stairs before she can hear what Captain Price yells down at her. She brute forces her way through the lock codes for the third floor and pulls the door open, throwing her bottle of bleach at the wall before slamming it shut. She trips every proximity alarm she can, leading west through the third floor as she throws herself down the next flight. At the fourth floor door, she creates a signal loop, mindful of the door sensor she’d overlooked before. She hears Gaz and Soap slam through the second floor door open just as the door to the fourth closes behind her.

Too late, she realizes that she can’t hear into the tower anymore, and the map of this floor is all static in her interface. The schematics she had before are corrupted - Ghost’s doing, most likely. She can still see the locks on the doors, the terminals connected to the intranet in the various offices. It will have to be enough.

She darts into the eastern wing of the floor and realizes that no, it won’t be enough. The layout is different than the upper floors. The observation tower has no windows in this direction to speak of, for one. And the cameras are few and far between. The doors are also farther apart, and low pile carpet gives way to hard linoleum.

When she turns the corner, she gasps and ducks. Not that it would have helped any. She’s faced with a gymnasium, weight machines and benches and treadmills like a normal gym, except with weights so large it’s almost comical. There’s no one here, but the open space feels like a threat all the same. She turns tail and jogs back toward the observation tower.

As she turns south, she realizes that the tower has no windows on this floor. It’s not a relief, not really. Even if no one can see her, she’s trapped. Gaz and Soap are still looking for her, one floor up. How long will that last? The bleach trick can only work for so long, probably. And Ghost is good, it’s only a matter of time before he breaks into the camera bot code and finds her. How is she going to get up, past the first floor, let alone the next twelve flights of stairs to the streets of the Belly.

God, how is she going to make it home?

Her vision blurs with tears before she can finish taking her next breath.

“No, no, no, no, no,��� she whimpers before a hiccup jolts through her. Her breath shudders from her throat as she swipes at her eyes. “No, no, keep it together, it’s gonna be okay. I can figure this out, I can. I can, it’s okay.”

“Bambi? Talk to me,” Brick’s serious voice comes through, suddenly, fuzzy but definitely there. “Those sound like tears, sweetheart.”

Naya sobs, she can’t help it. It’s a few seconds before she can force more words out. “Why did you do this to me?”

“You asked me to bring you,” Bricks reminds her with a soft chuckle. “Didn’t know you were gonna try to take over the whole facility, or I might have set something else up. But if you come out now -“

A hand touches Naya from behind and she screams, throwing a HardReset packet into the space before she can even wonder if that would have any impact on Soap or Gaz. When she whirls around, though, a man she doesn’t recognize is slumped against the wall, barely keeping the weight of a bricked cybernetic leg from dragging him to the floor. Her interface has a moment to tell her this is “Mace,” before she’s darting around him and running again.

“Fuck!” the man shouts. “Watcher what the fuck- No, I’m on the fucking training floor, why the hell-“

“Bambi,” Bricks shouts, “Do not go into the w-“

She slams the connection shut and tries, unsuccessfully, to wipe her tears away. The distraction is probably why she doesn’t realize she’s heading north, but she knows her mistake as soon as she hears the stairwell door open.

She screams again, right in Gaz’s face, can’t help it now that she’s finally made noise. She dodges his reaching hand and bolts, knowing she can’t outrun him, but what else can she do?

“Shite. Ghost!” Soap calls. “Lock it doon!”

Naya dives through a blast door as it slides shut, ignoring the myriad of voices that shout at her. Through the panic, she terminates all of her bots and slams all of her processing power into separating Ghost from the security access from the floor. He puts up a fight, but another BrainBlast and FlashBang gives her the two seconds she needs to take control.

An alert flashes.

<<Message from: WatcherOneKL. Accept?>>

Sitting on the floor, panting and sniffling, she gulps a deep breath. Someone pounds on the door, but it’s solid, and Ghost can’t get past her bots to regain control. She’s safe.

—

In the observation tower, Price frowns at the data pad in his hands. “Ghost, Bricks. Where did you say you found Ms. Walker?”

“Found us, really,” Ghost mutters, focused on the 3D hologram of the facility. Bambi’s ID markers dance all over the place. He’s running algorithms to try to find a pattern, but she’s three steps ahead, it seems. “Set out a lure and she tore through it like tissue paper. An’ then she made a forum post lookin’ f’r information on soldier mods.”

“Scrubbed everything clean,” Bricks adds. “We couldn’t find her for days after she blew through everything. I got lucky that I found the forum post, it didn’t even trigger Ghost’s spiders.”

Price hums. “And… did either of you confirm which hacker group she’s a part of?”

“Didn’t really have time,” Bricks answers with a shrug. “As soon as I confirmed who I was, she demanded to meet Laswell, and you.”

“Interesting. Any of you ever hear of a group called the Archivist Collective?”

Laswell frowns. “Collective for Anarchy?”

“No.” Price shakes his head. “Archivist Collective. It’s the only thing coming up with her background check. And she’s not a known member of any of the major hacking groups.”

Bricks shrugs. “Obviously, she’d use another alias.”

“No,” Price says again, walking over to show Laswell and Bricks the data pad. “None of her aliases are connected with anything but this Archivist Collective. And their only mission is to ‘Counter censorship through the collection, preservation, and dissemination of contested and classified texts.’”

Ghost makes an interested noise and leaves the hologram to start another terminal whirring. “Let’s see what they’ve got then -… oh.”

Bricks sits up from her sprawl. “Oh?”

“They’ve got an archive. Barely any security at all. Hosted on the GaiaPet: Craft servers.”

“GaiaPet?” Kate frowns. “Isn’t that a… virtual pet game? Where people make things with voxels? Procedurally generated…. They’re definitely robust enough servers for cyberattacks-“

“It’s jus’ a fuckin’ library,” Ghost grunts, navigating through. “Huge text files, embedded images. Some of it’s definitely classified. But tha’s oll… Oh, shite. Jus’ found our records.”

Bricks looks from the terminal in Price’s hand, to Ghost, and back. “Wait. John, you said she sold a couple of database systems. She’s got to be working with some data brokers, at least.”

“This says she developed and sold literal systems,” John says, horror dawning on his face. “A spreadsheet editor and a UI designed to organize complex data sets. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t sell information. Everything she’s got, besides those systems, is open source.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ghost breathes.

Kate strides up to look at his screen. “What?”

“She’s got an active account on GaiaPet. A pet frog named Señor fuckin’ Snuggly. Her last login was today, and her chat with the AI said ‘Wish me luck, if we can’t get those soldiers released, we can at least get the information out there.’”

The silence in the room is palpable. And then Bricks says, “Bambi? Talk to me. Those sound like tears, sweetheart.”

—

Naya keeps her arms wrapped around her knees until she stops shivering. In that time, two more message request alerts pop up, from BravoOneJP and GhostSR. All of them are marked maximum priority, and she has no desire to touch them. She can see the signal burst of Bricks trying to talk to her, but she’s muted the feed so that she can just have… a single second to breathe.

Her interface pushes everything away to prioritize an SOS signal, then automatically begins transcribing the subsequent Morse code message.

SOH. West wing dangerous stop. Battle androids stop. 15 active 20 inactive stop. GSR give code for control stop. Confirm stop. SOH. West wing dangerous stop. Battle androids stop. 15 active 20 inactive stop. GSR give-

She minimizes the message and sucks in the deepest breath she can, holds it, and forces herself to focus on her body. If she thinks about fifteen battle droids on this side of the door while modified soldiers hunt her on the other, she’ll start screaming and never stop. A part of her wants to lay down and just… give up. A big part. The whole part.

She opens the message from Laswell.

Bambi: You’re in a hazardous section of the facility. Ghost is standing down, for your safety. You will have to establish connection with the control tower to gain codes for control of battle -

Naya deletes the message and opens the one from Price. It’s more of the same, a demand that she open communication, a warning that the west wing of the floor is dangerous. She almost doesn’t open the message from Ghost, but… she doesn’t have much to lose.

She jumps when the message contains an audio file.

“Bambi, fuck, we didn’t know you was a literal archivist. Bricks an’ I fucked up. This is a truce, a suspension of hostilities. SOH. The training floor you’re on is fuckin’ dangerous, Bambi. Too dangerous for me to try t’ take it from you. You gotta take control of the droids. I can’t fuck wit’ ‘em while you’re in control of the space. I managed to confirm shut down of 20, but there’s 15 more. I c’n try to send the control codes this way, but the codes expire every 2 seconds. Better if you open comms. If you can’t, Morse confirmation, I’ll send the codes. Once you grab one, the rest will come for you. You’re fuckin’ fast, I know you can do it, but if you have an issue, open the door an’ Soap and Gaz’ll support.”

She’d rather be shot full of holes by military grade turrets than open the door. Her map of the facility is complete again, and she can see four IDs on the other side of the barrier. Soap, Gaz, Mace, and the redacted asset, Nikto, mill around, pacing between the blast doors and the central tower. But no one is pounding on the door or trying to open it, physically or otherwise. When she checks, her bots are idly cycling through access code randomization, but there’s no attempts at a breach.

Maybe Ghost is telling the truth?

She sends a Morse message.

Received stop. Hold for confirmation stop.

The answer is immediate.

Received stop. Holding for confirmation stop.

Does she want to open the comms? What if it’s a trap? Without knowing how long the code chains are, she’s at a disadvantage without a direct link to the tower. But if she opens connection to the tower, how can she guarantee that Ghost won’t command the androids to terminate her? On the other hand, if he is telling the truth, and the codes expire that fast, there’s no way she can locate and override that many machines that are actively trying to keep her out in time. And they are definitely trying to keep her out - her spiders have been able to confirm twenty units on standby, and fifteen empty holding stations, but there’s no sign of the other droids.

With a shaking breath, Naya opens the comms.

Brick's voice is the one she hears first. "Oh, thank fuck, she's back. Bambi? Can you hear me? Sweetheart, I need you to keep the blast doors static. If they cycle, they might start a lockdown sequence, and that will get the droids moving.” It takes two tries to get the words past her tight throat. "I don't want to die." "I'm so sorry, dove," Captain Price croons. "We’re gonna get you out of there.” "I won't tell anyone, I promise," Naya babbles though gasps. "I just want to go home." "You're gonna be okay, Bambi," Ghosts voice is surprisingly gentle. “Cleverest breaker above and below the city, yeah? Gave Soap an’ Gaz a proper chase an’ knocked Mace on ‘is arse. Coupl’a droids don’t stand a chance.”

“I’m not - I don’t know how to fight,” she whimpers.

“Who said anythin’ about fightin’? Pretty girl like you don’ have t’ lift a finger. Laswell?”

“Working on it,” the woman mutters. “Bambi, I need you to try to give us cameras without initiating any other processes. That’ll help- oh. You are fast. Give me a few seconds to find the nearest droids and we can give you the serial numbers.”

“She’s so small,” Price notes, somewhere in the background. “Possible the droids won’t even register her as a target.”

“I think we’ve fucked up enough today that we don’t need to risk it,” is Brick’s bone dry reply. “Sparrow is going to beat all of our asses.”

“Well, we’re about to give Bambi control of thirty-five full combat units,” the Captain points out. “Might not be much left of us to kick.”

Laswell breaks in. “Ghost-”

“Got em,” Ghost answers. “Bambi, ‘ve got a bead on the nearest units. ‘ow do you want to do this?”

Naya takes a couple of deep breaths and tries to hype herself up. It’s just code work. There are other variables, but at the core of it all, it’s just code. Yes, many of the variables have potentially painful and fatal consequences… But in the end, she can either do the code or not. And if there’s one thing she can do, it’s code.

“H-how,” she clears her throat and blinks back tears. “How many bits, per unit? For the key, I mean.”

“Forty ninety-six.”

Oh, just the highest security rating in the world, she thinks to herself, a little hysterical. She nods to herself and talks through the urge to giggle with nerves. “Okay. That’s seven hundredths of a second per unit, with the key. That’s… not so bad. I can probably handle them in batches of 5. Can I have the first hardware address? Morse, please.”

It takes a second, but the information comes through. It only takes a moment for a spider to highlight the machine in the network. Very quickly, her bots are able to identify and tag seven other units on her map. She shoots a summary data packet back to Ghost.

“Are these all droids?”

“Yeah, that’s half of ‘em. Laswell, she was able to identify all of the A-27 units, do you have eyes on any of the E-243s?”

In the background, Price mutters, “Kate hasn’t even laid eyes on all of the 27s.”

Another data packet comes through, and Naya is able to tag seven more dots on her map. Fifteen battle androids, and two of them just down the hall and around the corner on either side.

Naya takes another hiccuping breath. “How fast can they move?”

“A-27s are closest to you, they’re about a meter per second. The 243s move at about 4 per second.”

“Okay,” she says, holding her breath through another hiccup. She has two of her bots run movement simulations, and decides she’ll focus on the closest two A-27s, then the closest four E-243s. She has the processing power to do it, between her own interface and the facility. But… “I’m going to need these six keys first, but I have to let the doors cycle. How long is the lockdown sequence?”

Bricks makes a concerned noise before answering, “Fifteen seconds before you can open the door.”

So, if she messes this up, she’ll be dead for about 11 seconds before they’d be able to retrieve her body. Wonderful. “Ghost, I need all of the codes at once, in two packets, with the keys in this order. And then the next set of keys as soon as you have them. There’s a half second delay, so I need them as soon as they’re generated.”

Laswell sounds genuinely concerned when she asks, “Is that going to give you enough time?”

Naya runs the numbers again, and realizes that she’s fallen into a very peculiar state of calm. “I should have one point three seconds plus a little wiggle room per key. That’s plenty, for the first part. And if the first part doesn’t work… I don’t really have to worry about the rest of it.”

Captain Price’s voice is stern as he gives commands. “Gaz, tell Nikto to power up the cutter, in case we need to get you through the door. Bambi’s going to override the droids.” He’s quiet a moment, then, “Ghost says she can do it, and from what I’m seeing up here, I’m inclined to believe him. But the resets she did mean the door is going to lock down before she can open it again.”

Ghost says, “Ready to send the next round of codes on your mark, Bambi.”

Naya squeezes her eyes shut and sets her bots to be ready to receive and engage the keys. She takes one long, deep breath. Another. Lets all the air out in a huff. “Mark.”

As soon as the packet comes through, her interface is a flurry of executables and intrusion alerts. Her bots are fast, but the activation of the keys isn’t instantaneous. Just as she was warned, as soon as the first set of keys starts running, all of the droids set themselves to Active:Seeking, Objective:Eliminate. But almost as fast, they’re all placed back into Standby:HoldPosition in a wave that flows through the entire wing.

"That's all of em," Ghost sighs, four seconds later. Something creaks, probably the chair he's sunk himself into. "Fuckin' 'ell, she got all of em. Don' think she even needed me to provide the third set of keys. If she don't run screamin', I want her runnin' the damn-" Naya's heart spikes as an alert pings her interface. Her voice squeaks when she calls, "Ghost? There's two units coming online. They’re not listening to me, I can't stop them. What do I do?" Before she can hear his response, the power to the hall cuts out. Naya holds in a scream as everything goes dark and then red with emergency lighting. Captain Price's voice is overtaken by static, and then she loses the tower completely. Somewhere, in the darkness, she can just barely hear the whine of attack units Riley and Merlin priming their weapons.

—

“Goddamn it,” Kate snarls. “It’s the 9s. They’re jamming the signal.”

Bricks jumps up from her chair. “Bambi’s in there without access to the system?”

Ghost makes a disagreeing noise. “They’re active because she’s not an authorized user. They’re jamming anything that isn’t local to the wing, I should be able to patch- Johnny!”

“We cuttin, LT?”

“Forward these packets to Bambi, nothing else.”

“Aye - fuck!”

—

A message request from SoapJM flashes on Naya’s screen just as she finds out that these new droids can move at thirteen meters per second. When she opens it, she gets an immediate key packet. Every bot she has gets set to receive, but the keys are expired, so she has to wait an agonizing three-quarters of a second before the next ones come through.

Just as a next packet arrives, a blue beam of light slices across the end of the hall, then a second from the opposite side. She barely has time to match the keys to the hardware addresses before two furry muzzles round the corner, guns glowing from their shoulders. Naya has only a moment to recognize the controversial K-9 battle units before they both take a step in her direction. And freeze.

It’s an harrowing second of silence, two, three. She doesn’t even breathe.

With a whir, mounted turrets power down and withdraw back behind artificial fur. The K-9s change their status to Standby:AcceptNewObjective with identical head tilts. The one tagged Riley wags its tail and trots forward, tongue lolling like the average bio-dog. Merlin approaches with a little more hesitant body language, though Naya can see the way it’s integrating her tags into the authorized user list in its software.

She flinches away from the door at the high pitched whine of a plasma cutter on metal. Hastily, she sends an ‘All Clear’ message back to Soap, just as the lights come back on.

Captain Price’s voice resolves with renewed connection to the control tower. “-both of your necks. What were you thinking?”

“Oh, suddenly we’re all about vetting assets?” Bricks laughs. “You recruited me with a bag over my head.”

“You were an establlished CIA asset,” Laswell grits out.

Bricks scoffs. “And Sparrow and Nikto?”

“We wasn’t wrong,” Ghost interjects. “Bad intel aside-”

“No intel!” Captain Price half-shouts.

“-she took the facility from me twice and disarmed 15 droids in less than 4 seconds without any formal training. She’s good.”

“None of that matters if she’s dead,” Laswell snaps.

Naya clears her throat. “I’m not dead.”

“Bambi!” Bricks sound downright cheerful. “Doors are almost done cycling, you’re almost out. Hold tight.”

Petting a hand over the soft fur of Riley’s head, Naya feels for the lumps of it’s internal machinery. Of course, she can’t find it - K-9s were built for stealth and surveillance, to blend in with any other dog. These ones are modified for combat, but they’re still adorable.

It’s almost hard to believe that they were going to shoot her, less than ten seconds ago.

The blast door’s status changes to ready, an almost cheerful ping in her interface. She barely gives it a thought before initiating another lockdown sequence, then queuing two more behind it.

Ghost notices. “Bambi?”

“I need a minute, please,” she answers, then cuts the camera feeds.

Merlin eventually comes and sits just out of reach, tail thumping once against the ground. Naya pulls up it’s configuration settings and examines the personality controls. Calm, but friendly, alert, reserved, breaks “arbitrary dog rules” at a rate of 6%. Riley: open and playful, eager to please, breaks rules 17% of the time. Both locked to 141 facility 4th floor, west wing training center.

Do Not Remove.

—

When the blast doors open, Naya is standning a few feet back. Riley and Merlin lay on either side of her feet, solidly in a sleep cycle. Her fingers dig into the opposite sleeves of her cardigan as Soap and Gaz come into view, along with a fully functional Mace, and a fully helmeted cyborg she can only assume is Nikto.

“Steamin’ Jesus, bon,” Soap says taking a step forward. “Ye gave us a wee fright!”

“If you get within three feet of me,” Bambi says, pausing for a deep breath. “I’ll shoot you.”

Three set of eyebrows shoot up. Nikto’s faceplate remains unchanged. Gaz looks at the others before answering, “We’re sorry we frightened you, love. We didn’t know Bricks hadn’t-”

Naya interrupts him. “I would like to leave now.”

“Well…” Soap says with a shrug. “We can take ye back t’ Laswell?”

“That’s fine. Riley, Merlin, up.”

When the dogs “wake” and stand, Mace says, “They can’t pass that door.”

She takes a step forward, flanked by the dogs. “I think you’ll find that they can.”

“Nae, Bambi,” Soap says gently. “They’re hard coded-”

Riley’s turret activates as soon as Soap takes a step toward her. Naya takes another deep breath, and repeats, “If you get within three feet of me, I will shoot you.”

“Well you certainly won’t be doing that with the dogs,” Gaz scoffs. “We won’t touch you, but you really should come with… us.”

The dogs cross the threshold of the door with her, and the plasma cannon in Merlin primes with a dangerous, high pitched sound. When the stunned soldiers don’t step back, the dog’s chest panel opens with a blue glow.

“Three feet,” Mace says, taking two big steps back, hands in the air near his head. “You got it.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz says aloud, taking his own step backwards. “The doors are open and we have eyes on her. She’s got the 9s with her. Well sir, it seems she’s taken a liking to them.” He pauses. “Soap did tell her that, but apparently she doesn’t really care.”

Naya rolls her eyes and enables the cameras in the hall. “So you’re all allergic to just saying things outright?” The muted audio feed is a flurry of activity, but she just gestures down the hall. “After you.”

—

In the end, everyone ends up in a second floor conference room. Naya stands by the far wall, Riley and Merlin a deadly guard panting in front of her feet. The other eight sit and stand at the other end, fidgeting and clearly searching for a way to break the silence.

Bricks tries first, “Sweetheart-”

“Give me a reason not to overload the filtration systems,” Naya interrupts.

That makes everyone flinch. Laswell clears her throat. “What-”

“Because,” Naya nearly shouts, “I could shoot at least two of you, but then you really would kill me this time. But if I backflow and spark the air, that would kill all of you.”

“Kill ye, as well,” Soap points out.

“I thought I was going to die about five times in the last hour,” Naya says, much calmer than she feels. “Mention me dying again and I’ll fry your interface.”

“Ghost just aboot did tha’ already,” Soap mutters.

“Need a hacker for an op. Thought you was a professional,” Ghost finally admits after a moment of tense fidgeting. “Way you ate through the files I laid out, blew through a 256 like tissue paper. Couldn’t find you after… Figured you knew what you was doin’. And y’do.”

Naya’s eye twitches. “And you couldn’t send me an email? Set up an interview?”

“I did try,” Bricks points out. “But you said all the keywords that tend to get a person fast tracked to a very classified meeting.”

“A very classified meeting where you sell me, twice and then hunt me for sport?”

“Everything sounds bad when you say it like that,” the other woman chuckles.

The air circulator over the door falls silent. In the ensuing silence, Naya can hear the servos whir in Bricks’s arm.

“Clearly, we made mistakes,” Laswell admits. “So. What do you want?”

“I want to not have been sold and hunted for sport. Barring that, I would like a time machine. I’d love to know what you consider an equitable offer, Watcher One.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Mace hisses at Captain Price.

“Apparently we made a tactical error,” the man grumbles. “And then a series of compounding tactical errors.”

“You did not ask Nikolai,” Nikto says, matter of fact. It’s the first Naya’s heard his voice, human and heavily accented. “Or Sparrow. She will not be pleased, I think.”

“None of Nik’s contacts c’n do what Bambi c’n do,” Ghost counters.

“Bambi can kill every person in this room,” Naya says, voice flat, emphasized by the glow of two plasma cannons. “Bambi can turn this whole facility into a goddamn crater. Bambi can post videos of the human experimentation to the holonet.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Gaz says. “What human experimentation? No one’s experimenting on anybody.”

“I saw the videos!” Naya yells. “People in cages, people on operating tables, awake, screaming, crying. I saw people eating raw meat, off of leg bones, eating people!”

“Oh fuck,” Ghost says, voice wavering. His face is stricken when she looks at him. “Bambi, that weren’t for you to see, fuck, ‘ow deep did you fuckin’ go? I didn’t even-”

“That’s the job,” Bricks cuts in. “That’s why we needed a hacker, because we’re trying to stop that from happening, and we can’t get through their walls or exploit their vulnerabilities.”

“Oh, that’s just the “bad guys”?” Naya scoffs. “Okay. Why was Gaz covered in blood when I arrived?”

“Blood!” Soap yelps. “That was hydraulic fluid an’ oil! One of the bikes is actin’ up, and our mechanic isnae aroond!”

“It was in his teeth!”

“He’s bonnier than he is graceful!”

“Oh, fuck you, Tav!”

“You said you couldn’t promise to bring me back alive! Ghost called it a hunt!”

“Ah was jokin’!” Soap runs and hand over his mohawk. “We’re a right frightful lot, and sometimes we sneak aboot, but mostly people just cannae always hear us coming! Ye’d think we could catch one wee little civilian withoot incident!”

“You’re the one who was running through a secure facility,” Captain Price points out.

A plasma cannon discharges into the wall above his head. The whole room freezes for a beat before Naya hisses. “If you ever even think of implying-”

“Any information you find about Makarov and his dealings, you can make public,” Bricks interrupts. “Who, what, when, where, how. All of it can go into your archive.”

Laswell scowls. “Now hold on-”

Bricks talks over her. “We don’t have anything you want that you can’t just outright take, Bambi. That’s what you came here for. Information, and to get people out of cages.”

Nikto looks at Bricks and snorts before muttering something under his breath in Russian. Mace crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat and doing a much better job of keeping his thoughts off of his face than Soap and Gaz. The sergeants look horrified. Ghost looks about ready to throw up. Captain Price and Laswell share a sour, resigned look.

“You’ll have our backing,” Laswell sighs. “You’ll need something a bit more secure than the GaiaPet servers, or you’ll be tracked. But yes. You can disseminate the information.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Naya considers her options, arms around herself. The air circulator kicks back on.    Eventually, she says, “I want an advance. Thirty thousand credits, plus however much Price paid.”

“Done,” Bricks answers.

“And… I want seventy five credits an hour.”

“…Fine,” Laswell agrees.

“And I keep the dogs.”

Captain Price makes a disagreeing noise. “Those are government property.”

“Either I keep them, or I set them to self destruct and detonate every android on the fourth floor.”

Nikto says, “You are a bloodthirsty hind.”

“I’m really not,” Naya says. “But I’ve had a very long day. Do we have a deal?”

“Don’t think we have much of a choice,” Captain Price concedes.

Just then, the door to the conference room opens, and a brunette peeks her head in. Morgan Voss, “Sparrow,” as her ID tags her, nods at Laswell. “Just got in, didn’t know there was a meeting scheduled. What did I miss?” Her eyes drift up. “What the hell happened to the wall?”

[goatalicious]

Claynore Live Action Wishlist:

Possibilities!

I’m so excited! Although historically the typical structure of an anime episode doesn’t always translate well into a live action show, I'm hopeful the live action keeps the spirit and story of the show alive.

I’m personally open minded to what the live action could bring to the table, but I wanted to compile my own personal ‘wishlist’ for the show.

REAL QUICK – Before I hear a million “Goati this is already portrayed in the anime/manga.” I know! I don’t want it left of out the live action. This is just a stream of thought I wrote up whilst pretending to be working my lil 9-5.

Pacing/Storyline

Obviously how much of the story can be told will depend on the amount/length of episodes. But I think with well executed episodes focused on the first two-three arcs (Clare and Raki Meeting, Rabona, and MAYBE the Slashers if there’s time) there could be bigger interest to see more from fans (old and new).

I hope we get some more flashbacks from Clares Trainee years and time with Teresa sprinkled in with these early arcs if there's time.

In general they have a big opportunity to fill in some blank spots in universe/in the story early on. As well as show us more of the human/commoner/organization perspective of the world. I’m being vague because there so much that COULD be touched on and I hope this adaption isn’t afraid to approach or answer these questions! Especially if it adds to the story telling.

Here are a million questions that I’m sure many fans have and theorized about, probably skip these if you have also been rotating this series in your mind like a rotisserie chicken for years:

Pretty much every fully human character we learn about is a man, what does their society look like from a fully human woman’s standpoint, how does that differ from a warrior other than the obvious? Is there a population imbalance due to warriors only being women?

What is the class system like? The balance of upper/middle/lower classes? How is social capital measured?

Why do warriors carry around cash. How are they meant to use it exactly?

The Organization came from the continent and took over the island somehow, what’s the history of the island? Don’t even get me started on a timeline we could be here all day. If they hide this early in the show, what do the islanders believe or what are they told to believe.

Some of the Men in Black are.. weird (Dae and Rubel) are they fully human? What’s the internal structure of the Organization look like? Is it all men from the continent? Is it a mix of people from the continent and people from the island? How involved are they in other areas of society(trade, politics, etc)? If they are Is it straightforward or more hidden?

Raki was almost sold into slavery at one point and it's never brought up again. Is this a part of broader society on the island? Could this subjugation of people be compared to the warrior's?

Bandits show up in Teresas storyline, are they a common threat? Are they connected to the Org somehow?

What do warriors do when they don’t have an assignment? How do handlers get around/ arrange meetings with them?

Warriors!

They are strong and should appear so! In my humble opinion. AKA, I hope they have some muscles. A variety too! Some techniques would result in different builds.

My ideal situation would be that after the operation is when their hair starts to grow out blonde, their skin maybe not all going pale but taking on a grayish tinge (similar to the Yoma hello!)I can’t help but think of how Clarice’s hair was essentially lighter up by its roots and darker by the ends. So potentially after the operation is when their hair starts to lose its color and grows out as blonde. Super cool if true and the symbolism that could be held there is simply *chef’s kiss* (aka remember when Clare chopped off her hair as a trainee, now imagine that was the last time she had that last bit of her natural color?) This also gives room for the warriors to have a spectrum of skin tones.

Uniforms!

The uniforms warriors stay mostly white. Would love to see some leather armor mixed in as well to add a little more dimension. (maybe black? Or gray?) Already from warrior to warrior we see some level of customizations meant to accommodate their respective techniques.

Fabric-wise. Given the form fitted look its often depicted as a highly stretchy material. Which if I’m not wrong isn’t totally impossible for the time period (knit kersey has been around for a while and I’m also not against the idea of the Organization having access to advanced materials, given we have no ideas what the continent is like or what their resources truly are.) Alternatively, it can be interpreted as a stiff/thick fabric that is super tailored. I’d love to see a mix of both. Potentially with a similar construction to these, (insert pic) which would allow some level of room for the muscle mass that grows with Yoki Use or techniques that require some level of body chance (Hello #9 Jean)

Keeping the uniforms white adds a contrast when/if they get bloodied. The drama! Not super practical but we know the Organization has the money, especially given the moniker of “Men in Black” being used and the members wearing almost entirely black, which historically is very expensive to dye clothes (especially for the implied time period)

Armor!

Yes it’s a whole separate section. It needs to be because I have a lot of thoughts, though I’m honestly open minded!

Fuller coverage/more detailed armor? Hell yeah! Never not excited about women in armor here. A fuller coverage armor would make sense depending on how the adaption intends to do the power scaling in the universe.

Simple streamlined armor? Hell yeah! Keeping their armor simple and more looks over function kind of emphasizes how they are somewhat disposable to the Organization. Their generally homogeneous armor design being used more to signify that they are a part of the Organization. In the Manga/Anime past a certain point their armor practically does nothing against some of the awakened and other warriors. Even their swords are able to cut through the armor they are given when they fight each other without holding back. In all honestly I’ve noticed that outside of Rabona and bandits, we don’t see a lot of other armor/weapons. The Organization has a tight hold on metal smithing on the island? Afterall if its difficult for people to arm themselves against Yoma it becomes more necessary for a town to pay for a Claymore to visit the town.

A mix? Hell yeah! Potentially armor quality scaling up with a warrior’s rank / years within the organization. This being used to create a degree of separation/competition between the warriors as well. The visual impact of seeing Clare compared to Miria, Deneve and Helen for the first time. I don’t know if the live action would make it as far as the Battle of Pieta but if it could? The impact of warriors across ranks being essentially culled by the Organization. Bruh.

Scenery! Cinematography! Color!

I know it seems natural to go super dim, desaturated, and gloomy. And it can be! My eyes and photographer brain just hope for some variety? And lighting. Please let me see what is happening on screen.

The idea of the warrior drawing the eye as essentially the most monochrome and colorless part of the screen would just add to their ‘otherness’ in the world. I can practically see the shots with clever composition that show that exact social juxtaposition.

The most colorful parts/episodes being in Rabona, where Clare pulls back from a point of no return, both as a warrior and as a person, reclaiming her humanity. I go feral for Cathedrals and stained glass. Rabona is a city untouched by the organization's hand and the future Site of a major warrior rebellion. I want to see Clare and Raki witnessing the color, culture and beauty that the Organization has robbed the island of.

The least colorful being when Clare talks to receive the black card and had to kill Elena. That mini Arc being especially colorless and gray.

The Slashers Arc starting as a wash of Grey and heavy rain, to a white cloudy morning during their fight, finishing off with a warm (hopeful) sunset.

There's something very poetic to me about the idea of the character getting the color in the world around them back the more they form bonds and receive/give kindness.

The People!

Yes Claymore is heavily European inspired, but once again would love to see a variety of skin tones/races across the people of the island

We don’t know the exact history of the island or its relation to the continent, which leave a lot of room for possibilities. Plus, the geography varies A LOT for an island of unknown size. Snowy mountains, sandy deserts, pinelands, canyons, etc. It doesn’t need to be super delved into, but the idea of all different kinds of people being on this island for the Orgs long term experiment just makes sense to me.

I personally theorize that the island had a pretty rich history of its own, with prior ruling governing bodies, political and established racial groups. But that over time the records and history has been covered up, in favor of a more homogeneous society.

Ships!

I’m honeatly hoping for no Clare x Raki. To me their relationship hits harder if explicitly not romantic but takes on a sibling or mother/child dynamic, because it’s essentially a foil for Clare and Teresa.The repetition of a cycle of choosing to look after an innocent child and how it affects the rest of the story. Turn the weird kiss during the Ophelia Arc into a forehead kiss/hug I beg.

We don’t really get an idea of how much freedom a warrior has to have friends/partners. I hope the show is open to exploring this. Whether its super strict or an open secret/Only an issue when the Org wants to cut a warrior down.

*cough* Teresa X Irene *cough* we may not get that far but…. the heart wants what it wants…

Would love to see canonized Helen/Deneve! With an early reveal of this during the Slashers Arc. It gives an additional cause for the Organization to take them out if they are in a secret relationship. If you let warriors get too close they might choose each other over the Org’s mission.

I'm open minded to other pairings, but if I get into it now we’ll be here all day. AKA I've been crying about Clare x Jean for over 10 years.

Ultimately! I have high hopes! If you made it this far I'm shocked but grateful. Huzzah I'm going to bed 🛌

[nitewrighter]

A Bunch of Teens in a Horror Movie

(Don’t consider this super-Canon, it’s more like a goofy Halloween Special. Also Hello, Slasher 76.)

----

The five of them sat cross-legged on the floor of Chateau Guillard, the fire crackling next to them as Rei held the flashlight under her face. It wasn’t very frightening at all. Even in the cavernous hall of the chateau, between the fire, the flashlight, the LEDs veining Samir and Rajeev’s costumes, it was a bit too well lit to be properly eerie, but that didn’t stop Rei.

“A dark presence coalesced in their midst....” she spoke with all the gravitas of a practiced storyteller, “It was.... the Reaper!”

A series of groans sounded from the group. 

“Rei--the Reaper’s shown up like... six times already in the story” said Marti.

“Well he can’t really be killed, that’s kind of the point,” said Rei.

“Didn’t the Reaper show up already?” asked Aedan, his attention divided between speaking to Rei and attempting to contact juggle his costume’s crystal ball prop, “I mean they didn’t kill him off the last time, right?”

“...no,” said Rei.

“So what you’re saying is, there’s now two Reapers, who are both ‘The’ Reaper, running around the defenders at this point,” said Samir, popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Look, I’m just telling the story how Reinhardt tells it,” said Rei, setting the flashlight aside and readjusting the large red bow in her hair.

“Yeah but he’s been telling the same one for years now,” said Marti, leaning back.

“I mean he switches it up---” said Rajeev with a shrug, “Changes the heroes around....”

“But he never explains why the alchemist is also a pirate,” said Samir. 

“Well we could add new heroes and villains,” suggested Rei, scanning the group, “There could be...”

“A dragoon!” said Rajeev, “Wielder of fiery magics and bearer of a shield unbreakable!”

“Yeah!” said Rei, her eyes flicked to Samir, “And a Ranger,” she added, smiling, “Able to track any quarry, whose venturings lead him to Adlersbrunn.”

“I like rangers,” said Samir with a shrug. 

“And...” Rei’s glance trailed over to Aedan.

“The Goblin Prince,” suggested Aedan.

“The ghoul,” said Rei.

“Ha!” Rajeev elbowed, “You’re a ghoul!”

“The ghoul wasn’t one of the defenders, obviously, but a loyal servant of the Hellspawn---the unholy progeny of Witch and Demon,” Rei continued.

“‘Loyal servant?’“ Aedan muttered a bit bitterly.

“Aedan, would you get me a nano-cola from the cooler? My mouth’s getting dry,” said Rei.

“Of course,” said Aedan standing up and grabbing a can from the cooler without missing a beat before catching himself, “...dammit.”

“So we’re short on Defenders,” said Marti.

“Well there was the Princess, obviously,” said Rei.

“Princess?!” said Marti.

“Well it feels like more of its own character than ‘artificer,’” said Rei.

“...You’re just going off my DnD character,” said Marti, flatly.

“Wait--So I’m the ghoul, but she gets to be the princess?!” said Aedan.

“It’s her house,” said Rei.

“But I mean, even if we bring in the new characters, how much does the story change?” said  Samir.

“It’s always a door. It’s always Junkenstein, it’s always an endless assault of monsters.” said Marti.

“Not really much of an arc, is there?” said Aedan.

“Scary stories aren’t about arcs,” said Rei, “They’re about scaring.”

“Surely a bunch of weirdoes who grew up squatting on a paramilitary base have better scary stories than just that one, right?” said Aedan.

“You’re one to talk,” scoffed Marti.

“You don’t want to hear Talon scary stories,” said Aedan.

“Wait--you mean there actually is one?” said Rajeev.

“Well I don’t know if it’s a story or it actually happened...” said Aedan.

“Convenient,” said Samir.

“C’mooon spooky Talon shit!!” said Rajeev, grinning.

Aedan rolled his eyes a little. “I don’t know if the Talon guards made this up to mess with me, but... I and my... near-siblings weren’t Talon’s first venture into human cloning. One of their goals was replicating the SEP serum--in its originality, not changed like it was in Reyes, and the easiest way they could do that, they figured, was by cloning Jack Morrison. It was never hard to get his DNA, he leaves it all over the battlefield.”

“Gross,” said Marti with a smirk.

“Not remotely what I’m talking about but anyway,” Aedan continued, “They called the project, ‘76 Beta.’ From what I heard, the first attempt was... messy. Dangerous... I suppose that’s why Mum opted to treat me with Mnemosyne during my gestation...”

“Okay--back up--what’s Mnemosyne?” said Samir.

“Brainwashing tech,” said Rei with a shudder, “Aedan--I don’t want to hear this story if it’s got... that... in it.”

“It doesn’t, don’t worry,” said Aedan, briefly touching her hand, “And well...” he looked at the others, “That was sort of the problem. What they made was a killing machine. It was the perfect weapon to take down Overwatch, but they had forgotten to give 76 Beta one crucial element...”

“Balls,” said Rajeev before getting elbowed hard in the side by Samir.

“Loyalty,” said Aedan, “You make a killer, you’d better make sure it kills the right people. 76 Beta didn’t. They found the first body just outside 76 Beta’s containment cell. His handler. Head twisted all the way around. Then there came the first labtech, nearly decapitated from the jaw---no idea what with. They think it was a ceiling tile. Then the next two labtechs. Scalpels studding the bodies like pins in a map. Then another after that. Dangling from the ceiling...”

“Talon really goes through evil lab henchmen fast, huh?” said Marti.

“...turnover’s pretty high, but you’d be surprised how many they’re able to recruit. Brutal job market out there,” said Aedan.

“So what did Slasher 76 say then?” said Rajeev.

“76 Beta,” said Aedan.

“Slasher 76 sounds cooler,” said Rajeev.

Aedan shrugged. “He didn’t talk much... or at all. Didn’t have to... his actions were message enough--He wanted Talon to know that he wanted out, and that there was only so long they could contain him. They made him smart, too... knew how to injure some scientists... you’d hear them crying for help, but it was all a trap. To draw out more victims. ” Aedan leaned back a little where he sat, looking up at the chandelier which hung overhead, “In fairness, he was only doing it because he didn’t really know how to do anything else... But in the end they still couldn’t hold him. Talon facilities have gotten a lot more secure since then--Built to contain the things they create.”

“...so they never found him?” said Samir.

“That’s what they told me. If he’s real though, he’s probably dead of starvation or exposure at this point. I mean this was years ago.”

The others kept a level gaze at Aedan.

“That’s it?” said Samir.

“That’s it,” said Aedan.

“Oh come on! You’re supposed to say something like, ‘Some say he may wander these very hills looking for his next victim oooooohhhh!’” said Rajeev.

“Yeah kind of fizzled out towards the end, there,” said Marti.

“I think it was spooky,” said Rei, smiling.

“Thank you,” said Aedan, folding his arms with a ‘See?’ look at the others.

“But...” Rei started.

“But?” said Aedan.

“But you need people to root for, or at least people to get picked off one by one by the slasher to keep the stakes high. Like... what if there were two Talon labtechs making out--”

“Why would the Talon labtechs be making out?” said Aedan.

“Well y’know, to keep the audience invested,” said Rei, “Also Slashers always go for making out couples. That’s just how it works.”

Aedan scoffed. “Fine. There were two Talon labtechs making out and then--” he was cut off by the sound of the door in the foyer being knocked. It was a massive door, and the brass knocker collided against the oak with a half-clang, half-thud.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

“...what was that?” said Rei.

“Trick or Treaters?” said Aedan.

“France,” said Marti.

“Pizza, maybe?” said Samir.

“We’re in a Chateau in the middle of a lake,” said Marti.

“Pizza boat?” suggested Rajeev.

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

“We have to answer it,” said Rei.

“I mean, do we have to though? Really?” said Samir, “Kind of creepy that someone would make the effort to come all the way out to Chateau when all the partying is going to be going on in town and stuff...”

The door knocked again, steady, sure knocks.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Nose goes,” said Marti.

“What--?” Rei started but looked to see everyone had touched their index finger to the tip of their nose.

“Come on, Rei, thought you were the ninja,” said Samir.

“Jerks,” said Rei, standing up and brushing off her purple dress. She gave a glance down to her broomstick prop and picked it up.

“You’re spooked,” said Samir with a smile.

“I am not! I just--It completes the costume look. Y’know, in case it’s trick or treaters,” said Rei, setting the broom on her shoulder as she walked away from the fires into the dark hall of the Chateau.

“It’s not trick or treaters,” said Marti as she and the others traveled behind Rei in a clump.

The four of them edged around the massive arch that separated the main hall from the foyer as Rei walked up to the massive front door of the Chateau. Rei reached a hand out to the door, nearly touching on the door handle then flinched and jumped back a little as the door knocked again.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

It was so much louder in the empty dark stone of the Foyer. She gave a glance back to the others peering around the foyer arch. The fingers of Rei’s free hand tightened on the broomstick as she once again reached her hand forward. Her hand hesitated for a second as the knocking came again.

  Boom. boom. boo-

Rei opened the door with the same kind of ‘just get it over with’ fury you would have at ripping off a bandaid, then she staggered back to see a tall figure standing before her in a hockey mask, chainsaw in one hand. An unearthly orange glow emanated from the hockey mask’s eyes and mouth vent and Rei’s breath shuddered in her throat as she heard a collective gasp of the other kids behind her. 

“Trick or treat,” the voice had all the gravelly familiarity of Jack’s.

Rei screamed--all the kids screamed. Then Rei kicked the looming figure square between the legs, prompting him to double over, which earned him a door right in the head as Rei slammed the door shut on him.

“Door bar! Door bar! Door bar!” Marti said the words so fast Rei had no idea what she was talking about. Marti sprinted into the foyer and brought the door bar down in front of the Chateau’s main door. Both Rei and Marti were panting with panic.

“Okay,” Marti huffed, “The Chambre Princesse has the highest security in the Chateau. Everyone sleeps in my room tonight, we take turns keeping watch. All in favor?”

“Aye,” the other four spoke simultaneously.

“Okay, good, glad we’re all on the same page,” said Marti.

---

Jack Morrison was curled up in pain on the stone tiles right in front of the Chateau, his breath leaving him in a high-pitched wheeze. His comm came on in his ear.

“So how are chaperone duties coming along?” Mercy’s voice crackled in his ear.

The painful wheeze was still edging out of him for another few seconds.

“Jack?” Mercy spoke again.

“I barely said two words and your daughter just screamed in my face and kicked me in the balls,” said Jack.

“Wow--” Sombra snorted over the comm, “What did you say?”

“Trick or Treat,” said Jack.

“So I mean... technically that was a trick,” said Sombra.

Jack groaned, attempting to exhale the remainder of the painful empty-stomached feeling. “Your children are terrible,” he said, “All of them.”

[petty-crush]

Notes on the New Bev Horror a thon 2022

Once again, one of my favorite times of the year has arrived. Where I go into a theatre for 12 hours and coming out full of mirth and spookiness.

For the first time since COVID, the full six mystery horror films are back. It is a dizzying high.

But there is also a variant; instead of the usual 7pm-7am schedule, this year it was 2pm to 2am.

I personally loved this change. I could go and eat at a diner and talk the films with my friends and not feel half dead.

-/-/-/——//-/-

The films were

1-Nightmare Beach (Umberto Kenzi, 1989)

2-The People who Own the Dark (Leon Klimovsky, 1976)

3-The Black Scorpion (Edward Ludwig, 1957)

4-I, Madman (Tibor Takacs 1989)

5-Hell of the Living Dead (Bruno Mattei, 1980)

6-Sorority Row (Stewart Handler, 2009)

-/-//—/

Of course there is a different vibe to watching these all in a row (with no idea what the film is before it unspools) then watching them individually

“Nightmare Beach”, for example, has a largely silent intro (with no film company credits) that bursts into a totally jarring girl power song. It had us all in disbelief, and was a great way to start the night.

“Sorority Row” now has the title of most recent film to be included (beating by one year last marathon’s excellent “Ruins” from 2008), and it was beyond strange to see trailers for 2000 remakes after all the 70s/80s grind house goodness.

Even the co presenter Phil noted “There is some discussion over this film. I’ll just say..it’s good!” (I agree)

-/-/—-

One of the great moments was when this trailer had praise for the film from Tobe Hooper ... but pronounced his name wrong!

There was a wave of disbelieving laughter, then a lusty smattering of boos (and a few “Fuck you!”’s)

—-/-//-/—-

I really enjoyed “people who own the dark”. It was creepy and unnerving, and had scenes where I had no idea where it was going.

Spanish horror through and through

-/-/—-

In truth, “Nightmare Beach” and it were the two strongest films (to my palette) and the high point of the evening.

[The rest were mostly fine, but these two I will revisit and easily recommend]

Which was extra funny because, since the earlier start time, an associate of mine missed them both.

Oh well, so it goes.

-/-/-/—-

“Black scorpion” was marvelous in that it contained Willis O’Brien stop motion, and had a fun lead from the human villain of “Creature from the black lagoon”.

Something about watching that stop motion in dream flurry after two other films really made it stood out

-/-/-/—

“I, Madman”...is a film about what is reality and what is fiction.

I always respect these kind of films more than I actually like them. “Wes Craven’s New Nightmare” also is like this to me, I just can’t absorb it, and it keeps me at a distance.

It’s clearly well made but passed through me with no effect

-/-/—-

“Hell of the living dead” had two purposes to me

The first to underline how fucking awesome “Dawn of the Dead” is.

Because this had a similar premise, even the same Goblin score, but had none of the impact to me.

The second was to make me grateful the marathon was not overnight, because I still fell asleep at times during this film. It just largely bored me.

Maybe it was the dubbing, because so much situational dialogue repeated in a super irritating way, with no personality.

-/——-/

Honestly, if it was four film marathon, “madman” and “hell” would have been cut by me.

Others like them though, so I recognize my taste is my own.

-/-/-

“Sorority Row” ended the night strong. The programmers have a thing for slashers and this one really held up. It was notable how it was the extras (not the meads) showing all the boobs though.

-/-/—

As I left, I received a pin saying “I survived”

Despite some sleepy points, the experience was truly special. It had laughter with friends I’ve now known from that theatre for years and delicious food snacks (one of the regulars had their girlfriend make us all sourdough pesto grilled cheese, which was fucking delightful and really need 2/3s of the way through)

No film, let alone six, are all high points, and to go on this wild boat ride with ups and downs was something I look forward to every year for a reason, it’s just a blast.

[buddyrabrahams]

10 most impressive freshmen this college basketball season

The period between Christmas and New Years acts as a handy moment to redefine the college basketball season. Conference play for nearly every league kicks off, meaning we can really start to assess which teams are fighting for top seeds, which have a shot at an at-large tournament bid, and which are in some serious need of a turnaround.

College basketball’s increase in newcomers has been one of the main reasons it takes a few months to sort out all of those details. Transfers, both those moving as a graduate or those who looked for a new path as undergrads, are everywhere in college hoops. The rising importance of freshmen has been an even more crucial change.

One-and-done freshmen, or those who think they have a chance at a shot at the NBA this spring, are major players in the basketball landscape. Even freshmen with uncertain professional prospects are entering college more physically and mentally ready to play than ever before.

By now, it’s clear which first-year players will be factors in March and which need time to sort things out. Here is a look at 10 freshmen who have impressed this season so far:

10. Talen Horton-Tucker, Iowa State

Iowa State has been riddled by both injuries and suspensions early in the season, leaving coach Steve Prohm with a short bench to date. It has mattered far less than many expected thanks to the emergence of freshman Talen Horton-Tucker.

The freshman is a do-everything glue guy for the Cyclones, standing only 6-foot-4, but a solid 240 pounds. Though Horton-Tucker is averaging 14.8 points per game, it’s his all-around game that has impressed. He is adding 11.5 rebounds, 5.8 assists, and 3.1 steals per 100 possessions. Even as a freshman, he’s been arguably the most efficient player on the floor for Iowa State.

In just his fifth collegiate game, Horton-Tucker posted 26 points, 14 rebounds, and 6 assists against Illinois at the Maui Invitational. If Prohm and his staff didn’t have Horton-Tucker at the forefront of their gameplans before that performance, they do now.

9. Devon Dotson, Kansas

Freshmen point guards have a mixed history of success. Even when they shine, there are errors to look past and overcome. Even Trae Young, while leading the nation in scoring and assists, caught flack for his high level of turnovers. It’s rare to see first-year ball-handlers display a high basketball IQ and make few mistakes.

Dotson has been a steadying presence for the undefeated Jayhawks. He initiates the offense, pushes the ball in transition, and finds teammates in areas where they can score. When he does attack the basket, Dotson has been remarkably smart about when and where to shoot the ball. That discerning attitude has led him to 52 percent shooting from the field, 43 percent from outside the arc, and 81 percent from the free throw line.

Although Dotson’s box score lines won’t make your eyes pop out of your head, he has been one of the key reasons Kansas spent time atop the polls this December.

8. Bol Bol, Oregon

There may not be another player on Earth with Bol Bol’s skillset. I don’t just mean a college basketball player – I mean anyone.

Bol, whose father Manute played in the NBA, is 7-foot-2, with a wingspan of 7-foot-8. He’s one of the nation’s best rim protectors, averaging more than 5 blocks per 100 possessions and posting the 14th-best block rate among major conference players.

Bol’s offensive game is what truly sets him apart. He is scoring 21 points per game, pouring in buckets from all over the floor. Despite his size, Bol is shooting 2.8 three-point attempts per 40 minutes, and sinking 52 percent (!) of those attempts. In the 26 years searchable on Sports Reference, Bol is one of only two players listed as a forward or center to shoot at least 2.5 threes per game and make more than half those shots. (The only other player to qualify for those thresholds, Toledo’s Luke Knapke is also doing so this season).

A stretch-five is not unheard of in 2018’s basketball landscape, yet no one in college basketball plays that role as effectively as Bol Bol. He’s not perfect and still raw, figuring things out in many respects. On the season, Bol has twice as many turnovers as assists and can look lost in certain situations.

Once he feels more comfortable on the court, his talent can lead him to great heights.

7. Luguentz Dort, Arizona State

While we’re on a run of giving high compliments to players with fun sounding names, let’s talk about the Canadian combo guard that’s making waves down in the desert. Dort plays like a 19-year-old Dwyane Wade, injected with about 20 extra pounds of muscle.

Though he stands just 6-foot-4, Dort is taking more than half of his field goals at the rim, per Hoop-Math.com. That aggressive nature leads to eight free throw attempts per game for Dort. Playing for former Duke point guard Bobby Hurley, Dort has been the driving force of the Sun Devils offense.

At times, the freshman has had a bit of tunnel vision and a tendency to force the issue. When things are going his way, that feels like proactive offensive basketball. When things start to slip out of control, Dort can struggle to get efficient shots at the basket. His ability to stay within himself and attack the right opportunities will decide how successful Arizona State can be this season. Even with Dort shooting just 3-for-14, the Sun Devils were able to knock off top-ranked Kansas. When he’s making shots, the Arizona State offense gets scary good.

6. Romeo Langford, Indiana

To date, Indiana has only faced one team that sits within the KenPom top 25. The rest of the Hoosiers’ schedule has been challenging, but that one game at Duke felt like a chance for Indiana to make a statement. Just the opposite happened, with the Blue Devils dominating for 40 minutes. Romeo Langford was bottled up by a difficult situation, shooting 3-for-15 from the field.

Aside from that game, most of what we’ve seen from Langford has been intriguing. He’s scored in double-figures every game and made some very exciting flash plays. At other times, Langford has looked like a freshman. He’s shooting almost four threes per game and barely making 20 percent of them, hitting just 10 of 47 long range attempts this season. His assist-to-turnover ratio is only a whisper north of 1-to-1.

The game should slow down as Langford gains experience, yet the gauntlet of a Big Ten schedule is approaching.

5. Cam Reddish, Duke

No player in basketball history has faced what Reddish is currently going through. Thanks to the top three ranked recruits choosing the same school for the first time in history, Reddish is the first ever top three recruit to be the third-most heralded player in his own freshman class.

At times, Reddish has truly looked like an elite prospect. He has scored 20 or more points three times and made 10 of his first 21 three-point attempts as a Blue Devil.

At other times, Reddish has felt like an afterthought behind two players still to come on this list. He has scored in single-figures on four separate occasions. He came to college billed as a knockdown shooter, and it showed early on, as Reddish shot over 43 percent from long range in his first 8 games. In Duke’s last four games, Reddish is just 5-for-29 from outside the arc, a dismal 19 percent. In two of those games, Reddish failed to reach the free throw line and twice in that four-game span, he failed to score a two-point basket.

Reddish was supposed to be a good shooter, among other things. Playing alongside a superteam has limited him and made him only a shooter, and one who has been streaky at times. His development as a slasher and creator is one of the most important things when determining Duke’s ceiling this season.

4. Coby White, North Carolina

If his 33-point outburst against Texas didn’t catch your eye, surely you’ve taken note of Coby White by now. The freshman point guard was the catalyst of the Tar Heels’ crucial win over Gonzaga, not to mention, he’s hard to miss thanks to the giant afro he sports on the court.

White has taken to Roy Williams’ up-tempo style like a fish to water, driving the high-powered Carolina offense. To date, White is the only freshman in college basketball making more than 40 percent from long range while taking more than 5 hrees per game and adding more than 3.5 assists per game. Those are some specific benchmarks but they speak to how successful White has been as both a scorer and a creator for his teammates.

3. RJ Barrett, Duke

Last year, Trae Young did absolutely everything for Oklahoma. He was both criticized and defended for his abnormally high usage rate. It led to bad shots and turnovers, but also amazing plays and got him drafted in the top five picks of the NBA Draft.

Last year, Young attempted 28.5 field goals per 100 possessions. This year, RJ Barrett is averaging 32.5 field goal attempts per 100 possessions. He is one of just five players in college basketball attempting more than 19 field goals per game. Most of the time, that’s been a good thing for Duke. Barrett is incredibly skilled and athletically gifted. He is averaging 23 points and 7 rebounds per game.

Barrett has also hampered Duke at times by looking to the rim a little too frequently. At the end of Duke’s only loss (to Gonzaga), Barrett shot the ball five times in the game’s final minute while the rest of the team managed just two shots combined, including none by Zion Williamson.

A player like Barrett shooting too much is a problem only Duke could have, yet it has been one of the only definable issues with Duke so far this season. Barrett is shooting nearly 20 times per game, converting under 50 percent from the field and under 32 percent from outside the arc. In fact, Barrett has missed his last 11 three-point attempts (and made just 3 of his last 29 long range attempts).

RJ Barrett is a spectacular basketball player on a very good basketball team. He is at his best, though, when he is not only looking to score, but using his teammates’ skills to his advantage. When Barrett stares down the rim, he is overlooking how effective the offense can be when he uses his scoring ability and court vision to create wide open shots for the Blue Devils, for him or a teammate.

2. Ignas Brazdeikis, Michigan

Last March, if you’d told us that one of the teams in the national championship game started the season 12-0 and that streak included three blowout wins over top 20 teams, I think we’d all believe you. I tend to think we’d all assume it was Villanova, but even if we guessed Michigan started this season so efficiently, no one could have guessed a freshman would be leading them in scoring

For Ignas Brazdeikis to be playing like the best player on arguably college basketball’s best team this season has been nothing short of shocking. The Canadian freshman has been a seamless fit into John Beilein’s motion offense, hitting threes and attacking the glass with a swagger not seen at Michigan since the days of the Fab Five.

Michigan lost three starters from last season’s national runner-up, and Brazdeikis has been able to recreate much of what those players brought to the table. He stretches and confounds defenses like Moritz Wagner. He slashes to the bucket like Muhammad-Ali Abdur-Rahkman, and he shoots like Duncan Robinson.

If he can continue to play at this level, Michigan is the team to beat in the Big Ten.

1. Zion Williamson, Duke

My argument about RJ Barrett being a little shot-heavy earlier in this post is predicated heavily on the fact that Barrett shares a lineup with Zion Williamson. College basketball hasn’t seen a physical marvel like Williamson since at least Anthony Davis or Blake Griffin, both of whom won National Player of the Year honors.

Due to Williamson’s skill set, it makes sense that he doesn’t necessarily need to lead Duke in field goal attempts. His profile works with the ball, but also attacking the offensive glass, cutting without the ball, as a screener, or simply pushing the envelope in transition. That being said, Williamson shouldn’t be attempting eight fewer field goals per game than any teammate. Barrett is taking 37 percent of Duke’s shots when he’s on the floor (12th-most in Division I), while Williamson shoots just 26 percent of the team’s looks when on the court. That needs to balance out for Duke to be at their peak offensively.

Williamson is too talented and efficient for that to be the case. He is shooting 65 percent from the field, though that stat is dragged down by Williamson’s struggles from outside the arc, where he hits under 20 percent of his shots. Inside the arc, Williamson is a runaway freight train unable to be stopped. He leads college basketball in 2-point shooting percentage among players with at least 100 attempts. Williamson is also drawing 6.4 fouls per 40 minutes. Getting him more chances in transition or in the flow of the offense will open up more shots and better scoring opportunities for Barrett, Reddish, and the rest of the Blue Devils.

Shane McNichol covers college basketball and the NBA for Larry Brown Sports. He also blogs about basketball at Palestra Back and has contributed to Rush The Court, ESPN.com, and USA Today Sports Weekly. Follow him on Twitter @OnTheShaneTrain.

from Larry Brown Sports http://bit.ly/2ETzN39

[flauntpage]

Utah's Offense is About to Set the NBA on Fire

The Utah Jazz enter this season as either the NBA’s least-respected title contender or its most feared underdog. Coming off a shocking 48-win season and valiant trip to the second round, this team is ocean-bottom deep, with at least a dozen guys who, on any given night, can step into Quin Snyder’s scheme without disrupting the finer machinations that make it hum.

Almost everyone on this year's roster can impact both sides of the ball without damaging the team's familiar aesthetic. A year ago, the Jazz were built along similar lines, but entered the season a bit older and less sure of what they wanted to be. They were hungover from the loss of Gordon Hayward, with far more questions than answers. Right now it's a squad full of two-way competence, with reserves who’re talented, bouncy, and elastic that thrive off their own experience, confidence, and grit. With your life on the line, how many teams would you rank ahead of the Jazz right now? Three? Maybe four?

Unparalleled depth that's never been younger is a major reason why, but so is their presumed willingness to flesh out an identity that can only take them so far. This era of Jazz basketball is defined by terrific defense; it's currently built to discover how high it can climb on the other end.

Without a dangerous offense, the Jazz are kind of like what The Sopranos would’ve been had David Chase never created Christopher Moltisanti. They’re still a force to be reckoned with, but in more predictable ways. They aren't nearly as loud, and are too dull to be universally recognized as having the capacity for greatness. Until now, Snyder's Jazz have only flexed on one side of the ball. The other end has been a whirling concoction of screens, cuts, and passes that don’t always lead to the most efficient shot. It’s a system that’s designed to protect the team’s clear strength: to strangle pace, underscore their size, and benefit from opportunistic sequences in the open floor.

Since 2015, Utah has been league-average on offense, never higher than 13th or lower than 16th, which is where they finished last season. They take a decent amount of threes, get to the free-throw line, and avoid the mid-range. But Utah now has personnel that can showcase a different aesthetic, one that’s more direct and less reliant on 19 east-to-west dribble handoffs before the ball finally crosses the three-point line. If realized, a quantum leap feels both possible and necessary.

What the Jazz lack in genuine star power may be relieved by Donovan Mitchell’s sophomore growth, the boost they’ll receive from a sparkling supporting cast, and the synergy Utah’s coaching staff can tap into with so many intelligent, trustworthy and interchangeable basketball players at their disposal. The grizzled primes (and twilights) of Joe Ingles, Jae Crowder, and Thabo Sefolosha mingling with relentless uppercuts by Grayson Allen, Dante Exum, and Alec Burks. Utah will enjoy units that enable capable passers, shooters, and ball-handlers at nearly every position—the envy of every smart team. They have rim runners and lob tossers. Enough slashers to institute a faster drive-and-kick style, one that's simultaneously attune to creating advantages in transition.

All of this is wonderful. It also requires a small leap of faith. At the end of the day, Utah is only as potent as its first option, and its first option is a 6’3” combo guard who just turned 22. Mitchell wasn’t the most even-keeled rookie, but, out of nowhere, he still averaged 20.5 points per game, won the Slam Dunk contest, and showed he can be efficient in the game’s most important areas.

He made 40.6 percent of his catch-and-shoot threes last season (as compared to 29.3 percent off the bounce) and, according to Synergy Sports, finished in the 96th percentile in spot-up situations. Utah had the NBA’s tenth-best offense with Mitchell on the court and dropped down to 27th when he sat. Not all was golden, though. Mitchell’s spattered shot selection is a classic example of an inexperienced player going out of his way to prove he belongs and routinely found him forcing the issue against defenses that were already bent to stop him.

Last season, Mitchell’s usage rate was about the same as Kemba Walker's. (And Walker never shared the floor with a place-setter like Ricky Rubio.) He won’t be under wraps in year two, but an even tighter function will do him and Utah’s overall offense good. Let Donovan initiate pick-and-rolls, of course, but also know that he's even more vicious on the weakside, flying off screens, immediately attacking defenders as they un-crook themselves from focusing on Utah's initial action.

With a full season under his belt, Mitchell should better understand how his teammates are equipped to make life easier. He’ll pass and move with a firm belief that he’ll get it back in a more advantageous spot. Apologies to Rudy Gobert, but this is by far the team’s closest thing to an All-Star. And, given how thick the Western Conference is at his position (Russell Westbrook, James Harden, Chris Paul, Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, DeMar DeRozan, Damian Lillard, Jrue Holiday, Mike Conley, etc.), it’d be a pleasant surprise if he made it this early in his career. But Mitchell already has the gravitational pull of an All-Star, along with an elite scorer's toolbox. He can create space in almost any situation, with one of the fastest releases in the league.

A lot is riding on Mitchell's elevating skill-set, but everything doesn't fall on his shoulders. With an array of different lineup combinations better suited for myriad styles of play, the question of whether Gobert and Derrick Favors can play at the same time is no longer worth asking. Overall, Utah typically outplays its opponent when those two share the court, but the offense stalled last year. (Lineups featuring Favors and Gobert scored extremely well in the playoffs—they deserve credit for pounding defenses on the glass—but most of that is thanks to unsustainable three-point shooting by everyone else.) And as more teams take more threes with each passing year, it only makes sense to adapt.

The obvious step is for Utah to start Crowder—who heads into the season in a different place, mentally and physically, than last year—at the four and unleash Favors as a backup center, his real position. (Among all five-man units that logged at least 190 minutes last season, Rubio, Mitchell, Ingles, Crowder, and Gobert had the highest point differential, with an offense that was nearly two points better than the Golden State Warriors and Houston Rockets.)

The Jazz have so many other options to sprinkle throughout any given game, too. They can play Rubio, Mitchell, and Exum at the same time, with Ingles at power forward, and hardly lose much on the defensive end. Burks, Allen, Sefolosha, and Royce O’Neale are assembly-line wings with varying degrees of verve. Each should be able to run a useful pick-and-roll from the second side and either keep the ball moving or dot their own exclamation point. (Giving the near-2,000 minutes formerly held by 30-year-old Jonas Jerebko and 36-year-old Joe Johnson to speedier pieces who can better keep up with Mitchell won't hurt anybody.)

There are so few one-dimensional specialists in Snyder’s rotation, which could make defending them all at the same time feel like completing a jigsaw puzzle during an earthquake. Between Rubio, Ingles, and Mitchell, there’s almost too much creativity. Between O’Neale, Crowder, and Sefolosha, there’s just the right amount of stability. Almost everyone can put it on the deck, get to the rim, find an open shooter, and knock down an open shot—the Jazz have been one of the NBA’s best teams at creating and making corner threes over the past three seasons. That pattern should continue this year.

It’s bold to think Utah has the ingredients to stir up a top-five offense, but that target is not out of reach with this specific collection of pieces. From March 1st until the final day of last year's regular season, Utah had the league’s highest point differential—+13.5!—and its ninth-best offense. Not all is gravy, though. One of this team's most worrisome personality traits has been carelessness. Over the last four years, they’ve ranked 26th, 27th, 23rd, and 25th in turnover percentage. Some of that is thanks to Gobert’s hands—though it’s worth noting that on the first play of Utah’s preseason, he ran an inverted pick-and-roll with Rubio that started at the elbow and ended with an and-one dunk at the rim—Ingles’s frequent tendency to do way too much, and chemistry issues resulting from teammates who haven’t had enough time to feel each other out.

But as key players settle into familiar roles, it's reasonable to believe they can turn that weakness around. This team can play faster now, too. Snyder’s approach in Utah has been saturated by a commendable appreciation for the entire 24-second shot clock, but after two straight seasons ranked second-to-last in transition frequency, the Jazz leapt up to 19th last year, per Cleaning The Glass. And once they're out in the open floor, they know how to score.

The steady shift towards modernization shouldn't be awkward. Last year, they were allergic to post-ups despite a dual-big front court that went against the grain. For every five post-ups executed by the San Antonio Spurs, Utah posted up one time, and no team was less effective at using them to actually put the ball in the basket. Instead, the Jazz passed out of post-ups more frequently than anyone else, by a significant margin.

With Snyder's egalitarian principles already caked into their foundation, blending in more uptempo, outside-shot-happy, versatile ideals could give Utah one of the league's most dynamic and diverse attacks. Ever so quietly, they were built to do more than compete on that end. Right now, they should be ready to dominate.

Utah's Offense is About to Set the NBA on Fire published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[junker-town]

5-star freshman Collin Sexton is ready to make Alabama a basketball school, too

The Crimson Tide are the No. 20 team in our preseason countdown.

As a point guard, Avery Johnson never needed to score to make a major impact. He was the NCAA’s assist leader twice at Southern and finished as high as third in the NBA in assists during the 1995-96 season with the San Antonio Spurs. Johnson only averaged 8.4 points per game for his pro career, but he was so integral to those Spurs teams as a heady, pass-first floor general that the organization retired his number anyway.

Johnson is the head coach of Alabama now where he’s tasked with guiding the program to the NCAA tournament for the first time in five years. If he’s going to do it, it will be on the back of a young point guard who plays the position in a way that barely resembles Johnson’s esteemed former work.

Collin Sexton is all fire and willpower, a relentless scorer who rose from an unranked prospect to a five-star recruit over the course of one summer. His stay at Alabama will be a short one — Sexton is projected as a top-10 NBA draft pick — but Sexton’s magnetic game and personality should make him the one of the program’s most memorable players ever. Yes, Alabama plays basketball, too.

The good news for Sexton is that he has plenty of veteran help. Braxton Key is a 6’8 combo forward who led Alabama in scoring last year as a freshman. Dazon Ingram is the type of two-way wing every good team needs — a 6’5 bulldog who attacks the basket and opposing ball handlers with equal fervor. There’s also the coach’s kid, Avery Johnson Jr., who can provide another steady ball handler and playmaker.

With a rare one-and-done star in Sexton, there’s pressure on ‘Bama to win in a big way this year. This is a program that has only reached the NCAA tournament once the last 11 years. Consider this Johnson’s big opportunity to make his mark not only in the SEC, but also on the national level. The talent is in place. Now it’s time for results.

Projected lineup

PG Collin Sexton, freshman

SG Riley Norris, senior

SF Dazon Ingram, junior

PF Braxton Key, sophomore

C Donta Hall, junior

Key contributors: G John Petty (freshman), C Daniel Giddens (sophomore), Avery Johnson Jr. (senior), F/C Alex Reese (freshman), G Ar’mond Davis (senior), G Herb Jones (freshman)

What happened last season?

Alabama made strides in Johnson’s second season, but ultimately missed the NCAA tournament at 19-15. There were encouraging signs if you look hard enough. Most notably: two wins over a South Carolina team that would eventually make the Final Four, one in four overtimes and another in the SEC tournament.

Alabama also gave Kentucky everything it could handle in the conference tournament before eventually bowing out falling by five. Alabama’s season ended with a first round NIT loss to Richmond.

Who’s the star?

We’re not done talking about Sexton yet. His dramatic rise up the recruiting rankings started on Nike’s EYBL circuit in the summer before his senior year of high school. All Sexton did was average a record 31.6 points per game, which was nine points per game better than the league’s second leading scorer, possible No. 1 overall NBA draft pick Michael Porter Jr.

Sexton then flew off to Spain to compete USA Basketball at the U17 World Championships. Sexton’s goal was just to make the team, but he ended up winning MVP in his first ever international event.

It’s not a direction comparison, but I’ll say anyway: the way Sexton’s motor never stops running is going to remind people of Russell Westbrook this season. He plays with a rare intensity focused on one thing: putting the ball in the basket.

There’s a reason Sexton is currently projected as the No. 8 pick in the 2018 NBA Draft by ESPN. He’s a truly gifted scorer and will be a joy to watch all season.

Why Alabama can be better than last year

The presence of Sexton is the biggest reason for optimism, but he’s not a one-man show. Alabama has a well-rounded team of veterans around him that will make the Crimson Tide arguably the most balanced team in the SEC.

There’s one thing you can count on an Avery Johnson team for, and that’s defense. The Tide finished No. 10 in the country in defensive efficiency last season and return the majority of their most important pieces. Ingram is a dogged defender and slasher who also averaged 3.3 assists per game last season. He can be an all-conference performer this year.

Key is intriguing as a 6’8, 225-pound wing who can slide between either forward spot and score from three levels. There’s also a pair of capable shooters next to Sexton in the backcourt in senior Riley Norris and fellow freshman John Petty — who chose ‘Bama over an offer from Kentucky. Tying together the defense is Donta Hall, a 6’9 big man who finished with a top-50 block rate in the country last year.

What’s this team’s biggest weakness?

For as gifted as Sexton is, it’s hard to ignore the scoring problems this team had last year. By finishing No. 10 in defensive efficiency and No. 153 in offensive efficiency, ‘Bama had one of the biggest splits for any power conference team last season. The biggest culprit might have been the glacier's pace they played at. 'Bama ranked No. 301 in tempo last season, per KenPom.

If ‘Bama’s offense is going to be better this season, it will have to unleash Sexton in the open court. It would help if Norris can rediscover his shooting stroke too after hitting only 33.3 percent of his threes last year. Petty is also a dynamic shooter and scorer when he’s locked in. Don’t be surprised if ‘Bama is leaning heavily on an all-freshman backcourt come postseason time.

Anything else?

Roll tide.

Guy getting arrested: "Am I on TV...oh, Roll Tide!" #LivePD Cc @bustedcoverage http://pic.twitter.com/wz1vhlijqW

— Jack McGuire (@JackMacCFB) April 9, 2017

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Meeting Kyle For Coffee

This is not in chronological order but I needed for this to get out of my head. Takes place after the end of Charlie's Charmed!Slasher!Simon series.

(If you don't want to read it, in the end, Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!)

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle Garrick is just as unreasonably pretty as he ever was, sitting in the cafe and drinking something hot. He’s a bit leaner in the face than you remember from high school. His jaw is sharper, but his smile is still so inviting.

When he spots you coming, his smile seems to light up the whole room.

You say, “Thank you, for agreeing to meet with me. Give me just a minute to order?”

“I ordered you a caramel latte,” he says with a smile. “You still like them?”

“Yeah, I do,” you admit, and sit down.

“I asked them not to start making it until you got here,” he says, taking another sip of his drink. “Figured you’d appreciate it being made fresh. All things considered.”

You blow out a breath and lean back in your chair. “That’s… actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

“I figured,” he says with a grin. “We haven’t talked since just after graduation. We do each other a favor, then say our sad goodbyes. And years later, out of the blue you hit me up? Looking for another favor. Could break a man’s heart.”

You bite your lip and look at the smiling man across from you. A barista appears at your elbow with an almost overfull mug and places it gently on the table. She gives Kyle a grin before flouncing away.

“Cheers,” he says, lifting his own mug in a gentle salute. He waits until you’ve taken a sip to continue. “So, how big is he?”

“What?” When you look up at him, he’s still smiling. His face hasn’t changed. But his brown eyes are flat and empty. Your heart beats just a bit faster.

“How big is he? I don’t do things the way I used to. I need to know so I can make it look like an accident.”

The last time Kyle did you a favor, the coroner had not ruled it an accident. No one had ever been accused of or charged with the death of David Toole-Kirk. But that amount of thallium doesn’t eat a person from the inside out on accident.

“I… um. I didn’t ask you here for that kind of favor,” you say. Your hands are burning where they’re wrapped around your mug. You feel like if you take them off, you’ll freeze under his stare. “I was hoping that you could… give me some advice?”

That brings genuine mirth to Kyle’s eyes. “Oh, this aught to be good.”

“I just… there is a guy,” you say. “Just… Do you… still go… hunting?”

Kyle grins and sits back in his chair. “Hunting?”

“Please answer the question,” you groan.

His grin is wide. His teeth are perfect. “No, can’t say that I do. Bit more of the gardening type now, in my old age.”

“We’re not even thirty,” you say, dumbly.

“This guy you know,” he prompts, barely keeping back laughter. “He likes to… go hunting, then?”

“He’s a pretty avid… hunter,” you say, carefully. “But I was hoping that I might be able to help him find another… hobby?”

Kyle Garrick looks almost ready to burst at the seams with the laughter he’s holding in. If you hadn’t had such a recent and thorough reminder not to get complacent with predators, you might have swatted at him. As it is, you can only clench your jaw as you watch him try and fail to keep a straight face.

“I know,” you hiss, “I know.”

“You really, really don’t,” Kyle wheezes. “Oh my god.”

“He says he doesn’t want to hurt me,” you say, looking around nervously. “But he’s taken me hunting twice, and I can’t do that again.”

That’s what breaks him. He bursts into peals of laughter, peppered with “he’s taken you,”s and “oh my days,”s that fill the whole cafe. It shocks you into giggles.

“Will you quit it!” You eventually whisper-shout.

“How did you manage to meet two of us?” Kyle wipes tears from his eyes. “My word. He’s taken you on hunting trips, and now you want to find him a new hobby.”

“Please,” you hiss. “I’m a little bit desperate and a lot at the end of my rope, here.”

And then Simon Riley’s voice says, right behind you, “Garrick.”

You’re a little bit grateful that Simon’s hands wrap around your wrists from above at the same moment, because otherwise you’d have thrown your coffee in the air. His sternum presses against the crown of your head. You tip your head, just a bit, rolling your eyes up to see him. He’s not looking at you. He’s staring at Kyle.

Kyle grins. “Riley. Good to see you, mate. How’s the family?”

“Still dead, you muppet,” Simon says, pulling out the chair next to you and settling in. When you eye him, he’s got that not-quite-blank look that means he might be thinking about smiling. “How do you know my girl?”

“Went to secondary together,” Kyle says with a grin. “She was bloody terrible at chemistry. Luckily, we got paired up. I helped her with a personal project before she went off to uni. It’s been years. Was pleasantly surprised when she reached out.”

“You’re online?” Simon asks, disdainfully.

“Calls more attention not to be,” Kyle points out.

“Told you,” you can’t help but mumble into your drink.

Simon gives a considering hum and his usual answer. “Technically, I’m dead.” To Kyle he says, not bothering to lower his voice. “If you meet up with her without my permission again, I’ll kill you slow.”

You gape at him, and, daringly, slap his shoulder. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.”

He leans in to kiss your forehead. “Sure, sweetheart.”

[nbablog-blog1]

2016 NBA DRAFT RECAP / NBA Summer League Written by Jarrett Adams JULY 24, 2016

           After the finals ended on June 19th there was an extremely quick turnaround for NBA fans as the NBA Draft took place just four days later on the 23rd. Due to the fact I can no longer speculate on which players are going to what franchise, I’ll try my best to sum up every pick in the lottery and discuss some sleeper picks in the remaining 1st and 2nd rounds.

1 Pick, (Philadelphia 76ers) : Ben Simmons

           Surprisingly, if you were to type in “Ben Simmons” in Google these days during the opening weeks of the NBA season, most of the headlines surrounding the number 1 pick actually center around his new ShowTime documentary, “One and Done”. The documentary shadows Simmons’ lone freshman season in Baton Rouge capturing his experience coming from Australia to LSU to the NBA. I have not gotten around to watch it yet, but will soon. I can’t wait to see how it frames Simmons’ freshman season; while he definitely had his moments individually and did more than enough to warrant the no.1 overall pick, at times the LSU program struggled to remain relevant on the college basketball landscape.

           For number one picks in the NBA Draft, it is extremely rare for the player’s college team to not reach the postseason. Since 2007, college basketball has produced every NBA no. 1 pick, with 8 being freshmen (Oden, Rose, Wall, Irving, Davis, Bennett, Wiggins, Towns) and one sophomore (Griffin). All 9 of those players at least reached the NCAA tournament.

None of this seemed to matter when the 76ers won the lottery and rushed to take Ben Simmons with the number one pick. Looking at his game-tape alone, his skillset, size, and athleticism reminds you of a Lebron James and Magic Johnson hybrid of sorts. On the draft board he was simply the best player available and the opportunity arose for Philly to get a franchise changing talent. To put it quite frankly, fired GM Sam “Trust the Process” Hinkie’s career died in Philly for this opportunity to draft Ben Simmons.

           Simmons will likely miss a large portion of the NBA season with a foot injury. This has to be a cause for concern for Philly fans considering how the 76ers brain trust quickly shuts down their young, injured talent (Noel, Embiid both missed their rookie campaigns). However, while healthy, Simmons did show promise and ability in the 2016 Summer League, with decent mid-range and inside game and of course some devastating, jaw dropping passes we’ve become accustomed to seeing from the no. 1 pick.

No. 2 Pick, (Los Angeles Lakers) – Brandon Ingram  

           How about that young Lakers core post Kobe era? The Lakers couldn’t have been luckier to keep the no. 2 pick (this pick’s rights could have went to Boston, had the Lakers fell out of the top 3 draft slots), yet alone get a chance to select the lanky scorer from Duke. The selection here of Brandon Ingram was a smart one and filled a need on the wing for the Lakers. At the time of this selection, they desperately needed to balance a roster that already had Jordan Clarkson and D’Angelo Russell in the backcourt and Julius Randle at the 4. Brandon Ingram’s future with the Lakers resides at that 3 spot, despite coming off the bench his rookie campaign behind a veteran like Lou Deng. My biggest fear with Ingram right now is that he may be used as trade bait for a guy like Demarcus Cousins if the Lakers want to win now with high profile players.

           As all the other scouts and pundits would agree, Brandon Ingram’s game is most comparable to Kevin Durant’s. From the slender frame, tremendous height and length to go with guard skills and endless shooting range, he’s name right now in the NBA is basically Baby Durant (until he works his way to his own nick-name). Early on in summer league and opening week in the NBA he’s shown a tendency to affect the game in other areas other than scoring, including rebounding and blocked shots. Ingram is also receiving a lot of minutes being a primary ball handler of the second unit of the Lakers. The Future is very bright for Ingram and the Lakers as they mold behind new head coach Luke Walton. 

No. 3 Pick (Boston Celtics): Jaylen Brown

           Boston was in an interesting position here with the number 3 pick. Jaylen Brown was not the best player available, but was the last projected lottery wing player with lots of upside. Through his game tape at his one season at Cal there was a lot to like but also some key flaws in his game. One key weakness in his game right now that’s pretty evident is his ball handling. While Jaylen Brown is very athletic, he has not been able to harness his combination of power and speed because the ball slows him down while driving. However, with a NBA frame he has the ability from Day 1 to take contact and draw a lot of fouls. From the summer league to the start of the NBA Season, he’s shown more polish that what we were led to believe. This gives me hope and promise that the Celtics brain trust made the right decision here with Jaylen Brown. With guards like Isaiah Thomas, Marcus Smart, Avery Bradley, and Terry Rozier, the C’s have more talent in the backcourt then they have minutes. So this pick gives them that swing forward they desperately needed.

No. 4 / No. 8 picks (Phoenix Suns): Dragan Bender / Marquese Chriss

           The Phoenix Suns had an interesting draft night as they used their two top ten picks to select two players that play the same position. With so much money wrapped up in their backcourt, they used this draft to upgrade their frontcourt by taking two power forwards. Drafting another guard here while already having Bledsoe, Knight, and Booker could have been a disaster. TJ Warren has shown promise as a young wing scorer. So on paper, drafting two Power forwards gives the Suns two new projects at the 4 they can build upon. As of now Dragan Bender is an enticing international prospect as he’s the first non-NCAA player chosen. He can shoot from three and can also make a pump fake-two dribble-score move effectively. Think of a taller and slender Toni Kukoc. The question is can he ever make an impact defensively in the NBA? Just looking at his frame, it’s going to take him some time to adjust to the physicality of the NBA season.

           Marqueese Chris on the other hand has shown some flashes to have impressive hops and raw athleticism. Unlike Bender, the Suns view Chris as a young player that can contribute from day one. He’s the prototype four-man that is best utilized for pick and roll opportunities and finishing plays over the defense. I think both players can contribute buckets on the offensive in, but their defense is very questionable. Whether these two picks pan out will be on their hard work in the gym and the Phoenix suns organization. 

No. 5 (Minnesota Timberwolves) – Kris Dunn

           Kris Dunn was easily my favorite player to watch leading up to Draft Night. I was really hoping he would fall to no.6 to the Pelicans, but the Timberwolves snatch him up here at the five spot. Dunn is a cross between John Wall and Eric Bledsoe. He’s able to use his physicality on defense and his steps wisely while driving like Bledsoe, but from baseline to baseline he’s more John Wall. Really fun player to watch play the point guard position. He’s a strong leader, determined and relentless scorer, not much of a shooter but makes up for it with his length and discipline on the defensive end. He’s going to be the type of guy that’s going to make an immediate impact from day one in Minnesota.

           Minnesota made the right decision here for their franchise. While Ricky Rubio brings a lot of different things to the table, Kris Dunn can do Rubio’s job better as a better playmaker and defender in the starting point position. He’s a polished college player and the 2x Big East player of the year. This guy is the real deal, and I can’t wait to see him pair up with Minnesota’s young talented core of  Zach Lavine, Andrew Wiggins, and Karl Anthony Towns.

No. 6 (New Orleans Pelicans) – Buddy Hield

           This pick came as a bit of shocker to me, considering the roster the Pelicans are trying to build around Anthony Davis. Not to say Buddy Hield didn’t have the pedigree coming out of Oklahoma – he was the Naismith College Player of the Year, Sporting News College Player of the Year, First Team All American, 2x Big 12 player of the Year, and won the John Wooden Award last year. The pure slasher and shooter from Freeport, Bahamas is coming into the NBA with a lot of pressure to deliver with such accolades and high selection, considering the need for this pick to work out for GM Dell Demps.

           Looking at the Pelicans roster, Jrue Holiday and Tyreke Evans are both entering the last year of their deals this season. In a perfect world, if Dell Demps wanted to completely rebuild after letting Holiday or Evans walk, pairing up Kris Dunn with Anthony Davis would have been a match made in heaven. Instead, Dunn is off the board, so you can’t blame Demps for taking Hield here. After the draft process was over Demps confessed that Buddy was “the player the Pelicans wanted all along”. Looking on bright side, if Buddy Hield lives up the hype of the number 6 selection, then this is a great pick. He can shoot the basketball and can score in bunches. It’s going to take time for him to adjust to the speed and athleticism of the game. As a four-year senior, Buddy Hield is under immense pressure to produce for the Pels considering Holiday and Evans will both start the season out of the lineup. This pick also could have been a way to replace Eric Gordon’s tenure with the team, as the sharpshooter joined the Houston Rockets in the offseason.

No. 7 (Denver Nuggets) – Jamal Murray

           The Nuggets slip in here at the No. 7 slot and pick the best player available and a backcourt mate for Emmanuel Mudiay in Jamal Murray. The combo guard out of Kentucky easily had one of the most impressive seasons as a freshman last year as he displayed a knack for shooting 3’s, ability to get to the rim, and an impressive pick and roll game. I like this pick for the Nuggets simply because Murray is a scorer who also is a selfless passer. There were many times last season at Kentucky where the offense ran through Murray to make decisions to either score or get others involved. Also, Murray is a fierce competitor and displayed that many times when the games were big and the lights were the brightest.

Murray also has plenty experience in FIBA/ International play balling for Team Canada. His point guard skills are very Tony Parker–esque. He has great handle for a guard his size (6’5) and ran the point fluently for Canada in FIBA play. He won’t beat you with speed or athleticism but is extremely crafty in his movement and is underrated as an athlete overall. In my opinion, I was shocked the Pelicans did not select him at 6, as they went with Buddy Hield. Murray is much younger, has more experience in international play, can shoot just as good, is a better passer and ball handler, is about the same size, and can play multiple positions. Great pick by the Nuggets and I am looking forward to seeing how the Mudiay Murray backcourt matures in a few years.

No. 9 (Toronto Raptors) Jakob Poltl

           After making the Eastern Conference Finals last year and having the best season in franchise history, they decided to give a raise to DeMar DeRozan and let Bismack Biyombo walk in free agency. In the playoffs last year, the Raptors prize center Jonas Valanciunas went down with an injury, making the way for Biyombo to step up (and cash in this offseason). This meant GM Masai Ujiri now has to use this lottery draft pick to get some more size in the paint and another backup for Valanciunas. They got that here with Jacob Poltl.

           The 21 year old sophomore from Utah showed some fleshes of being a big physical presence inside with a good understanding of how to actually use his size to his advantage. I think Masai Ujiri recognizes Poltl’s skillset as a guy that can one day be a legit starting center in this league, which is probably his plan just in case the Raptors have to part ways with Valanciunas via trade years down the line. For now, Poltl will be relied upon to come off the bench of a veteran playoff team, making an impact defensively and in the rebounding battle.

No. 10 (Milwaukee Bucks) Thon Maker

           Thon Maker is one of the most polarizing figures in this draft class considering how unorthodox his story is compared to other prospects. First, his audition for the NBA came through showcasing his talent at different AAU camps. He’s an international prospect that did not play overseas or play college basketball. By 2014, he was becoming an internet sensation for his draw dropping plays in basketball camps and AAU circuits. For NBA GMs and Scouts, Thon Maker had to be extremely difficult to scout considering the jump from prep school to the NBA and the higher level of competition Maker had not faced.

           None of this stopped the Milwaukee from drafting him here at the number 10 spot. I thought it was a ballsy pick, but I pick worth making considering Thon Maker’s upside. He’s a big that can guard multiple positions and be a threat to score when he touches the ball. He lacks polish right now of an actual NBA player, but this should be expected. He has the length and speed to really affect the game on a game changing level on defense. When you look at some of the new age NBA big-men like Anthony Davis, Karl Anthony Towns, and Kristaps Porzingis, Thon Maker probably has the most upside in this draft to turn into a player that can impact a game along those same lines. The Bucks probably drooled at the prospect of adding a prospect with a lot of upside with their already talented core of Giannis Antetekuompo, Jabari Parker, and Kris Middleton. Look out for Thon Maker, because in a few years he could be the secret weapon to a playoff team coming out of Milwaukee.

 No. 11 (Traded to OKC in Draft Night Trade Sending Serge Ibaka to Magic, Victor Olapido to Thunder) Domantas Sabonis

           And finally a draft night trade of some substance! When OKC made this trade to send Serge Ibaka to the Magic, it was a move that would try to help entice free agent Kevin Durant to stay long-term. If you look at it from that angle, it’s a very risky trade, to trade away a veteran like Ibaka for a younger talent in Oladipo, another ball handler, taking away more time of possession from a player like Durant. However, with Durant gone, this trade makes even more sense, as OKC now becomes a team solely built around Russell Westbrook. Now Olapido gets a new start in OKC as Westbrook’s sidekick, and gets to benefit from learning from him every game and every practice.

           I still can’t believe the Thunder convinced the Magic to also give up a first round pick in this trade – on paper Serge Ibaka for Victor Oladipo is a fair enough trade for both sides. If you’re smart, the Thunder still make that deal without the first rounder. But instead, I think being able to oversell the Magic on Ibaka’s value is key here in this deal. Ibaka at this point in his career was an overpaid role player (like a lot of players in the new CBA deal) whereas Oladipo still has room for improvement. That alone to me gives Oladipo way more value than Ibaka. Thunder GM Sam Hinkie has had a lot ups and downs – I’m still pissed at that James Harden trade – but I’ll give credit when its due and this was a great trade for the Thunder.

           The 11th pick, Domantas Sabonis, son of former Trail Blazers center Arvydas Sabonis, was a reach pick here in my opinion. Does Sabonis really offer more upside then guys already on the roster, like Enes Kanter, or even Mitch McGary? I understand the need to fill the depth chart now with the departure of Serge Ibaka, but I don’t see any stardom for Sabonis in the near future. It will be interesting how he can contribute to this Thunder team built around Russell Westbrook. He has the skills to stretch the defense with his shot, and can make a few impressive moves off the dribble as a stretch four. But other than that, I don’t see a lot of upside in this pick. Only time will tell!

No. 12 (Jazz Traded to Atlanta Hawks) Taurean Prince

The Atlanta Hawks grab the second senior taken in Taurean Prince, the energetic rebounder and fierce competitor from Baylor. I measure Prince’s ceiling around a Gerald Wallace in his prime years as a Charlotte Bobcat. At worst, I think he can at least be the new Demarre Carroll for the Atlanta Hawks that they desperately missed since his departure. One thing Prince does not lack is his motor and effort, and in basketball, if you combine that with your athleticism, then you’re halfway to being a decent defender. If Prince is willing to ride the bench early and learn, he’ll end up a decent player based on his motor at Baylor.

No. 13 (Sacramento Kings via the Phoenix Suns) Georgios Papgiannis

           Who? Sacramento trades back in this draft to pick another center that serves as a potential stash pick either in Europe or the D League. This pick got Boogie Cousins hot, as he took to twitter to question the Kings strategy plan specifically as it pertains to building around him. The Kings have had some really tough luck with picks over the past 10 years, and this one adds to the head-scratcher that has become the King’s brain trust. Looking at some Papagiannis highlights, he’s a hefty big man with decent footwork and good hands. He plays textbook back to the basket like an old school big man. Seems to me like a security policy to have another big man in case the Kings decide to move Cousins at this years trade deadline.

No. 14 (Chicago Bulls) Denzel Valentine

The Bulls round out the lottery with senior guard and swingman from Michigan State in Denzel Valentine. I’m a big fan of Valentine’s do it all game. He’s able to impact the game with a little bit of everything – long distance shooting, passing, ball handling, rebounding – Valentine is truly a jack of all trades. NBA scouts and pundits have doubted his athleticism and whether he can be effective at the next level. He may not even emerge on this Bulls roster, but when Valentine gets his opportunity, I believe he will prove to be an effective player and starter on a playoff team. I think that’s this guy’s ceiling. 

No. 20 (Indiana Pacers) – Caris LeVert

A versatile wing scorer and Senior from Michigan, undoubtedly a lot of talent, but may not get a lot of minutes with the Pacers. Look out for Levert, he has a good ball handling ability for a guy that is 6’6.    

No. 29 (San Antonio Spurs) – Dejounte Murray – Murray is a silky guard that uses explosiveness to get where he wants to on the floor. Could be a sleeper pick under Greg Popovich.

 No. 33 (New Orleans Pelicans) – Cheick Diallo  - Cheick has a lot to like and even more that you just can’t teach. He lacks polish at the NBA level but that has not stopped him from contributing put-backs, offensive boards, and instinctive blocked shots.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

im gonna be honest, I keep rereading pt 3 and 4 of the slasher handler and fantasising about how incredibly sexy it would be if kyle acquired a handler of his own by accident or on purpose and he finally understands simon's obsession now 😵‍💫

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle and Simon aren't friends, per se. They only met through Johnny, because Johnny is sloppy and impulsive and never knows how to clean up his own messes. It's offensive to Kyle's meticulous nature and, apparently, appeals to Simon's need for a pet.

Since Johnny's been serving time for the last nine months, with nine months to go (sloppy work, he's lucky Kyle was able to clean things up), Simon's gone to ground. Every now and then, news of his work pops up. Once, one of the victims had ended up at the hospital Kyle works at.

"The Ghost Killer strikes again! Ah...! Run...!" Kyle had muttered to himself, taking the unconscious young man's rapidly fading vitals. They'd found him in an abandoned building, an old hospital well outside of Simon's usual territory. Which means something has changed.

That evening, sipping a beer, he'd called Price on his burner.

"What can I do for you, Kyle?"

"Just letting you know that your dog is out of the yard. The big one, not the terrier," Kyle answers with a smile. "He left behind a bit of a mess, but there was only one little rabbit left suffering. I handled it."

Price had hummed on the other end. "I saw the news. 'S not like him. I'll check in." And then he'd hung up.

Months later, and Kyle finally has an answer when he catches Simon trailing behind a woman not once but three times. He's surprised to see her face, an old classmate and the justification for his second ever human kill. He's almost sad to know that she's been marked for death. When he hears about the Ski Lodge massacre and the Ghost copycat, he has a drink in her honor.

So it's a surprise when she reaches out to him online and asks to meet.

She's frazzled and wild-eyed when she sits in the chair across from him. She's also wearing one of Simon's beanies. And when she reveals what Simon's been up to, he can't help but laugh.

Simon - the weird, off-putting, murderous Ghost - has somehow managed to find the one person in the world who devotes herself to a project more than him. The Final Girl Girlfriend.

They're both doomed.

Kyle begins the painstaking process of reviewing his daily journals for mentions of Simon and their shared connections. It's very unlikely that Simon would be caught alive, and even more unlikely that he'd say anything about Kyle or Johnny or Price. But unlikely isn't impossible, so it's important to start getting his stories straight now.

Reviewing, flagging, and annotating his journals from his initial meeting with Johnny to now takes a month and three days. It's always an interesting process, looking at his life with the advantage of hindsight. There's always a new fascinating pattern to examine. For example, that first summer, he'd meet with Johnny every other week, and two and six days later, he'd gradually step up a patient's blood thinners.

Another pattern that's emerged is that he hasn't dated anyone for more than 35 days in the last three years. That's about as long as it takes for his exacting nature to become... a conflict. It's not much of a problem. He's a nurse, he works long hours. He's got a gym routine and volunteers at the local pet rescue once a week. He's a part of the community, so he doesn't stick out as a loner. But he's also solidly at a point in his life where someone would expect him to have a partner.

He makes an online dating profile. It takes a week for him to delete the app.

"Darlene," he greets the head nurse with a smile and her favorite coffee at the beginning of his next shift. "How are you today?"

"Kyle." As always, she barely glances at him, just holds out her hand for her drink. "You're early. What do you want?"

She's right, he's thirty minutes early. He grins. "You wound me. Can't I just want to know how a beautiful woman is doing?"

Darlene gives him a blank look over the top of her bifocals. "Save it for the maternity ward, Garrick. What do you want?"

"Just wanna know the lay of the land," he says, coming around the desk and taking the seat next to her. He likes Darlene because she only expects him to be coy for a short time. "Been on the apps, trying to date. But my hours make things difficult. You know everybody's business. How is anyone in a relationship around here?"

"The surgeons are all on meth, the rest of the doctors are on coke, and the nurses are either fucking each other or their high school sweethearts," Darlene says, dry as a desert. "You know this already. What do you actually want?"

"That's it," he says with a shrug. "Just want to know who's not seeing anyone, or if you know of someone at another campus with the time."

She takes a sip of her coffee and thinks for a moment. "Stay off the psych and plastics floors. Maternity floor's about to get a whole new batch since all of those idiots got pregnant within three months of each other. But there's something in the water up there, so unless you also want a baby, I'd say leave them alone."

"James is on the maternity floor," Kyle points out.

"James cheated on his boyfriend and his side piece with another nurse," Darlene points out, settling into her coffee and gossip. "Which is another reason to stay away from plastics, but also trauma and rads. I didn't know you were bisexual."

"Doesn't come up much," Kyle dismisses, sipping his own coffee.

By the time Kyle has to clock in, they've explored the pros and cons of almost every department. The prospects are pretty grim. Maybe being single isn't the worst thing in the world.

He makes a point of spending time with the other nurses for the next month. He goes out for drinks and karaoke, attends a couple of baby showers. Lets on to a couple of gossips that he's looking, tells another that he's not sure he has time to date. Enjoys the conclusion of a project when a racist old bastard finally has the heart attack he can't bounce back from.

And then the nurse coroner flags the death for investigation.

Kyle doesn't panic because technically all deaths in the hospital are investigated. But he is intrigued. His own notes show that the patient's condition was well within the expected parameters of recovery and relapse. His medications were administered appropriately while Kyle was on shift, and the hydrogen peroxide added to his IV would have been nigh undetectable.

In the end, the hospital is not determined to be at fault for the death, and that's all that administration cares about. But the cause of death is changed from heart attack to embolism in the record, and that is intriguing.

"Knock knock," Kyle says, poking his head into the office area of the morgue. He expects to see Dennis, the older gentleman running the morgue unit, who waves back at him. He doesn't expect the new face, sitting across the desk from him.

"Good morning, Kyle," Dennis greets, waving him in. "Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

"Can't," Kyle says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The new nurse gives him a no-nonsense handshake and a nod. They don't say much beyond their name, and Kyle is pleased to put a face to the name on the investigation into his last project. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he couldn't stay long, so he says his goodbyes.

But when his next completed project is flagged for investigation again, he decides that maybe it's time to take an interest.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

hi! hope your week is going well. for the wip game, i am a big fan of slasher handler, but i’m also intrigued by being gaz’s ex. your choice, but if there’s anything you want to share for either 👀🧡

For the WIP Ask Game!

Oh. Oh. Oh. Being Gaz's ex is... a helluva project. It's an exploration of the end of a relationship when no-one is "winning." I wanted to explore another side of Golden Boy Gaz, where his dogged determination to do right in the world has a negative impact on his relationships.

The main character is Autumn, who has filed for a divorce that Gaz refuses to sign off on, and I'm waffling between writing it from a first person/reader POV or third person.

This first part takes place with Gaz in the hospital after an injury. Autumn is still his emergency contact. I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I think this short exchange really showcases the energy I'm going for.

“Who are you texting?”

“Ron,” you answer without looking up from your phone.

“Does Ron know that you’re married?”

When you set your phone down, Kyle, Price, and Soap are looking at you with hard expressions. Simon’s out, picking up lunch. If Kyle was going to spring a guilt trap, now would be the time.

You'd tell him that Ron is your cousin Veronica, who’s allowed you to move into her apartment since you started your new job, if he’d just asked. A part of you reflexively thinks about his pain levels, if he’s due another round of pills. That part is quickly squashed by the knowledge that he knows to ring the nurse if his pain gets to bad, instead of taking it out on you.

So you go low. “Did Crystal know you were engaged?”

The next section hurt my feelings when I wrote it, so I'm putting it under the cut.

CW: Discussions of infidelity, relationship turmoil, inattentive partner

Autumn isn't leaving Gaz because he cheated, by the way. That happened once before they got married and once after. They almost called off the wedding, the first time, but they did premarital counseling and things were "resolved." The second time happened a year into their marriage. With a second round of counseling, Gaz really seemed to get his act together. Autumn went into individual counseling to work on trust, anxiety about his job, her expectations of the relationship, and general maintenance. And there weren't any issues with infidelity ever again. In fact, she once offered to open the relationship, with rules, and he declined.

She's divorcing him because her eyes are brown.

The issue in their relationship, as I see it, isn't that Gaz did something really bad. It's that he and Price have the same affliction that makes them not recognize that they don't actually see their partners as whole beings. Two years after they got married, Autumn realized that Gaz didn't really care about her as much as either of them thought. He got her birthday wrong (switched the month and day). He forgot their anniversary after he cheated. He bought her apology flowers, an arrangement which contained flowers she was allergic to.

And when she bought colored contacts on a whim, he didn't make any comment until she prompted him.

"Hey, does anything about me look different?" She asks, three days into wearing the contacts.

"I've been trying something new with my eyes, but I'm not sure if it's that noticeable."

"I dunno, lovie, you look stunnin' as always."

"Nothing seems different to you?"

And he looked at her, really looked at her, for a minute. "You know I've always loved your green eyes."

And that was the beginning of the end.

[flauntpage]

Utah's Offense is About to Set the NBA on Fire

The Utah Jazz enter this season as either the NBA’s least-respected title contender or its most feared underdog. Coming off a shocking 48-win season and valiant trip to the second round, this team is ocean-bottom deep, with at least a dozen guys who, on any given night, can step into Quin Snyder’s scheme without disrupting the finer machinations that make it hum.

Almost everyone on this year's roster can impact both sides of the ball without damaging the team's familiar aesthetic. A year ago, the Jazz were built along similar lines, but entered the season a bit older and less sure of what they wanted to be. They were hungover from the loss of Gordon Hayward, with far more questions than answers. Right now it's a squad full of two-way competence, with reserves who’re talented, bouncy, and elastic that thrive off their own experience, confidence, and grit. With your life on the line, how many teams would you rank ahead of the Jazz right now? Three? Maybe four?

Unparalleled depth that's never been younger is a major reason why, but so is their presumed willingness to flesh out an identity that can only take them so far. This era of Jazz basketball is defined by terrific defense; it's currently built to discover how high it can climb on the other end.

Without a dangerous offense, the Jazz are kind of like what The Sopranos would’ve been had David Chase never created Christopher Moltisanti. They’re still a force to be reckoned with, but in more predictable ways. They aren't nearly as loud, and are too dull to be universally recognized as having the capacity for greatness. Until now, Snyder's Jazz have only flexed on one side of the ball. The other end has been a whirling concoction of screens, cuts, and passes that don’t always lead to the most efficient shot. It’s a system that’s designed to protect the team’s clear strength: to strangle pace, underscore their size, and benefit from opportunistic sequences in the open floor.

Since 2015, Utah has been league-average on offense, never higher than 13th or lower than 16th, which is where they finished last season. They take a decent amount of threes, get to the free-throw line, and avoid the mid-range. But Utah now has personnel that can showcase a different aesthetic, one that’s more direct and less reliant on 19 east-to-west dribble handoffs before the ball finally crosses the three-point line. If realized, a quantum leap feels both possible and necessary.

What the Jazz lack in genuine star power may be relieved by Donovan Mitchell’s sophomore growth, the boost they’ll receive from a sparkling supporting cast, and the synergy Utah’s coaching staff can tap into with so many intelligent, trustworthy and interchangeable basketball players at their disposal. The grizzled primes (and twilights) of Joe Ingles, Jae Crowder, and Thabo Sefolosha mingling with relentless uppercuts by Grayson Allen, Dante Exum, and Alec Burks. Utah will enjoy units that enable capable passers, shooters, and ball-handlers at nearly every position—the envy of every smart team. They have rim runners and lob tossers. Enough slashers to institute a faster drive-and-kick style, one that's simultaneously attune to creating advantages in transition.

All of this is wonderful. It also requires a small leap of faith. At the end of the day, Utah is only as potent as its first option, and its first option is a 6’3” combo guard who just turned 22. Mitchell wasn’t the most even-keeled rookie, but, out of nowhere, he still averaged 20.5 points per game, won the Slam Dunk contest, and showed he can be efficient in the game’s most important areas.

He made 40.6 percent of his catch-and-shoot threes last season (as compared to 29.3 percent off the bounce) and, according to Synergy Sports, finished in the 96th percentile in spot-up situations. Utah had the NBA’s tenth-best offense with Mitchell on the court and dropped down to 27th when he sat. Not all was golden, though. Mitchell’s spattered shot selection is a classic example of an inexperienced player going out of his way to prove he belongs and routinely found him forcing the issue against defenses that were already bent to stop him.

Last season, Mitchell’s usage rate was about the same as Kemba Walker's. (And Walker never shared the floor with a place-setter like Ricky Rubio.) He won’t be under wraps in year two, but an even tighter function will do him and Utah’s overall offense good. Let Donovan initiate pick-and-rolls, of course, but also know that he's even more vicious on the weakside, flying off screens, immediately attacking defenders as they un-crook themselves from focusing on Utah's initial action.

With a full season under his belt, Mitchell should better understand how his teammates are equipped to make life easier. He’ll pass and move with a firm belief that he’ll get it back in a more advantageous spot. Apologies to Rudy Gobert, but this is by far the team’s closest thing to an All-Star. And, given how thick the Western Conference is at his position (Russell Westbrook, James Harden, Chris Paul, Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, DeMar DeRozan, Damian Lillard, Jrue Holiday, Mike Conley, etc.), it’d be a pleasant surprise if he made it this early in his career. But Mitchell already has the gravitational pull of an All-Star, along with an elite scorer's toolbox. He can create space in almost any situation, with one of the fastest releases in the league.

A lot is riding on Mitchell's elevating skill-set, but everything doesn't fall on his shoulders. With an array of different lineup combinations better suited for myriad styles of play, the question of whether Gobert and Derrick Favors can play at the same time is no longer worth asking. Overall, Utah typically outplays its opponent when those two share the court, but the offense stalled last year. (Lineups featuring Favors and Gobert scored extremely well in the playoffs—they deserve credit for pounding defenses on the glass—but most of that is thanks to unsustainable three-point shooting by everyone else.) And as more teams take more threes with each passing year, it only makes sense to adapt.

The obvious step is for Utah to start Crowder—who heads into the season in a different place, mentally and physically, than last year—at the four and unleash Favors as a backup center, his real position. (Among all five-man units that logged at least 190 minutes last season, Rubio, Mitchell, Ingles, Crowder, and Gobert had the highest point differential, with an offense that was nearly two points better than the Golden State Warriors and Houston Rockets.)

The Jazz have so many other options to sprinkle throughout any given game, too. They can play Rubio, Mitchell, and Exum at the same time, with Ingles at power forward, and hardly lose much on the defensive end. Burks, Allen, Sefolosha, and Royce O’Neale are assembly-line wings with varying degrees of verve. Each should be able to run a useful pick-and-roll from the second side and either keep the ball moving or dot their own exclamation point. (Giving the near-2,000 minutes formerly held by 30-year-old Jonas Jerebko and 36-year-old Joe Johnson to speedier pieces who can better keep up with Mitchell won't hurt anybody.)

There are so few one-dimensional specialists in Snyder’s rotation, which could make defending them all at the same time feel like completing a jigsaw puzzle during an earthquake. Between Rubio, Ingles, and Mitchell, there’s almost too much creativity. Between O’Neale, Crowder, and Sefolosha, there’s just the right amount of stability. Almost everyone can put it on the deck, get to the rim, find an open shooter, and knock down an open shot—the Jazz have been one of the NBA’s best teams at creating and making corner threes over the past three seasons. That pattern should continue this year.

It’s bold to think Utah has the ingredients to stir up a top-five offense, but that target is not out of reach with this specific collection of pieces. From March 1st until the final day of last year's regular season, Utah had the league’s highest point differential—+13.5!—and its ninth-best offense. Not all is gravy, though. One of this team's most worrisome personality traits has been carelessness. Over the last four years, they’ve ranked 26th, 27th, 23rd, and 25th in turnover percentage. Some of that is thanks to Gobert’s hands—though it’s worth noting that on the first play of Utah’s preseason, he ran an inverted pick-and-roll with Rubio that started at the elbow and ended with an and-one dunk at the rim—Ingles’s frequent tendency to do way too much, and chemistry issues resulting from teammates who haven’t had enough time to feel each other out.

But as key players settle into familiar roles, it's reasonable to believe they can turn that weakness around. This team can play faster now, too. Snyder’s approach in Utah has been saturated by a commendable appreciation for the entire 24-second shot clock, but after two straight seasons ranked second-to-last in transition frequency, the Jazz leapt up to 19th last year, per Cleaning The Glass. And once they're out in the open floor, they know how to score.

The steady shift towards modernization shouldn't be awkward. Last year, they were allergic to post-ups despite a dual-big front court that went against the grain. For every five post-ups executed by the San Antonio Spurs, Utah posted up one time, and no team was less effective at using them to actually put the ball in the basket. Instead, the Jazz passed out of post-ups more frequently than anyone else, by a significant margin.

With Snyder's egalitarian principles already caked into their foundation, blending in more uptempo, outside-shot-happy, versatile ideals could give Utah one of the league's most dynamic and diverse attacks. Ever so quietly, they were built to do more than compete on that end. Right now, they should be ready to dominate.

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