#who fought cases against terrorists and criminals

[whatthehelloh]

"Hit list": Trump grand jurors face violent threats after names and addresses shared on QAnon forums

Experts warn of "chilling effect that personal targeting can have on jurors, on voters, on elected officials"

Users on far-right online forums are publishing private information about members of the Georgia grand jury that indicted former president Donald Trump and 18 of his allies in a sweeping criminal case focused on alleged 2020 election interference earlier this month, leading to jurors receiving threats online.

The Fulton County Sheriff's office announced last week that they were working on tracking down where the threats were coming from and were coordinating with "law enforcement partners to respond quickly to any credible threat and to ensure the safety of those individuals who carried out their civic duty."

After the release of the indictment and the grand jurors' names, users on far-right message boards began sharing their addresses, identities, social media accounts and other information targeting the jurors, according to Media Matters.

"It's a serious problem," Heidi Beirich, co-founder of the Global Project Against Hate and Extremism, told Salon. "These grand jurors' names and other personal information have been linked on dangerous sites, in particular 4chan. That's where multiple terrorist manifestos have been posted and the site is filled with white supremacists and other extremists."

On a forum that has served as a hub for "Q," the central figure of the QAnon conspiracy theory, a user shared the names of the jurors alongside their addresses. Meanwhile, on another platform where the QAnon conspiracy theory originated, a user appeared to make a veiled threat about following these individuals to their residences and photographic their faces, Media Matters found.

Some users also made explicit threats aimed at the jurors on these message boards. One user referred to the grand jurors' names as a "hit list," prompting another user to reply with, "Based. Godspeed anons, you have all the long range rifles in the world."

In addition to facing online harassment, jurors are at risk of several other dangers — varying from receiving menacing phone calls to having people show up at their houses to swatting and even receiving death threats, Beirich said.

"We've seen this in other cases where people have been targeted by far-right figures," she added. "Their families can also be targeted. It can be a dangerous and scary situation. We can never forget the two poll workers in Georgia that Trump targeted and who had to go into hiding afterward."

After Trump posted on his social media website Truth Social that authorities were going "after those that fought to find the RIGGERS!" — Advance Democracy, a nonpartisan research group founded by Dan Jones, a former FBI investigator and staffer for the U.S. Senate Intelligence Committee, pointed out that Trump supporters were employing the term "rigger" as a substitute for a racial slur in their online posts.

"There is a lot of anger out there on the part of pro-Trump actors and given the harassment that is faced by public officials lately, the same could happen here," Beirich said. "It's unfortunate Georgia law doesn't provide any protections. These people are doing their civil duty; they shouldn't have to face this."

Under Georgia law, the names of grand jurors are included on indictments – a practice aimed at promoting transparency. However, this approach has come under scrutiny given the continuing threats following the recent indictment of Trump and 18 co-defendants.

The only way Georgia or any other state would change the current practice is if there is a widespread outcry over the harassment or if there is actual violence that takes place, said Donald Haider-Markel, a University of Kansas political science professor who studies domestic extremism.

"Much like election workers after the 2020 election, we may begin to see more efforts from potential jurors to ask for an excuse not to serve on a [grand jury], which could also incite a change in the law," he added.

Verbal attacks and harassment have been common for a long time on the extreme right and left, Haider-Markel explained. He pointed to the example of "wanted" posters targeting doctors who perform abortions by the anti-abortion movement since the 1980s.

Individuals would go as far as disclosing the addresses, phone numbers, car descriptions, and license plates of abortion clinic workers, he said.

"This practice won't influence the way most people behave, but it only takes one true believer to use the information to harass and potentially use violence against the target and/or their family members," Haider-Markel said.

The same tactics have been employed by environmental and animal rights activists against those they believe are threatening the environment or exploiting animals, he continued. The Unabomber, for example, selected targets for his mailing campaign in the same manner, going after executives and researchers.

"Many observers believe that these practices have led to violence against abortion clinic workers and that these practices have led to individuals leaving the field," Haider-Markel said. "Certainly, there are plenty of stories about election workers that have left the field since 2020 because of the harassment and threats they faced."

These message boards have even gone as far as targeting two NBC News reporters who wrote about the grand jury incident. They had their own supposed addresses posted online, according to the Advance Democracy's latest report, Reuters found.

The group also identified posts containing aggressive language targeting Fani Willis, the Fulton County district attorney who brought state racketeering and conspiracy charges against Trump and his allies.

Trump himself has gone after the DA and accused her of prosecutorial misconduct. He also criticized her time in office, asserting that she had been excessively lenient on crime allowing Atlanta "to become one of the most dangerous cities anywhere in the world."

"He makes everything worse because he just doesn't seem to care what effect his words have in inciting his followers," Beirich said. "That has been true since his 2016 campaign. I'm sure Willis is facing a deluge of threats and will need protection."

His verbal attacks against Willis come as no surprise though as the former president has a habit of denigrating prosecutors who are investigating him.

Trump has used Truth Social to harass Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg, New York's Attorney General Letitia James and special counsel Jack Smith, who brought two federal indictments against him.

In a post against Bragg, he warned that there would be "death and destruction" if he was indicted. Shortly after his threat, the Manhattan DA's office received a death threat letter with suspicious powder, which was later determined non-hazardous, with the letter saying: "ALVIN: I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

In other posts, Trump has called Smith "deranged" and accused him of taking away his First Amendment Rights. The former president even called for U.S. District Judge Tanya Chutkan's recusal, saying he was calling for the move "on very powerful grounds."

Chutkan is the federal judge overseeing the criminal case of Trump's efforts to overturn the 2020 election in Washington DC.

Last week, a Texas woman was arrested and charged with threatening to kill Chutkan, The Associated Press reported. Abigail Jo Shry called the federal courthouse in Washington and left a threatening message.

"You are in our sights, we want to kill you," the documents said.

Despite public officials receiving such threats, the former president has continued his attacks. In some social media posts, he has even warned "If you go after me, I'm coming after you!"

"It's important not to underestimate the chilling effect that personal targeting and online harassment can have on jurors, on voters, on elected officials [and] on community members," Lindsay Schubiner, director of programs at Western States Center — an anti-extremism watchdog, told Salon. "And the publication of personal details, especially physical locations, is a huge risk factor for potential violence."

Schubiner pointed to the examples of mass shooters, who were active in online hate forums prior to their crimes. There's also a "big risk" for the translation of online harassment into direct physical violence, she added.

"Trump's words and his actions have normalized bigotry and harassment, and even political violence for a long time," Schubiner said. "From the beginning of his campaign, he opened the door to normalizing overt bigotry in politics and opened the door for bigoted and anti-democracy groups like the Proud Boys, like the Oath Keepers, to play a much more prominent role in our political system."

Read on salon.com

[rainbowsalt0412]

Osamu Dazai’s Entrance Exam - Chapter 3

12th

Here at the office, the midnight oil burns until morning.

I sit before a solitary light, unable to sleep most of the evening. The countless deaths, the people lost…

There is no difference between myself and them. Are we not all born on the same planet, only to ultimately return to the eternal heavens together in death?

O divine creator, answer me.

“Allow me to begin.”

I address the attendants sitting around the table. The agency’s conference room doubles as a drawing room. There are a total of seven workers present—office workers and detectives—and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say these are most of our top members. It’s extremely rare for them to gather like this. I pass out the necessary documents, then explain.

“I would like you all to refer to these documents concerning our situation. To summarize, our agency is currently being threatened. Someone has crafted a careful, devious scandal against us.”

“Yeah, the agency’s in trouble. We get it. Now get to the point and tell us about the bomb.”

One of the attendees speaks up. It’s the agency’s personal physician, Dr. Yosano.

“Very well. This is an e-mail I received from the offender. It will help profile the criminal as well, so please make sure to read it.”

Dear Sir,

I hope everyone at the Armed Detective Agency is doing well. I would first like to extend my deepest gratitude to you all for your support in investigating the abandoned building. Now, I know this is quite sudden, but I am contacting you in hopes of asking you another favor.

Only a few moments ago, we set a massive bomb somewhere in town. Therefore, for the safety of the people, I would like for you to promptly find this explosive and dispose of it. Furthermore, this bomb is set to detonate tomorrow at sundown, so I strongly urge that you solve this case before then.

This explosive we created is the same type of bomb that robbed the world of over one hundred precious lives during a certain incident in the past. What a horrendous event that was. The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky. The buildings fell one after another while innocent people’s skin melted as they struggled to escape. The ground liquefied, and vehicles were knocked into the buildings like spears. I could describe it only as hell on earth. That is why I beg that your agency makes their best effort to prevent something like that from ever happening in Yokohama.

While I understand that this goes without saying, we shall be recording your agency’s efforts just like last time. Please note that if you unfortunately fail to disarm the bomb, we will once again release the footage to the public.

With best wishes to you, I pray for your health and success.

Yours sincerely,

The Azure Apostle

“…What kind of sick person writes a thing like that?” Dr. Yosano scoffs. “I completely agree. It is more than evident that this so-called Azure Apostle is the one who recorded the incident at the abandoned hospital and released it to the public to tarnish our agency’s name. And now it appears they are threatening us again.”

“So you believe the offender’s objective is to hurt our agency’s reputation?” the president calmly inquires.

“Most likely.”

The Armed Detective Agency has fought through hell on multiple occasions. You would need an army to take us down in a battle of brute force.

However, as long as we are a commercial corporation in the service industry built on the trust of our clients, a scandal like this would make us vulnerable. If the news spreads that we failed to disarm the bomb, and if there is any judicial intervention, then the agency’s reputation will be ruined. We would be driven out of business.

“Do you have any idea as to where the bomb is?”

“The terrorist insinuated that it’s somewhere that could kill and injure over a hundred people, so we have workers currently searching for possible locations. However, there are countless candidates, such as stations and skyscrapers, so finding the bomb before time runs out could be next to impossible.”

“How about we start off by searching for surveillance video cables?”

As mentioned in the e-mail, the Azure Apostle would have to record us failing and leak those videos to the public in order to tarnish our reputation. Therefore, they would most likely be using equipment to secretly videotape us just like last time, but…

“If the surveillance equipment or wiretaps used the latest batteries, they would be able to record a few days’ worth of footage. They could also be small and shaped like a die or fountain pen, even, and able to wirelessly transmit data up until the explosion destroys them. Realistically speaking, finding the surveillance equipment would prove to be an even more difficult task than finding the bomb. Just in case, I have been asking distributors if they know of anyone purchasing a large number of said devices, but the answers I’ve received so far have been less than ideal.”

“Any records of criminals who go by the name Azure Apostle?” 

“We haven’t found any such records so far.”

Azure Apostle. The only difference from the first e-mail is the fact that the client signed off with their name. There has to be a reason for that. All we can say for sure right now is that the Azure Apostle is knowledgeable about explosives and is, for whatever reason, trying to run the agency into the ground.

“I’m currently in contact with an affiliate who’s making a list of candidates who specialize in explosives and may have a grudge against the agency.”

“Still unable to get in contact with Ranpo?” Dr. Yosano asks.

I’m fairly sure the president himself has been keeping in touch with Ranpo…

“I spoke with him this morning,” the president replies, crossing his arms. “He said the incident in Kyushu is about to reach a conclusion, so he should be on his way back soon. However, it’s unlikely he will be able to return before sundown.”

Ranpo Edogawa is a skill user and the top detective we have at this agency. Assault, kidnapping, murder—no matter the crime, his extraordinary skill, Super Deduction, allows him to reveal the truth. We would have been able to solve this case in no time if he was here…but unfortunately, he is in Kyushu handling another case at the request of a central government official. Ranpo’s investigating a bizarre murder case where a white-haired man supposedly came back from the dead and killed his wife and best friend, so he is not in a situation where he can immediately return to Yokohama.

“Would it be possible to have an interview with this taxi driver in custody?” the president asks.

“The driver is currently on board a special military aircraft that is still in the sky as we speak. It’s keeping him safe from any assassination attempts by the Mafia, but it also makes getting an interview with him extremely difficult.”

Even the Mafia wouldn’t be able to reach their target if he’s in the sky. Unfortunately, that makes getting information from our witness a difficult task as well.

“I will speak with the military police’s intelligence department. I want you to get in contact with whoever you can on that aircraft and have the cabdriver answer our questions in writing.”

“I’ll prepare the necessary documents immediately.”

It’s unlikely that the cabdriver is the Azure Apostle. It just wouldn’t make sense for him to go out of his way to e-mail us with information on where the kidnapped victims were being held. In a way, he’s also a ‘Victim’ who got ratted out by the Azure Apostle. But then that begs the question: How are the taxi driver and the Azure Apostle connected? At any rate, all we can do now is hope that he knows something.

“Everyone, listen up. What we have here is a cowardly attack on the Armed Detective Agency. We have two objectives: find the aggressor and disarm the bomb. Defusing the bomb within the time limit is our top priority. If we allow that bomb to kill anyone, then we do not have the right to call ourselves detectives anymore. Understand that your pride as humans, not as detectives, is on the line. Now get started.”

And with those orders from the president, everyone stands and promptly begins to take action.

***

The investigation is so busy that there is hardly a moment to breathe. The deadline is sundown today. Until then, we have to search the city and find that bomb. There’s no time.

I think back to the investigation that led to this and pick up the phone. I asked Rokuzo to trace the first e-mail, which could potentially help solve this case. After listening to the phone ring for a while, Rokuzo finally picks up.

“Heeey… This is Taguchi. Sorry I’m not…yaaawn…here right now. Seeya.”

“I don’t have time for your games. This is urgent.”

“Oh, is that you, Four-Eyes? Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s nine in the morning, for cryin’ out loud!”

“You’re the only one still sleeping at nine in the morning, you social misfit. Start acting like a normal person and go outside more. It’s good for your health.”

“Tsk. Who d’you think you are, my dad?”

“No, I—”

I can’t be your father. 

I swallow the words before they slip off my tongue. 

“Anyway, there’s been a change of plans. I need you to trace that client’s e-mail and find out who they are as quickly as possible. Have you made any progress?”

“Oh, that? It turned out to be a lot more difficult than I thought. I won’t get technical on you, but they’re using multiple hubs to hide their tracks. This wasn’t the work of an amateur.”

I am already painfully aware of that.

“I received another e-mail from the same sender. Could you find the source if you had that?”

“It would help, but I can’t say anything for sure until I try… There are other ways to do this, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could send a virus to the hub and use it to trace the source from there. It’d take some work, but it’s reliable. I’d kind of have to break the law, though.”

“It’s fine. The ends justify the means. Do it.”

“Whoa. You serious? You, Mr. By-the-Book? I’m recording this call, y’know. What if I told you to hand over the recording of me hacking into your detective agency in exchange for this conversation?”

“Then I’d do it. Just hurry, okay?”

I never planned on handing it over to the authorities in the first place. I just said that to have an excuse to get Rokuzo’s assistance. Apparently, he hasn’t figured that out, though.

“Wow. How generous of you, Four-Eyes. You better have some cash waiting for me when this is over.”

The phone clicks. I ponder in silence with the receiver still in hand. This is no time to get sentimental. The bomb is top priority. We’re going to have the deaths of innocent lives on our hands if we don’t find it in time. Still, we have no leads. Damn it. What the hell is Dazai thinking, disappearing at a time like this?

***

It isn’t long before I find Dazai during my search downtown. He’s at an old- fashioned café facing the road, trying to chat up a woman.

“Is this your first time in Yokohama? I could show you around if you want.”

“Really? You would do that for me? But I’d feel terrible… I mean, it sounds as if things are rather chaotic at the detective agency with the bomb threat. You even said Detective Kunikida has been busy with phone calls and the investigation all morning.”

“He’s a workaholic—a real glutton for punctuality. I mean, get this: If you tell him to meet you at around twelve o’clock, he’ll show within ten seconds of twelve every time. What is he, a train?”

“Oh my… You don’t say.”

“Dazai! What do you think you’re doing, skipping work?! And don’t use me in your attempts to pick up women!”

“Oh, and when we were at this abandoned hospital, Kunikida thought he saw a ghost, and he started shrieking like a little girl—”

“Don’t ignore me!”

I slap Dazai on the back of the head while he merrily chats with Miss Sasaki.

“Ouch! What was that for, Kunikida? Hmm? …Kunikida? How long have you been there?”

“Don’t play dumb. You knew I was behind you. Anyway, what do you think you’re doing? We have a dire emergency on our hands, and you’re out on some kind of fancy date? Not only that, you’re out with a victim from one of our cases!”

“Are you jealous?” 

“I’m not jealous!”

I am in no way jealous. Absolutely not.

“Come on—don’t be like that. She was almost killed by some monster. The poor gal’s traumatized. Isn’t it our duty as a detective agency to protect her and provide emotional support? And from my experience, it takes only a smile and some kindness to get a woman swooning over you when she’s fallen on hard times.”

“You should have just shut up while you were ahead.”

…I’ll have to write that tidbit down in my notebook later.

“Besides, how could someone as flippant as you even have a chance?” Surely a woman this beautiful must already be seeing someone.

“And that’s just what makes you Doppo Kunikida. I asked, and she doesn’t have a family or anyone she can go to. Also, she and her boyfriend separated not too long ago.”

…I remember her mentioning she didn’t have anyone to turn to, but I had no idea it was this severe.

“So she’s available, Kunikida.” Dazai grins, gently elbowing me in the side.

“Available for what?”

I’ll just make a face like I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, Dazai. I came here to fill you in on what we discussed at this morning’s meeting, which you so happened to skip. And if I catch you skipping again, I’m going to take every appropriate measure to successfully resuscitate you the next time you try to kill yourself.”

“Oh, that’s dirty. You’re sick, Kunikida.”

Dazai makes a disgusted expression. Satisfied, I place the documents in hand on the table and spread them out.

“This is the latest information. We received a recording of the kidnapper’s statement during the military police’s questioning. It appears he admitted to kidnapping the victims and gassing them so they couldn’t escape. However, that’s all he admitted. He claims he didn’t know about the surveillance equipment, and it’s unlikely he would lie about it now. That’s why—”

“There must be at least two people behind this, right? The person who kidnapped the victims and the person who recorded everything: The former is the driver, while the latter is the Azure Apostle, I’m guessing?”

“Conceivably, yes.”

“Um…” Miss Sasaki timidly speaks up. “Are you sure I should be listening to this? Wouldn’t this fall under confidential information?”

“You’re a victim, Miss Sasaki, and you’re just as much a part of this as we are, so don’t worry about a thing. If you weren’t, Mr. Stickler-for-Rules right here wouldn’t have started explaining things with you around.”

“I am not particularly strict about rules. This is normal.”

“See? He even jokes around sometimes. Hilarious, am I right? Anyway, any new leads on the criminal we’re after?”

“I’m completely normal.”

“…Sorry, you’re right. It’s completely normal. So can you continue filling me in on what’s going on?”

Why did he apologize?

“We looked into the cabdriver’s history, and as far as we could tell, he had no connections with any underground shady businesses. The data makes him seem like nothing more than your ordinary taxi driver. He has no criminal history and no reputation for hanging with the wrong crowd. And yet, I have a hard time believing he came up with the idea to kidnap people and sell their insides to an organ-trafficking syndicate on his own. Someone must have told him about this get-rich-quick scheme.”

“Someone like the Azure Apostle? Couldn’t we just ask the driver who told him?”

“He won’t tell us. He thinks if he talks, they’ll really kill him this time. I’d love to pull each and every hair off his head until he gives us something, but unfortunately, he’s under heavy surveillance over the clouds right now. We’d run out of time before we could pull enough strings to get an interview with him.”

Just who’s behind all this? Not only did they approach the taxi driver with the organ trade offer, set up surveillance equipment in that abandoned hospital, and make a bomb, they also set said bomb somewhere in the city and are trying to threaten the agency. But why? What are they after?

“I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries here, but…” Miss Sasaki suddenly speaks up. “Do you think this Azure Apostle could be the criminal behind the Azure Banner Terrorist incident?”

“Hmm…”

The Azure Banner Terrorist case—the incident that cost Rokuzo’s father his life. The moment I saw the word azure in his name, I briefly played with the idea myself.

“But the terrorist behind that incident, the Azure King, died in the blast as well. The dead cannot threaten the living. That much is certain in this world.” 

“Oh, so does that mean you’re not afraid of ghosts anymore, Kunikida?” 

“Never speak of ghosts again.”

“But it was a large explosion, yes? I heard they never found the Azure King’s body, either. What if he faked his death to escape and is now in hiding somewhere?”

I had wondered that myself, which is why I contacted the military police.

However, they said that wasn’t possible.

“According to police analyses, the Azure King undoubtedly perished in the blast. They have the latest forensic technology available, and some of their comrades died in the explosion as well, so it’s hard to imagine they would overlook anything.”

“But…”

“Well, I dunno much about this Azure King, but is he really someone who would crawl out of the pits of hell to take vengeance on the agency?”

Dazai’s ignorance never ceases to amaze me.

I reluctantly explain. The Azure King was the mastermind behind the Azure Banner Terrorist incident that targeted and destroyed government facilities. He was known as the worst and most destructive domestic terrorist threat of postwar Japan.

Once said to be an excellent state government official before raising the azure banner, the ambitious youth graduated at the top of his class from an elite educational institution, then worked as a central civil servant in the executive and legislative world after studying abroad. Yet, somewhere along the line, he mysteriously began to aspire to cleanse society through its destruction.

Then one day, a certain video recording was sent to a major domestic broadcasting station. It was a video of a young man whose face had been obscured by an azure banner. He called himself the Azure King and claimed he was going to commit an act of terror. He then told of how he lamented for this imperfect world and that such imperfections could only be buried by other imperfections.

“No matter how much we aspire to, our neighbors will fall ill, our parents will die, and only a small fraction of evildoers will see justice. Then let us realize an ideal world, not by the hand of a god but by our own imperfect bloodstained hands.”

And with those final words, three domestic government facilities were simultaneously attacked: The city police’s associated facility was set on fire, something collided with a government vehicle, and a military post was hit with a bomb.

A later investigation revealed that the eight people he killed included a murderer who was found not guilty due to the prosecutor’s insufficient paperwork, a member of parliament who was rumored to have been embezzling funds meant to aid refugees from industrializing nations, and a military platoon that beat a young military policeman to death before systematically covering up the act. These eight people all perished in the attack. The Azure King committed an act of evil to execute criminals who couldn’t be punished by the law.

This blitz tactic shocked everyone. He was able to simultaneously attack and destroy multiple strictly guarded and heavily protected government facilities. Nobody even imagined such an attack was possible.

And the Azure King’s terrorist acts continued further. Disgraced, the military and government gave nationwide orders to locate and arrest him. Even the detective agency was asked to help. What happened after that was exactly how I explained before. His hideout was discovered, and those who went inside were killed in his suicidal blast. The case was solved at the cost of innocent lives.

“But if the one behind this really is the Azure King, then why would he be so persistent in trying to tarnish the agency’s name?”

“Maybe because you’re the one he has a grudge against, Kunikida.”

A grudge? Against me? I mean, I was the one who contacted the police and led them to his whereabouts, but… It can’t be. The ghost of the Azure King, the worst terrorist this country has ever seen, returned from the grave to have his revenge on the agency and me because of a grudge?

“At any rate, we’d best keep our guard up until we know who we’re dealing with. There’s no way of knowing who’s going to attack us or when they’re going to do it. We have to take Miss Sasaki somewhere safe as well.”

“Perhaps the agency office? Oh, but nobody’s there at night. Hmm…” That’s when I suddenly catch on to what Dazai’s up to.

“I seriously hope you’re not trying to find an excuse to keep her at your place to ‘Protect’ her, because I will not allow such lewd, immoral, unhealthy relations to continue any longer. Honestly, were you raised by savages or something? Absolutely appalling. If it were me, y’know, I’d first make her feel comfo—”

“Hold on, Kunikida. You know there’s nothing going on between Miss Sasaki and me, right?”

“What?”

“Listen, the first day she stayed over, I slept in another room. I haven’t laid a finger on her. C’mon, do you really think I’d try to seduce a woman who was almost killed earlier that day? I’ve got a little more sense than that. Besides, I’d have to deal with you if that ever happened, and I’d rather not.”

Oh… It looks like I jumped to conclusions.

“I can’t deny that I knew you had the wrong idea, and I just decided not to say anything ’cause it was funny, though.”

You little…

That said, a pure, honest man such as myself could have had it much worse in this kind of situation. Dazai could have said something like “You assumed the worst all because she spent the night at my place? Gee, Kunikida, you’re a real perv.” I wouldn’t be able to refute that, and I’d probably die an agonizing death on the spot. I guess I should just be thankful that didn’t happen.

…But how could I not imagine something like that? This is Dazai we’re talking about. In any case, if there is anything to be thankful for, it’s that he’s not some lecher who jumps on any woman he can get his hands on. Keeping a professional distance from the victim is more difficult than I thought.

“Just stop wasting my time, Dazai. If nothing happened, then we have nothing to worry about. But from now on, let’s make sure to keep a healthy distance during work and forge proper relationships with our clients. This is what it means to be a professional.”

“…I hear you.” He firmly nods before facing Miss Sasaki once more. “So what’s your type?”

“Didn’t you just say you heard me?!”

I take it back. He is a lecher who would jump on any woman given the chance.

“M-my type…? I’m sorry; I just feel it would be rather presumptuous of me to seek out a specific type of man, but…I do find men who are passionate about their ideals and really devote themselves to something to be…very attractive.”

…Come again?

“Aw man. You basically just described Kunikida! Looks like I never had a chance. Tsk. Well, you two enjoy the rest of your date. I’m gonna go make sure I still have all my fingers.”

“D-Dazai, get back here!”

“What? Ugh, now I forgot what finger I was on!” 

“Quit sulking and take a seat!”

You can’t leave me alone with her! I wouldn’t know what to talk about!

“But I’m just an ordinary woman. Even if I was with someone who lived for his ideals, I wouldn’t be of any help. Even if I devoted myself to supporting those ideals, I would only end up getting in the way and exhausting us both… Ultimately, he would choose his ideals over me, and things would end there. So I think I will abstain from dating any idealists in the future.”

There is a hint of sorrow in her smile…but why? 

“You’re so easy to read, Kunikida. You know that?”

“I—I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular! Quit looking at me, Dazai!”

“Ouch!”

I twist Dazai’s head until he’s facing the opposite direction.

“First, you want me to sit. Now you want me to look the other way. Can you make up your mind? Anyway, can we just get back on topic?”

…What were we talking about again?

“Oh, about keeping Miss Sasaki somewhere safe, yes? Well, I do have some acquaintances with the police I could contact…”

“Hey, um…I really appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but I don’t want to bother you any more than I already have… So please don’t worry about me. I’ll find a hotel to stay in tonight.”

“I can’t allow that. Hotels aren’t safe, and sending you to one after the recent events would be in bad taste. Having said that, I wouldn’t trust Dazai to keep his hands to himself if you stayed at his place again. Come stay at mine.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“D-don’t get the wrong idea! I have no ulterior motives, if that’s what you’re implying!”

“Actually, from the way this conversation’s been going, it sounds like an ulterior motive is all you have. You just don’t know when to quit, eh?”

“It’s not like that! I’m just genuinely—”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! I’m kidding! Miss Sasaki, you’ll be safe at Kunikida’s place. He doesn’t have the courage to— Ahem… He is a man of ideals and virtue. Would you like to see his notebook? You should read the page about his ideal woman. It’s amazing.”

Dazai hands Miss Sasaki a notebook. Taken aback, I pat my pockets, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Dazai! When did you steal that from me?!” 

“Here, it’s this page.”

He opens my notebook and points. 

“Oh my… Are you sure this is okay?” 

“You’re curious, right?”

“Well…in all honesty…yes, I suppose I am slightly curious.”

Miss Sasaki reads the notebook with a bashful smile before slowly turning pale.

“Huh? What does that…? Oh, I see. But this is…”

My ideal woman: a voluminous work consisting of eight pages, fifteen topics, and fifty-eight items.

“Huh?! …Oh, so that means… Hmm… Ohhh…”

I remember what Dazai said: “Never show this to a woman. It’d really turn them off.” When Miss Sasaki lifts her head after reading, her expression is void of any and all joy. The only thing on her face is a chilling, lifeless smile, not unlike a statue’s.

“Detective Kunikida.” “Yes…?”

“People like this don’t exist.”

***

Someone bring me a stiff drink.

***

It’s located in the nation’s capital, Tokyo, the heart of this country where the political and economic central functions intersect.

Foreigners of all races and creeds go in and out of this building—the United States Embassy, the largest foreign territory in Japan. Despite it being the afternoon, the people in the waiting room for general visitors are quietly whiling away the minutes and hours until their turn. They keep silent as if anticipating a judge’s decision, staring off into space as if looking at something only they can see.

A live Major League Baseball game plays on the flat-screen TV installed on the wall, while a middle-aged Caucasian male wearing a black cap lazily criticizes his favorite team for allowing the other to score a run.

I look at Dazai at my side. He’s smiling gleefully. He must be really looking forward to the mission. This is no laughing matter, though.

“Everything ready to go, Kunikida?”

“My stomach already hurts thinking about it. Please don’t mess this up. We could be tried under international law if we aren’t careful.”

“International outlaws… Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? All right, well, here goes nothing!”

“Hey…!”

Stricken with panic, I try to stop him, but he’s already heading over to the information desk. Dazai is wearing a raggedy, patched-up undershirt while I’m dressed in a high-end navy business suit and tie. He stands in front of the embassy worker’s desk and obnoxiously opens his big mouth.

“Hey, you! How much longer do I hafta wait?! I’ve been here for siiix whooole hooours!”

Everybody in the vicinity turns around and stares. The Japanese lady working reception blinks in astonishment.

“I don’t wanna wait anymore! I can’t…! I just can’t take it! Lemme talk to your boss right now!”

Dazai thrashes his arms and legs about as he continues to mouth off to the receptionist. Though this may be part of the mission, it’s painful to watch another adult act this way. I would rather drink poison and die than do that.

“Excuse me… What was it you needed again?” she asks, puzzled. Her handling of the situation is admirable, but she’s outclassed.

“I toldja, didn’t I?! I wanna seek refuge! R-E-F-U-G-E! I’m here for refuge in your honorable nation! But you’re making me wait foreeever! Does that mean you’re refusing my request? Is that it? Missy, you’ve got a lot of nerve making political decisions like this! You’ve got no right!”

“You there! What do you think you’re doing?! Causing a disturbance in the embassy is a serious offense, you know!”

Naturally, the guards at the entrance start rushing toward Dazai. Looks like I’m up.

“Stop right there. That man making a fuss over there is with me. Do you have the authority to arrest him?” I stand before the rushing guards. “Vienna Convention on Consular Relations, article thirty-one, paragraph two! ‘The authorities of the receiving State shall not enter that part of the consular premises that is used exclusively for the purpose of the work of the consular post except with the consent of the head of the consular post or of his designee or of the head of the diplomatic mission of the sending State.’ That man is a guest of the embassy until deemed a hindrance by the consular post. Stopping him without permission could turn this into an international issue!”

My loud rebuke puzzles the guards.

They obviously know the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations by heart, but it’s only natural to flinch when someone screams “international issue” at you.

“Hey, Boss! I need refuuuge! BOSSSSSS!!”

Dazai throws a temper tantrum on the floor in front of the information desk. While it’s a relief knowing the guards can’t stop him, there’s a part of me that wants to forget the mission and kill him.

Now, there’s a reason why the Armed Detective Agency is using a five- year-old’s tactics to attack the embassy, an important, high-toned diplomatic establishment.

“The bomber is from another country?” I ask. We’re back at that same street- side café.

“Yeah, and a pro, at that,” Dazai replies while sipping his coffee. He first pointed this out to me after Miss Sasaki got off the phone with a colleague from her university.

“My college major was criminal psychology. Perhaps I know something that could be of use,” she’d said.

I hear Miss Sasaki is well-known in her community as a criminal psychology researcher. It seems she’s a talented young associate professor whose work has been recognized by several famous academic conferences, which is why she’s been independently scrutinizing similar past crimes detailed in a fellow researcher’s work.

“I contacted a colleague in my field regarding similar cases, but their investigation concluded that there has not been a single bombing incident in Japan that has claimed over a hundred lives as mentioned in the e-mail… Of course, this is excluding those who died in the war.”

“Have there been incidents like this abroad, then?”

“Yes… There have been a few dozen terrorist attacks in other countries, revolving around ideology and political conflict. However, there is little data for these cases that would provide details such as the type of bomb used or the manufacturer… I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any help.”

“No, that’s really good information. This would mean the Azure Apostle knew the composition and structure of the explosive used in those bombings when they made the one to set in Yokohama. I feel like we’re now one step closer to finding our guy, don’t you think?”

“That said, we still haven’t figured out where they hid the bomb. Do you really think we’ll be able to find it in time at this rate?”

At the very least, we need to find out this person’s name and what they look like. There’s no other way to locate the bomb.

Dazai places a thumb on his chin as if deep in thought.

“The bomber is in hiding… There’s no way we’re going to find them,” he suddenly mutters. “…Guess I have to do it myself.”

“Do what?”

“Kunikida, in the e-mail, they said they’d ‘made’ the bomb, right? But can you really make a bomb that could kill hundreds that easily?”

“It wouldn’t be easy for the average person, but someone with extensive knowledge probably wouldn’t have much difficulty.”

Even I have a certain amount of knowledge of hazardous chemicals, since I’m currently pursuing a degree in science and mathematics. Besides, I also work on dangerous jobs at the agency. Chemical production for explosives requires utmost caution, especially in regard to temperature and impact. Even the smallest mistake could cause an unwanted catastrophe. The ingredients themselves, however, are simple and could even be found in an elementary school’s science room. Hydrochloric acid, nitric acid, nitrogen fertilizer, aluminum: All of these can be legally purchased for cheap. The combination ratio, order of procedure, transportation, and technique for detonating the bomb are where things get tricky.

“Some say that each pro has their own recipe, which acts as their brand when they sell their explosives, but…”

“Exactly. That’s why I don’t think it’d be easy to replicate a bomb that was used in some previous terrorist attack.”

“So what you’re saying is…the person who made this bomb is the same person who made the bomb in that incident that killed over a hundred people?”

“Not only that, the way it was described in the e-mail was oddly visually specific, don’t you think?”

I check the e-mail again. “The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky. The buildings fell one after another while innocent people’s skin melted as they struggled to escape. The ground liquefied, and vehicles were knocked into the buildings like spears.”

“This is just speculation on my part, but doesn’t it sound a bit like he’s describing what he saw?”

“What?”

“Miss Sasaki, is there any news footage showing any of the past bombings abroad?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Filming an explosion that large was probably the last thing on the victims’ minds as well.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but the e-mail vividly details what just happened minutes after the explosion. Maybe they set the bomb, ran away, and came back after the explosion in time to see all this?”

“In other words, the bomber who killed all those people in the past is the Azure Apostle?”

If that’s the case, then that would narrow down who the criminal might be. We’re looking at a bomb expert who was abroad during that incident and is currently in Japan. But…

“We still don’t have enough information to go by.” 

“Why?”

“I suppose I will fill you in, since you decided to skip the meeting. The Public Security Intelligence Agency and military police–affiliated organizations already looked into domestic bomb-making experts, and they didn’t find any suspects. Nobody on the list of Japanese candidates possesses the refined technology needed for high-grade explosives that could kill or injure over one hundred people, nor are there any bomb manufacturer candidates they don’t already have their eye on. Having said that, it’s not like we could go around questioning every non-Japanese person we see.”

“Heh-heh.” Dazai smirks.

“What are you so obnoxiously giddy about?”

“While even the military police come to the famous detective agency for help from time to time, there’s still one directory nobody wants us to see: information held by foreign intelligence agencies. I’m sure they have records on past bombing suspects.”

“A foreign intelligence agency…?”

The most famous intelligence agencies that come to mind are the CIA and NSA in the United States and MI6 in the United Kingdom. They conduct covert operations all around the world for their home countries’ safety and prosperity. However…

“Foreign intelligence agencies aren’t just going to hand over confidential information to private Japanese enterprises. Do you even know anybody working for an intelligence agency in the first place?”

“Nope.”

“I figured.”

“But I know where to meet one.”

—I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

And that’s how our undercover mission at the embassy began. The plan Dazai came up with is simple: One of us makes a scene at the embassy, and if we’re lucky, one of the higher-ups will come over to bring things under control. Then we can talk with that high government official to negotiate. For a secret agent abroad, their home country’s embassy is not only a base but a place of peace and comfort as well. The embassy must have some sort of connection with their country’s secret agents.

While it’s a reckless, aggressive plan, Dazai’s idea sheds a glimmer of hope on a seemingly desperate mission. During our work together, I at times find his wits and critical-thinking skills nothing short of amazing. There is no telling what he’s capable of. I can’t help but feel that hidden behind his eccentric behavior lurks something chilling—a devilish wisdom of some kind.

I have a difficult time believing he’s just some wanderer with no real background. Whenever I try to ask him about his past, he avoids the question. While I refuse to press him for answers, I wonder if he has a dark past. Could he have been in an illegal—?

“Awww, c’mon, lady! Just grant my asylum already! Pretty pleeease? C’mon, don’t look away from me when I’m talkin’ to you! Look at me! Yeah, like that! Keep lookin’ at me like that!”

—No. He’s just an idiot.

“Um… Could you please write your name on the waiting list?” The receptionist timidly pulls out a sheet of paper.

“I’ve already filled out one of those!” Dazai yells. He’s lying, of course. “I even made sure to complete all the parts in fine print with my favorite fountain pen, and I’m still not gettin’ any service. Why d’you think I came here to talk to you, huh?”

He whips out a thick coal-black fountain pen from his breast pocket to show her.

“This fountain pen is the same kind that was used by a Middle Eastern dictator. Pretty cool, huh? You can have a look if you want. Here. It’s long and heavy, so it’s extremely hard to write with. I had to use this to fill out all those little spaces over and over again. You can see why I’m mad now, right?”

It’s your fault for using that pen in the first place!

I keep that thought to myself, though.

“Listen, lady, I’m an author, mmkay? Ever read any of my books? Here, I’ll even make you the protagonist in my next story, so please just lemme speak to one of your higher-ups. I’ll write a book about us committing lovers’ suicide. I’ll even use this pen to write it if you help me defect.”

For a terrible author, he’s becoming curiously good at this acting thing. I get the sense this is how he woos women at pubs.

“C’mon, throw me a bone here. I’m in a lot of trouble. Big trouble! Some scary guys from the PSIA are coming for my neck! Listen, I just write whatever I like, and all I said was that one of the Foreign Affairs ministers was wearing a toupee, and now the authorities are trying to kill me! This is a violation of free speech, and I will not allow the government to abuse their authority! And down with hairpieces!”

“Shut the hell up, will ya?! I’m tryin’ to watch the game here! And what’s your problem with toupees?!” the Caucasian man in the black cap watching the baseball game shouts hoarsely, but it’s going to take more than that to bring Dazai down.

“Hey, I’m not the problem here! It’s the guy who got mad at me for calling him out! If he was gonna get that upset about it, then he shoulda just shown us all his shiny bald pate and been proud of it!”

“E-excuse me, sir? You’re, um, you’re with him, c-correct?” the flustered office worker asks me with pleading eyes. Apologies, but this is all for the greater good.

“I’m his chief editor. While I sympathize with you, as you can see, he’s in no mood to listen. If a civil servant with authority, however, was to come and talk with him directly, I guarantee he’d give up. So do you think you could talk to one of your superiors for me?”

“Okay…”

Drained of energy and in a state of shock, the receptionist nods before staggering to her feet.

“I’ll be right back…with someone to help you…”

She probably feels that she’s done everything she could and just doesn’t want to deal with Dazai anymore. I don’t blame her. I truly pity the woman.

After waiting for a short while, she returns and waves Dazai and me into another room.

“This way, please.”

***

“You’re making things really difficult for me, you know?”

We’re taken to a diplomatic reception room where a bald Caucasian diplomat appears to have been waiting for us. The business card handed to us says he’s a third attaché. Not a bad catch. But it’s not enough. He isn’t ranked high enough to know intelligence-agency secrets, which means only one thing: This is where the real mission starts.

“I completely understand, sir.”

I lower my head. To someone from a different culture, bowing might confuse them, but it’s surely not going to make them feel better.

“Never in my career have I ever heard of someone seeking political asylum from a country as peaceful as this one. I could contact our State Department, but I know the answer is going to be no. Therefore—”

“Oh, I don’t care about that anymore. Sorry for the trouble. I mean, I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with us, but to tell the truth, I’m not actually an author.”

I take out a black notebook with gold-framed letters.

“We’re with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s Public Security Bureau.”

“S-security…police…?” the attaché asks in astonishment.

I don’t blame him. The situation is a lot more serious when you believe you’re talking to the recipient country’s security police.

“Due to the circumstances, we needed to take an unconventional route in establishing contact. However, this notebook should serve as proof that we are who we say we are.”

I hold up my police notebook with the words PUBLIC SECURITY BUREAU written in gold on the black cover. Inside sits my picture beside my division’s name. The attaché opens my notebook and compares the picture to me. Of course, it’s a fake I created with my skill, The Matchless Poet, but it appears every bit as real as an official one. Therefore, he has no way of knowing just by looking at it that we’re lying.

—But what happens next determines whether we’re in the clear.

“For certain reasons, we must secretly obtain information possessed by your country’s intelligence agency. We would like for you to provide data on bomb engineering specialists within Japan. This is an issue of national security, so we need to be quick.”

In one breath, I deliver the whole monologue I memorized prior to our arrival.

“Th-this is absurd.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask.” I double down. “If you do not possess the information we need, then could you introduce us to someone who does?”

“There are indeed people from the intelligence agency who come here, but… This is not quite that simple.”

“This is a time-sensitive matter. The lives of at least a hundred innocent people are on the line.”

The attaché turns pale the moment he hears that people could die. He seems like a good person.

“P-please give me a moment.”

Sweating profusely in fear, he picks up the telephone and calls someone. Speaking in almost a whisper, he argues with them for a while, then hangs up before facing us again.

“Oh, thank goodness,” the attaché says with a smile. “We usually cannot accept such requests, but…”

I internally let out a sigh of relief, thrilled with how perfect things seem to be going. 

“Thank you very much.”

“I spoke with the secretary on the phone, and she told me that my boss just happens to be having a meal with the Public Security Bureau’s director right now. My boss probably won’t be able to refuse a request from someone so high up. Phew. Thank goodness.”

“…What?”

“Your boss should be here in around ten minutes. Please make yourselves at home until then.”

He wipes the sweat off his forehead, a relieved smile on his face.

……This isn’t good. This is not good at all.

The Public Security Bureau’s director has the same amount of authority as the chief of the Metropolitan Police, but he probably doesn’t even have a clue about the bomb threat. Even if he did, he would never agree to go along with a scheme—let alone one by imposters—to steal confidential information from a foreign intelligence agency, especially when we still have no way to prove a bomb even exists.

“No, we… That wouldn’t be good.”

“Hmm? Oh, don’t worry about a thing. The intelligence agency surely wouldn’t ignore a request from someone as important as the Public Security Bureau’s director. So please make yourselves at home. I insist.”

What are we going to do? This entire mission will have been for nothing if the director shows up.

“That really wouldn’t be good. Because… Uh…” The attaché stares back at me in befuddlement.

“The director cannot come here…for various reasons.” 

“Are you sure? What reasons would that be?”

Damn it. I’m terrible at improvising. 

“He’s…very busy right now. He has a lot to do.”

“I am sure he is quite busy, but they told me on the phone he could come and that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yes, that’s not what I meant, though. While he claims it wouldn’t be a problem, he has…many errands.”

“…?”

“Like…meeting an acquaintance who he’ll end up chatting with for hours, going to the public office to turn in some documents, going to the store to pick up some dog food…”

“What is he, a housewife?” He tilts his head to the side, puzzled. 

Ugh. 

I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore.

“A-anyway, we cannot let the director know any of this.” 

“Do you mean…you came here without telling him?” 

“No, we, uh— Well…yes. Yes we did.”

“That’s certainly no good. Why didn’t you tell him?” 

“We forgot.”

“You forgot?!” He’s completely dumbfounded.

“Yes, we… We were in a hurry, since it’s an emergency, so we forgot to call him. So, you know, it was a state of emergency…so we forgot to call him.”

“Was there a reason why you said it twice?”

“I have already told you all I’m permitted to say. Anyway, just bring us an intelligence operative to speak with!”

Because the more I talk, the deeper this hole gets!

“You do realize what you’re asking from me, yes? The whereabouts of our intelligence operatives are secret. An explanation like the one you gave isn’t—”

“Yeesh… Guess I’ve got no choice, then.” Dazai heaves a sigh, then leans in. “First, I apologize for my inarticulate subordinate. Allow me to explain, sir. We had no choice but to come here in secret. There’s a mole in the Public Security Bureau who’s feeding information to the bomber, and we have reason to believe he’s a close adviser to the director.”

“What?”

“We’re working with internal investigators to identify the criminal and the mole leaking intel, which is why we had to come undercover. We fear the mole may detonate the bomb if they figure out we’re meeting with the director. So before that happens, we must find where this bomb is hidden.”

The attaché’s face turns pale. “Th-that certainly is a serious problem. You should have just said so,” he says, glancing at me.

“The reason my colleague didn’t say anything was because he was afraid of a leak. He may be a terrible liar, but he does it to protect confidential information. If you were in our shoes, would you just casually tell the police that your boss might be a mole?”

“You have a point…” He nods in agreement.

“Fortunately, we are close to figuring out who our bomber is. He was the mastermind behind a large-scale terrorist bombing overseas sometime in the past. This is an important investigation for the national security of your country, one which also protects the world from terrorists. With the help of your intelligence agency, I want to clean the streets of these antiestablishment incendiaries hiding in the system. So could I ask for your cooperation?”

“Very well. I am at your service.” 

Dazai……… That was… That was amazing… 

“Come with me, please.”

The attaché hastily stands and motions us to follow.

He takes us to a private office in the embassy’s basement and, his expression tense, asks us to wait here. Dazai and I are the only ones left in the room.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop picking on my attaché. He’s a really good person. In fact, that’s all he is.”

A familiar middle-aged man eventually walks into the office.

“You’re… You’re the man who was watching baseball in the waiting room… You’re the US intelligence operative?”

It’s the same middle-aged Caucasian man in the black cap who had been idly watching the ball game on TV earlier.

“My ID says I’m the office janitor, though.”

He grabs the name tag on his chest and shows us.

“So what are two busy detectives from the Armed Detective Agency doing here?”

Dazai and I exchange glances. “You knew?”

“It’s my job to gather information on issues occurring in this country, and when an organization of skill users starts making a fuss first thing in the morning, you can bet word has already reached halfway around the world. We’ve had our eye on you ever since you walked into the embassy.”

It seems the omniscience of intelligence agencies isn’t limited to movies and novels after all.

“We’re looking for the person who set a bomb in the city. They’re also responsible for a similar bombing overseas that claimed the lives of over a hundred people. Is there anyone like that in your records? The offender said, ‘The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky,’ and—”

“Oh… I figured it was him.” The intelligence operative shakes his head. “You know who’s behind this?”

“‘An everlasting fire and blinding white light’ sounds just like Alamta and his aluminum powder–based explosives. Here’s his file.”

The intelligence operative pulls out a stack of papers from within the cabinet.

“A man of Japanese descent, Zadkiel Alamta was a bomb purveyor for a Middle Eastern terrorist organization. We’ve been keeping tabs on him ever since he entered the country a year ago.”

“Without even telling the authorities in Japan?” I retort as I pore over the documents.

“We had our reasons. We wanted to capture him ourselves. Not only is he a bomber, he also sells explosives to terrorists of the same trade. If only we had his list of customers, we could arrest countless anti-American terrorists.”

I flip through the pages where I see Alamta’s photograph and the details of his past crimes.

“There honestly couldn’t be a worse bomb composition.” I tightly clench my jaw.

“There are going to be a lot more than a hundred dead if this thing goes off in Yokohama.”

Alamta specializes in railroad car bombs that contain a mixture of aluminum powder in slurry explosives. After placing a few hundred pounds of explosives in the passenger car, he lights the fuse remotely using a small electronic transmitter, such as a cell phone. He uses ammonium nitrate as his main raw material and acetone peroxide as an auxiliary material. Both ingredients are cheap, so bombs can be manufactured in high volumes.

Judging by the composition detailed in the documents, anyone within a radius of about 650 feet of the blast would die instantly, and people out of range would be showered in the liquefied aluminum and exposed to the extreme temperatures from the blast wave.

The only reason Alamta uses aluminum is to make sure he kills as many people as possible. Aluminum is a combustion promoter, which emits a blinding white light and increases the intensity of the explosive flames when it burns. Simultaneously, the blast waves would carry it, creating a cloud of extremely hot dust reaching over a thousand degrees Fahrenheit, which could burn the flesh right off a human body. To make matters worse, aluminum reacts with water to create a flammable hydrogen gas, meaning any contact with water would make more fire. Therefore, using the water from a fire hydrant to put out the blaze would only worsen it, making rescue operations difficult.

“The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky.” He wasn’t exaggerating. The bomb is as dreadful as it sounds. If a bomb goes off in a densely populated place in the city, casualties could exceed a thousand when considering secondary disasters such as blackouts and other fatal accidents. Moreover, a train bomb could easily sneak past the police and into the city. We absolutely cannot allow it to be detonated in Yokohama.

“Where is Alamta right now?”

“He threw my colleague off his trail and went into hiding two days ago. We figured he was getting ready to do something.”

Damn it. It looks like we’ll have to start searching for Alamta before we can find the bomb. I guess learning the bomber’s name and background is a step forward, though. It is highly likely that Alamta and the Azure Apostle are one and the same. However, it’s still unclear why he would threaten the detective agency. If he does have a grudge against us, then perhaps looking into the agency’s past solved cases could lead to some clues.

“So, Mr. Spy, what do you want in return for this information?” Dazai chimes in with a chuckle.

“Nothing. I can’t just sit back and watch hundreds of lives lost, even if they’re another country’s citizens. I am doing this for justice. I’ll gladly provide you with any information you need.”

“Yeah, right. I dunno about Kunikida here, but I’m just a bit more cynical than that,” he replies with a grin. An American intelligence operative’s job is to advance the prosperity and security of his country, after all. The agent ponders in silence for a while before responding.

“…If you catch Alamta, hand him over to us, not the Public Security Bureau. He’s going to give us a list of his customers whether he likes it or not.”

“Hand him over to you?” I knit my brow. “If he truly is behind all this, shouldn’t you be questioning him along with the Japanese authorities?”

“About that, Kunikida. These guys plan on torturing the bomber for information, and with methods so brutal they’re prohibited by international law. See, they wouldn’t be able to use such unethical means if they were to cooperate with another nation’s authorities. That’s why they want to take him into custody without anyone knowing.”

“……”

I look at the agent, who is silent and expressionless. It’s evident he’s not looking to make any excuses. Criminals aren’t the only ones who break the law and violate ethical standards. Nevertheless, a foreign secret intelligence agency won’t change their ways, regardless of how a nobody like myself might feel about it.

“This isn’t an official meeting, and you haven’t leaked any information. Therefore, there is no reason for us to provide anything in return. Come, Dazai; we’re leaving.”

After urging Dazai to get up, I turn on my heel and head for the door.

“Tell the receptionist you’re from Fenimore Transport from now on. They’ll let me know you’re here. Anyway, I’m impressed you were able to make it this far with almost no clues. You have talent. If you’re ever fired from the detective agency, get in touch with me. We could use an agent like you.”

“Wow. What’ll it be, Kunikida?”

“I have no interest in joining an organization that doesn’t bat an eye even after hearing that a terrorist plans on bombing Japan. We’ll be leaving now.”

I depart the office without even waiting for a response. The agent remains silent.

***

Dazai and I return to the detective agency to organize the information from the documents. Approximately two hours remain until sundown. We have to capture the bomber Alamta and force him to tell us where the explosive is… within a mere two hours. We’re not without good news, though. I received some reassuring information when I contacted the agency. The moment I heard the news, I became certain: We can disarm this bomb.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! You guys would be lost without me!”

I hear his usual boisterous laughter the moment I return to the office. “Ranpo! How did the case in Kyushu go?”

“Oh, that? I took one look at the body and figured out who did it and how.”

The man mirthfully sipping on his drink as he talks is Ranpo Edogawa, a senior colleague.

“I heard what happened, Kunikida. Everyone’s been running in circles over some little bomb, huh? I really wish my colleagues could take care of themselves sometimes. You know, I didn’t even get the chance to sightsee in Kyushu thanks to you. Man, I really wanted to eat some onsen tamago, too.”

“You have my apologies. However, we need your help.” 

“My help?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, we were unable to solve this case on our own and are in desperate need of your assistance. I apologize for my incompetence.”

After gazing at me for a few moments, Ranpo lets out a sigh.

“Well…… Ah, fine, I guess I’ll lend you a hand! And there’s nothing to be sorry about, Kunikida. If there’s anyone to blame, it should be me for being too gifted! After all, Super Deduction is the greatest skill in the world, so coming to me for help is only natural!” With a boisterous laugh, he pats me on the shoulder.

“You are absolutely right.” I wholeheartedly agree.

“K-Kunikida, are you okay? You don’t have to hold it in,” Dazai timidly says. Hold what in…? What is he talking about? I’m perfectly fine.

“Dazai, give Ranpo the files.”

“Oh, sure. Hey, I’m the new guy, Osamu Dazai. Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m counting on you to find a good case. I’ll be the one to solve it, of course.”

Ranpo’s eyes are locked on Dazai as he takes the documents.

“So, newbie. Uh…Dazai, was it? Where did you work prior to coming here?”

“Hmm?”

Ranpo’s expression has faded, his eyes peering into Dazai’s as if he is searching for something.

“I didn’t really do anything after finishing school. Was just kinda around, you know?”

A few seconds go by as Ranpo silently stares at Dazai. 

Finally… 

“Oh, that’s nice. Anyway, welcome to the agency.”

And that’s it. He begins laying out the documents across the desk as if nothing happened. What was that just now?

“Dazai, what was that about?”

“Don’t ask me… By the way, what kind of skill user is Ranpo?” 

Oh, right, I still haven’t explained it to him yet.

“Ranpo’s Super Deduction gives him the incredible ability to deduce the truth about a case just by looking at it.”

“What?! Is there really a skill like that?!” It seems even Dazai can hardly believe it.

“Yes, and there are a lot of important people in the police and government officials who come to Ranpo every time they need help with a difficult case. His skill is what keeps this detective agency in business.”

“I dunno, it’s just hard to believe a skill like that actually exists.” He doesn’t appear convinced.

“You’ll believe it when you see it.”

“Kunikida! Do you just need to know where the bomb is?”

“Yes. We’re almost out of time. Finding that bomb is our top priority. We’ll be able to disarm it if we know where it is.” 

“So I don’t need to find this Alamta fellow, yes?” 

“The bomb comes first.”

“Okay, then let’s get started! Ha-ha-ha! Sorry, everybody, it looks like your assistance won’t be needed anymore now that I’m on the case. Dazai, hand me those glasses.”

Ranpo puts on the black-framed glasses that Dazai hands him. Putting them on is apparently needed to activate his skill. His eyes sharpen into a radiant gaze that could pierce through all of nature, and his mind becomes an oracle of the gods.

Super Deduction.

“… I’ve got it.” Ranpo sets his glasses down.

“Wait. Seriously?”

Dazai, standing behind Ranpo, holds his breath as he leans forward in curiosity.

“Map.”

Ranpo points. I get the large map of Yokohama from the bookshelf, then spread it out over the desk. Where did this maniac—an apostle of panic and fear—hide this weapon of pure evil and mass destruction? At a train station? A major hospital? A school? Perhaps a skyscraper, even? Or is it at city hall? What about a shopping mall? The worst-case scenarios pop into my mind, one after another.

“The bomb is…”

I wait with bated breath as Ranpo lowers his finger over the map. 

“…right here. This fishing-gear shop.”

……………………………What?

A fishing-gear shop?

I must be hearing things. Perhaps there’s a secret facility here? Or maybe they deal in illegal goods?

“…I see,” Dazai mutters to himself after a few moments go by. “That’s it… That’s it! Ranpo’s skill is real! If you’re going to set a bomb, this fishing-gear shop is the only place that makes sense! Kunikida, we have to hurry!”

“I see the new guy’s blown away by how amazing I am.”

“I am! That was incredible! You are without a doubt an extraordinary detective! I’m so glad I joined this agency! Now come on! We don’t have time to waste, Kunikida! We’ll be able to make it before sundown if we leave now!”

“But, Dazai, I…”

“I’ll explain on the way! Hurry!” 

“Good luck, you two!”

With Dazai dragging me by the sleeve, I reluctantly leave the detective agency behind.

***

We get into the company car and head straight toward the fishing-gear shop.

Since I prefer not to ride in a murder box on wheels, I decide to drive. “Now tell me what’s going on, Dazai,” I say to him.

“Sure, I’ll explain, but you’re not doubting Ranpo’s deduction, right?”

“If Ranpo says the bomb is in the fishing-gear shop, then it’s in the fishing-gear shop. I still don’t get why you believed him, though.”

Ranpo has the ability to see the truth, and his Super Deduction has never let us down. But there’s something bugging me about Dazai being so easily convinced.

“It’s simple when you look at the map.”

I visualize the map in my head. The only things around the fishing-gear shop are roads, corporate facilities, and small shops. While there would be a fair number of victims, it lacks the viciousness one would expect from an international terrorist.

“Stop testing me. I have plenty of other things I need to think about. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I thought about it after checking out the files we had on Alamta. He’s been behind multiple large-scale bombings around the world, but he never bombs the same place twice. He’s already bombed a luxury hotel packed with tourists, a military communications office, and a skyscraper’s support beams. He always chooses an area that would produce the most damage to his target. So what area is he targeting this time?” 

“Quit playing games and tell me.”

“Alamta’s target is…the oil storage facilities.”

A bolt of lightning shoots down my spine as if I’ve been hit in the head with a hammer.

The petroleum complex in Yokohama!

How did I not think of that? Yokohama, Japan’s most prominent port city, is the largest hub for transporting fuel by sea. There is a sizable plot of land at the port with numerous facilities that store oil and natural gas. Day and night, enormous amounts of fuel are carried out from those facilities to support industries throughout the Kanto region. Furthermore, the complex is surrounded by factories that use petrochemical-based materials, steel production factories, and petroleum production factories. If an explosion was to happen around the petroleum complex and the storage tanks caught fire, then the entire port would be engulfed in flames before long. The fire would most likely last for days, resulting in the worst industrial disaster this country has ever seen. Petrochemical fires are difficult to put out with water, which would even further prolong the destruction done. Not only would human lives be lost, but the domestic economy would suffer immeasurable damage as well.

“I see. So you were so impressed with Ranpo because of how accurate his deduction was.”

“No, that’s not why.” 

What?

“What amazed me was neither the novel idea of targeting an oil storage facility nor Ranpo’s skill.”

“Then what was it?”

“Heh-heh. What surprised me the most was the fact that Ranpo’s ‘Skill’ isn’t actually a skill at all.”

…Huh?

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if someone without a skill could really do something like that.”

“That’s what makes it so amazing! Listen to this. When Ranpo was thinking, I sneaked up behind him and pinched some of his hair.”

“What?”

Dazai was indeed standing behind Ranpo the entire time, now that I think about it. But when did he—?

“As you know, I can nullify people’s abilities just by touching them. I guess you could call me an anti-skill user. As long as I’m touching someone—no matter how powerful they may be—they will be unable to use their skill. So what I’m trying to say is…”

Ranpo’s Super Deduction isn’t a skill? 

“Then that means—”

“It’s just simple deduction. He reached a theoretical conclusion in the blink of an eye based on his own observations and inferences. He linked his knowledge on disasters, the files on Alamta, and the map of Yokohama to come to a conclusion in a matter of seconds. It was like I was watching a great detective from a novel find out who was behind the crime— Wait. No, it was more like watching the famous detective at the end of a novel after solving all the cases. Without leaving the building or meeting the suspect, Ranpo figured out where the bomb was simply by glancing at the files we gave him. He possesses tremendous deductive and observational skills that your average fictional detective could only dream of.”

Deduction? What he’s doing is not a skill or a supernatural phenomenon but purely the product of thought?

“But is that even possible? I mean, how…?”

“That’s what impressed me. A skill would make this just another phenomenon, which wouldn’t even be surprising, let alone impressive. But Ranpo is utilizing his brain, something we all have, to reach these conclusions. So Alamta disappeared two days ago, thus probably not having enough time to obtain a permit to get into the oil storage facilities or disguise himself as a worker there. The easiest thing he could’ve done was use cash to rent a car, store the bomb in it, park it somewhere near the oil storage facilities, and leave it there. If the explosive’s effective casualty range is around six hundred fifty feet, then that would leave within that range only the shops that have an oil storage tank, and the only place at the port that meets these conditions is…”

“The fishing-gear shop.”

“Exactly. Of course, things like wind direction and how difficult it would be to discover the bomb are also factors, but… Wow! I still can’t believe how Ranpo figured that out just by looking at the documents we gave him. That guy’s got some serious powers of deduction and observation! And even Ranpo himself seems to think he’s using a skill. Man, that is one amazing detective. I need to start applying myself more.”

I finally understand why Dazai was so impressed. No matter how divine it may be, a skill is nothing more than a bewildering phenomenon. However, things are different if these powers of deduction are something the person possesses on their own. Ranpo has solved far more than a few dozen cases in the past, to say the least, and he solved them in an instant with only a small amount of information. Not once has he been wrong. Calling what he does a superhuman feat still wouldn’t be enough to illustrate how unbelievable it truly is—an ability that surpasses all skills. I could only describe it as a divine skill rarely seen in Japan—no, in the entire world.

Still, though…

I look over at Dazai in the passenger seat.

“I’ve never seen you marvel over someone else’s skills like that before.” 

“Huh? Really? Lots of things take me by surprise. Like, once, I tried to pick up a clam with my chopsticks, and it was still alive. I was so startled, I nearly—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You seemed taken aback that someone had the ability to see and know all.”

For someone so full of eccentricities, there is something about his behavior that makes it seem as if he has an unobstructed view of the world. I don’t know exactly why, but all his emotions strike me as an act to some degree. Is he just playing dumb? Could there be more to him than he’s letting on, lurking behind his ambiguous mannerisms?

“I guess. But you, Kunikida, I’ve got a good idea of who you are now, so nothing you do will ever surprise me. I mean, compared with me, you’re just a simple man with a simple mind, after all.”

“What did you just say?!”

“See? You wear your heart on your sleeve. You don’t hide how you’re really feeling. It’s nice. You know what else is nice? Just knowing that you’re going to be worrying later to yourself, ‘Am I really that simple?’”

“Why, you—”

But I refrain from arguing. Whatever my response, he’s just going to end up telling me, 

“I knew you’d say that.”

“One day, you will be amazed by what I am capable of, and I guarantee you won’t see it coming.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll take you out for a drink if you end up surprising me.”

“All right, it’s a deal. You better not forget.”

“I won’t. Besides, I’ve got nothing to lose either way. Oh, look, I can see the fishing-gear shop.”

I slow down the car and park on the side of the street where I can see the shop.

***

After getting out of the car, I observe the store. Only an hour remains before sundown. We should have the bomb disarmed in time as long as nothing goes wrong.

“Any idea what kind of car we’re looking for?”

“It’s simple, really. Just look for a large commercial vehicle with tinted windows to keep people from seeing inside.”

I park the company car slightly away, then carefully approach the shop. I cannot deny the possibility that there might be armed personnel hiding somewhere in order to protect the bomb.

The fishing-gear shop seems to be closed for the day, so only a few cars sparsely occupy the parking lot, which could fit a little over ten vehicles. There’s no sign of anyone in the parking area, and the slope on the west side leaves the whole place dim. I turn my head until I find a bunch of tall oil storage tanks behind me reaching out as far as the port itself. The closest tank is only around three hundred feet away from me. If the parking lot was to be blown up, the hellish flames would undoubtedly spread across every tank with ease.

“Kunikida, check that car out.”

I face the direction Dazai is pointing in, where I find a small white commercial vehicle parked with a rental car plate. The tinted windows are visible even from afar. Furthermore, the car seems to be sitting lower than the others even though nobody is inside, which suggests it’s not totally empty. I jot WIRELESS JAMMER down in my notebook before tearing the page out and focusing. Then the sheet of paper instantly transforms into a handheld wave inhibitor.

“Dazai, place this by the vehicle but keep your eye out for booby traps. I’m going to search the vicinity.”

The jammer bears a strong resemblance to a cell phone. However, this device can intervene with radio channels, making nearby wireless devices unable to communicate with one another. It has an effective radius of around fifteen feet. The bomber won’t be able to remotely detonate the bomb with this nearby.

I grip my gun while scouting around the parking area. I keep my guard up, but there are no signs of any snipers or enemies waiting to ambush. Instead, I find two recording devices hidden in the grass. One camera is the same type we found at the abandoned hospital, while the other is a smaller wireless type. This only further confirms that the bomb is here.

Suddenly, I hear people’s voices and lift my head.

—What’s going on?

People have started to gather on the other side of the road. Around ten people appear to be surrounding something, their faces clouded with worry. I have a bad feeling about this. After hiding my gun, I approach the crowd.

Then I cut my way through to get a look at the cause of all this fuss.

My breath catches in my throat. There’s something there that shouldn’t be.

It’s Alamta’s body.

“Hey, Kunikida, I placed the jammer by the car. What do you want me to—?”

Dazai calls out to me from over my shoulder, but even he finds himself at a loss for words at the sight.

Why is this guy here? Why is he dead?

I approach the corpse. There are no signs of hypostasis and no postmortem rigidity in the chin. He is still warm under the arms. It’s evident that he was killed only moments ago—murdered right before we arrived. Not only that, but there are no visible wounds on the body. Nor are there any external changes that might indicate how he died. Instead, countless black symbols appear on his skin, covering his body like blemishes: ‘00.’ Two zeros? Are these tattoos? Or could this be—?

“Kunikida, the military’s bomb squad will be here soon. Let’s let them handle the technical stuff and get out of here.” Dazai places a hand on my shoulder.

“……Okay.”

I checked Alamta’s belongings, but all he had was some change and a fake license—nothing of use. And with the mystery left unsolved, Dazai and I plow through the growing crowd of spectators and leave the scene.

***

I ruminate behind the wheel of the company car.

Why did Alamta have to die? 

And who wanted him dead?

“Kunikida, I get that thinking is important, but make sure to watch where you’re driving, too, okay?” Dazai says from the passenger seat.

“I know,” I tell him as I grip the steering wheel.

This situation needs analyzing. On the surface, there are but two cases here: the Yokohama kidnappings and the bomber. The perpetrators were the taxi driver and Alamta, respectively. That much is clear. But there’s another common motive between these two cases: damaging the detective agency’s name by releasing to the public footage of our failure to save the victims. The cabdriver and Alamta are most likely not involved with this goal, though. Someone must have been manipulating them from behind the scenes.

That someone is the Azure Apostle.

This person manipulated both the taxi driver and Alamta and made them the perpetrators. And just like that, the Azure Apostle attacked the detective agency without getting their own hands dirty by making it look like the other two committed these crimes of their own accord.

Attacking them is next to impossible, since they gave so few orders and simply let the perpetrators do as they pleased. Both the cabdriver and the bomber committed the crimes on their own turf in their own way. Perhaps they didn’t even realize they were being used as pawns. If we don’t stop the one behind all this, then it won’t be long before we are attacked for a third time, something the agency might not be able to handle. The clues we have are next to nothing, though, which leaves me puzzled as to how we’re going to find this mastermind.

There’s one more thing I’m worried about. What is the Azure Apostle going to be charged with? The only crimes they’ve committed are secretly videoing and threatening us. They didn’t kill anybody or blow up anything, and our chances of building a case to get them charged for instigating murder and kidnapping are extremely slim. Should I just hope the Azure Apostle accidentally left some evidence behind at the scene of the crime? And yet—

That’s when my cell phone begins to ring. It’s the detective agency’s president. I pull over on the side of the road and press the call button.

“Kunikida, my informant in the military just contacted me. The taxi driver… He’s dead.”

What?!

“But wasn’t he midflight on one of the military police’s aircrafts?”

“He was. During questioning, he suddenly began suffering intense pain and passed not long after. His cause of death is unknown, but I was told two black zeros started to surface all over his body… Get back to the agency and let’s go carefully over the situation.”

The phone clicks. My head is swimming with questions.

Our sole path to the Azure Apostle has been cut. The only clue we had to

locate this person was to find out who taught that driver about the organ trade, but those tracks died along with him. It’s almost as if the Azure Apostle is watching us, always one step ahead. Alamta was killed right before we arrived at the scene, and now the cabdriver, our last hope, is gone as well. Just who is this person? The enemy is somebody who knows everything about the detective agency’s investigation and every move we make. Somebody who can constantly tamper with the scene of the crime and manipulate the situation from afar.

“You okay, Kunikida? You look real tense.”

I don’t even have a moment to respond. How is the enemy getting inside info? How are they always a step ahead of the detective agency? My cell phone rings once more, interrupting my train of thought. It’s Rokuzo.

“Hey, Four-Eyes. Got a moment?”

“What is it?”

“It’s… It’s about the e-mail you asked me to trace. I did it.”

“What?!”

That’s it. The sender of that threatening e-mail said their name was the Azure Apostle, and they gave orders to investigate the kidnapping and bombing. If we can find out where that e-mail came from…

“I’ll cut to the chase. Both e-mails came from the same computer, which was heavily protected. But hey, I was able to break through. Anyway—”

“Who’re you talking to, Kunikida?”

I raise my hand, cutting Dazai off. “Go on.”

“All you asked me to do was trace the e-mail, so don’t come to me with questions about what it means, okay? ’Cause I ain’t gonna know. So with that in mind—”

“Get on with it.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell ya. So…those e-mails were sent from inside the detective agency…from the computer of the new guy—Dazai.”

Come again?

My brain freezes over, my mind completely blank.

This can’t be. It has to be some sort of trap. Dazai’s been with me the entire time investigating the…

—The enemy is somebody who knows everything about the detective agency’s investigation and every move we make. Somebody who can constantly tamper with the scene of the crime and manipulate the situation from afar.

“I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone.

“What was that about? It sounded like you were talking to Rokuzo.” 

“Just shut up for a moment.”

My thoughts are scattered.

Dazai. Osamu Dazai, a newcomer at the detective agency who popped up out of nowhere.

This sequence of events started after he showed up.

“I asked a close acquaintance in the military’s intelligence department to do a background check on him, but eerily, they found nothing.

“It’s as if someone very carefully wiped his background clean.”

The poison gas at the abandoned hospital was triggered when Dazai touched the trap while we were trying to save the kidnapped victims…and yet, for some reason, he wasn’t in any of the released footage.

How was he able to stay clear of the cameras?

A clever and cautious string puller, the Azure Apostle never soils their own hands.

Someone of considerable intellect, whose acting abilities could deceive even embassy staff, with knowledge of the organ trade…

I start the car engine and begin driving again. 

“Dazai.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go for a drive.”

***

I turn the steering wheel, entering a deserted mountain path and continuing down it until we reach an old abandoned storehouse.

“What’s this?” Dazai asks while looking at the storage shed.

“It’s a storehouse I used for work once. At one time, it was used for industrial materials, but it was abandoned after the company moved overseas. Nobody comes here anymore, which makes it the perfect place to discuss things in private.”

“Oh, great.”

A lukewarm reply. I drive inside the storehouse and park. Since the building still has all four walls, I don’t have to worry about being watched, and I would be able to hear any reinforcements should they come.

“Get out.”

Without a word, Dazai gets out of the car. Before I do the same, I open my automatic pistol’s magazine to make sure it’s loaded. Then, after writing in my notebook, I exit the vehicle as well.

“Gee, it sure is quiet here. Definitely the perfect place if you ever wanted to talk in secret. So why are we—?”

I point the pistol at Dazai.

“…What’s the gun for?” 

“Take a guess.”

“Hold on, Kunikida. I thought you hated jokes like this.” 

“I do. But this isn’t a joke.”

“This must have something to do with that phone call, right? Well, whatever you heard, I’m sure it’s all some kind of misunderstanding. I’d be able to explain myself if you just told me what he said.”

“I hope so.” I tighten my finger around the trigger. “When the victims at the abandoned hospital were gassed, you were somehow able to avoid showing your face in the footage. Why is that?”

“That’s it?” Dazai looks troubled. “I just happened to see the surveillance equipment when I walked into the room. I was going to tell you, but we found the victims almost immediately after, so I didn’t get the chance. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I apologize—”

“Really? Are you sure you didn’t know where the cameras were and what they were for from the start?” I continue to press him. “Next question. You were the one who suggested we go to the embassy in order to find the bomber. How were you able to come up with that idea so quickly? Was it because you knew about Alamta beforehand, perhaps?”

“Oh, come on. You’re joking, right? You should be praising me for my acumen, not doubting me. Is that what all this is about?”

“Where did you learn about the organ-trafficking syndicate?” 

“That’s… Listen, I told you already. I was at the pub…”

“You can’t come up with a better lie than that? Was it just a coincidence that you ran into Chief Taneda, head of the Special Division for Unusual Powers?”

“W-wait! C’mon, Kunikida. Could you put the gun down? I’ll tell you everything after you do that.”

“Why were the Azure Apostle’s e-mails sent from your computer?! Answer me!” I yell, cocking the pistol’s hammer. 

Dazai’s face goes blank.

“I see. So that’s what Rokuzo told you on the phone, huh? He’s a real talented kid… I’m sure he’ll make a great detective one day.” His tone is flat, his face void of all emotion.

Thinking back, there was always something enigmatic about Dazai. While he struck me as an eccentric, he also perfectly expressed the kinds of schemes and knowledge necessary to influence others. Just as his excellent acting at the embassy fooled everybody, who’s to say that this Dazai persona isn’t just an act as well?

“Convince me of your innocence right now, or I’ll shoot.”

“You can’t shoot me.” He shakes his head. “You’re conscientious and an idealist. You unravel all the mysteries, get the criminal to confess, then arrest them and have them tried by the law. That’s what’s ideal to you. You would never kill the suspect somewhere like this while the truth is still up in the air.”

“The law is powerless against the Azure Apostle.” Even if I demand he be prosecuted, there’s no case against someone who didn’t kill or kidnap anybody, let alone instigate another to do so. It’s a lost cause. “I’ll shoot if that’s what must be done.”

—“If you sense any signs of wickedness in his heart, shoot him.”

The president’s words… The heavy pistol I was entrusted with…

—“Do what must be done.”

“Kunikida, hypothetically speaking, let’s say I am the Azure Apostle, and let’s say your ideals dictate that you should hurry up and kill me… Even then, you still couldn’t shoot me.” 

There’s a cold-blooded, inhuman glow in his eyes, as if he can see right through everything—as if he knows all. 

“Think back to when you found Alamta’s body. All he had on him was some change and a fake license, which begs the question: What happened to the detonator?”

The detonator could be used to wirelessly set off the bomb, but there’s no threat without it.

“Whoever’s really behind all this has it.”

“Exactly. And what if that person knew every move the detective agency was making? And what if that person knew that the detective agency figured out where the bomb was? Don’t you think they would have moved the bomb or prepared a spare?”

The next thing I know, Dazai’s right hand is in his overcoat pocket. I’m not able to check if he’s holding something from where I’m standing, though. Is he insinuating that there’s still a bomb out there and that he has the detonator to it? Is that why he said I couldn’t shoot him?

—How naive.

“I suspected as much, which is why I came prepared. Take a look at this.” I take this out of my breast pocket before placing it on the ground. “It’s a wireless jammer just like the one I used before. No wireless devices can be used within fifteen feet of me. A detonator is no exception.”

“Wha—?” Dazai’s expression is overcome with surprise. My gun still aimed at him, I stick my hand into his pocket and feel something, then pull it out. It’s a fountain pen and a blue cloth.

“Looks like I couldn’t fool you. Too bad it’s just an ordinary fountain pen.” Dazai cheerfully grins. It’s the same pen he showed the receptionist at the embassy, the one he claimed was his favorite or something.

“Anyone else would have believed you, but it’s going to take a little more than that to fool your partner.”

I unscrew the pen top and take it off, revealing not an ink cartridge but a long, thin electrical device with an exposed circuit. It’s a small transceiver.

“Is this the detonator?”

“…I’m impressed, Kunikida. Nothing gets by you, does it? Incredible.” His smile is cold, inhuman. “I’m so glad you were my partner.”

Those words have me boiling.

“Shut up!”

I point the pistol down and shoot, sending a bullet into the floor by his feet. Dazai doesn’t even bat an eye.

“What do you want?! Why did you threaten the detective agency?! What was the point of killing the missing people and setting the bomb?! You… You were…”

You were so talented.

I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

“This is my final warning. Tell me everything, or I’ll shoot.”

Who is he? Who is the Azure Apostle? He has others do his bidding before disposing of them without so much as lifting a finger…all while getting the victims involved as well.

Kill the criminal—

—“Then let us realize an ideal world…”

—“Not by the hand of a god but by our own imperfect bloodstained hands.”

It can’t be.

I glance at the blue cloth I swiped from Dazai’s pocket. Have I seen something like this recently?

—“I heard they never found the Azure King’s body, either.”

—“What if he faked his death to escape and is now in hiding somewhere?”

We know who the Azure King was. He used to be a high-ranking government official. However, changing one’s face or background isn’t impossible with the help of a specialist. Even fooling the military police’s forensics unit and faking one’s death isn’t entirely unfathomable. Could it be that…?

—“We looked into his past but found nothing. It’s completely blank.”

Then could Dazai be…?

“Are you— Are you the Azure King? Was this grand scheme of yours all just to get back at the detective agency?”

“Shoot me.”

He grins mirthfully from ear to ear. There’s tranquility in his smile.

“You win, Kunikida. Shoot me. You must have received orders to, yes? This is how it should be, and you have every right to.” 

“What do you mean I have ‘Every right’?!”

“I wouldn’t mind being shot by you.”

No. This isn’t what I want. I want to hear the truth. I want Dazai to tell me the truth.

—“However, if you sense any signs of wickedness in his heart…”

No. I must find the truth.

—“Shoot him.”

‘I wouldn’t mind being shot by you’? I see.

It all makes sense now.

“Understood.”

I lift the pistol, aligning the sight just between his eyebrows. Tucking my arms in, I close one eye while carefully aiming. There is no way to miss from this distance.

“I’m going to shoot, Dazai. I’m really going to do it, so if you’re going to panic, you better start now.”

His peaceful smile never once wavers. 

“Shoot me,” he says.

There is no longer any hesitation in his words. I bend my index finger around the trigger, and a bullet spits out of the muzzle.

The bullet tears through the air until it hits him right between the eyes. Dazai’s head flies back, causing his spine to arch backward. Knocked off his feet, he flies into the air and then—

—he hits the ground.

I lower my pistol. White gunpowder faintly drifts from the muzzle. 

“……”

Perfect accuracy: The bullet hit him right in the middle of his skull. There was no way I’d miss this close. After putting the safety back on, I check the pistol to make sure there won’t be any misfires before returning the weapon to my pocket. I crush the fountain pen–shaped detonator in my hand, bending and twisting it until it can no longer function.

I have to think about my next move. I begin to walk back to the parked car. After taking a few steps, my cell phone starts to ring. I seem to be out of the wireless jammer’s range now. Expressionless, I look down at the screen. It’s the detective agency.

“Yes?”

It’s Dr. Yosano.

“Kunikida? Listen, we just got another threat from that obnoxious Azure Apostle guy! I’m sending it to you right now, so get a move on!”

“But I’m—”

The call ends, and I get a notification telling me I’ve received an e-mail. I open my in-box to display the following message:

Dear Sir,

I am contacting you to discuss a third request. Passenger airline flight JA815S is currently midflight. I have taken the liberty of sending an interference signal to the aircraft’s engine and yoke that will disable their functions. I would like for you to remove the device from the aircraft and save the passengers.

Thank you for your understanding.

Yours sincerely,

The Azure Apostle

“An airplane…?” 

Another threat? Now?

Preventing an aircraft attack presents a far greater challenge than a kidnapping or bomb. Trying to hop on a high-speed airplane midflight to remove some device is beyond the realm of possibility. I would need a military fighter aircraft to even consider it. No, I still wouldn’t be able to get in if the passenger plane had some sort of system to prevent intrusion.

While shutting down the engine and control wheel would indeed cut the plane’s power, it would still be able to glide for a short while. But even then, without the power to steer, there would be nothing preventing the plane from suddenly dropping before its inevitable crash. Without control, it would be difficult to land in a relatively safe location such as the ocean, and if the plane hits the ground, then everyone on the plane will die, barring a miracle more awesome than the creation of the universe itself.

There’s only one way to end this seemingly inescapable disaster.

I glance at Dazai. He’s lying on his back with his eyes closed. Then I slowly approach him.

***

“How long do you plan on playing dead? Get up. We’ve got work to do.” I kick his body.

“Hmm? Aw, c’mon, just a few more minutes.” Dazai pouts.

***

“Something happen?”

“Yeah, we got another e-mail from the real enemy threatening a plane crash, so if you’re not the person behind this, get up and help.”

“I knew you would use that to shoot me, Kunikida.” Dazai grins, still on his back.

“Same as ever, I see. You are free to scheme all you want, but don’t involve me in your ridiculous skits.”

I take the pistol I shot earlier and toss it at Dazai. He catches it, and almost instantly, it transforms back into a piece of notebook paper in his hands.

“But how did you know? I received a pistol just like it from the director. What made you so sure I wouldn’t shoot you with that one?”

“Because I trust you, of course. Someone as cautious as you wouldn’t threaten a person with a real gun out of the blue like that.”

“Hearing you say the word trust really tarnishes the word.”

The pistol I shot Dazai with was one I created out of a sheet of paper using The Matchless Poet. Since the bullets were also created using my skill, they were nullified and vaporized by Dazai’s own skill on contact.

“When did you first realize it?” 

“When you told me to shoot you.”

Dazai would never say, ‘I wouldn’t mind being shot by you.’ One thing I learned while working with him is that nine times out of ten, he’s messing with someone when he says hackneyed phrases like that. Under normal circumstances, he would have said, ‘Now I can finally die,’ while dancing and jumping for joy.

“Oh, and one more thing. This pen of yours—this isn’t a detonator. It’s a covert listening device, isn’t it?”

“Quite so.”

I haven’t been working as a detective all this time just for show. I can tell whether something’s a detonator. That little charade of his was to get me to block the bug. He predicted I would bring a jammer and use it.

“When were the fountain pens swapped?”

“You know when we were by the fishing-gear shop? Well, someone switched the pens on me when I was pushing through the crowd. Ugh. That really was my favorite pen, y’know. They’ll be sorry when I make them reimburse me. It was really hard to write with, though.”

“So that must have been when they put that azure banner in your pocket, too.”

The enemy was planning on framing Dazai as the mastermind behind this string of events, but we were one step ahead of them.

“But I know you. You wouldn’t let the enemy just brush by you when you knew they were coming, right?”

“Of course not. In fact, I’d been playing the villain for a good while just for this moment. I waited for the moment they bugged me to place a GPS tracker on them. They were fools to believe they could ever outwit me.”

Dazai knew what the enemy was trying to do and still went along with their scheme. A criminal like the Azure Apostle always needs others to do their dirty work. The kidnappings, the bomb—every criminal act was outsourced, every event carefully planned to avoid suspicion. So why not outsource the role of ‘Azure Apostle’ to someone else as well? And Dazai figured it out.

“It first hit me when the victims were gassed at the abandoned hospital because I never touched the electric lock on that cage, and yet, gas started to spray out from who knows where. Which means the enemy was watching us and controlling the poison-gas device remotely to make it look like I did it. I thought, ‘Why would they do that?’ That’s when I started to feel something was up, and it wasn’t long before I figured out what they were trying to do.”

The enemy’s objective was to frame someone, and who better than a newcomer with an unknown past? Dazai, however, didn’t take any steps to prevent that from happening, either.

“This villain we’re up against never reveals themselves. We have no evidence to identify them, and they’ve thoroughly made sure they can’t be traced. Even so, this person still has to come in contact with the outside world from time to time, and that’s when they make their puppets. The only people lucky enough to meet the Azure Apostle, albeit briefly, are the perpetrators like the cabdriver and bomber: the ones who actually carry out the crimes. So my only chance of coming into contact with this guy was becoming a criminal myself, and if you hadn’t realized that, I would’ve been locked away in the criminal’s place.”

That’s why Dazai continued to pretend he didn’t know he was being set up until he could destroy the listening device in a natural way. From the point of view of our eavesdropping enemy, the bug no longer functioning is not a problem. They probably believe that everything is going according to plan.

A brief taste of freedom from the enemy’s watch—Dazai didn’t tell me what was really going on and continued to play the villain just to create this moment for us.

I am once against struck with admiration. The man is incredible.

Our enemy has the wits and resources to manipulate a seasoned bomber. Simply being able to realize they’re setting you up is an amazing feat itself. Dazai, however, worked their scheme into his own like a hook to drag out our foe.

“I bet the guy who planted the bug on me is laughing themselves silly right about now. They probably think their little plan worked and that I was killed by one of my own. This would also be the perfect moment for the enemy to make their next move.”

I nod. It was probably no coincidence that the enemy waited for this moment to threaten us with the airplane. After listening to our conversation, they probably don’t even doubt that Dazai was executed, and their assumption was almost a reality. They were waiting for Dazai to go down before sending in the third threat.

“This would’ve been the worst possible timing for the detective agency to get the threat. It’s impossible to get inside a moving plane to remove that device. Plus, only moments ago, Kunikida killed me, the supposed author of said threats. The case would be sunk, and it’d be curtains for the agency.”

He’s right. If the scenario played out as the enemy had written it, then that is exactly what would have happened.

—And if it had been anyone other than Dazai, it probably would have worked.

“There is only one way we can do this… Follow the tracking device you placed on the enemy to their hideout and put an end to this ourselves!”

“Let’s show this ‘Azure Apostle’ fellow who they’re dealing with.” Dazai gets to his feet.

***

Leaving the bug and jammer in the abandoned storehouse, we get in the car and start our search. Dazai turns on his handheld transmitter, displaying the location of the tracking device. It’s relatively close by in the mountains, and it’s not moving. I’ll have to ask the detective agency to gather information on the area. If this is where the enemy’s hideout is, then I cannot deny the possibility of there being some sort of defense facility.

However, before that happens, the agency gets in touch with me and says they were contacted by someone on the plane. Apparently, somebody happened to find a video communication device while checking the passengers’ belongings. The agency transfers the video call to my cell phone; I can see the cabin of the plane.

“I… I’m, um, one of the people on the airplane. Mommy w-wasn’t feeling well…so I’m talking f-for her. The p-plane is falling…s-so fast… Everybody’s c-crying and screaming…”

“Damn it!”

Speaking into the camera is a little girl no more than ten years old. Tears stream down her face as the aircraft rocks back and forth.

“The pilot t-told us to s-stay in our seats, b-but…but nobody’s listening, and there are s-some people fighting…”

“I’m speaking to you from on the ground. Can you hear me? I know it’s hard, but I need you to tell me what’s going on in the plane right now.”

“It’s f-falling. They s-said the engine stopped moving…and th-the steering wheel d-doesn’t work anymore, either.”

Although clearly terrified, it seems the little girl understands what’s going on. She desperately tries to describe the situation as best she can.

“Can you hear me? Are we…gonna d-die? E-everyone says we’re gonna die… I’m scared… Mommy’s not moving…or a-answering me. P-please, please help us…”

“Hello, little one. Can you hear me?” Dazai takes over the call. “We here are airplane experts. There’s nothing to worry about anymore. We’re going to fix the plane. What’s your name, little miss?”

“Ch-Chiyo…”

“Chiyo, everything’s going to be okay. Got any snacks with you?”

“Mommy gave me this piece of candy…”

“Candy, huh? I love candy, too. It’s so sweet, and it really helps you relax, doesn’t it?”

“Dazai—”

“I’ve got this… Chiyo, first, I want you to really take your time enjoying that piece of candy. After that, I’m going to need you to take that device you’re talking into and bring it to the captain’s room. Do you know where the captain’s room is?”

Chiyo nods, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Don’t worry. There’s nobody screaming in there, and I bet your mommy will be feeling better in no time.”

“B-but I… I can’t go alone. I can’t leave Mommy behind…”

“Your mommy’s gonna be just fine. The pilot will make things all better. So I’m going to need you to take that device to their room and give it to them, okay?”

The little girl stares at the floor for a few moments, then takes the candy out of her pocket and stands, albeit trembling. From there, she starts walking toward the cockpit. My hand tightens around the steering wheel.

“This is the captain of flight 815S. We are currently experiencing engine failure and are unable to make contact with any control towers, so we’ve had to resort to internal navigation. Who am I speaking to?” 

The captain takes the call. He appears to be an experienced pilot a little over forty years old.

Facing the communicator, I reply, “We’re with the Armed Detective Agency. The military’s deployment forces won’t make it in time, so we will be handling the situation. I need you to be specific about what’s happening to the airplane.”

“The Armed Detective Agency? …You mean those detectives who let those missing people get killed? Just great. Just in case something happens to us—”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but we’re the only ones who understand what’s going on here. It would take several hours before the military could grasp the situation and orchestrate a rescue mission.”

“We don’t have ‘several hours’! Nearly every electronic device on this plane has quit working, so we can’t increase or decrease speed, let alone roll. If my calculations are correct, we have only an hour before we crash!”

“Listen to me. The airplane was purposefully sabotaged. Are there any strange devices on board? Or was anything destroyed?”

“…My copilot discovered a large iron box in the freight room. We found out that it was connected to some wires, but the iron box itself was welded to the aircraft. We wouldn’t be able to move or destroy it with what we have available.”

I see. The device must be interfering with the aircraft system. The enemy must have sneaked into a hangar where the aircraft was being stored, then welded a device that would temporarily paralyze the plane’s control system. After takeoff, they must have remotely activated the device to prevent the aircraft from staying airborne.

I remember reading something similar to this for work once. The now- defunct National Defense Force had been developing equipment capable of crippling aircraft functions. Eventually, however, they learned that you would first have to carry the device onto the aircraft, so they abandoned the project. In spite of that, it bears a lot of similarities to this case. If the same type of device has been brought into this aircraft, then signals being sent from the ground are controlling interference. In short, cutting off the control unit’s signal on the ground could very likely restore control on the aircraft.

“Captain, we are going to remove the source of the problem. I need you to be prepared to regulate the airplane’s altitude when I give you the signal.”

“Roger that. Just know that I won’t be able to gain altitude if we get too close to the ground. I need you to hurry. We have four hundred and ten passengers on board, and according to my calculations, we have only an hour before we crash around Yokohama’s designated tax haven.”

Only an hour.

There most likely wouldn’t be any survivors, regardless of how the plane crashes. To make matters worse, if it crashes in a densely populated industrial area such as the designated tax haven, then the damage it would bring would be devastating. Alamta’s bomb would have been nothing compared with the disaster this would cause.

There’s no time.

I step on the accelerator.

Following the tracker device, we race through the mountains of Yokohama. There’s not a house in sight, and the rough bushlands cast shadows onto the car.

“Looks like this is it.”

I stop the vehicle. Built into the mountain face is a black iron door. It leads to an air-raid shelter built during the war for the now-defunct National Defense Force. Never used, the crumbling military base has succumbed to the unforgiving flow of time.

I see now—shooting off a cannon inside wouldn’t even catch anyone’s attention, much less bring the device here.

That’s when out of nowhere, the sound of gunfire assaults our ears from both sides. The company car shrieks as bullets rain down on it.

“We’re under attack! Get out of the car!”

I slam on the gas and quickly accelerate before jumping out and escaping into the thickets.

“I guess this means we’re at the right place…!”

The armed enemies are shooting at us with rifles from the lee of some slanted rocks. There are three…no, four of them.

“What do we do, Kunikida?!” Dazai shouts out while hiding in the shadow of a slope.

“They’re only trying to buy time! I’ll provide backup! Just get inside that building!”

Bullets fly over my head as I yell. I glance over at our attackers. All they’re doing is firing at random and taking cover. Their guns are good quality, but they are not as experienced as the Port Mafia gangsters.

“The Matchless Poet: Flash Grenade!”

I’ve been using far too many pages out of my notebook lately!

I catapult the flash grenade, and the enemies recoil from the noisy explosion over their heads.

“Now’s your chance! Go!” I urge Dazai while firing my weapon. He springs into action.

***

Dazai separates from Kunikida and races through the decaying air-raid shelter. The tracker device’s signal is coming from the maintenance depot on the other side. After climbing out of the pit, he passes through the marshaling yard before immediately dashing to the two-story maintenance depot’s galvanized iron outer walls.

The abandoned maintenance depot has a hangar for storing cars and aircrafts on the first floor, with an operations room looking down at the hangar on the second floor. Dazai dashes up the staircase and rushes inside the operations room.

“It’s here, huh?”

While the floors are discolored and worn with rust at every turn, the door’s hinges appear to be new, implying someone has been frequently visiting this timeworn room. A near-empty liquor bottle rests on the table by a faintly smoking cigarette. The flashing light on the large communicator attached to the wall blinks, indicating it’s still working.

Dazai is approaching the communicator when a shadow falls over him—a large foreign man now stands at his back. The muscle-bound, tanned individual with a tattoo of a camellia on his arm looks at Dazai in silence. Old scars run down his bald head and over his dark-green eyes.

“What are you doing here?” the giant barks.

“What am I doing here? …Isn’t it obvious?! I came to warn you!” Dazai swiftly turns around and shouts. “The Armed Detective Agency found our hideout! We’ve gotta get outta here, or we’re all done for! Where’s the boss? Come on—we don’t have much time! They’re gonna come breaking through the entrance any minute now!” He urgently rattles on without even taking a moment to breathe.

“I don’t know you.”

“Well, of course you don’t. I work undercover for the boss. You know how secretive the guy is. Now hurry! Go get ’im!”

A hint of bewilderment flashes across the man’s face. “Okay.”

He turns his back to Dazai to leave the operations room.

Crack.

The large man sluggishly falls to the ground. A large bump is forming on his head. Grinning, Dazai stands behind him with the bottle of liquor cracked in half in hand.

“The boss is a real secretive fellow. Not that I’ve ever met the guy, but it’s just a hunch.”

Having no more use for the bottle, Dazai tosses it to the floor before facing the communicator once more.

“All that’s left is to send a stop signal with this.”

***

I start to follow Dazai after neutralizing the enemy. In stark contrast with the shoot-out by the entrance, a dead silence hangs over the building’s interior. Fresh footprints and tire tracks litter the ground, making it rather apparent this is their hideout. But I have no way of finding Dazai now. Plus, he has the transmitter’s tracking device.

However, as I walk past the galvanized iron outer walls of a maintenance depot, I suddenly hear the sound of glass shattering coming from inside.

—Is Dazai fighting with the enemy?

Pressing my back against the wall, I get into stance with my pistol. I plunge through the entrance with the muzzle aimed inside, searching for the enemy. It appears the first floor was used for storing armored cars and aircrafts, but now it is nothing more than a vacant lot of exposed earth. I guess that leaves an office and the operations room for the second floor. If the communicator is anywhere, it would be on the second floor.

At that moment, I get a terrible feeling that something is wrong. A chill shoots down my spine, and it feels as if swarms of insects are crawling under my skin. Unable to endure it, I fall to my knees. That’s when I notice some sort of patterns drawn into the ground: circles and lines along with various diagrams and letters. The illegible letters seem to be ancient symbols. It resembles a magic circle for rituals using a grimoire, but…my spine has been tingling with chills ever since I stepped on it. Which means—

I roll up my sleeve, an unbearable itching pain overtaking my arm. The number ‘39′ surfaces on my skin.

I check my entire body. Arms, chest, ankles: nine brands, resembling tattoos, cover me. I know for a fact these weren’t there a few seconds ago.

“Gimme … Gimme your number.”

I instinctively point my pistol in the direction of the fragile voice, where I find a boy—rather, a short young man—staggering in my direction. I aim my gun at him.

“Stop right there! We’re with the Armed Detective—”

Before I can finish my sentence, I take an invisible blow from the side, which knocks me to the floor. I am slammed into the ground only to bounce back up and collide with the galvanized iron wall hard enough to warp it. My head is spinning, my vision swirling. I have no sense of balance after all that spinning from the hit. I have to fight back.

I’m somehow able to pick up my pistol lying on the ground by my side, but immediately, my arm is struck by another invisible blow that knocks it into the air and bends me backward. My bones creak as the pistol soars through the air.

“A feisty one, ain’tcha? How excellent. You must have a wonderful number.”

The skinny young man picks up the pistol and curiously peeks into the muzzle.

Obviously he’s a skill user, and one with a battle-oriented ability, at that. They appear to be some kind of long-range attacks. I look at the marking on my skin: the number ‘32.’

Impossible—

“I’m impressed you found the place. That’s the Armed Detective Agency for ya. That’s the amazing Armed Detective Agency for ya.”

The slender man points my gun in my direction, then empties the magazine until not a single bullet remains and the firing pin takes to the sky. The bullets pierce the ground before me.

“C’mon—I wouldn’t shoot ya. It’s a very important number, after all. I couldn’t shoot ya.”

A morbid smile runs across the slim figure’s lips as he walks toward me. “Every time you take damage, that number gets smaller. It even gets smaller as time passes. And when it reaches zero—”

“You… You’re the skill user who killed the taxi driver and Alamta?” 

“Heh-heh… Ha-ha… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, of course a detective would ask that. Ha-ha-ha!”

I fix my eyes on the young blond man dressed in a threadbare hooded jacket. Judging by appearance alone, he doesn’t seem to have an aptitude for fighting. However, there is one thing I am sure of.

—This skill user is the enemy’s boss.

***

Dazai operates the communicator.

“Yeesh, how old is this thing?! So if this is the frequency and this is the direction—”

A shadow moves behind him.

“It’s no use! I can’t input the final command— Hang on, do I need the control key to change the settings?!”

Colossal fists rain down from behind, smashing into Dazai’s temple and spinning him across the floor like a rag doll. There’s a dull thud when he collides with the desk.

“…That hurt, y’know.”

Dazai stands, and his lips curl upward—a fierce grin—as fresh blood drips down his cheek.

The massive man slowly and emotionlessly approaches Dazai. On each hand are hammer-like steel knuckles. The man raises his arm in the air and swings once more, but Dazai kicks off the desk and dodges. In just one punch, the steel fist smashes the wooden desk into splinters.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got there! You really oughta consider working in freight delivery!”

Dazai slides across the floor to create some distance before facing the behemoth.

“Well, this is just no good. I’m quite weak, you see. A big guy like yourself would snap me right in two… But I promised Chiyo I would save her.”

“I won’t let you use…the communicator.” The man blocks the path to the device.

“Really? Guess I’ll just give up and run away, then.” Dazai swiftly turns around and bolts for the door.

“Get back here!”

As the giant man chases after him, Dazai races through the wooden door and closes it on his way out. Once the enemy reaches out to open the door, Dazai drop-kicks it from the other side, hitting his opponent in the process. Hampered by the door and unable to support the weight of Dazai’s jump, the man is sent flying back. Fragments from the wooden door scatter as he rolls on the ground.

“Striiike!”

Upon landing, Dazai approaches the giant to follow up with another hit.

The enemy swiftly goes for a sweep, seemingly unfazed by the kick, but Dazai leaps back as if he saw it coming.

“You’re really tough! You know that?”

The man uses his back muscles to kick up off the ground, then throws a hook. Dazai manages to bob and weave out of the way, but part of his clothing catches on the steel knuckles just enough to pull him off-balance.

“Ack—”

A fist starts to bury into Dazai’s stomach. He instantly jumps back to soften the blow, but the man’s massive arm follows through until Dazai’s body is thrown back by a punch strong enough to destroy a table. Doubled over, he soars straight into the wall on the other side of the room.

Blood and spittle drip from his mouth. The enemy raises his stout arm into the air and swings it like a club. Dazai rolls to his side to evade, but the man follows up with a backhand, knocking the detective’s head so hard that his neck almost snaps as he is driven into the ground. Trembling, he staggers to his feet.

“Strong and fast, eh? …What, were you raised by gorillas or something?”

While he may be joking, the sense of crisis in Dazai’s eyes tells a different story:

—I can’t beat this guy.

Dazai glances out the window at the storage room below, where he finds Kunikida fighting against a skill user.

***

Facing the young man, I charge. Now that I’ve lost my pistol, close-quarters combat is my only chance to subdue him. The skill user steps backward, but I pursue and reach out to grab his arm. Most of the martial arts I know involves using the opponent’s momentum against them, which is why I have to grab them first if they refuse to engage. I drag his arm to pull him off-balance before moving out of the way. Then I step in to grab him, but that’s when I see him raise his arm into the air, and I come to a sudden stop.

—Here comes another shock wave!

Rolling to the side, I evade the ray coming from his arm. I dodge his attack, and yet, I don’t. The wave knocks me back, and every bone in my body lets out a crack. My brain shakes, unable to keep up with the sudden acceleration of my body, and I start blacking out. I know I dodged his attack, so why—?

“Here’s the thing about my attacks… You can’t dodge them. I’m not hitting you with a shock wave. I’m able to accelerate those marked with the ‘number’ in any direction I want. Any direction I want. Any direction. Which is why—”

“Gwah?!”

My spine creaks. Following the swing of his arm, I am slammed into the ground. It feels as if gravity has suddenly been increased a hundredfold.

“Oh look, a fly!”

He lifts his arm into the air only to swing it down once more, crashing me into the floor like a flyswatter. He repeatedly slams me on the ground. It feels like being hit by a train over and over again. My bones crack; my skin tears. The numbers on my body have already decreased to ‘21.’

“That number is how much time you have left to live! Once it reaches zero, you writhe in pain until you’re dead! Nobody can escape their fate! Nobody! Nobody! Nobody! Nobody!”

The acceleration stops, but I’m unable to even lift a finger. It’s as if every muscle in my body is torn. A warm liquid creeps into every breath.

“Give up yet, Detective?”

The young man casually approaches me as I remain lying on the ground, unable to move. It hurts to breathe. Every joint in my body is screaming in pain.

“I shoulda killed you all one by one like this from the start. I didn’t need to go through the trouble of framing the mysterious newcomer to bring down the detective agency from the inside. Besides, that strategy failed anyway.”

The young man stands next to me and casually kicks me in the head. I see stars, but I can’t do anything about it.

“But it’s always good to be optimistic. I’ll kill you, kill you, and after that, I’ll kill your friend upstairs—kill him, too. After that, the plane’s gonna crash, and the detective agency’s rep will be ruined, and that’ll make my work in Yokohama a little easier. It’ll make it a little easier, right?”

“Your work…?”

“I’m sick and tired of shuffling goods in secret while living in fear of private organizations of skill users like yours. I’m gonna live in a world where I can buy all the organs I need and sell all the weapons I want. I’ll make a killing.” Organs…and weapons.

This is the organ-trafficking syndicate! If the Port Mafia are the sellers, then that would make these guys the buyers. They’re an underground criminal organization and general trading company in the black market for illegal goods such as organs and weapons. They have countless smugglers under their banner and ties with criminal organizations domestically and internationally.

“I learned from the Azure King incident that the Armed Detective Agency isn’t to be taken lightly. We’re big on discretion. We crush our enemies before they’re a threat. That’s the basics of the basics of business.”

The numbers on my body are now at ‘11.’ I guess whatever happened to the taxi driver and Alamta is going to happen to me if these reach ‘00.’

“…You seem to be making good money selling weapons to foreign merchants.”

“There’s so much to like about this city: the Port Mafia, the conflict in the foreign communities, the lawless areas of Yokohama, and the fights just waiting to escalate. I love this place.”

He’s right. The fighting in this city will never disappear. An arms dealer such as him must feel like a ship’s captain arriving at a new frontier. They buy organs or foolhardy thugs to sell to foreign syndicates, while bringing smuggled military weapons and seasoned mercenaries into the country to make a profit. And just like that, a new death trade is carried in from abroad to a world where the law and morals are meaningless.

However…

“I…cannot allow you to sell any more weapons. Even the smallest street fight could end with serious injuries or death if a dagger or firearm was brought into the equation. That’s why—”

“Whoa, there. What d’you think you’re doing?”

The enemy raises his arm, sending my body straight up. As the air is expelled from my lungs, the notebook I was hiding in my breast pocket slips out.

Shit!

“You thought you could buy some time talking so you could write in your notebook, huh? But that’s not happening. That is not happening. I know what your skill is. Anyway, I’ll be taking this.”

He holds the notebook in the air and shakes it at me. My skill has two disadvantages: One is the fact that it takes time to write something in my notebook and rip out the page. The other…is the fact that I cannot use my skill at all if my notebook has been stolen.

Just like that, my skill has been completely neutralized. I still have my wire gun from the last fight tucked in my belt behind me, but it doesn’t have enough power to kill, let alone seriously wound someone. Nevertheless, I cannot give up. That’s the one thing I can’t do. Not because I have to save the lives of the victims on the plane or because it’s my job as a detective at the Armed Detective Agency, but because I’ve decided that’s what needs to be done.

An agonizing pain shoots down my body, but I ignore it and get to my feet.

“Wow… Your eyes still got a little life in ’em, huh? Guess that means you want seconds!”

I take another hit from behind that spins me around and rams me into the ground.

“Gah…!”

I cough up blood. My vision blurs. I don’t even know what kind of position my body is in anymore.

“And now for the grand finale. Here, I have a key. What key, you ask? The release key for the communicator. You won’t be able to save the people on that airplane without this… You want it? You want it, don’cha?”

He pulls a thin key out of his pocket. It’s a small and fragile key with a dull yellow tint. I gaze at it.

“Want it? Here ya go.”

He bends the key until it audibly snaps in half. 

“What—?”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha-ha! All hope is lost! Now nothing can prevent the plane from crashing! It’s over! It’s over, it’s over, it’s over! Ah-ha-ha- ha!”

The young man scornfully laughs—the wicked laugh of a man watching the world burn.

“Now, let’s put an end to this. I’m gonna kill you. I’ll kill you, and we will scream our victory from the mountaintops!”

He raises his hand. The number on me is now displaying ‘04.’

I instinctively look up at the operations room on the second floor where I see Dazai. Dazai, bloodied and beaten…

***

Kunikida is outside the window, riddled with wounds. Dazai takes another blow to the face so powerful it shatters the window on impact. Fragments of glass scatter into the air.

Dazai looks at Kunikida, and their eyes meet. They yell.

***

“KUNIKIDA!” 

“DAZAI!”

***

That is all it takes. We know what to do.

I promptly pull out the wire gun at my waist and shoot it at Dazai. The hook hits the wall right next to him just as I wanted it to. Immediately, I reel in the wire, hoisting my body into the air.

***

Dazai kicks off the window frame and leaps out the window. Kunikida’s eyes are locked on him as he flies through the air at the end of the steel wire.

They exchange glances, then words, before the distance between them widens again.

***

Utilizing the tensile force of the wire, I swiftly glide through the air. Dazai has already left the operations room and is falling toward the ground. After arriving at a point right under the window to the operations room, I continue letting the wire pull me up…

…allowing me to run straight up the wall.

“HAAAAAAH!”

Kicking off the wall, I lunge into the room. I look up and see a tanned giant of a man equipped with some sort of brass knuckles. A fist powerful enough to crush a person immediately swings past my head.

The behemoth is thrown into the air.

His path through the air carries him right into the wall. His face is overcome with astonishment and bewilderment. He has no idea I just used his momentum to throw him over my shoulder. However, the man soon stands back up and throws a second punch.

“You should have stayed down.”

I roll with his attack and grab his wrist. Then, pulling him forward and off-balance, I gently cup his elbow while shifting my weight backward to lift him off the ground before throwing him along the wall and into the ceiling. His eyes roll back.

***

“What—?! You’re…”

“Sorry, but you’re up against me now.”

After landing on the first floor, Dazai casually walks over to the young man.

“Why…?! Why won’t any numbers appear?! I can’t accelerate, either! Why, why, why is this happening?!”

“You should’ve done your homework. Skills don’t work on me.”

The enemy steps back while raising his hand, but Dazai, unconcerned, only continues to get closer.

“Explain yourself! How did you two know to switch opponents just by looking at each other?! What kinda trick was that?”

Wearing an unwavering smile, Dazai continues to close the distance. The young man steps back, overwhelmed.

“J-just who the hell are you?! Your entire history was wiped clean! Who are you?! Who?! Who?!”

“Oh, looks like I forgot to introduce myself.”

Dazai towers over the young man and peers down at him. Then he gently clenches his fist before raising it into the air.

Dazai’s right fist connects with the young man’s face, spinning him a full 180 degrees. The enemy’s eyes roll back into his head as he passes out.

“The name’s Osamu Dazai, Armed Detective Agency personnel.”

***

The giant man charges at me like a wild beast before I throw him into the air. The stronger my opponent, the more powerful the throw. After a few tosses, I eventually hurl him through the window frame, where he free-falls all the way down to the first floor.

When I glance out the window, I see that he’s foaming at the mouth, out cold. He won’t be waking up from that for a while. Then I look at my body to find that the numbers have vanished. Dazai must have defeated that skill user.

Phew. Thank goodness.

Relieved, I check the communicator. All that’s left is to cut this machine off. I operate the vintage device, fumbling with the frequency and direction. It’s a rather old machine, but I can manage.

“Kunikida!”

Dazai comes rushing up the stairs now that the enemy below is defeated. “I think we need this release key to use the communicator! But it looks like that jerk broke it before passing out!” Flustered, he shows me the bent key. 

“I know.”

“We can’t work the communicator with this! The plane’s—”

“I’m constantly running into issues. The unexpected is my norm. That’s why…”

I tear the stitches off my hip pocket and pull out a sheet of paper. 

“…I always have a spare page with me for emergencies.”

I unfold the paper and write with my own blood. 

“The Matchless Poet: Release Key!”

The piece of paper transforms into a yellow release key.

“And as long as I get one good look, I can produce a perfect replica using my skill.”

“Wh-whoa… Really?” The unflappable Dazai finally opens his eyes wide in astonishment.

“Really. Surprised? I think you are. All right, we made a promise. You owe me a drink.”

Operating the communicator’s control panel, I adjust the settings, insert the release key, and turn it. Immediately afterward, a green light illuminates the control panel. I forcefully press the disable button.

“Now the airplane should have full control again! Dazai, call the pilot!” 

“Already on it!”

We rush toward the outside, but at the same time, I can hear a low rumbling coming from somewhere. It’s getting closer.

This sound—

It gradually grows louder until it becomes a deafening roar.

“Captain! Can you hear me?! We stopped the interference device! You should be able to control the plane now. Hurry! Pull up the nose and gain some altitude!”

“I’m trying! But we’ve already lost too much altitude! Damn it! Come on!”

The roaring that we’re hearing is the passenger aircraft flying right above us!

Dazai and I  race out of the building.  A colossal shadow sweeps  the ground as the heavens thunder overhead. I gaze into the sky.

It’s getting closer! The airplane flies over us, gradually being sucked in by the land up ahead.

Heading toward the city… And down toward the earth…

Don’t fall. You absolutely must not fall. Don’t fall. Fly to the sky! Fly!

“FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!” 

I bellow.

The passenger aircraft’s shadow grazes the ground before the nose pulls up. A surging gust storms across the land as the aircraft regains altitude, and the plane flies toward the evening sun.

—It’s flying.

They made it.

Together, Dazai and I watch the airplane slowly melt into the deep- crimson sky.

***

[highlyentropicmind]

What heroes do

That night the thief was running down an empty street, thinking he had gotten away while all his accomplices were captured by the cops. Sadly I had followed the whole confrontation from the air and in an instant I fell down and pounced on him

I looked at the inside of his backpack, and indeed, it was full of stolen cellphones. Hopefully they would be returned to their owners

"Please…" he said, as I held him against the ground. "Let me go…"

I ignored him, but he continued insisting.

"Hey! I got one!," I yelled, waiting for the cops to see me

"Please… please…"

"Shut up!", I finally said. "You stole from a lot of people, you got captured, you go to jail. Those are the rules, and you know it"

"I'm just trying to pay rent…"

"Lucky for you, prison is free," I said, and laughed at my own joke. In the distance I could see the cops had noticed me, and were coming my way

"Please, I have a family, they are gonna get evicted…"

"All criminals have sad stories. Look, plenty of people struggle with rent, and they don't become thieves"

"The worst thieves never struggle with rent though…" he said as the cops finally arrived

I flew away, but that last phrase stuck with me. At first I thought he meant that people who are really good at stealing never get caught and for that reason never struggle with money… But that interpretation felt… Too simple, it couldn't be what he meant

I got to my apartment and changed clothes into my pajama shorts and loose t-shirt. I grabbed a bowl of cereal and turned on the news

Superheroes had been busy today. A journalist had been rescued by The Wanderers after being kidnapped by terrorists for three months. Five children had been rescued from a sex trafficking ring after The Hound had managed to track them nearly 10 thousand kilometers. Gleamer had managed to power a hospital for 20 hours straight after their generators failed during a tsunami and now she was being transported to a superhero hospital to treat her wounds

"I guess she can be hurt by electricity after all, it just takes a long time", I said to myself outloud, making a mental note in case I ever fought a villain with electricity powers, but then I saw another note…

Natalie Wilkens, the former CEO of Prisma Bank had been finally found guilty of insider trading. When he and his accomplices learned that the New Fort iron mine had structural problems they convinced the board to not do anything and let the mine collapse. Prisma Bank would short the company and make a fortune, and the board of New Fort got sold shares of Prima Bank at very generous prices

"Everybody wins," she said in a recording that had been played for months in every news channel

Everybody except the poor workers who got trapped in the mine of course. I was part of the rescue effort, helping to move boulders away while other superheroes with telekinesis tried to stabilize the tunnels so that the rescue team could reach them… But we didn't get there on time. Most of the miners had already suffocated, and those who didn't had permanent brain damage from the gasses of the mine

Their families were at the front row during the trail, and I was happy for them, because they were finally getting justice. I turned up the volume to hear the sentence… The judge spoke with a lot of legal terms I wasn't familiar with, so I immediately looked for an explanation online

The short version was that Prisma Bank would have to pay huge fines for insider trading, and they would have to compensate the families of all the miners… But there was no mention of anyone going to jail… Even worse, someone had calculated that in the time between the tragedy and the verdict Prisma Bank had reinvested the money they earned, and now it was way more than the fines… Even worse, apparently they could simply get a loan to pay the fees, a loan with lower interests than their investments… They wouldn't lose any money at all… And there was no mention of any kind of consequences for the board of New Fort, apparently they had been "coerced" to take part in this scheme and were therefore innocent and got to keep the money…

I turned off the television and I felt stupid for not understanding what that men had said earlier. These people were the real thieves… And they had been captured, and tried and found guilty!... And yet, that wasn't enough… Somehow they could avoid all the consequences of their actions…

Over the next few weeks I couldn't stop thinking about this. Whenever I was fighting a cult trying to summon an eldritch abomination, or trying to rangle dinosaurs brought from the past, or simply defeating a supervillain

"Look, these guys are dangerous, I agree," I told Fractal after we apprehended a guy who had been using his brainwashing powers to convince a ton of people in his neighborhood to give him their money for a couple of months. "They get superpowers, they figure out a way to use them to get rich, and in the process they hurt a ton of people… But they are irrelevant in the big scheme of things"

"Irrelevant?," he questioned me. "I bet all these people will disagree with you… Once they recover from the brainwashing… We should call an ambulance…"

"Already called it, but yes, doing this matters, these people needed our help… But I feel like we could do more, we should do more"

"What else can we do? We are not gonna kill the executives of Prisma Bank, New Fort, or every band of white collar criminals… I'd like to, they deserve it, but if we start murdering people it opens the Pandora box of who should be murdered…"

"Yeah, no, you are right. I'm not sure what we can do, all I know is that the laws should work differently"

"But we don't make the laws"

Then it hit me

"Let's"

"Let's what?"

"Let's make the laws"

"You'd have to be a senator"

"I'll be a senator"

"You'd have to get elected"

"I'll get elected"

"You'd have to run a campaign…"

"I'll do it, I'll go through the whole process"

"But even if you do, you will only have one vote"

"Not if you get elected too"

"Come on! Who would stop guys like this!"

"Okay, it's fine, maybe it's not for you, but I'll convince others"

"And then what? You'll get to punish everyone?"

"We'll punish some people alright… But now that you mention it, I think that'll be the least important part. With the power of the Law we will help people in ways we could never do before…"

I didn't convince Fractal to join me, but over the next year I convinced many others. That's why we are here today, abandoning our secret identities, hoping you will trust us to fight the biggest battle we have ever fought. It will be slow, and tedious. I will not be not epic and exciting… But it will be far more important, and by the end, we will have saved far more lives than we could have saved otherwise!

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I finished my speech, the rest of the team judged in silence.

"Not inspiring enough?," I asked

"I liked the mention of your pajamas and the bowl of cereal. It makes you relatable and it fits with your brand," Tania said. "But I don't like the last phrase about saving lives," It will remind people of the people you couldn't save"

"I am constantly reminded of the people I couldn't save," I replied

"But we need people to see you as a hero," Marco remarked

"I am a hero!..." For a moment I wanted to quit, but then I realized this was the superpower of my enemy. This is how it keeps winning. Not by defeating the good people, but by convincing them not to fight. "Okay, let's brainstorm. What ideas should the speech end with?"

As we worked that night I knew the others were working too. We would not be defeated. We would fight this enemy for the rest of our lives, defeating every day, piling our victories on top of each other, making the lives of people better, and when we finally died, others would take our places and continue the fight. Because that's what heroes do

[multiverseforger07]

Misty Knight was a rising star with the NYPD when she was seriously injured preventing a bomb attack that forced the amputation of her right arm. Rather than take a desk job, she resigned from the police force, though she remained good friends with her long-time partner on the force Rafael Scarfe. Tony Stark provided her a bionic arm that endowed her superhuman strength. Soon after that, she met Spider-Man[6] and then Iron Fist.[7] Misty roomed with X-Men member Marvel Girl until Marvel Girl returned to her life as an X-Man.[8][a]

Misty teamed with her friend Colleen Wing in fighting the criminal Emil Vachon in the Hong Kong area. She saved Colleen from an attempted beating.[9] She then set up a private detective agency with Colleen entitled: "Knightwing Restorations Ltd".

Soon after she first met Iron Fist, the two crimefighters fell in love. Misty conducted undercover work against the crime lord John Bushmaster.[10] She aided Iron Fist, Spider-Man, and Colleen Wing against Davos, the Steel Serpent.[11] She then first met and fought Luke Cage, Power Man.[12] Misty's "Knightwing Restorations Ltd" detective agency would go on to help Power Man and Iron Fist's Heroes for Hire agency on numerous cases. Misty aided Iron Fist and Power Man in rescuing captives of John Bushmaster and procured a videotape clearing Cage of crimes.[13] Misty was then captured and nearly killed by Nightshade.[14] She then helped the X-Men, Colleen Wing, and Sunfire against Moses Magnum in Japan.[15] She fought Sabretooth,[16] and then fought Constrictor and Sabretooth together, and was rescued by El Aguila.[17] She escaped captivity and captured Ward Meachum.[18] Colleen Wing later broke off her friendship with Misty due to Misty's relationship with Tyrone King.[19] Misty rescued Iron Fist from drowning, reconciled with him, and ended her relationship with Tyrone King.[20] Later, when Iron Fist broke up with her, Misty began a short romance with Power Man. This episode was a source of tension between Power Man and Iron Fist for a brief period.

Misty later learned of Iron Fist's apparent demise.[21] Iron Fist was presumed dead for an extended period until Misty saw the Super-Skrull impersonate Danny Rand (Iron Fist) on television.[22] She confronted the Super-Skrull in his guise as Danny Rand.[23] Misty assisted Namor the Sub-Mariner in finding and saving the hero. They went to the Savage Land, where they learned that the Super-Skrull had been posing as Iron Fist, and Misty aided Namor and Namorita against the Super-Skrull.[24] She and Danny Rand were ultimately reunited and renewed their relationship.

During the 2006 "Civil War" storyline, Misty Knight and Colleen Wing were contacted by Iron Man, Reed Richards, and Spider-Man to re-form Heroes for Hire in order to track down superhumans who refused to register. Initially hesitant, the pair eventually agree creating a team including Shang-Chi, Humbug, Orka, Black Cat, Paladin, and a new Tarantula.[25] Misty was identified as one of the 142 registered superheroes who was part of the Initiative.[26][27]

After the Civil War between the superheroes ended, Iron Fist was shocked to find that Misty had sided with the Initiative as he had joined the New Avengers.[28] Nevertheless when the Steel Serpent and HYDRA plotted to kill Iron Fist and destroy the seven cities of heaven (the latter unbeknownst to Steel Serpent), Misty and Colleen rushed with Luke Cage to Danny's aid.[29] Later, the three helped Danny stop a terrorist attack by HYDRA on the mystical city of K'un L'un where Danny told Misty, "I love you, Misty... but I make a lousy boyfriend".[30] Though Danny said this, they continued a sexual relationship and finally committed to each other on his birthday, despite their disagreement over the Superhuman Registration Act.[31]

Returning from a mission to capture Moon-Boy during the World War Hulk storyline, Heroes for Hire arrive in New York to see that it has been taken over by the Hulk. After being captured by Warbound, Colleen Wing and Tarantula were offered to No-Name the Brood Queen by their possessed teammate Humbug.[32] Misty makes a deal with Paladin to take Moon-Boy (whom Colleen had become attached to) in order to find both Colleen and Tarantula after their capture.[33] When Misty and the other heroes come to save them, Colleen is in traumatic shock from the torture she endured; she is further agitated when Moon-Boy is taken into custody by Paladin.[34] Colleen, deeply upset by her friend's actions, leaves the group as a result.[35] Heroes for Hire itself has disbanded permanently in the aftermath of this.[35] Misty becomes depressed due to her actions that led to the breakup of the group. Iron Man later comes to her to enlist her aid in stopping the Hulk's remaining robots; through this, she was able to move past her mistakes.[36]

Misty and Danny move in with each other in Harlem. Danny proposes to Misty and she accepts, after that she tells him that she is pregnant with his child.[37] They have since found out that this was a false pregnancy, causing a strain on their relationship. They decide to move out of their apartment and live separately, but continue their relationship.[38]

During the 2010 "Shadowland" storyline, Misty, Colleen Wing, Iron Fist, Luke Cage, and Shang-Chi confront Daredevil in an attempt to stop him without violence. After a commotion happens elsewhere in his castle, he attacks the group, believing they are responsible.[39]

Misty teams up with Paladin, Silver Sable and the Shroud to discover who is framing the Hand for the murder of a number of New York's mobsters.[40]

Following the events of the "Shadowland" storyline, Misty revamps the Heroes for Hire concept by basing herself as 'control' and utilizing various street heroes based on their powers and abilities in exchange for money or information. At the end of the first issue, it is revealed that Misty is being manipulated by the Puppet Master.[41] Misty is later freed from mind control with help from Iron Fist and Paladin. After being freed, Paladin approaches Misty to continue the operation Puppet Master set in place, but on her terms.[42]

As part of the Marvel NOW! initiative, Misty Knight showcases in the comic book alongside Valkyrie where she is one of the members of the Fearless Defenders.[43]

Misty Knight appears during the 2015–17 All-New, All-Different Marvel promotion as a supporting character to Sam Wilson, the new Captain America, who is uneasy now that his friend Steve Rogers has regained his original moniker. Though the two men opt to share the name, many civilians in the Marvel Universe feel that Sam Wilson is undeserving of the title. Misty helps him deal with his doubts and is revealed to be in a sexual relationship with him as well.[44] She then helps clear the names of female heroes and villains, who fell victim to a scandal over embarrassing sex videos posted on the internet.[45]

During the "Hunt for Wolverine" storyline, Misty Knight has left the NYPD for an unknown reason. She is approached by Daredevil and Nur who enlist her to help find Wolverine after his body goes missing from its unmarked grave. She takes them to an information broker that she knows who turns out to be Cypher. When Nur hands him a smartphone, Cypher makes use of it and tells Daredevil, Misty Knight, and Nur about the different Wolverine sightings in the past sixty days.[46] Using an Attilan Security Force Skycharger that was "borrowed" from the Inhumans, Daredevil, Misty Knight, Nur, and Cypher investigate the sightings of Wolverine in Manhattan, Phoenix, and Chicago. Misty Knight and Nur arrive at McCarthy Medical Institute in Manhattan where Jane Foster was enrolled and learned that an unnamed man delivered flowers. The security footage revealed that it was by someone that resembled Wolverine. In Chicago, Misty Knight learns from a security guard that he deleted a post when he thought he saw Wolverine. When it came to Saskatchewan, they hear that Ranger Outpost Nine in Meadowlake Provincial Park was attacked by a man with claws. When they arrive, Daredevil, Misty Knight, and Nur find the males dead and the female missing as they head into the forest to investigate.[47] When they find Cypher on the ground with a slit throat, Nur works to heal Cypher as Daredevil and Misty Knight discover that the attacker is Albert as they fight him. When Albert grabs Daredevil by the neck and demands to know what he did to Elsie-Dee, Misty Knight combines her bionic arm's attacks with Nur's gun and a recovered Cypher's laser to deactivate Albert as they leave an anonymous tip for the Canadian authorities to come to pick him up. Upon returning to Chicago, Daredevil, Misty Knight, and Nur visit the security guard she questioned again only to find him dead and a bomb nearby as it goes off.[48] Misty Knight's cybernetic arm manifested a shield big enough to protect her, Daredevil, and Nur from the explosion. Then they worked to evacuate those who couldn't get out of the burning building. Nur reveals to Misty Knight that his eyes also work as a camera flash as he analyzed the apartment before it blew up. His analysis revealed that the security guard worked for a group called Soteira which was listed as an asset management company. Daredevil, Misty Knight, and Nur head to one of their offices in Chicago where Daredevil's radar detects the people inside purging their records. As the group crashes through the window, Nur holds the workers at gunpoint as Cypher works to see if he can stop whatever they were doing on the computer. Misty Knight works to protect Cypher who retrieves the data as the four of them escape from the Level Four Killteam. When Misty Knight asks what to do next, Daredevil states that he is grateful for their help as this is no longer a missing persons case. As Nur asks what he plans to do with the drive after getting him, Misty Knight, and Cypher back to New York, Daredevil says that he is giving it to Kitty Pryde while informing her on who else is looking for Wolverine and what they are walking into. Nur recaps his wife leaving him following his Terrigenesis and tells Misty Knight that he looks forward to working with her again.[49]

Iron Man later enlists Misty Knight to help him rescue James Rhodes from Korvac

[the--sad--hatter]

Sparks Fly - Chapter 13 (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel Soulmate!AU/Detective!AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Gratuitous Violence, Criminal Activity, Life or Death Situations, Graphic Gore, Crime Scene Descriptions, Dark Humour, Slapstick Humour, Kara Humour, Catastrophic Amounts of Fluff, More Angst Than You Can Shake A Stick At

Summary: (Imagine Brooklyn 99 and Criminal Minds had a baby)

If you want to know if you’ve found your soulmate, it’s simple… All you have to do is kiss them. If they’re your soulmate then there will be sparks, literal sparks. You’ve seen it happen to other people and it is a sight to behold; at least you think it is. Detective Bucky Barnes is a little less enchanted with the idea.

Despite your glaring differences, you and Bucky work well together. You’re good at charming witnesses, he’s good at intimidating suspects. You can run a perp down, he can knock them down. But there’s one criminal who’s eluded you both for a long time, and when Brock Rumlow rolls back into town, you and Bucky find yourselves far outside your comfort zones.

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Chapter Thirteen - The Braidy Bunch 

You were afflicted with a severe case of cop-brain. It happened occasionally, you’d get so caught up in a case that you didn’t have room in your head for anything else. It usually happened on cases that were difficult to solve, enigma’s wrapped in mysteries, wrapped in a lack of evidence and a hard to decipher motive.

 This case had plenty of evidence. Two faceless corpses, a warning from a dead assassin, a murdered colleague, and a sinister bouquet of flowers.

 Motive was also clear. Rumlow was a psychopath and he was fixated on you.

 But where Rumlow was, what he would do next, and why he wanted you so afraid? Those were question you desperately needed answers to, and you had no way of knowing where to look.

 Your apartment held no clues. If it weren’t for the corpse and the roses left behind, you’d never even have known someone had been there. That thought had sent chills through you, and your grip on Bucky’s hand had tightened for a moment, but then you pulled yourself back from the edge and thrown yourself in crime-solving mode. It was the only way to get through this, to survive this. You had pulled your hand from Bucky’s and put on a profession air that kept the darkness at bay.

You weren’t the lead detective on the case, but assigning tasks authoritatively, you sure as hell acted like you were. Nobody fought you on it, they just nodded and took their marching orders seriously.

 Natasha was working her own case, with the new knowledge from you and Bucky. She was pressing on every contact she had in various other law enforcement agencies and scrolling through endless Interpol lists to identify the two faceless victims who had kickstarted the nightmare.

 Wanda and Pietro were combing through weeks of backdated security footage from the Chinese restaurant next door, to see if there had been any suspicious activity around your apartment before last night.

 Clint and Sam downtown at a well known bar for gang members, grilling his informants for information about Hydra resurfacing.

 Steve was fending off Major Crimes, and The FBI. Hydra were a known terrorist organization, which made this case a free for all, and he was working his ass of to keep it getting taken from you.

 And Bucky was glued to your side, just like he said he would be. He was taking his vow seriously, and you hadn’t left his sight for more than a few minutes, and that had been when you went to the bathroom. Even when you got back to the Precinct, he had taken up residence in an empty briefing room with you, helping you set up the whiteboards with all the evidence and passing you coloured pins as you asked for them.

 Everyone was doing everything the could, but to no avail. By the time darkness had fallen over the streets of New York, you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when the day began. You just couldn’t accept that though, you were convinced there had to be something you missed, and when Bucky had dragged you out of the station to take you home, you had managed to snag a file and smuggle it back to his apartment by hiding it under your shirt.

 “I fucking knew you were still working.” He sighed.

 You looked up from your cross-legged position on the bed, not even mildly guilty at having been caught. He was glaring at the file in your lap like he could set it ablaze if concentrated hard enough.

 “M’not tired. Listen, I was thinking about the flowers. They’re in the lab so we should know more tomorrow, we should go to the florist and see if they remember anything about who ordered them.” You said.

 There had been no card with them, because Rumlow hadn’t needed one. The flowers themselves were the message. He was telling you it was him, letting you know he was still alive, making sure you knew he was coming for you. He was lurking somewhere in the shadows, trying to get inside your head, under your skin.

 But everyone had thought he was dead. He’d been free and clear, and he’s blown it because he needed to hurt you. He might have thought he was winning, but he’d given you the upper hand, because he’d proven that you were the one who was under his skin. He’d fucked up, and that was how you were going to catch him, you were going to use his obsession against him.

 You just weren’t sure how, but you knew you could figure it out.

 You were startled out of your reverie by a pillow landing in your lap, and it surprised you enough for Bucky to pluck the evidence file out of your hand.

 “What?”

 He tossed it onto the corner of the room, and switched the light off so the only sliver of light came from the hallway. Oh, so he was sending you to bed.

 “I’m not sleepy yet, what the hell?” You snarled, attempting to get up and retrieve the file.

 “You’re not sleepy because you’re not calm.” He said, shoving you back down onto the bed. “You need to stop thinking.”

 That was rich, because by the expression on his face, he was thinking very deeply about something. While you were flattened against the headboard and glaring up at him, he re-adjusted the pillow on your lap and with a long, deep breath, climbed onto the bed and lay his head down on it.

 “What the fuuuuck is happening?” You whispered quietly, too afraid to speak loudly or move.

 It was like some sort of wild animal had climbed onto your lap in a sudden and unforeseen show of domesticity.

 “Mindless tasks keep your mind from wandering, and the happier you are, the easier you’ll sleep.” He grunted.

 That explained absolutely nothing, until… He swept his hair out from under his neck until it was all fanned out across the pillow.

 “Oh my God. Oh. My. God! Ohhhh myyyyy God.” You exclaimed in a hushed and awed whisper. “Are you? Is this? Can I?”

 “You know what it is.” He snapped.

 “I need to hear you say it, Bucket.”

 He scowled angrily at you, which didn’t quite have the effect he was hoping for since he was doing it upside-down from your lap. It was adorable.

 “You can braid my hair.” He eventually grumbled, not at all happy about it.

 You were thrilled though. The words were music to your ears and you clapped your hands together excitedly before you wiggled your fingers in anticipation. You hadn’t actually thought he would ever, in a million years, actually let you loose on his luscious locks. The first brush of your fingers against the brunette strands felt like victory, and you knew it was a memory you would treasure forever.

 You gently pulled your fingers through his hair, working out all the little kinks and knots, careful not to tug too hard. You didn’t want to spook him. He just lay there though, and after a few moments his eyes fluttered closed and all the little line on his face smoothed out as his expression melted into one of relaxation. He was enjoying this!

 You painstakingly parted his hair into even sections, and pretended you couldn’t hear the way his breathing evened out, but when you gently raked your nails across his scalp to section a parting, you couldn’t pretend you hadn’t heard that. It was quiet, but unmistakable, the soft grunt of pleasure that rumbled from his slightly parted lips. As soon as it happened, he froze, unnaturally still.

 So you did it again.

 As your nails softly dragged across his scalp, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek and his hands balled into fists at his sides. The back of your neck suddenly felt too warm and your heart did a strange sort of pitter-pat in your chest. All those confusing feelings that were swirling around inside your chest were not any easier to deal with when the object of your affections was in your lap, and all those less confusing feelings south of your chest were not helped by the noises he was making.

 You still did it again though.

 The involuntary reactions it brought forth, the fact he hadn’t asked or hinted at you to stop, and the endearing blush that tinged his cheeks were all too hard to resist.

 It worked though, his plan. Your mind was purged of all Rumlow and case related thoughts, and even the confusing emotional bullshit slipped further away with every lock of hair you twisted. You just lost yourself in the intricate braiding, letting the repetitive actions take up your headspace. By the time you were finished, you were finally calm, blissfully thought free, and relaxed. So was he, if the peaceful expression on his face was anything to go by.

 “Bucket?” You hummed softly, tapping him on the shoulder.

 Nothing.

 “Bucky?”

 Oh damn. He was fast asleep.

 “Well, fuck.” You whispered to yourself.

A/N -  This chapter is shit, i know it's shit, but it was a shitty chapter or no chapter at all 😫

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[96thdayofrage]

The Original Karens: From Emmett Till’s Accuser To The White Woman Who Sparked The Tulsa Massacre

Written by Clay Cane

In this current climate of protests and demands for justice, the entitled and indignant white women known as “Karens” appear to be falling apart.

From Amy Cooper, whose over dramatic 911 call on a birdwatching Black man blew up in her face, to Lisa Alexander, who was shocked to discover that no one needs her permission to write “Black Lives Matter” in chalk on their own property, Karens are in a rage. Not even a camera in their face will stop their toxic entitlement, which has led to a string of viral sensations.

When thinking of the country’s experiences with white supremacist violence, the discussions are typically centered around men. However, white women have historically been at the helm of this terror, using their tears and imaginary delicateness as ammunition for victim hood and ultimately destroying lives or at its worst, taking one.

Once upon a time, even the slightest hint that white womanhood may be in danger resulted in the lynching of Black children or a thriving town full of Black families being burned to the ground.

Here are some of the most horrific stories of Karens going wild before the term came into existence.

Sarah Page

There has been a lot of talk around Tulsa, Oklahoma due to this month's 99th anniversary of the tragic race massacre that took place there in 1921. Many people may not know the race massacre began with a 17-year-old named Sarah Page.

Page was an elevator operator in what was called the Drexel Building in downtown Tulsa. On May 30, 1921, reportedly, Dick Rowland, a 19-year-old Black shoe shiner, was getting on the elevator to use a segregated bathroom on a higher floor. He allegedly tripped when entering the elevator, accidentally grabbed Page's arm and she reacted by screaming. Rowland fled but the police were called. The next day, Rowland was arrested and word spread that a Black man assaulted a white woman.

According to the 2001 Tulsa Race Riot Commission Report via The Washington Post, Rowland was accused of assaulting Page “on a public elevator in broad daylight."

Within 18 hours, the Greenwood district of Tulsa, also known as Black Wall Street, was annihilated. In 1921, The New York Times described the massacre as “one of the most disastrous race wars ever visited upon an American city.”

No one knows what happened to Sarah Page or Dick Rowland after the massacre.

Fannie Taylor

On January 1, 1923, 22-year-old Fannie Taylor began screaming outside of her home. A neighbor rushed to the distressed white woman only to find her beaten and bruised, yelling for her baby. Miss Fannie claimed a Black man broke into her home and attacked her. The neighbor searched her house to find the baby safe and no signs of a break in.

Rumors quickly spread that Taylor was raped and robbed by a Black man. Taylor’s husband, James Taylor, gathered a group of men to find the imaginary criminal, even calling on the Klu Klux Klan for assistance.

A pack of 400 terrorists headed to the neighboring area, an affluent Black town in Rosewood, Florida, accusing any Black man they could of the crime. Fannie’s fraudulent tears was the excuse these envious hellions needed to purge out their rage.

Their first victim was Sam Carter, a local blacksmith, who was tortured and hung. They eventually began looking for a man named Jesse Hunter, who they claimed was an escaped convict.

The Black residents of Rosewood fought back but there were many casualties, including Sarah Carrier, a woman who did Fannie Taylor’s laundry. She was shot in the head, according to History.com. Her son Sylvester Carrier was also fatally shot.

The race massacre lasted for a week, burning Rosewood to the ground and killing countless Black people.

As for Fannie Taylor, she reportedly had an affair with a white man who beat her, which is why she had been found abused that night. She thought it was better to accuse a Black man of assault then to take accountability for her own actions.

The 1997 film Rosewood, directed by the late John Singleton, depicted the massacre.

See the clip below of actress Catherine Kellner as Fannie Taylor.

Eleanor Strubing

In December of 1940, Eleanor Strubing, a wealthy white woman in Connecticut accused her 31-year-old Black chauffeur, Joseph Spell, of raping her four times and throwing her into a river. Spell was arrested within hours and immediately sent to jail to wait for trial.

The New York Times famously ran a story with the headline, "Mrs. J.K. Strubing Is Kidnapped And Hurled Off Bridge by Butler; WOMAN KIDNAPPED; HURLED OFF BRIDGE." The article claimed he “confessed after 16 hours" of questioning.

Spell was facing 30 years in prison.

Thankfully, the NAACP Legal Defense Fund and its head lawyer, Thurgood Marshall, represented Spell. Marshall and his co-counsel proved evidence that Strubing lied. She, in fact, had consensual sex with Spell and jumped in the river because she was terrified that she might become pregnant from their affair. In her mind, the only option was to accuse Spell of rape in order to justify a possible pregnancy.

An all-white jury found Joseph Spell not guilty, which was shocking for the time. Nonetheless, if this accusation would have been made in the South, Joseph Spell certainly would have died by public lynching.

Wil Haygood, the author of Showdown: Thurgood Marshall and the Supreme Court Nomination That Changed America, wrote about the ruling, "It was a miracle. But Thurgood Marshall trafficked in miracles.”

Strubing, whose father was an investment banker and the former governor of the Philadelphia Stock Exchange, suffered no punishment for lying under oath. Her husband, John K. Strubing, died in 1961 and she remarried to John W. Barclay. Stribing died at 92 years old in 2000.

Joseph Spell moved to East Orange, New Jersey after the trial. It’s not clear when he passed away.

The 2017 movie Thurgood was based on the Joseph Spell trial. See the clip below of Kate Hudson as Eleanor Strubing.

Carolyn Bryant

In August of 1955, 21-year-old Carolyn Bryant accused 14-year-old Emmett Till of touching her and whistling at her in a store (he reportedly had a lisp and was unable to whistle.) Till, who was visiting from Chicago, was in Mississippi for the summer spending time with family. Within hours, he was kidnapped from his uncle’s home. The child was tortured, mutilated and thrown into the Tallahatchie River. His naked body was weighed down with a fan blade.

Carolyn’s husband, Roy Bryant and her brother-in-law J.W. Milam, the terrorists who lynched Till, were found not guilty by an all-white jury.

In the 2017 book The Blood of Emmett Till by Timothy Tyson, Carolyn Bryant admitted to lying and claimed that she actually didn’t remember what happened that day in the store.

She is still alive today, living in Mississippi at 86 years old. Emmett Till would have been 79 years old on July 25 if it wasn’t for Carolyn Bryant.

The 65th anniversary of his death is August 28.

Victoria Price and Ruby Bates

Before The Central Park Five in 1989, which would become the Exonerated Five in 2002, there was the Scottsboro Boys in 1932.

On Mach 25, 1931, a group of Black and white teenagers were riding freight trains looking for work, which was common during the Great Depression. The white teens wanted the Black teens off the train and a fight broke out. The white teens attempted to forcibly throw the Black teens from the train. In defending themselves, the Black teenagers instead kicked the white teens off the locomotive.

The angry white teens went to a local sheriff who demanded the train be stopped.

Nine Black teens were removed, ages 13 to 19. However, two white women, Victoria Price and Ruby Bates, were also on the train and spent their time wrongfully accusing several of the Black boys of rape.

Similar to the Exonerated Five, that one accusation stole the innocence of nine Black children.

The teens were jailed in Scottsboro, Alabama: Haywood Patterson, 18; Clarence Norris, 19: Charlie Weems, 19; brothers Andy Wright, 19 and Leroy Wright, 13; Olin Montgomery, who was nearly blind, 17; Ozie Powell, 16; Eugene Williams, 13, and Willie Roberson, 16, who could barely walk due to severe syphilis.

The all-white and all-male jury trial was over in a matter of days and all of them — except 13-year-old Leroy Wright — were found guilty of rape and given the death penalty. There was no evidence of course since Bates couldn’t identify the men she claimed raped her.

The NAACP and the International Labor Defense (ILD), the legal wing of the American Communist Party, joined the case. By November 1932, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the Scottsboro defendants had been denied the right to counsel. Shortly after, Ruby Bates admitted she lied.

Nonetheless, the back and forth with the courts continued for years.

By 1936, Haywood Patterson was convicted of rape and sentenced to 75 years. In 1948, he escaped from prison and made it to Michigan. The governor refused to extradite him to Alabama. By 1951, Patterson was convicted of manslaughter after a barroom brawl. In 1952, he died of cancer. He was 39 years old.

In July of 1937, Clarence Norris was eventually convicted of rape and sentenced to life in prison. He was paroled in 1946 and moved north, where he married and had children. His autobiography, The Last of the Scottsboro Boys was released in 1979. He passed away in 1989 at 76 years old.

In July of 1937, Andrew Wright was convicted of rape and sentenced to 99 years. He was released in 1950 at 38 years old. Charlie Weems was also convicted of rape and paroled in 1943. He spent the rest of his life in Atlanta. It’s not clear when or if Wright and Weems have passed away.

Ozie Powell’s rape charges were dropped but he pled guilty to assaulting a deputy, which happened while in custody. He was released from prison in 1946. After spending four years on death row as adults, all charges against Willie Roberson, Olen Montgomery, Eugene Williams, and Leroy Wright were dropped.

It is not known how or when Willie Roberson, Olen Montgomery, Eugene Williams, or Ozie Powell died.

After being released, Leroy Wright, the youngest, went on a national lecture tour and then joined the Army. In 1959, according to PBS, Wright accused his wife of having an affair, fatally shot her and then committed suicide. He was 41 years old.

As for Victoria Price and Ruby Bates, Price never recanted her testimony and died in 1982 at 77 years old. Bates had the privilege of going on a speaking tour, bizarrely, for the International Labor Defense (ILD), which defended the Scottboro Boys. She claimed to have lied because she was "excited and frightened by the ruling class of Scottsboro." Bates died in 1976.

[bopinion]

2021 / 51

Aperçu of the Week:

"Christmas is built upon a beautiful and intentional paradox: that the birth of the homeless should be celebrated in every home."

(Gilbert Keith Chesterton, British writer and journalist)

Bad News of the Week:

The Pantanal is a vast inland wetland, half the size of Germany and home to an immense wealth of species. There are over 580 kinds of birds alone - more than in all of Europe. Unfortunately, the Pantanal is located in Brazil. The country of Tropical Trump Jair Bolsonaro. And therefore has little chance of survival.

The botanical journal "Scientific Reports" has evaluated the year 2020. With shocking results. Only in this one year 39,000 square kilometers of nature burned there, only two German states are larger. At least 17 million vertebrates were killed - from snakes to anteaters and armadillos to jaguars. The number of unreported cases is probably correspondingly high. Because we are not talking about statistics here - but about carcasses actually counted with the help of countless volunteers. That many were not found at all, because they have dug themselves in, are hidden under ash layers or died badly injured on the escape only somewhere else.

The problem is once again based on ignorance and greed. Or in other words: a questionable prioritization. Because the Pantanal is not subject to any kind of nature protection and may be in official terms "economically used". In reality, this means that cattle farmers burn down forest areas in order to create new pastures. It is becoming more and more common for these clearing fires to get out of control due to desiccation and less rainfall caused by climate change.

One of my first environmental memories is that sometime in the late 1970s, a soccer field of tropical rainforest was cleared every day just for McDonald's meat needs. Out of naive child logic and ignorance of supply chains, I switched from Big Mäc to Filet-o-Fish. The regained peaceful sleep didn't last too long, a critical spirit was awakened. It is fitting that the new Green Minister of Agriculture and Food, Cem Özdemir, has written on his agenda to improve information about and pricing of food. The "ecological truth" must be "expressed more strongly," he said. Exactly. Because knowledge is the crucial basic prerequisite for insight.

Good News of the Week:

That the Russian state also uses dubious methods to enforce its strategic interests should be well known. A recent case in Germany is the so-called "Berlin Tiergarten murder". On August 23, 2019, the Georgian Selimchan Khangoshvili was murdered in the Kleiner Tiergarten. The latter fought in the Second Chechen War as a commander of Chechen militias against Russia and was therefore wanted as a terrorist by Russian authorities from 2002. The captured alleged perpetrator, Vadim Nikolayevich Krasikov, was already a suspect in the context of various alleged political assassinations.

A few days ago, the competent criminal court not only passed an unequivocal sentence against the perpetrator (life imprisonment), but also stated in its verdict that the crime was committed on behalf of "official bodies of Russia." Boom. This, in turn, resulted in the Foreign Office, under the leadership of the inexperienced Green Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock, declaring two representatives of the Russian Embassy, who are in fact intelligence agents, "persona non grata," thus not only depriving them of diplomatic immunity but also expelling them from the country. Boom. Remarkable also taking into account that the Greens are usually a party with pro-Russian reflexes. And Baerbock, makes no secret of the fact that she would prefer not to activate the brand-new Northstream 2 natural gas pipeline in the first place.

I expressly endorse this self-confidence vis-à-vis Putin. As Canada did in the case of Huawei founder's daughter Meng Wanzhou, I appreciate it when states do not let their economic interests influence their rule of law. Germany's often cited dependence on Russian gas is not a one-sided matter either: in every deal, not only the seller has something to say, but also the buyer. It takes two to tango. It's good to see that morality is not as easy to sell as many feared.

Personal happy moment of the week:

My 18-year-old daughter is probably my biggest fan. As soon as I post something, a "Like" reliably comes after a maximum of five minutes. Until last week. It took a few hours. Why? Because things are happening in her life that are simply more important - and emotionally closer - than paying immediate attention to her old dad's thoughts. That makes me happy. Still, yes, she could...

I couldn't care less...

...that the International Olympic Committee is now warning against the politicization of sport. I beg your pardon? Who is sitting in a glass house? Whether it's FIFA with its decision to hold the Soccer World Cup in Qatar, or the FIA with more and more Formula 1 races in autocratic countries, or the IOC with its second guest appearance in Beijing - sport is obviously being instrumentalized by everyone for primarily economic interests. So why should politics of all things nobly hold back and not play this game?

As I write this...

... I learn that the booster shot is actually more difficult to cope with than the first vaccinations. But maybe that just coincides with the infamous "on holidays the body doesn't want to have to hold out" syndrome. Anyway - but who will carry me up the stairs?

Post Scriptum:

I started this column quite some time ago with a single sentence, "Fuck you, Joe Manchin!" What's changed since then? Nothing.

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 605: Smouldering Embers:  Part I/III

Cinder opened her eyes. She was in a bed, and aside from the sheet and blanket, she was naked. It seemed liked a small cottage and there was little natural light.

"Oh, you're awake." and old woman stated, and as Cinder looked to her left she realized two things, one that the old, hunched-over woman seemed to have gossamer wings, and two that she was not wearing her eye patch. "Are you feeling all right, dear?" she asked. Cinder just scowled at her in reply. "You are such a beautiful girl, you shouldn't be making faces like that."

Cinder put on a fake smile, "Thank you..." she huskily voiced, "Where... am I?.."

"That doesn't matter as much as how you are feeling." the old woman stated. Cinder's eyes opened widely with shock. She.. was... feeling good. "Other than a couple scars..." the old woman stated, "I heard that there was a miracle healer at the Battle of Haven."

"That - blond - dufus?.." Cinder's gravelly voice asked.

"That's him." the old woman said.

"You - have - to be - kidding." Cinder grumbled.

"I don't know what a beautiful woman like you was doing in a dangerous place like that."

"You... wouldn't?" Cinder asked.

"Maybe I was a young woman at some point." the old woman said with a smile, and Cinder just stared at her. She already knew way too much. "But, you still have a chance to make another choice."

"What does that mean?" Cinder slowly asked.

"Whoever you were fighting for likely thinks you are dead." the old woman stated.

"And, if I was fighting for myself?" Cinder slowly asked her.

"We both know that not true." the old woman said. "Now, who ARE you fighting for? What - are you fighting for?" Cinder could feel the anger overtaking her, but, in truth, she had no answer. "Well, for right now, all you need to do is rest. You did have an exiting night, after all."

"My... dress?.." she asked.

"It didn't survive as well as you did," the old woman said with a sigh, "so, I've commissioned a new one. It should be ready in a couple of days."

"And, just what do I?," she asked, "in the?.."

"Rest, of course." the old woman stated.

With this Cinder sighed and relaxed in the bed. It had been too long since she had just relaxed.

* * *

Jaune slashed his sword at Yang. Yang blocked it with her gauntlets, but a wave of Aura pushed passed the blade.

"Wind slash!" Nora exclaimed, and Jaune stopped to look at her.

"Not wind." Jaune said.

"Then what was it?" Yang asked.

"Aura, I think." Jaune said to her, and Blake screamed bloody murder.

"What was that?" Ruby asked.

"AURA?!" Blake shouted, "Do you have any idea what you are doing?!"

"Just?," Jaune teppidly asked, what Pyrrha taught me?"

"THAT'S AN AURA SLASH!" Blake exclaimed.

"Will you calm down?" Yang asked, "I mean, it's not..."

"THAT'S WHAT ADAM USED TO TAKE YOUR ARM!" Blake shouted, and everyone paused, staring at each other.

"O-kay." Jaune voiced, "Aura is... the only thing... that can cut through Aura." Blake just scoffed at him

"Yes," Qrow voiced, and walked into the centre of the gymnasium, "Aura slashes are incredibly dangerous, but they are one of the best weapons we have against the Grimm."

"And Yang?" Blake asked through her fear and anxiety.

"I trust Jaune not to cut me in half." Yang said.

"Maybe I should practice a bit," Jaune voiced, "on something else?" Blake looked a lot less nervous.

"That does sound like a good idea." Weiss stated.

"I TOLD YOU Glorious Leader was wicked-cool." Nora stated.

"Indeed." Ren added.

"Why don't we have Oscar fight Blake?" Qrow asked.

"I..." Oscar voiced, "get the impression that wasn't actually a question."

"I don't know," Qrow replied, "WHAT - gave you - that impression. Now, Blake fights differently from everyone else here. Could you pull it out?"

"Like this morning." Yang said, and Blake just glared at her as she pulled out Gambol Shroud. She pulled the pieces apart and showed it to Oscar before putting it back together and away.

"Like the rest of RWBY, she doesn't stand still, and uses her line to grapple and swing." Qrow continued, "Keep your head up, and eyes and ears open. And don't worry, she is going to go easy on you."

Oscar nervously drew his cane. It felt so natural as it expanded.

"Remember," Qrow said to him, "Oz said you'll get his muscle memory. That's why it feels so natural in your hand. You just need practice and fitness to use it properly."

Oscar breathed in deeply before looking Blake in the eyes, wo then turned dark. Blake passed a few inches behind him, and he could feel the wind as she passed. He turned to look where she had been, only for her to disappear and pass behind him again. This happened a third and fouth time before Blake stood still, and the two just looked at each other.

"Alright," Qrow voiced, "now it gets interesting. She's actually going to try and hit you."

Blake turned black. Once again she passed behind Oscar, swiping with her sword. The edge couldn't have actually hit him, but he still felt the Aura. Blake stood still, Oscar looked at her, and Blake disappeared once again. Once again she swung without trying to hit him, and once again he only felt the Aura of the attack.

"Alright," Qrow stated, "when I said try to hit him, I meant ACTUALLY TRY TO HIT HIM!"

Oscar audibly swallowed as Blake disappeared again, this time coming from the side. Once again she swung without trying to hit, and Qrow audidbly sighed.

"I was afraid of this." Qrow voiced

"Of what?" Ruby asked.

"She's too much of a softy." Qrow said.

"Do you know how much I've fought?!" Blake asked him.

"Fighting can mean different things." Qrow stated, "In this case it apparently means to not actually try and hurt anyone."

"She was one of the best fighters of the White Fang." Ilia stated.

"Is that so?" Qrow asked, and then turned to RW_Y, "Have you ever seen her try to hurt someone?"

"Of course we have." Ruby said, "Haven't we?.."

"I don't know..." Yang voiced, "bots and Grimm, yeah, but an actual person?"

"Why would I want to hurt people?!" Blake asked.

"I'm not faulting you for it." Qrow said.

"You're not?" Ruby asked, "Because it kind of sounds like you are?"

Qrow then pulled out his weapon as it fully extended into a scythe. "Do you think this is all that useful against Humans?" he asked, and Ruby looked about nervously.

"So?" Nora asked, as Qrow put away his weapon, "What do you do, then?"

Qrow then held up his right hand, "Use these."

"Your... rings?.." Weiss asked.

"Exactly." Qrow stated, "I pump them full of Aura, and... blondie?.." he said, and looked at Jaune.

"Me?" Jaune asked.

"Yang's Firecracker." he stated.

"And Weiss?" Nora asked.

"More of a platinum... ehn..." Qrow voiced, "Look, no offence, kiddos, but I don't really have a good track record with Schnees..."

"Pardon me?" Weiss asked.

"I... guess... I never told you?" Qrow asked, "Your sister is part of the, whatever the hell we are?"

"Fellowship." Ren stated.

"Yeah," Qrow said, "she fell pretty hard to the tinman's rhetoric."

"...rhetoric?.." Blake asked.

"Oh, you know, he's the only one that can save the world, big armies with shiny coats, that kind of thing." Qrow stated.

"You... are saying he can't?.." Weiss asked.

"I'm saying that maybe even he can't do it." Qrow said, and shrugged, "And does anyone think that shutting down the borders will stop Salem?" Qrow asked.

Yang and Nora nervously raised their hands.

"It won't?" Ruby asked.

"Aside from the fact that some Grimm can fly," Qrow voiced, "shutting down the borders only stops the people who are stopped by asking. Smugglers are still a thing, and he's assuming that the criminal/terrorist sort will only walk into Atlas in the most uptight, law abiding ways. He thinks Atlas is a fortress, but... it really more of a shiny prison... something the little bird," he said, pointing to Weiss, "can probably undestand."

"Me?" Weiss asked.

"Is it better than Ice Queen?" Yang asked, and Weiss looked down, unsure whether it was or not.

"Songbird?" Jaune asked, and Weiss felt her heart leap. She looked up at him, unsure if it was true or not.

"Linnet." Blake passionately said, but then looked down, as apparently not everyone knew songbirds as well as she did.

"A songbird?" Jaune asked.

"Resident of the the Mantle Coast." Blake soulfully said, and shrugged.

"Did you hear the passion in how she said it?" Yang gleefully asked.

"Not that I am opposed," Weiss voiced, "but I would like to remind everyone I am a Heron."

"Heron's beautiful coat," Jaune said, "And songbird's enchanting voice."

Weiss felt weak the knees, but bowed only momentarily before standing back to a proper attention.

"I think she likes it." Yang stated, and Weiss nervously looked downward. "Alright, Kitty-Cat and Songbird, and, what I am? Something big-titted and babelicious."

"Maybe a swallow." Nora said, which cause Yang to start snickering.

"We can work on nicknames later." Qrow stated, "But for now, my point was that maybe Blake should get something she won't be afraid to hit people with."

"Like what?" Ruby asked.

"Or get better at hand-to-hand combat." Qrow added with a shrug.

"You are a cat," Yang said to her, "do you have claws."

Blake rolled her eyes, "You know how Faunus work, we only get one visible trait... and my father had the claws."

"And what does your mom have?" Yang asked.

"Ears like me."

"Are they as adorable?" Ruby and Jaune asked at the same time, causing her to blush and looked down and away.

"Alright," Qrow said, "lessons over. You guys can all think about it. NORA, you want your chance to see if you can beat up a scruffy old man?"

"DO I?" Nora eagerly replied.

[createdbyinvisibles]

An analysis of Itachi’s finger tap

Decided to do this before Itachi's birthday because I don't think anyone, would appreciate an in-depth look at how much of a terrible person you are, on your birthday even if he is fictional.

In Naruto, the finger tap is used as a way to show the bond of siblings. At least that is what the show wants to convey; however, when looking in-depth, it is in actuality quite the opposite.

Itachi "hide everything and run away," Uchiha

The finger tap in origin starts with Itachi, a man who is known for the death of his entire clan, so we are certainly off to a great start. Itachi was since childhood was a prodigy and held Hokage level wisdom, thinking of life and death and what peace means. Thoughts he could not reveal to simply anyone (except Shisui), and with being apart of the Anbu, there was already so much he had to keep secret. However, Sasuke always wanted to play with Itachi and to train with him, and when Itachi had to say no without telling him the truth. He tapped his forehead and ran off, this perpetual finger tapping only ever happened when Itachi had somewhere to be, something to hide, and so on. 

The reason Itachi keeps Sasuke in the dark is to protect his innocence, which leads me to something that needs to be said. Itachi is an arrogant prick. Please let me explain my process, Itachi ever since he was a kid was told he was a prodigy because well he was one. He graduated early from the academy after learning the shadow clone jutsu and later became an Anbu black ops captain. Combined with the gift of Hokage level wisdom, he must have at some point, or another realized he knew better than a lot of the adults around him. Heck, he pretty much surpassed his father in every way except securing a bloodline. 

Furthermore, after the Uchiha massacre in which he had just killed off his entire clan and left his brother traumatized for life. He must have been feeling pretty distraught, for if he was genuinely okay about the whole thing; despite the fact he had to kill children, innocent people, and his family. Then maybe he did pretend to care about Sasuke after all. So in the spirit of Itachi's upcoming birthday, and as a little birthday gift from me to Itachi. I will give him the benefit of the doubt and say he was hurting on the inside, like any respectable edge boy of his clan. Cool? Cool.

With the realization that he just killed his family, left his brother to hate him, and banished himself from the village. He chose a path; I felt was rash and poorly executed on Itachi's part. I mean he had no one to help him, and genius or not, in the end, he was only thirteen. He most likely lacked the mental stability and experience; an adult would have had. Moreover, because of this, I believe he chose what made the most sense at the time. So to say everything he did was for the best interests of the village and Sasuke is to follow Itachi's skewed line of logic, he seemed to have made after he mentally checked out, post-massacre. 

"I am damaged, badly damaged."

Every time Itachi finger taps Sasuke, it is always to tell him, he has more important to do. Something more important than his family, and from giving Sasuke "missions," to merely saying sorry Itachi always had something better to do. For every time he has something better to do, he taps Sasuke on the forehead with an apology. This brings me to my case and point; the finger tap is not to say how much he loves him; it is to say sorry for always putting something above his brother. It is sorry for not being the brother Sasuke wanted Itachi to be.

Moreover, in there final battle, in which Itachi dies, he taps Sasuke's forehead one last time, he apologies one last time. However, it leaves Sasuke torn up because by doing this it leaves Sasuke to see Itachi for who he was. Since if he were genuinely heartless, he would not have said "sorry" in the first place. This big final battle for Sasuke feels hollow by the end because revenge is the sweet dish with a bitter aftertaste.

After Itachi is reanimated, Sasuke confronts Itachi ranting to him about all that he has done to him, and it is then Itachi realizes how much of a criminal Sasuke became. That he was indeed wrong since there was no honour in the path hatred, so Sasuke, in turn, did not have honour either. After a fight against Kabuto, the reanimation jutsu is wearing off, leaving Itachi to vanish from this world into the afterlife. 

So when realizing this, Itachi goes to Sasuke with his fingers out, it looks exactly like the end of their last battle when they fought each other. However, instead of going to tap Sasuke on the forehead, he goes and clinks his forehead against Sasuke's forehead and says this:

"You don't ever have to forgive me. And whatever you do from here on out, know this, no matter what I will love you always."  

Itachi did not tap Sasuke's forehead because, for the first time, he was not asking for Sasuke's forgiveness, to say yet another apology for all the things he had done. He simply wanted to tell his brother that he loved him no matter what, and this is what I believe gave Sasuke some closure. Killing Itachi felt hollow, dealing with the guilt of killing his brother even worse. Nevertheless, to know that for once it did not matter, Sasuke was not forced to forgive Itachi, and he was not forced to hate him either, that is what gave Sasuke his closure. 

Conclusion

Itachi's love for Sasuke is toxic as it is loving because in many ways, Itachi acts out of what he thinks is right and no one is right all the time, not even someone with Hokage level wisdom. Moreover, in many ways, because of this quiet arrogance Itachi held, he is blind to the flaws in his "plan." Going as far as to convince himself, this was the only option, even if there were better options. Itachi only realizes his flawed logic after he was reanimated. Which left in its wake Sasuke, an innocent little boy turned by hatred into a hardened war criminal and terrorist.

[austonem]

SANCTIONS ???

HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THE MAIN GOVERNMENT ISSUING SANCTIONS HASN'T BEEN SANCTIONED ??? CLEARLY THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT IS THE WORLD'S BIGGEST TERRORIST ORGANIZATION. AND, ALMOST EVERY CONFLICT WORLDWIDE PAST OR PRESENT CAN BE TRACED BACK TO THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT AS BEING THE CULPRIT !!! IS THE UNITED NATIONS IN AMERICA'S POCKET ???

THIS IS A REQUEST FOR JUSTICE, ASYLUM AND CORRECTIVE SURGERY TO REMOVE AMERICA'S ILLEGALLY IMPLANTED MICRO CHIPS FROM MY BODY. HOWEVER, IF NOTHING ELSE THIS IS A TRUTH SPREADING CAMPAIGN.

THIS IS ALSO A REQUEST TO JOIN YOUR COUNTRIES MILITARY AS A PEACE NEGOTIATOR TO THE WORLD AND WARRIOR. I HAVE SURVIVED OVER 40 YEARS OF TORTURE AND I AM BATTLE READY AT ALL TIMES. THE CRIMINALS WITHIN THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT ARE NOT WILLING TO MEET ME IN THEIR OWN INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURTS, WHICH THEY INFLUENCE HEAVILY. THEY BLOCK ALL OF MY ATTEMPTS TO CONTACT THE INTERNATIONAL COURTS FROM WITHIN AMERICA. UNOFFICIALLY THE GOVERNMENT CLAIMS THEY ARE ONLY ATTACKING CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS. HOWEVER, I ALONG WITH THOUSANDS OF OTHERS HAVE UNDENIABLE PROOF THE GOVERNMENT HAS BEEN ATTACKING MOST IF NOT ALL OF IT'S CITIZENS WITH VARIOUS TYPES OF DIRECTED ENERGY TORTURE FOR A LONG TIME, WITH DIRECT TIES TO THE NATION'S PHARMACEUTICAL NETWORKS.

I'VE BEEN BETRAYED BY THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT. AFTER OVER 40 YEARS OF BEING IN AMERICA'S ILLEGAL TARGETED INDIVIDUALS, ELECTRONIC TORTURE PROGRAM AGAINST MY WILL, I SEEK NOT TO DIE BEHIND ENEMY LINES. I AM A MAN WHO SEEKS GOD, WHICH THESE GODLESS WORLDWIDE CRIMINALS HAVE NO RESPECT FOR. THESE ILLEGALLY IMPLANTED MICRO CHIPS AND DIRECTED ENERGY ATTACKS ARE THE WORLD'S CURRENT BIGGEST MILITARY WEAPONS SYSTEM THREAT. EVEN MORE THAN THE ATOMIC BOMB !!! THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT CLAIMS THAT ONLY CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS ARE IN THEIR ELECTRONIC TORTURE PROGRAM UNOFFICIALLY. HOWEVER, I ALONG WITH THOUSANDS OF OTHERS HAVE UNDENIABLE PROOF THAT THE GOVERNMENT HAS BEEN TARGETING MOST IF NOT ALL OF IT'S CITIZENS WITH VARIOUS TYPES OF ELECTRONIC TORTURE EXPOSURE FOR A LONG TIME, WITH A DIRECT LINK TO THE COUNTRY'S PHARMACEUTICAL MARKETS.

REQUEST FOR ASYLUM AND LEGAL ASSISTANCE AGAINST THE AMERICAN MURDERING REGIME. AND, IF NOTHING ELSE PLEASE HELP SPREAD THE TRUTH !!!

TARGETED INDIVIDUAL, ELECTRONIC TORTURE SURVIVOR, ATTACKED BY THE US GOVERNMENT.

“ CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY “

Not Only Has The American Government Been Killing Innocent People All Over The World, They Have A Long History Of Killing Their Own Citizens As Well. Like The Attacks On 9/11 Where The American Government Killed It's Own Citizens And Blamed It On Someone Else. ( 9/11 Truth Movement, Loose Change 9/ 11 Truth, Afghanistan War Exposed An Imperial Or Ex. Governor Jesse Ventura's 9/11 Questions ) Review The Information And Make Your Own Conclusions. There Is Also The Fact That The Vietnam War Was Stated Over A Lie According To Declassified Military Documents And Ex Governor Jesse Ventura, Who Fought In The Vietnam War. This Is Overwhelmingly Similar To What Was Attempted With "Operation North Woods 1962" In Which Criminals Within The US Government Attempted To Start An Illegal War With Cuba, To Which The President At That Time, President John F. Kennedy Refused And Removed The Top Military Officials Who Suggested This Act Of Illegal War. It Has Long Been Argued That Because President John F. Kennedy Showed That He Would Not Cooperate With The Long Standing Criminal Elements Within The American Government And Military That He Was Assassinated, Along With His Brother Robert Kennedy And Even His Son Who Died In A Suspicious Plane Crash Many Years Later. Or, The Many Times The American Government Exposed It's Own Military Members To Deadly Chemicals In Illegal Wars And Lied To Their Own Soldiers And Their Families ( The Marshall Islands Experiments And The Soldiers Who Were Part Of The Bikini Islands Clean Up Crew Along With Every War This Country Has Ever Participated In). There Is A Long Well Proven History Where These Soldiers Later Die Early Deaths As A Direct Result Of Exposure To Various Deadly Chemicals. I Know Because My Father Was One Of Those Soldiers. And, The Veterans Administration Hospital Top Representatives Have Admitted, Only Within The Last Year, That They Are Not Equipped To Test For Exposures To Toxic Chemicals Or Treat Exposures To Toxic Chemicals. Now Within The Last Two Years I've Figured Out That For Over 40 Years The American Government Has Been Attacking Me And My Family With Their Illegal Targeted Individuals Electronic Torture Program Where They Slowly Torture You To Death. This Criminal Activity By The US Government Is The Next Multi Trillions Of Dollars Money Making Weapons System. These Activities Are Clearly Recognized By the International Community As Crimes Against Humanity. I Know As A Victim That These Murdering Criminals Can Make You Feel Sick When Your Not Sick, They Can Make You Feel Pain, They Can Cause Burns On You're Skin, Or Cause Sores On Your Skin, They Can Artificially Control Your Breathing And Respiratory System Or Mimic A Heart Attack, They Can Make You Feel As Though You Crave Certain Foods Or Drinks, Make You Want To Hear A Particular Song Or Watch A Certain Show, Or Even Affect Your Mood Along With Many Other Sick Sadistic Things They Do. I'm well aware of what they're doing when I'm awake and concise so I Just Turn Everything They Attempt Off. However, The Pain Is Very Much Real And when I'm asleep they have a way to make me concise when I'm Actually Unconscious And Do All Kinds Of Sick Un Godly Things That I Would Gladly Choose Death Over Being A Part Of The Things They Do. Most of Which I Can't Remember When I Wake Up. However, In my case as Many People Have Seen, They document their activities and share them with Everyone Except Me it Seems. If These Murdering Sick Sadistic Criminals who are worst than the Nazi's are not stopped; You Can Clearly See The Entire World Is In

MAJOR DANGER !!!

My Only Choice Is To Relocate To Any Country That Will Stand Up For The Law. A Legal Action In An International Court Like The United Nations Must Be Taken Immediately. As For The TI Victims, There Has To Be TI Safe Houses And TI Communities.

All TI’S HAVE TO UNITE & FIGHT TOGETHER & SEPARATELY !!!

THE US GOVERNMENT IS RUNNING THIS ILLEGAL PROGRAM UNDER THE NATIONAL SECURITY UMBRELLA WHICH COVERS THE MILITARY, POLICE & ALL GOVERNMENT AGENCIES. BY CLAIMING NATIONAL SECURITY THEY ARE ILLEGALLY OPERATING ABOVE THE LAW & CONSTITUTION. THE INTERNATIONAL COURTS HOWEVER, RECOGNIZES THESE ACTS AS ILLEGAL AND CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY.

AMERICA IS A GREAT NATION. HOWEVER MURDERING CRIMINALS HAVE INFILTRATED IT'S GOVERNMENT.

FROM THE INFORMATION I’VE SEEN, THIS ELECTRONIC TORTURE SYSTEM WAS FIRST DEVELOPED IN NAZI CONCENTRATION CAMPS AND FURTHER DEVELOPED INTO WHAT THEY HAVE TODAY.

MILLIONS OF INNOCENT VICTIMS HAVE ALREADY DIED AS A RESULT OF THIS PROGRAM. NONE OF THE VICTIMS HAVE EVER BEEN CHARGED IN ANY COURT OF LAW. THIS IS FIRST DEGREE CAPITAL MURDER WHICH CARRIES A MANDATORY DEATH SENTENCE ACCORDING TO THE US LAW. YET, NOT ONE PERSON IN THE US GOVERNMENT HAS EVER BEEN CHARGED. CURRENTLY THERE ARE MILLIONS MORE IN THE PROCESS OF BEING SLOWLY TORTURED TO DEATH THROUGH THIS SAME PROGRAM.

WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS A BUNCH OF OVERGROWN INFANTS AND TYRANTS WHO HAVE INFILTRATED THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT, WITH A FAIRLY NEW DEVICE WITH WHICH THEY'RE LOOKING TO TURN ANYONE THEY CHOOSE INTO SLAVES CONTROLLED BY COMPUTERS. THIS IS CURRENTLY BEING DONE IN OTHER COUNTRIES ALSO.

GOD DOES NOT INTEND FOR ANY HUMAN TO BE ENSLAVED BY OTHER HUMANS OR THEIR DEVICES.

THIS IS A REQUEST FOR LEGAL ASSISTANCE AND ASYLUM.

This is a Call to hold the American Government Responsible for their Acts & Actions, Just as they do everyone else. Justice And Freedom is the purpose of this request.There are Trillions of Dollars that have already been generated through the Governments Illegal Acts. I am a Victim Of Crimes Against Humanity. I am Constantly Tortured, Used in Human Experiments, Exposed to Violent Traumas, Forced into Sick Sadistic Sexual Acts, Stolen from, Subjected to Attempted Murder, Exposed To Tainted Foods and Beverages & Many other forms of Criminal Activities. The Government is Clearly Manipulating The Law In Order To Break The Law. What's needed here is Legal Representation. Again, there are already Trillions of Dollars that have already been generated through the US Government's Illegal Actions. What's needed now is the Legal Expertise to Start The Process Of Collecting These Funds While Holding The US Government Responsible For Their " CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY "  NO ONE SHOULD BE ABOVE THE LAW !!!  Especially The US Government.

 

An International Court Action Must Be Taken Now !!!

Auston Matthews

929-313-1866

austonmatthews@yahoo.com

TI Survivor, Warrior. "THE RESISTANCE"

[asiaberkeley]

Afghan is beautiful

I am a half Afghan woman. An Afghan-European American. An Afghan American.

Admittedly, it took me awhile to offer up this information in the aftermath of 9/11 when Afghanistan became synonymous with terrorism in the eyes of many Americans. Taking pride in my heritage suddenly and painfully became controversial.

People didn’t know about my Afghan-ness though because I had my mother’s surname and not my Pashtun father’s: Hotaki. Also, I didn’t wear any kind of head covering because I was raised Catholic. It was easy to hide and pass for completely White.

My late father, an aspiring doctor and med school student who spoke six languages, left Kabul with his family before the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan as a child. They were the lucky ones. He spent most of his life in Germany where many Afghans have sought refuge. One of my fondest memories is flying kites with him and my Irish-Swedish-French American mother in the Munich Public Gardens as a child. There was no wind that day and we dragged the kites in dizzy circles…laughing together...just as I imagine him now when he was a boy: kite flying in the streets of Kabul.

Since my father died when I was six, I returned to my mother’s hometown of Boston with her in 1996. I was later left to contemplate what it meant to be Afghan in a place with very few Afghans compared to Virginia, California, and New York. In college, as an Asian Studies major at Wellesley College and later at the University of California, Berkeley, I often corrected people who said that Afghanistan is in the Middle East and not in South-Central Asia. I wondered why it seemed that no one had received much education on this country’s history or people outside of reading the popular Khaled Hosseini novel, The Kite Runner, especially since we have been at war—fighting together with the Afghan forces against the Taliban in the longest war in American history.

Many Americans don’t realize that the attackers on 9/11 were not Afghan. The attackers did seek a hiding and meeting place in Afghanistan, however. But those facts shouldn’t matter. Because it doesn’t matter what ethnicity, race, or nationality someone is if they commit a crime and it doesn’t matter where they were hiding. The guilty party does not represent all people of their background or country just like Hitler does not represent all Germans or all of Germany and El Chapo does not represent Mexico or all Mexicans. Similarly, the latest mass shooter in El Paso doesn’t represent all white American men.

After former President Trump pondered out loud the mere possibility of a concocted plan to kill 10 million Afghans and wipe the country off the face of the earth – presumably through the use of nuclear weapons – I have thought more about what it means to be Afghan American today. And it’s not because of those unimaginably cruel musings which add insult to injury in the homes of all Afghans traumatized by decades of war. Indeed, nearly every person who is not a white man has been made to feel worthless, subhuman and criminal under the rhetoric of the former Trump administration...so Afghans are not alone.

But Afghans were alone in the discussion of their genocide in 2019. I have contemplated my identity even more because not one leader or politician in America of any background spoke out formally against those disturbing statements. (And it doesn’t matter if this was an actual plan of his or just an imaginary scenario dangling in the recesses of his mind.) What does the national silence mean?

After 9/11, Afghan American author of West of Kabul, East of New York and Destiny Disrupted, Tamim Ansary, went viral with an email he sent.  In it, he wrote:

“The Taliban and Bin Laden are not Afghanistan. They’re not even the government of Afghanistan. The Taliban are a cult of ignorant psychotics who captured Afghanistan in 1997 and have been holding the country in bondage ever since. Bin Laden is a political criminal with a master plan. When you think Taliban, think Nazis. When you think Bin Laden, think Hitler. And when you think “the people of Afghanistan” think “the Jews in the concentration camps.” It’s not only that the Afghan people had nothing to do with this atrocity, they were the first victims of the perpetrators. They would love for someone to eliminate the Taliban and clear out the rats nest of international thugs holed up in their country. I guarantee it…Some say, if that’s the case, why don’t the Afghans rise up and overthrow the Taliban themselves? The answer is, they’re starved, exhausted, damaged, and incapacitated.”

After 2001, my family warned me that just telling people I was Afghan may offend or anger them because they may have lost a loved one on 9/11 or they may have had a son or daughter deployed to Afghanistan. In middle school, a classmate told me I was from the land of the terrorists after I proudly showed her an autographed book I received from an Afghan British writer, Saira Shah, called "The Storyteller's Daughter." My American cousin, a veteran, was later deployed to Afghanistan and brought back a burqa which I showed to my classmates in high school to teach them about the Taliban’s oppression. Contrary to what they may have assumed, what they saw was not traditional Afghan clothing. Traditional Afghan clothing, banned under the Taliban, is colorful, intricate, deeply hued, bright and beautiful. Google it.

A year has passed since Trump discussed wiping Afghanistan off the face of the earth. After it happened, I regularly checked Twitter and the news to see if any of our nation’s leaders denounced those remarks. I called my Governor, Congresspeople, and many others asking if just one would put out a statement to support Afghans and Afghan Americans against talk of our annihilation. The Governor’s office simply said that he did not put out a statement. I still haven’t found any. However, some Americans did speak out on social media. Thank you.

We have studied the long-lasting horrors of the U.S. nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in our classrooms. I thought we concluded as a nation that something like that could never happen again. That not a single person in power thought it worth it to speak out against the possibility of the U.S. committing another nuclear genocide bewilders and frightens me. Is it controversial to say out loud that Afghans civilians do not deserve to die en masse? Are Afghans so vilified in our society that it’s a public risk to defend us?

If you still blame the Afghan people for 9/11 even if only on an subconscious level, think again. Many of the Afghan people are suffering in ways you can only imagine in your worst nightmares. They are not responsible and took no part in this. Like the poor souls who were killed in the Twin Towers, Afghans are survivors and casualties of terrorism as well. Afghan women have lost their entire families. They have been abused and pillaged. Men, women, and children have been bombed and maimed. Their history, including the rich Buddhist Silk Road history of Afghanistan, has been destroyed by the Taliban and others.

Discussing our nation's capability to conduct nuclear genocide of an entire people and country is an affront to all humans.

So I suggest to all of our nation’s leaders who have remained tight-lipped in the face of the unspeakable: Take time to learn something you don’t know about Afghanistan. Perhaps that could start with the story of progressive Afghan Queen and feminist Soraya Tarzi who asked, "Do you think, however, that our nation from the outset only needs men to serve it? Women should also take their part as women did in the early years of our nation..." Or it could be about the life and death of iconic Afghan singer Ahmad Zahir. You could learn about the courageous resistance of Afghan women and girls throughout history or visit that Afghan restaurant you were too timid to enter and try a sweet pumpkin kadoo dish.

As the war in Afghanistan, a war based on lies and deceit, may be coming to another tragic end with even graver implications for the women left behind who have fought so hard for equality,  maybe it’s finally time to read another book that is not the Kite Runner... and most importantly, time to look deep inside of ourselves and question the possible anger, hate and bias that has developed towards the Afghan people after the catastrophic and traumatizing events of September 11, 2001.

*See the Washington Post’s Afghanistan Papers which deemed that the American military did not know what it was doing there and that the war was based on lies and deceit. Government officials misled the American public about the war. The war has cost the lives of thousands of American soldiers with many more wounded as well as 100,000+ Afghan civilians killed or hurt. Many of the American troops have returned with PTSD. 30% of the Afghan casualties were children.

Sources

https://apnews.com/a2a8d7a4f89ec0515379dc4d4a38b56a

https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2019/investigations/afghanistan-papers/documents-database/

[creepingsharia]

Arizona: Al-Shabaab linked Somalian Refugee Convicted of Immigration Fraud and Deported

Joe Biden wants more refugees.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Friday, August 28, 2020

Refugee Convicted of Immigration Fraud and Removed to Somalia

TUCSON, Ariz. – Last week, Mohamed Abdirahman Osman, aka, Mustaf Adan Arale, 29, of Mogadishu, Somalia, was sentenced to time served by District Court Judge Rosemary Marquez. Osman previously pleaded guilty to two felony counts of False Swearing in an Immigration Matter. Osman has been in custody for two years.

At the time of his refugee application, and again when seeking his permanent legal resident alien status, Osman failed to disclose to the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) that he also used another identity. Osman admitted that he knew that if he had disclosed the true information, he would have been denied entry into the United States.  

“We will do everything we can to preserve the integrity of the refugee application process in the United States,” said United States Attorney Michael Bailey. “There are individuals throughout the world who are being persecuted and seeking status in the United States. Osman undermined the system and those individuals with valid claims by lying his way into receiving entry.”

As a result of his convictions, Osman’s refugee status was revoked and a Judicial Order of Removal was issued requiring Osman be removed to Somalia. On August 28, 2020, Osman boarded a flight from Arizona to return to Somalia. Osman is prohibited from returning to the United States without proper legal authority. 

“Homeland Security Investigations (HSI) is committed to thoroughly investigate those who seek to undermine our nation’s security by compromising the integrity of our immigration laws,” said Scott Brown, special agent in charge for HSI Phoenix. “This case is a perfect example of how HSI and other federal agencies work together to combat those trying to defraud the government. We will continue to work closely with our law enforcement partners to hold those involved of these types of criminal schemes accountable.”

“USCIS is proud to play a critical role in preserving our nation’s rich history of lawful immigration,” said USCIS Tucson Field Office Director Julie Hashimoto. “Thus, we have a responsibility to protect the integrity of the system. This conviction demonstrates the severe consequences for using false information in order to gain an immigration benefit.”

The Federal Bureau of Investigation, HSI, and USCIS investigated this matter. Beverly K. Anderson, Assistant United States Attorney, handled the prosecution.                                                                                                    

CASE NUMBER:            CR-18-1584-TUC-RM RELEASE NUMBER:    2020-071_Osman

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

Did Osman’s other identity implicate him in al-Shabaab terror membership, support or activities as was reported at the time of his arrest? 

Tucson Refugees With Ties To Al-Shabab Terrorist Group Arrested For Immigration Fraud

A grand jury returned an 11-count indictment Wednesday against 28-year-old Mohamed Abdirahman Osman and 25-year-old Zeinab Abdirahman Mohamed, according to the U.S. Attorney's office. The charges include false swearing in an immigration matter and providing false statements to a government agency.

Prosecutors say the husband and wife were granted refugee status and moved to Tucson in 2014. During the immigration process, they reportedly lied about Osman's true name, nationality and associations with members of a designated terrorist organization.

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

More on Osman’s terrorist activities via:

Al-Shabaab Terrorist Lives in Arizona 4 Years after U.S. Grants Refugee Status

Osman used a fake Somalian passport to get to the U.S., according to the 11-count indictment, which charges the husband with eight crimes and the wife with three for helping him conceal his true identity. The feds say Osman was injured while handling explosives for Al-Shabaab in 2009 but told authorities the injury occurred in a 2010 terrorist attack at the Bakara Market in Somalia. In 2008 the State Department designated Al-Shabaab an official Foreign Terrorist Organization (FTO). “Al-Shabaab is a violent and brutal extremist group with a number of individuals affiliated with al-Qaida,” according to the State Department. “Many of its senior leaders are believed to have trained and fought with al-Qaida in Afghanistan.” The agency further writes in its designation that “Al-Shabaab has used intimidation and violence to undermine the Somali government and threatened civil society activists working to bring about peace through political dialogue and reconciliation.”

What about his wife who was also arrested and charged? Has she been deported?

[tres-fidelis]

Disclosure - Part 1

Part 2

8 months. 

No other contact since. Just one small note and a cursed token. Both items resided in her office, stowed inside one of her desk drawers and buried underneath office supplies. There’s perks to keeping something so dangerous and troubling hidden away. She could forget it’s ever there. Anyone could if you busy yourself enough with other work. 

Even so, Jayden knew it. She knew for a damn fact keeping it out of sight, attempting to keep it out of mind, wouldn’t relieve anything. It’s still a problem. A problem put aside until someone procrastinated enough for it to evolve into something more dangerous. 

No one must know...no one can know about this…

Almost a year later Jayden kept this secret out of the public and private eye. Shaska, her mom, Axl, she sealed her lips even to them. Their own worries and troubles mattered more than her own state of mind. Why burden them more with this trouble when she’s experienced plenty of it already? Why should anyone know when it’s “family matters?”

“...why…”

The heavy coin reflected a bright shine from the afternoon sun. A precious item to anyone whose curious eyes caught a glimpse of its sheen, but an emblem of destruction for those who knew its origin. 

ES. 

The Emerald Spears. 

A long since “dead” terrorist organization born from the wrath and hatred of all things robotic. Jayden first heard about their existence in some old texts recovered by the museum’s archeology team. Apparently before the Cataclysm, many humans loathed the existence of AI robots and their rapid progression in society. They saw them as a threat and began preaching humanity’s downfall at the hands of this AI intelligence. Robots grew, they evolved in their own way, they’d outsmart their human creators, and bring about a genocide. A beaten, burned document recounted an attack from the Spears at a robotics expo long ago, however there were no recorded names on such. The Cataclysm seemed effective in wiping out most of their information including other reported terrorist attacks, several listed names and company contributors, and other criminal records. 

Yet here in 21XX…

Not much is known of their resurgence. Locals say they spotted hooded figures breaking into reploid repair shops, criminals under guise holding reploid centers hostage in exchange for police information, and of course influencing protesters in public areas. In most cases the suspect never admitted or even spoke of the Spears’ guidance in their plan. There’s some who don’t even believe the Spears are working from behind the curtains. Some are just flat out saying they all died off with the Cataclysm.

‘It’s just the nature of humans to fear something greater and more powerful than themselves. Something that can easily control their free will or restrict their freedom? Of course humans had a reason to be afraid, to be terrified of mechanical beings built to outlast them.’ 

Jayden knew…

No matter what others believed. If they thought the Spears couldn’t exist in this day and age, Jayden knew it all. 

She saw it. 

She saw from first-hand experience. The absolute terror of what these people could undertake. Not just from the encounters as a news reporter, civilian meetings with a potential member in her presence, or even during her own participation in pro-reploid civilian protests. It traced back to her own beginning. The start of her own life.

Jayden remembered the fights, verbal abuse, and control of her own ‘father figure’ since she was a little girl. Restrictions on anything reploid related suffocated her and her own mother. Neither could speak a word about their work or school life if it involved ‘those hunks of junk.’ Home wasn’t home for them. Her mom found quiet solace in the museum or, in Jayden’s case, a small cafe not too far from her home. Most of her memories from middle school centered around the friendly encounters inside the cafe. A young girl’s face glued to the TV watching the news and the staff treating her to some pastries after her tests. Jayden cherished the safe space, and of course the food. 

The ‘real home’ for Jayden was the Abel City Museum. Staff treated her like she was their own daughter. At that point, they could’ve used her as a mascot for the museum just to draw in more business. Everyone loved seeing the girl with the two different eyes greet them with an award winning smile. Jayden equally loved welcoming the guests, giving them their tickets, and wishing them well through their adventure in the museum. Sometimes she managed everything all on her own! Some staff members were baffled seeing a nine-year-old kid handle money so accurately. Then again, they too saw the delight in something so innocent. Jayden grew to be one of the main attractions in the museum aside from the “real” ones. 

The end of the day brought on the dreaded reality she and her mom embraced. No talk of mom’s work and of course no talk of any kind of news. Especially if stories centered around the Hunters. Dinner always led to extreme outbursts about ‘father’s’ own work day, snide comments about her mother’s workplace, and Jayden having to ‘man up’ against the bullies at her school.

‘No one else will fight for you! You never know when one of those walking scrap metal corpses will get the jump on you. Then you’re dead! You’re gone! It’s about self defense! You have to be stronger than them!’ 

It wasn’t self-defense. It was pure torture.

Punch after punch, kick after kick. Jayden couldn't keep track of how many new bruises appeared after each ‘training’ session with her father. Her mother had to purchase new bandages almost every week just for her own daughter. Of course mom brought up this horrible treatment with her father but it was met with a slap across the face and an derogatory, loud opinion. The only solace her mom could give was tending the new wounds and giving warm comfort. 

All for what? Getting her stronger for an eventual, yet highly unlikely reploid takeover? Just so she could fight against them?

........What good did that do her?.

.............................What good did it do to her now...

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

................................................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“..............................................miss lady?” 

“!!!”

A young girl around the age of 12 stood in front of Jayden. Short straight brown hair, brilliant blue eyes, and freckled skin. A small flower hair clip swayed by a few strands of hair holding on for its dear life. The child perked up soon as Jayden caught her attention. “Oh! Sorry...uh...were you asking for me?” 

“Mmhm! You’re the one who’s on the TV right? The lady with the colored eyes, reporting on the Hunters yeah?” 

Oh, right…

Just...put that eyes comment off to the side…

“That’s right. I’m the one you see on the holocasts. I’m...guessing you’ve seen my broadcasts before?”

“Yeah! Mom and Dad always put the news on when they come home from work. Say they enjoy the stories and other stuff they hear from you. Never really watched news much until you came on. They say they like your writing and how you...present yourself? I don’t know, I just like hearing you talk and seeing you talk with the Hunters!” 

“Oh…” An admirer. She’d gotten used to some fan mail coming to the office and the brief encounters with other citizens in her work travels. It’s not uncommon to be recognized out in the public here and there, but this kid had some guts coming straight up to her. Did she want an autograph? 

“Well it’s very nice of you to come up and tell me this. It affirms I’m doing my job right.” Jayden smiled pleasantly making the girl share the same sentiment. 

“I wanted to ask. Actually...if...if you get scared out there. When there’s bad things going on, you’re there with the hunters. Isn’t it scary when you’re so close to those bad Mavericks?” 

What a brave question. Melancholic too. She had to be in middle school yet she’s already recognized the threats. Of course everyone, at least hopefully everyone at this point, knew the difference between those kinds of threats and the ones who fought them. 

A deep breath and a warm hand sat on the girl’s shoulder. 

“It is. It’s very scary when I have to report in those areas. However, I don’t do it just because it’s my job, or because I’m told to do it. I do it so I can keep the people informed, so people are safe and so no one else gets hurt. In a way, I’m...almost like a human version of a Hunter. I don’t necessarily keep the people physically safe, but...I do my best for Abel City to know what’s going on. So no one’s hidden in the dark, so no one is lied to about current events, and...hopefully to make people smile too. Just like you!”

“Heehee~” The small girl bounced in place. “Thank you miss reporter!” Someone called across the street catching both of their attention. A taller boy, broad shoulders, and much older than the little girl. 

“Hailey! I’ve been looking for you! Come on, we have to get going!” 

“Okay bro!” One last turn, one last big smile and thank you, then off she ran straight into her brother’s leg. A little wave from her and soon they melded into the evening word crowd. Such a pleasant exchange...

Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!

A small alarm beeped on Jayden’s watch. Right, she promised her mom she’d be home for dinner tonight. A home cooked meal waiting for her, as soon as she stepped into the door. Anyone working the kinds of shifts she undertook would take this as a special treat, yet Jayden couldn’t feel any warmth or longing excitement. Tonight would be the night. She’d come clean about the note and the…

Right...the Spears.

....was this really the right time? Her mother already had too much on her plate considering her work at the museum. It’d been months since she received the threat so...maybe they just wanted to scare her. That’s all. But...in another way she had a right to know. After everything she did for Jayden though...all that heartache, pain, suffering...after all the troubles of her own life…

...does she really deserve more heartbreak?

The crunched note slipped out of her inside jacket pocket. 

‘...little canary…’

“I’m going to be late…” 

A deep breath in then pushed out. This exhaled some of the weighted stress out of her system. The reporter rose off the bench fixing the folds in her jacket. No bike ride tonight. She’d take it easy and walk back to the apartment complex. A calm, steady pace at that. There wasn’t any need to rush home when her mother already expected a late start.

[tearsoftheearth]

WHAT IS BIO WEAPON AND HOW ARE WE ENTERING INTO THIS BIO-WEAPON ERA?

"Nothing is going to hurt this country, not bioweapons, not a nuclear weapon, not a terrorist strike-there is nothing that can hurt us if we stay united and move together and a vision for moving to the future right away “~Wesley Clark.

 Sure enough 'united we stand divided we fall’, but examining the factors that endanger our unity could be the first step towards safeguarding mankind.

 We are aware of several ammunitions that have been used in human history as media of hate, revenge and power acquisition. With the intervention of science and technology, the weapons are gaining a holocaust capacity.

 One such weapon is Bio-weapon. Biological weapons (often termed "bio-weapons", "biological threat agents", or "bio-agents") are living organisms or replicating entities. As the name suggests they are obviously weapons used in war. So bio weapons are used in biological warfare. Biological warfare agents are a group of pathogens and toxins of biological origin that can be potentially misused for military or criminal purposes. Anthrax, plague and smallpox are regarded as the most dangerous biological weapons by various institutions. They may be developed, acquired, stockpiled or deployed by nation states or by non-national groups. In the latter case, or if a nation-state uses it clandestinely, it may also be considered bioterrorism.

 According to NCBI (National Center for Biotechnology Information), "All diseases caused by biological weapons may also occur naturally or as a result of a laboratory accident. Risk assessment with regard to biological danger often proves to be difficult. In this context, an early identification of a potentially dangerous situation through experts is essential to limit the degree of damage”. Certainly, the bioweapon designed could perhaps wipe out the whole human race including the creator of it, if a single accident happens. Its fatality should be taken into consideration and also stringent steps to control its outbreak before initiating its making.

 Biological agents have the ability to adversely affect human health in a variety of ways, ranging from relatively mild allergic reactions to serious medical conditions, including serious injury, as well as permanent disability, even death. Genetic modification may enhance their lethal properties, or render them impervious to conventional treatments or preventives. Since many bio-agents reproduce rapidly and require minimal resources for propagation, they are also a potential danger for lifeforms worldwide.

  Laws regarding banning of bioweapons

 The Biological Weapons Convention (1972) is an international treaty banning the use or stockpiling of bio-agents; as of February 2015, there were 171 state signatories.

Laws will be made but its implementation is what fulfills its virtue.

 History of bioweapon attacks

 Biological warfare has affected our wars, our peace, and our research throughout this century. During World War I, animals were deliberately infected with glanders. During World War II, biowarfare research was carried out by Japan, Germany, England, and the United States. Japan carried out biological warfare attacks in China. England used biological warfare for the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich. In the 1950s and 1960s, Army researchers released bacteria over U.S. cities in biological warfare tests.

 In current scheme of world involvement in Coronavirus pandemic, the previous weapon- fought world wars, cold wars and war against terrorism have been superseded by this “Virus invasion” global war. Is China really a trigger for this bio World War Third?

 Coronavirus as a bioweapon

  The blame game has started for blaming nations for the coronavirus outbreak.US, Senator Tom Cotton of Arkansas has repeated the charge that the virus was a creation of the Chinese military while others source it to North Korea. US President Donald Trump has been roundly condemned for “a racist remark” after describing the deadly disease as “a Chinese virus. “US intelligence officials are probing the possibility that America’s enemies might use the coronavirus as a bioweapon, according to an alarming report. The Department of Defense is monitoring for the potential of the virus to be weaponized, possibly against prominent, high-level targets. Andy Weber, who served as assistant secretary of defense for nuclear, chemical and biological defense program under President Barack Obama, said "In its natural state, the current virus could be used as a bioweapon by less sophisticated groups, or, for a nation-state with a more advanced biological weapons program, this virus could be given enhanced characteristics"

However, there’s no evidence yet to back up a theory that the virus originated in a lab in China or that it was intentionally created to be used as a weapon.

   Apart from all the drama, death rate is increasing manifolds.197,859 people have died so far from the Coronavirus COVID-19 outbreak as of April 25, 2020.There are currently 2,846,536 confirmed cases in 210 countries and territories. The fatality rate is still being assessed.

 All these numbers represent human lives and not commodities. Weapon or not, war or not, we are losing lives. That’s a real threat. Even if this was designed for a war, let us be honest that this battle is not doing anyone any good. It is a catastrophe. It is a reality check; a wakeup calls for us to stand side by side and not opposite. We're one, this weapon sees us as one, attacks us as one. Science is a tool in our hands. It is up to us to either make it a boon or a bane.

[thecorteztwins]

Well, these are some headcanons that I have for some of my favorite minor Marvel characters that I don’t have a blog for-- Aireo, Aqueduct, Catsye, Darkstar, Fantasma, and Skein. Under the cut in alphabetical order!

AIREO AKA SKYBREAKER - Aireo was originally imprisoned in Attilan for rebelling against Black Bolt’s rule. And after he had been exiled into the human world and became a criminal there, he was imprisoned in a superhuman jail, where he said that it was even more regressive than his fellow Inhumans. Based on this, I think he probably had a lot of problems with the shittier aspects of how Attilan was run, like the arranged/forced marriages and control of who could reproduce with who. He clearly thinks Inhumans are still superior though, as evident by remarks he makes to Firestar. - He’s frequently sick due to the pollution of the human world. This is also why he has to only eat organic. - He’s a vegetarian, since Attilan doesn’t have animals that’s what he’s used to. He finds the idea of eating meat to be barbaric. - His skinniness might be unhealthy on someone else, but it’s how he’s SUPPOSED to be, to facilitate flight easier on the winds he summons. - His brother is HELIO, another villainous minor Inhuman with long hair and wind powers. - He connects with his teammate Terraformer over their respective lack of humanity (in the sense of literally not being human), with Firewall over their mutual anger at regressive systems, and yet it’s Aqueduct, who has the LEAST in common with, that he’s ended up being best buds with...even though he won’t ADMIT that he’s FRIENDS with a HUMAN. - After being exiled from Attilan, I think he just kind of fell into human crime because it was all he could do? He has no human identity, citizenship, or documentation, he has no job skills or degrees, he wouldn't even understand human culture or money when he first started. I imagine he was probably manipulated and exploited a lot for his powers at first, which didn’t help his opinion of humanity. - It pisses him off EXTREMELY how his former boss Maximus gets all the second chances just because he’s Black Bolt’s brother. AQUEDUCT aka Peter Van Zante! - There are SO MANY Peters in Marvel already that I always refer to him by his codename, so I would write him as strictly going by Aqueduct, Aque, Van Zante, Van, or Zante  because calling him Peter just makes even ME think of other characters...and after typing that I nearly called him Peter instead of Aque during every point of this list. - He fought in Vietnam so of course he’d be much older if he aged in real-time, but this being comics he gets to eternally be 30 to 40. I picture him as like....33. Maybe 36 max. - He just seems to be a real loser in canon no matter what he’s doing and who he’s fighting, and I like that. Being an aquekinetic should theoretically be an INCREDIBLE power, especially when he gained the ability to instantly dehydrate someone to death, but the poor guy has just never managed to be anything above a D-list threat. He doesn’t seem very smart or imaginative in how to use his powers, and he also just has terrible luck in terms of the heroes he winds up going against (who often end up being immune to water powers in some way) All of this makes him super endearing to me because of course it does. - Heterosexual. He’s had three steady girlfriends in his life, none of which worked out, and he’s not great with women. He’s visited strip clubs and even paid for sex before but he’s not proud of this, he’s just lonely. -His self-esteem seems very easily influenced by external events. For instance, when he's suffered a setback or defeat, he becomes insecure, pessimistic, and dumps on himself terribly. All the insecurity vanishes, however, the moment he has the upper hand. He becomes a gloating megalomanic, drunk on his own sudden rush of self-esteem, certain of his unbeatable supremacy. - I think he feels much better when he's working with a group; he hasn’t left Force of Nature since he joined up. I think it’s because he can enjoy the mental high of success, but escape the lows of defeat by deferring the responsibility for it on to whoever is in charge. But I also think he genuinely enjoys having friends and comrades. -We never see or hear anything about his family so I headcanon they’re estranged from him due to his being a loser, like he probably has borrowed a lot of money from his parents over and over that he never paid back, that kind of thing.

- He's moody, and not very bright. He's not bad socially, definitely the sort you could have a beer with, but he's also not the most sensitive or astute. He’s probably the nicest person on the Force of Nature squad, though of course he’s shown to hesitate to kill at all during his job as a merc for exco-terrorists. - While I see the rest of Force of Nature as genuinely having some degree of personal investment in Project Earth (the eco-terrorists who hired them) I don’t think Aque does. He doesn’t hate nature or anything, just the usual limit of his “environmentalism” is that he’ll put his beer can in the recycling bin if one is around. - He’s listed as rather overweight for his height. That’s probably meant to be muscle mass, especially given how he’s drawn...but his teammate Aireo/Skybreaker is listed as drastically underweight and drawn the same way, suggesting more to me that the artists just can only draw one body type for men. Because muscles or not, there’s a 100 pound difference between these dudes, they should NOT look this close in size. So my headcanon instead is that AIreo is super skinny and Aqueduct is kinda hefty, and I draw them that way. While there can be many reasons a person is fat or chubby, I admit I do go the common cliche route with Aque---he just doesn’t have a great diet, I picture him as mostly eating at greasy cheap diners and fast food and probably having one too many beers at times. - He’s pretty much trapped in villainy at this point, he can’t really get any kind of legitimate job anymore, so he’s just go to keep doing what he’s doing. He’s not opposed to it, he doesn’t have a moral issue or anything, but he doesn’t like not having a CHOICE, or the knowledge that he put himself here. - He doesn’t seem to have any issues from being in Vietnam, but his encounter with the Ghost Rider and the effects of his whole hellfire-stare thing messed him up so badly he had a mental breakdown and spent time in an asylum, and loses his shit whenever the Ghost Rider is near or even mentioned. So I don’t think it’s even a headcanon to say he’s traumatized by that, it’s just canon. All of Force of Nature also gets a little unhinged from the weeks they’re trapped fighting in a Trans-Sabal war zone, and I imagine there were effects of that afterwards for Aqueduct too. - He’s introduced with SHORT HAIR when he’s the solo Water Wizard, but gets a LONG HAIRSTYLE when he joins Force of Nature that later changes to a MOHAWK STYLE...I draw him with the original short hair, I like it best on him and I think it suits the personality that I read into him. - We never see him in civilian-wear, but I picture him as in just like...very basic working-class guy stuff? Like flannels over t-shirts with jeans and work boots, that kind of thing. Probably leans towards blues and greens with brown neutrals. CATSEYE aka Sharon Smith! - Fanart often depicts her with collar-style necklaces and chokers, but I headcanon her as hating these, since a lot of real cats actually can’t stand them. - She had to be taught to wear clothes, of course, and that was a battle for Emma, but now that she does, she picks her own out. She has a preference for things that are comfy and allow for a lot of movement, without being too restrictive or too loose. A lot of her stuff is therefore athletic-wear, and she always has a swimsuit-like garment underneath that is made of unstable molecules so she can transform without being naked when she resumes her human state. She’s developed a surprisingly good eye for what colors look best on her, such as yellow, orange, pink, and teal. She even knows to limit the purple she wears, and to not wear it close to her face lest it clash with her purple hair, despite purple being her FAVORITE color because that’s what color she is! -  According to Emma’s files, Catseye could detect lies and hated them, but it’s never explained HOW she knew that someone was lying. My headcanon is she could smell them, or more specifically, smell the subtle physiological changes that accompany someone lying. So if someone is lying and THEY KNOW IT, she’d smell it. If someone thinks they are telling the truth, these changes wouldn’t take place, and thus she’d believe them. Likewise, these scents won’t accompany things like billboards or commercials, so she would believe those, hence one issue where Jetstream explains to her that television is a bunch of lies. - Emma’s theory is that she was abandoned at birth for her mutation and adopted in a feral cat colony, but my theory is she was actually abandoned at an older age, around five, at which point she’d have already learned how to speak English. She just forgot it, along with her formal life, after years with the cats as a cat herself. So it’s not that she LEARNED English after never having known it, she REGAINED it. This is much more realistic for a feral child; if a child isn’t exposed to language by a certain age, it is pretty much impossible for them to learn to talk at a later age like Catseye did. I looked up a bunch of real feral child cases, and age five is the youngest at which they could be abandoned and still regain speech later. Obviously, telepathy from Emma would help too, along with Sharon’s own ferocious intelligence, which is probably how she managed to do it so quickly instead of it taking years and years! -  Catseye was a lesbian. She only ever remarks on the appearance of girls (Amara, Angelica, Rahne) and if she finds them pretty or not. I just think it would take a long time for her to come around to it, not because they are girls (she doesn't care about THAT, she never absorbed any homophobia to internalize from CATS) but because they're HUMAN, which she does not see herself as being, so feeling attraction to humans is super weird for her. -  I think that Jetstream really looked out for Catseye. He does things in canon like stopping her from jumping on Magma when she's in flame mode, or explaining to her that she can't trust what the television tells her. I think they were total bros and he was always making sure she didn't hurt herself or get in trouble as best he could. And while Catseye didn’t think she needed the help, I think she was affectionate to him right back, there’s a panel where she rubs against his hand in feline form, which we never saw her do with anyone else to my memory. - Sharon same allergies and dietary limits as a cat (such as lilies making her very sick), and is vulnerable to feline diseases along with human ones. But she also has the feline resistance needed to do things like eat raw meat without fear of illness or parasites. - We know animals have their own languages in Marvel (see: Squirrel Girl talking to squirrels) so I headcanon she can communicate with cats, they just don’t give a shit what she says because they’re CATS, they’re not going to do what she says the way dogs or squirrels do. So what if she’s another cat? People don’t do what another person tells them just because they’re both human! - She’s not afraid of water, nor does catnip make her go crazy, but the laser pointer does! She also has a big collection of things like milk bottle rings, hair bands, and other things pet cats love to play with. DARKSTAR aka Laynia Petrovna! - At the board I write her at, I write her as a lesbian. There is admittedly NO canon evidence for this, but there’s also very little against it? She’s only had ONE boyfriend, when she first showed up, and none since. There could be a LOT of other reasons for this, of course, but I also think it’s totally beieviable that a teenage lesbian (I estimate she was like 19 at that point) who was in the employ of the SOVIET UNION (which was not nice to gays) to have a beard (and probably believe herself she was straight) and to stay closeted as an adult since because Russia is still...not great, to the say the least. I think she’d be cute with Monet, so based on that I’m going to say her type is good-but-dangerous women with shoulder-length-or-longer hair who have toned arms/biceps and are moderately-to-high femme like her. - I estimate her age as around 33 now? Like probably close in age to the O5 X-Men. - Based on a remark she made to Iron Man in one issue, I see her as viewing anyone she fights beside as automatically being her friend, even if they don’t feel the same way. - We rarely see her in civilian clothes, I think only once, so my fashion headcanons are all based mostly on her costumes. I think she bases her outfits around a dark, cool color scheme, like black or blue, then adds bright accents/accessories. Due to coming from cold Russia, short bottoms aren’t in her wardrobe and most of her sleeves are long. She favors high-necked blousy belted tops with sleek pants and functional but pretty boots. Her long blonde is eternally pushed back. by some sort of headband. Cloth, plastic, wood, plain, pearls, bejeweled, patterned, she has them in near every variety possible and they are her most common accessory. She also owns a large assortment of stylish winter coats, scarves, gloves, and hats. Because, again, Russian. She's not much one for bracelets, preferring brooches and pendants more, typically in oval or starburst shapes. She has a love for black velvet, and it will show up for dressy events in forms such as a rhinestone-dotted envelope handbag or round-toed pumps with ankle straps. - Laynia collects small antique music boxes and crystal glass figurines of pretty things like ballerinas and swans. She likes black velvet jewel pillows, gemstones (clear, black, or yellow) all sorts of museums (but especially art, astronomy, and natural history) and the sight of pure white snow under the street lamps at night before people can ruin it into dirty slush the next day. Laynia likes sweet delicate desserts like rock candy, powder candy, jujubes, marzipan, and bliny or oladyi with varenya style fruit preserves. She likes classical, romantic, disco, pop, and synth music. Her favorite animals are white weasels/minks (because they're so pretty and cute) and wolves (because they're beautiful too, but also such social animals with strong family dynamics) Laynia likes “slice of life” fictional media, such as domestic drama novels or family-centered sitcom shows. These are fantasies for her, these are escapes from what’s “normal” in her life. For the same reason, she avoids spy thrillers and similar genres, no matter how unrealistic they are in their depictions. She delights in mundane tasks. Likes working in small groups, dislikes working alone or large groups. Black flowers and butterflies

- Dislikes: Being asked about Putin or the Romanovs or things like that, just because she’s Russian. People not knowing the difference between Russian and Belarusian, zhurek and tukmachi (too fatty), any kind of preserved fish dish (fish should only be served fresh or not at all!) Getting her eyelashes in her eyeball when they fall out . - In one comic, she anthropomorphizes the Darkforce, calling it "she" and believing it has feelings or at the very least is capable of pain. My headcanon for what she actually feels when she feels the Darkforce in "pain" is due to simply her mental connection to her own Darkforce constructs that allows her to create, maintain, and manipulate them. When they are attacked, dissipated, or changed against her will, she feels that as pain, and interprets it as the Darkforce being in pain "herself" - Based on a comment she makes at one point, I think that though not religious aside from a vague conception of Heaven and its goodness/judgement, Laynia is a strong believer in the supernatural, in particular of ghosts. She is not, however, a fan of them, and would prefer to stay away from anywhere that is rumored to be haunted, had a tragedy occur there, or simply feels creepy to her (based on another comment she makes in another instance) - Because Laynia was brought up not to complain, she often won’t express that something is bothering her or that someone has offended her. She thinks she’s doing the right thing, but many people would in fact far prefer that she speak up if she’s got a problem. -Laynia lacks a lot of basic life skills because they simply weren’t taught to her in the “school” she was raised in. For instance, what outfits are appropriate where, car maintenance, budgeting, cleaning, and cooking. She was taught how to find and prepare food in the Siberian wilderness should she ever be stranded or stationed there, but not how to go to the supermarket and make a normal meal in a normal kitchen. She knows to turn to Google for most of this stuff, she's not stupid, but it can be surprising to some people what she doesn't know, and she often doesn't even know it's something she needs to know until it comes up. - Laynia is automatically inclined to trust and obey doctors, professors, and similar people, as well as military personnel. It doesn’t mean she’ll do or believe absolutely anything they say, that depends what it is, but she gives their opinion and approval more weight than she does other people. Laynia also takes criticism from her superiors very personally, but doesn't show it. Crying every time you get reprimanded of course wasn't something you're allowed to do when being trained by the State, so of course she'd never show it, but she would FEEL it because she was taught that her entire purpose was to serve said State, thus her self-worth hinges on it, and a failure hurts that self-worth. This need for approval from authorities means she’ll try to evade blame when something goes awry, and is loath to step out of line. This can make her a snitch, a suck up, and disliked by her peers for it. Laynia does her best to put up a kind and cordial demeanor to all, and retain a polite decorum even when it’s not returned. This is more to avoid making waves in the team than anything else. If there is discord in the ranks, she refuses to ever be the one to blame for it. It’s not that Laynia doesn’t question orders ever. She does. And she does sometimes find her moral conscience at odds with them. The problem is that she seldom acts on these thoughts, instead proceeding with her missions despite her misgivings. FANTASMA sometimes called Fantasia (all for her PRIOR to finding out she’s a Dire Wraith and resuming the evil ways of her kind) - Given the name Faina Neizvestny (Neizvestny meaning "unknown" rather than the usual patronymic Russian surname) and the codename Fantasma. She thought this was a reference to how she was essentially a ghost, someone with no past and no paper trail. In fact it was someone's idea of a joke---a phantasm is a ghost, and another word for ghost is wraith. She didn't know the implication, but she felt far more connected to her codename than her civilian name, perhaps because it wasn’t a human name at all. She quickly grew to only introduce herself as Fantasma whenever possible, and to only answer to such. What’s more, she leaned towards preferring codenames for her teammates well, finding it somehow infantile that they kept their human names when they had earned something grander. Nicknames: Fanny, Fanty, Fan, Tas (all disliked) - Likes elegant perfume bottles that are as much decoration as container, beluga caviar and raw squid, The Conet Project recordings (it's basically music to her) as well as Imogen Heap/Frou Frou, ethereal darkwave, and some trance music, the cold Dislikes confined spaces (we see this in canon) When one first meets Fantasma, she gives the impression of being cool and aloof. Despite her unfailing and prim politeness even in dire circumstances, her manner is cold, brusque, and impersonal, even among those she counts as allies and friends. The best way to describe Fantasma might be a sociopath who is trying not to be a sociopath. In fact, that’s exactly what she thinks she is. Fantasma does not have an internal sense of empathy or morals. She wants to, and she does her best to compensate for this lack, but it's not something she naturally has. Her bio-fields allow her to recognize the pain of others, to share in it, but she doesn't actually feel anything when she sees people hurt or danger. Not without the aid of tapping into her bio-field. And while she will do her best to save innocent people from being hurt, that's because she knows as an intellectual fact that it's what a "good person" would do, and she desires to act as a good person would. All her good actions are exactly that, an intellectual choice to be what she deduces from the norms of society is "good"; she has no internal guiding sense of goodness whatsoever. She wants one. But it's not there. So she just does her best, trying to learn what's "good" from outside sources---books, television, the actions and reactions of other people--and act accordingly. But her heart isn't in it; she knows logically that murder is worthy of greater punishment than jaywalking, but she doesn't feel greater ire at one or the other. She simply understands both are wrong by the standards of law and society, and one is considered more wrong, and should thus be treated as such by a "good" person. Fantasma often feels disconnected from the rest of humanity, like she's a monster or at least not normal. Partly, it's because of her aforementioned lack of "human" mental traits. But it's more than that. She has a constant, distinct sense of simply not belonging, like she's perpetually a stranger in a strange land no matter where she goes, no matter how long she's been there. She doesn't even feel comfortable in her own body, no matter which form she takes. When she's in her true form, she feels like a hideous monster, because that's what it is. But when she's in the beautiful human form that she's so painstakingly crafted to be perfect, she feels what almost might be called dysphoria. She hates both states, and also craves them equally, wanting to be herself and wanting to be a beautiful normal woman. It's torment. It's this feeling of alienation that drives her to try to be as "good" as she can. She feels that she can "fake it til she makes it" in terms of being a normal person, that if she just ACTS like a person with normal empathy and morals enough, she can eventually be one, or at least indistinguishable from one. She'll be like everyone else. And then she won't have the horrible feeling of NOT being like anyone else. Her feeling of not belonging has also made her desire acceptance, and she's learned that her natural personality doesn't win her any favors from most folks, she feels that she can instead be loved and accepted for heroic actions. This has the added bonus of letting her be loved and accepted from a DISTANCE, by society as a whole, rather than having to develop an actual relationship with another person. One can imagine how someone like her might have trouble with that. And she doesn't really want it anyway. She doesn't want to be close with anyone, not anyone she's ever met anyway. She just wants to feel she's one of them. She wants to feel comfortable in the world she lives in, like she belongs in it. Maybe once she does, she'll feel comfortable in her own skin too, or at least one of them. And...she really does want to be good, to be a person. She's aware she's missing something, she's aware she's probably little different than many of the evil individuals she's encountered. But she can be different in her deeds, at least if not her soul. And doesn't the DESIRE the be better than what she is, in itself make her better? While she has an intellectual understanding of how to be deceitful, and will do so in the service of the greater good (ex: lying to an enemy), she cannot understand how to be truly manipulative, as that requires understanding of the normal human thought process and emotions that she does not have, and Fantasma’s feelings are mainly loneliness, irritation, and resilient acceptance. She doesn’t feel affection and love but knows when she should and based her relationships on that. Her sense of pleasure is mainly physical, though she’s never found any food or drinks she actually LIKES, nor is she sexually attracted to humans. Might seem odd that someone essentially asexual dresses as she does, does so for approval, desire, to show off her body and be wanted and seen as beautiful. She's proud of what she's made, and wants it to be admired. She also of course perceives the negative emotions that her attire elicits---the scorn, the the scoffing, the catty comments, the raw animal lust and sexual presumption--but she has decided it's an acceptable cost for the right to display herself as her own living work of art. Her feelings seldom run hot even in the height of battle, and when she's angry, it's an icy cold anger. When not merely coldly polite and cordially distant, she'll often use her bio-field abilities to simply tap into the other person's mood and reflect it back at them. Fantasma prefers cold climates She innately respects female authorities more than male. She’ll obey a male commander because she’s supposed to follow who’s in charge, but dominant “alpha” females in positions of power give her an actual URGE to obey them and seek their favor (based on Dire Wraiths being matriarchal and serving a Queen Moher) Fantasma can be loyal if she chooses to be. And she does choose it. It's a deliberate choice, not a feeling. She selects what organization she will be loyal to (she has an easier time with these than with individual people) based on how ethical it is and the opportunity it will allow her to use her powers for the good of others. She knows that she herself may not be able to find these opportunities on her own, nor always make the right ethical decision on her own, and thus prefers being able to look to an official authority, such as the state, for instructions. She's savvy enough, of course, to realize that a government-sanctioned team will be given instructions with the government's benefit in mind, but so long as that also involves protecting and serving the people, she's willing to do as she's told either way. Thus, she chooses to be loyal by simply acting as a loyal person would, taking orders and carrying them out, and taking a bullet for her teammates even if she feels nothing for them personally. Fantasma knows when others dislike her, but never feels hurt or angry about it. She's the definition of not taking it personally, even when it's very personal. Because of this, she is never one to fuel a feud or participate in petty squabbles. She does feel vindictive when slighted, but since she believes good people don't seek vengeance over personal slights, only justice against real evil and wrongdoing, she does not act on these feelings. Not many things give her joy. But she sometimes feels an urge, something deeper and far more primal than a daydream, of pieces of herself spreading far and wide, taking over everything, overtaking all life like a fungus covering a forest. And that...feels so right. Overall, Fantasma is basically a humanitarian robot, going through all the motions of goodness and compassion as dictated by the norms of society, without any of the internal drive normally behind such actions. She essentially encapsulates the philosophical question---does one's motives for doing good matter, so long as one does it anyway? SKEIN aka Sybil Dvorak - Her backstory is that she was always a loner who kept to herself by choice, til she fell in love with an American movie star who took her back to Los Angeles with him. Because she was an illegal immigrant (and he wouldn’t marry her to make her legal) she ended up confined to the house, and she suspected he was having affairs. After she got her citizenship and he mysteriously died, leaving everything to her, she started a “cult” in which she provided drugs to junkies in exchange for them worshipping her and bringing her soft things. Now, the thing is, drugs are going to cost more than fabrics, feathers, and even some furs. If she JUST wanted soft stuff, she could have bought it directly herself. I think what she really wanted was the people. Despite how much she came to hate her late lover, she was lonely after his death, something she had never experienced before, having always previously been a loner by her own choice. She wanted people around for the first time. But this time, she wanted the control. Hence, the use of drugs to keep them wrapped around her finger as their provider. - She has a cold, haughty, almost emotionless affect when she first appears, and for awhile after, as well as speaking very formal English and wearing a very modest costume. In the 90s, when she takes the new codename “Skein” as opposed to G****y Moth, she also takes on a new thrill-seeking and hypersexual persona, a revealing costume, and a much more casual way of speaking. My theory is that as she became more exposed to wild and criminal lifestyles through the junkies and through the other supervillains she worked with later, she began to find that thrillseeking hedonism made her feel “alive” in a way she hadn’t previously been, hence her change from a cold personality to a very hot one. I feel like engaging in lots of sensual pleasures is all an extension of her sensory fascination with soft things. As she spent more time in America, her English also just naturally got more casual since that’s how most people around her would be speaking it. - Problematic representation though she is, I do indeed agree with the fanon opinion she’s hinted as bisexual. - She’s from Romania, but her surname (Dvorak) is Czech. As it happens, Czech Romanians are an ethnic minority there numbering about four thousand, so my headcanon is that’s what she is. - Her canon backstory is that she was “raised by Roma” (except of course Marvel uses the g-slur) which...implies she’s NOT Roma, and that they just raised her, which begs the question of what happened to her family? It reminds me of antiziganist myths about Roma stealing children, not to mention that given how Roma are stereotyped as thieves (and the women as hypersexual) I decided to minimize her connection to anything Romani in my headcanon, and say instead that she came from a Czech Romanian family and she just TOLD other kids she was “raised by Roma” because they seemed cool to her, being the little loner she was. - I headcanon that her love for softness extends to people, that she’s most attracted to people who are “soft” in some way, be in physically or in their personality. Case in point, I headcanon her with a crush on Haven, because like...curvy body, soft hair, soft clothes, soft-looking eyes, soft voice, gentle personality. Total package right there as far as Skein sees it...aside from not being sexual at all or at all into women. Drat! (I feel like Aqueduct is kinda sweet on Haven too, though I feel weird about making TWO characters attracted to her but I mean...shit, I would be, and she’s not even my typical type!) - I think being overtly flirtatious might be the only way she knows how to connect with people. I don’t mean to pathologize her sexuality, like women can just BE sexy and flirty without there being some deep reason, and I think that’s partly it here too, but also in the context of her larger personality I think this is partly it as well.

[thedcdunce]

Amanda Waller

“I don't care. I'm not part of the law anymore. Kill them.” - Amanda Waller

Real Name: Amanda Blake

Aliases: 

Black King

Mockingbird

White Queen

Gender: Female

Height: 5′ 1″

Weight: 200 lbs (91 kg)

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Black

Abilities:

Espionage

Firearms

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Indomitable Will

Intimidation

Manipulation

Political Science

Tactical Analysis

Universe: New Earth

Citizenship: American

Base of Operations: Washington D.C.

Marital Status: Widowed (Joseph Waller; husband)

Occupation:

Government Agent

Politician

First Appearance: Legends #1 (November, 1986)

Abilities

Espionage

Firearms

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Indomitable Will

Intimidation

Manipulation

Political Science: Amanda has a degree in political science.

Tactical Analysis

Origins

Amanda Blake grew up in the crime-ridden Cabrini-Green area of Chicago. At the age of 18 she married the 20-year-old Joseph Waller, and they quickly had a large family together. Her first child was Joe, Jr., then Damita, then the twins Martin and Jessie, and then her youngest child Coretta. Their lives were a financial struggle, and they relied on social programs, but they were happy. Joe, Jr. was set to go to college on a basketball scholarship until he was killed in a mugging gone wrong. Damita was raped and murdered in an alleyway on her way home from church. They knew who was responsible, but the police could not get a conviction with no witnesses. Her husband Joseph Waller set out to kill the rapist "Candyman" and both men shot each other dead. Amanda swore that the streets would take no more of her family. She worked hard to put all of her other children through college, then she put herself through college and earned a political science degree. Amanda decided to go into politics, and she approached democratic congressional candidate Marvin Collins to become his campaign director. Collins was elected thanks to her efforts, and he took her to Washington as his aide. Amanda discovered the old Task Force X files while searching through old bills, and asked to revive the Suicide Squad under her direction.

The Agency

The Agency was formed by Amanda Waller to serve as a small, quasi-independent branch of Task Force X. Valentina Vostok brought former NYPD Lieutenant Harry Stein into the Agency as an operative. Amanda Waller later promoted Stein to the command position and demoted Vostok. Harry Stein would later re-organize the Agency and name it Checkmate.

Legends

Amanda Waller rebuilds Task Force X, and its former leader Rick Flag is assigned to work under her. Flag argues with Waller about her agenda, and Waller says the only thing she cares about is his ability to follow orders. Nightshade is the second member she recruits, as an undercover operative. Her first target is Brimstone, and she has a team of scientists analyze the monster for weaknesses. Waller puts together a new Suicide Squad lead by Flag with members including Blockbuster, Bronze Tiger, Captain Boomerang, and Enchantress. The criminals are offered pardons in exchange for their service, and fitted with explosive bracelets that will detonate if they disobey orders. Her team destroys Brimstone at Mount Rushmore. Blockbuster is the only casualty, despite her expectations that all of them would die. Waller tries to keep the criminals in custody, but Flag insists on honoring their deal and releases them. Captain Boomerang is captured by G. Gordon Godfrey, and threatens to expose the Suicide Squad unless they rescue him. Amanda gives them orders to silence Captain Boomerang by any means necessary. Flag insists on solving the problem non-lethally. Waller later presents her case to President Reagan, and thanks to this success he decides to let the team continue on a provisional basis.

Suicide Squad

Waller sets her team up in Louisiana's Belle Reve prison, under the care of warden John Economos. Simon LaGrieve and Marnie Herrs conduct psychological profiles, and warn her that the entire team is emotionally unstable, but Waller is unconcerned. Waller briefs the team and sends them on their next mission, destroying the terrorist group Jihad in Qurac. Waller authorizes Doctor Moon and Karin Grace to mindwipe the traitor Plastique. This infuriates Flag, and Amanda agrees that it is wrong of her. Belle Reve is attacked by the Female Furies of Apokolips, and Waller is unable to stop them from taking her prisoner G. Gordon Godfrey. They are asked to take down the racist vigilante William Hell, and Waller insists they discredit him instead of making a martyr for the "white power" movement. President Reagan has Waller send the Suicide Squad to arrest Firestorm, under the leadership of their incompetent NSC liaison Derek Tolliver.

Waller argues against the team going on purely political missions, but they are sent to rescue imprisoned author Zoya Trigorin in Moscow. LaGrieve worries that Amanda is suppressing anger over her family deaths, and counsels her to channel it into something productive. Amanda confronts Derek Tolliver for sending her team on the irresponsible Moscow mission, and Tolliver replies that her team was expendable. She punches him in the face, and tells him that this does not mean their lives can be thrown away like garbage. Flag has a breakdown following this mission, and Waller relieves him of command duty.

There is a political summit during Millennium, and Waller has an inter-agency rivalry with General Eiling. Waller sends her team to destroy the Manhunter temple with a bomb, and does not tell them they are all expected to die in the explosion. Batman infiltrates Belle Reve and threatens to expose the Squad. Waller stands up to Batman and talks him down by threatening to expose his secret identity, using the fingerprints of Matches Malone. Flag impresses her in the fight against Batman, and she reinstates his command. Waller is forced to send Rick Flag on another mission she politically disagrees with, rescuing Hawk in Nicaragua. She sends the rest of the team to kill drug czar Xavier Cujo. Nightshade argues that an illegal assassination is murder, and Waller replies that it is justice. Speedy tells her that this did not fix anything, and she only created a power vacuum. The Agency is reorganized by Harry Stein to become Checkmate, under Task Force X. Amanda Waller becomes their boss.

Rick Flag disobeys Waller to rescue their operative Nemesis, who was stranded in the Soviet Union. Waller is so angry that she has President Reagan send Justice League International to stop them. The JLI's publicist Maxwell Lord threatens to expose them, and Waller intimidates Lord with violence. Senator Cray blackmails President Reagan and the Suicide Squad to help his reelection campaign. Waller is forced to work under Derek Tolliver, Cray's aide, or she will be fired. In a moment of weakness, she confides in Bronze Tiger that everything has gone with her idea since the start. Amanda reveals that Bronze Tiger was supposed to be the leader, and Rick Flag was imposed on her, which she believes is because of racism. Despite this setback, she regroups and leads the team to save the world from Doctor ZZ. The Jihad returns to attack Manhattan, and they deliver an ultimatum demanding Waller's team be handed over. Waller orders Rick Flag not to intervene, and he disobeys her, so she tells him to do the job right this time.

Waller's inability to deal and compromise with her people led to the departure from the team of Nemesis, the death of a US senator and thereby indirectly to the death of Rick Flag Jr. Nonetheless, the team remained loyal to her, often choosing to side with her instead of the government. It was ultimately revealed that the reason that Amanda Waller even kept the heroes such as Nightshade around, was in order for them to act as her conscience. Over the course of her first run with the Suicide Squad her actions became increasingly erratic as she fought to retain control of the Squad. This was heightened by the public reveal of the Suicide Squad, and her being officially replaced, although her 'replacement' was in fact an actor, and Waller remained the team's director. Even that secret would eventually be revealed and Amanda Waller would be put on trial. During this time, the Squad also became involved in an inter-agency conflict in a crossover between the Checkmate and Suicide Squad titles called the Janus Directive. She eventually found herself serving prison time for her pursuit of an organized crime cartel based in New Orleans called the LOA and killing its leadership, using Squad operatives in the process.

The Squad's rebirth

Waller was eventually pardoned and released a year later to reorganize the Squad as a freelance mercenary group at the behest of Sarge Steel to deal with a crisis in Vlatava, Count Vertigo's home country. Afterwards the Suicide Squad performed a variety of missions, but were ultimately disbanded when Waller became disillusioned with her life.

During the course of her renewed tenure with this team, Amanda Waller became closer to her operatives, even accompanying them on their field missions. This allowed for her and her team to bond more effectively, although she retained her dominant and threatening personality.

Shadow Fighters

Around this time Amanda Waller would organize many superheros to confront the villain Eclipso. Again she would confront Sarge Steel. Her first attempt at a team did not go well as most of the them were brutally murdered. Her second attempt with a much larger team had much more success.

President Luthor

She would eventually rejoin federal service, initially as Southeastern regional director for the Department of Extranormal Operations, and eventually got promoted to Secretary of Metahuman Affairs as a member of the Luthor Administration. Luthor would use her as he saw fit, one of the few who could.

Checkmate

In the wake of being jailed briefly for her alleged connections to Luthor's illicit activities whilst in office, she was released yet again and ordered by President Jonathan Vincent Horne to take command of Checkmate in the wake of the O.M.A.C. Project debacle as a placeholder "Black King" until the United States and United Nations could decide what to do with that organization.

One Year Later

In the revamped Checkmate series, Waller is shown to have been assigned by the UN to serve as Checkmate's White Queen, a member of its senior policy-making executive, although she appears to have her own agenda, blackmailing Fire into committing murder on her behalf during Checkmate missions. Waller's assignment as White Queen has her commissioning the imprisoned Atom Smasher to organize a new Suicide Squad to attack Black Adam.

As leader of the reformed Checkmate, Waller has continued to use morally ambiguous methods to achieve her agenda, ranging from secretly authorizing a "take no prisoners" mandate in an attack on a Kobra stronghold, blackmailing Beatriz da Costa, a former assassin, into returning to her old murderous ways, and executing a female Kobra operative herself when she foils an assassination attempt. She later used the Suicide Squad to round up dangerous criminals and metahumans as part of Operation: Salvation Run, an unauthorized plan to exile various supervillains to another planet, later revealed to be a part of the Apokoliptian Empire. When Waller's colleague found out about the Operation, they forced her to resign as White Queen, though she managed to retain authority over the Suicide Squad.

Task Force X

After her resignation from Checkmate, forces in the US Government recommissioned her as the overseer and director of the Belle Reve metahuman prison and the leader of a new Suicide Squad known as Task Force X due to deeming her teem as a necessary asset to the US Government.

Fun Facts

Amanda Waller's sister Mary has said that she was raised Baptist, which means Amanda was as well.